Castiel woke Dean up in the morning after waiting for hours for him to do it himself. Granted, it wasn't morning when he was woken up, unless 11a.m. is considered morning. To Castiel, it's not, and he was sure to inform Dean of that.

"Wake up," he said, voice loud as he dumped two cups of chilled water on Dean, one on his face, the other on his crotch.

Dean shot up with a yelp for the second time in 24 hours, water dripping from his face and down his chest, causing goosebumps to spring up all over his skin. His eyes were wide along with his pupils as he glared at his bathroom, where Castiel had disappeared, reemerging with two new cups filled to the brim a minute later. He paused just outside of the door, staring at Dean.

Dean's eyes grew hard. "What the hell, man!?"

"You needed to wake up, man," Castiel said, walking over to Dean. He handed one of the cups to him, raking his eyes over his exposed skin and his soaking wet boxers. He cocked his head. "You wear undershorts to bed?"

Dean's glare had faded in to an incredulous stare, lips parted open as he blinked slowly at him. "Undershorts?"

"You know, uhhh… Underwear? Boxers?"

"Boxers," Dean said with a nod, taking a sip of the water from the glass Castiel had handed him. It was cold as it spread through his mouth and down his throat. He shivered a little, pulling up the partially wet blanket, tugging it up to cover himself decently enough to remove the chill. "And yes," he said after taking another gulp of the water. "I sleep in them." Castiel pulled the previously dubbed 'not bad' face despite the name not really fitting the situation, once again. "What's that face for?"

"I assumed you sleep naked."

"Yet you still came in to my room to dump water on me."

"Yeah," Castiel said, downing the last of his water before setting his glass down on Dean's desk. He brushed the back of his hand over his lips, wiping the residue off, and Dean noticed Castiel was shirtless for the first time that morning. He was decently toned, something that Dean admired on his body, but covering a good portion of his abdomen was a deep purple bruise, starting right below the center of his ribs, pressing out on each side. It looked worse than Dean assumed it should have.

He swung his legs out from under the blankets, draping them over the edge of the bed as he stood, setting down his water as he stepped to Castiel. He grabbed his hips, spinning him slowly around to face his back toward the bed, walking him to the edge before laying him down, cradling his head so as to not drop him.

Castiel was staring up at Dean with confusion and mild worry plastered over his face, but he didn't fight Dean, just letting loose a half-assed complaint as his shoulder was laid down on the still-wet and cool bed-sheet. Dean placed himself over Castiel's thighs, earning another complaint about how his pants would get wet, but Dean ignored it as he bent down, getting his face close to his injured skin as he began gently poking and prodding around Castiel's ribs, the ones that had the bruise covering them.

He yelped when Dean poked too hard, and grabbed the hand that was doing the touching. "Dean, stop!"

"Why? I think they broke some of your ribs yesterday. Did you have someone look that over? Jesus, man, that bruise is bad. Like, really bad. Are you sure you don't have broken ribs? I thin-"

Castiel had grabbed on to Dean's biceps, wrapping one of his legs around one of Dean's, rolling their bodies, flipping Dean on to his back, pinning him down by the shoulders, his feet hooked around his calfs to keep him from fighting too much, similar to the man he'd been attacked by the day before. "Dean. Stop."

Dean gaped up at Castiel, eyes wide. "I'm just saying you should really get your ribs checked out."

Castiel rolled his eyes and crawled off of Dean, letting him sit up. "It nothing. Not even hurt that bad."

"But they do hurt."

"Drop it."

"Okay," Dean said, letting Castiel's bruised abdomen fade from the conversation, though it still concerned him. "So why did you wake me up? And why are you shirtless?"

"We need go shopping. And get me new car. And maybe you car. And why put on clothes when not doing anything?"

Dean couldn't argue with that, though he paused mid shrug. "Wait. Get me a car?"

"You need drive too."

"Why are you dropping all of your 'to's? And no I don't."

"Well I'm not driving you around. You my guard. You drive me around. And because I can."

"So if I'm driving you, why do you need a car?"

"Can't always rely on you."

Dean let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes, rubbing his hands over his bare arms. He was still cold. "Whatever. Can you leave so I can change."

"What if I want watch?"

What the hell? "To watch. And no."

Castiel rolled his eyes, crawling off of Dean's bed. "See you soon, Winchester." He raked his eyes over Dean's body, biting his lip as he took him in, not feeling at all guilty by his blatant staring, despite that it made Dean slightly uncomfortable, though he made no effort to cover himself.

Dean cleared his throat, and Castiel finally left his room, leaving Dean to do as he pleased. He immediately got up to shut his door. He hadn't disliked Castiel's obvious staring, but it was weird. He'd just met the guy, was living with his family and away from his own, and he was checking him out? Dean shook his head.

Probably just a Russian thing.

He left to his closet which was depressingly empty, pulling on the only outfit he had in there. Castiel had been right about the boots fitting him, as they did quite nicely, but he couldn't help but to feel guilty, taking these things from him. Sure, they'd been offered, given to him without request, but it didn't make him feel any less guilty. He had his own clothes. He could provide for himself.

Lacing the boots proved to be difficult, not from the wear on the laces, as there was none, but the lack of it, making the cotton stiff and hard to manipulate. Once tied, Dean pushed himself to his feet, turning to leave his closet, only to be met by Castiel, who had changed nothing aside from putting on a shirt, blocking his way. His eyes widened. "How much did you see?"

"You putting on your shirt. Very nice back," he responded, holding out a cell phone. Dean reached out to take it, Castiel dropping his hand as soon as it was empty. "You say you wanted to call family. Do so."

Dean flipped the phone is his hand. "Didn't you say there was a special way to use this?"

"Yes." Castiel walked into the closet, stopping beside Dean. It was too narrow for the both of them to be standing shoulder to shoulder, so Castiel stepped slightly behind him, putting his arm around him and on his shoulder, pressing close instead.

No. Dean was not flushing. Not even a little bit.

"So this phone has special code to get in, but also special code to do other things. Code is 36948." Dean tapped it in and the phone unlocked, opening to the home screen.

A few games were on it, and Dean looked back at Castiel. "Temple Run? Angry Birds? Candy Crush? Really?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Fun game. Anyway, now to dial, open the dialer." Dean did. "Press seven, three, seven." Dean did. "Okay. That all. Now dial family."

"Why do you have to put in those numbers?" Dean asked as Castiel stepped around him, letting his hand drag down from his shoulder and low across his back, fingers grazing his hip as he made his way to the door.

He paused. "So that if phone stolen, people that not know code can not call or text contacts, and so you can't be traced. Precaution," he concluded, stepping out of the closet. "Call family. Come meet me in my room when done."

Dean nodded, sending a thank you his way as Castiel walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was out, Dean dialed the number, pressing call and holding the phone to his ear, the dull ring echoing loudly in his head. He went to turn down the volume, but stopped when a voice came out. "Hello?"

The voice was small, leading him to know exactly who it was. "Hey, Sammy."

"Dean?" There was a rustling from the other end of the line, as well as a muffled voice. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, calling back "Yeah, Dad. It's Dean." before returning to the phone. "Hi Dean."

"Hey Sammy."

"Whe-" His voice was cut off, and a deeper one took place. "Dean? Where the hell are you?"

Dean scratched his head, leaning back up against the wall beside the entrance to his closet. "Uhh, obviously not home."

"No shit, Dean. Now where are you? And why aren't you here?"

"I did some stuff, Dad. I saved a life," he added, voice rising with a small sense of pride, but it fell just as fast.

"And why do I care."

"Well, I saved…" Dean didn't know how much he was allowed to say, so he played it safe. "Someone very powerful."

"Why do I care about a drowning victim, Dean?"

"No. Uhh, this… person was being attacked. I saved them, but the person who was attacking them knows who I am. Dad, if I came back home, it'd put all three of us in danger."

"You think I don't know how to use a gun?"

"They're a bit more powerful than that."

"Dean," his dad said, voice still hard. "I don't care. I can handle this family just fine. Get your ass home."

Dean rolled his eyes, done with this argument. "No can do, Dad."

"Dean," he warned.

"Put Sammy on the phone. I want to say goodbye. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Try a few hours. You'll get your ass home tonight, or I swear to god, Dean…"

"I think the people I'm with are a bit more powerful than you. Put Sam on the phone."

"No."

"Dad."

"No. You'll see him when you come home."

Dean sighed, squeezing his eyes tight as he pressed the fingertips of his free hand to his forehead, kneading lightly. "I'm not coming home. Put him on or I'm hanging up."

There was silence on the other end, then a click followed by dead air. Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, only to see the home screen. He'd been hung up on.

He had to restrict himself from throwing the phone on the ground, not wanting to shatter it as it wasn't his own. Instead, he turned and punched the wall, his knuckles cracking sharply as he did. He pressed his forehead to the wall as he shook out his hand, trying to dissipate the pain. It went away about the same time he calmed himself down enough to not lash out at the next person he'd see, who'd be Castiel.

"You okay?" Castiel asked as Dean walked into his room, tossing his phone on to his bed. Castiel watched it fly through the air and bounce on his mattress from where he was sitting, right by the foot of his bed where his desk was, his computer on and a website open.

"Fine," Dean responded, crossing his arms as he leaned against the foot of Castiel's bed after walking completely in to his room.

Castiel didn't pursue it farther than that, instead putting his computer to sleep before standing. "Let's go then." He nodded at Dean before walking out of the room, not bothering to grab his cell phone. Dean followed after him, a short distance behind him as they went down the stairs and through the winding hallways.

"Are you sure going out in public is a good idea?" Dean asked as they began their descent down the second stairway, doubt finally beginning to set in about the plan for the day. "I mean, you just got attacked yesterday, and I'm definitely not ready to defend you. I mean, what I did yesterday was… Was…" Dean trailed off.

Castiel had stopped on the stairs, turning and stepping up to meet Dean as he continued down, nearly knocking in to the other. Their faces were mere inches apart, and Castiel was staring hard in to Dean's eyes. "You've protected me before," he growled under his breath, never breaking his eyes from Dean. They were nearly at the same level with Dean a step higher than Castiel, and Castiel standing to his full height. "More times than you know, Dean. Stop belittling yourself."

His voice was hard and deep, his eyes just the same, and Dean couldn't help but to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable with Castiel's face so close to his own, his breath brushing over his lips. He wanted to ask what Castiel meant, but could do nothing aside from gulp hard, giving a slight nod. Castiel continued to stare at him for a moment before backing himself away, turning and walking down the rest of the stairs.

Dean was frozen, watching him retreat, unwilling to move until Castiel snapped his fingers, getting Dean to finally make his way down to him. "You won't be guarding me today," Castiel explained as they moved out toward the entrance facing the beach and dock. They turned before they reached the door however, hopping down a few steps an into the largest garage Dean had ever seen. There had to have been at least six cars in there.

A blacked-out SUV was on and running, Castiel's father in the front, Mychalla beside him. Dean blinked. "Is he your dad's-"

"-Guard? Yes."

"I thought he was your-"

"-Instructor? Also yes."

Castiel opened the back door, sliding in, letting Dean hop in next to him with an eye roll. He slammed the door shut. "Would you let me finish my sen-"

"No."

Mychalla was driving, and Dean was staring intently out his window as they pulled out of the garage and to the front of the house. There was a wide, sweeping driveway lined with flowers and rocks and perfectly kept grass covering possibly the largest front lawn Dean had ever seen in his life. Arching marble-esque stairways led up each side of the solid mahogany main entrance, and Dean wondered how he'd never actually seen that door.

Perhaps he had, and just didn't know it.

The drive along the road leading out to the highway was long and wavy, gentle curves bordered by reeds and rocks the closer the got to the shore, and flowers and pebbles the farther inland they went.

Dean stared out at the passing scenery, each image bouncing off his eyes as memories of when he was younger played behind them. The beaches and lighthouses made constant reappearance in his location-induced daydream, he and Sam running along the sand near the water, carefully avoiding the stray rock or two carried into the clean area by an unsuspecting visitor. They'd pick it up and return it to its rightful place along the makeshift fence of reeds and rocks around the beach, laughing as they once again ran down the soft sands to the closest lighthouse while their father walked slowly behind them.

Dean was snapped from his thoughts abruptly as the car came to a stop. There had been a gate a short way down the road from where the Novak's home was, and there was another blocking the entrance to to the private road just off of the highway, which they were stopped in front of as the lumbering door slid open. Unlike the one back closer to their home, this gate was large and dark, wiring over the top of it, and multiple measures of security just to enter. Dean couldn't tell exactly what there was, but there appeared to be a card swipe, and a code box.

The car lurched forward again, snapping Dean another level in to society, the voices in the car now ringing out to him. Castiel's was the most clear, followed by his father's booming voice, along with Mychalla's deeper-than-all voice.

Dean felt dainty.

"We need clothes for Dean," Castiel said, and Dean snapped his head over to them.

"We can stop by my house. I have my own clothes," he said, voice barely above a mumble.

"Nonsense," Viktor replied, shifting himself in his seat just enough to peer back at Dean. "What good is money if you can't use for good cause?"

"You make me sound like a charity case," Dean muttered once again.

"No, Winchester," Castiel butted in, though physically shrunk in his seat, head tucking down as his father cleared his throat, clearly unhappy with being interrupted.

Viktor sent a look at Castiel through the mirror, causing his son to look away before he continued. "As my son said, no. You need new wardrobe, and for all I care, you may pay me back. I don't expect, however."

"Why can't I just get my own clothes from home?"

"You need new wardrobe," both Castiel and his father said, suspiciously in synch with each other, making Dean feel as though they'd rehearsed it just to coerce him in to something he wasn't comfortable with.

Castiel was sent yet another look through the rearview mirror, and he backed down. It relieved Dean in a way that he wasn't entirely sure of himself. He eventually resigned with a sigh. "I'll get new clothes."

"Good," Viktor said. The conversation was over without another word, Viktor turning his head the slight degree back to face forward, Castiel looking briefly over at Dean as he sat back up to his full height. He snapped his eyes back to the headrest of his father's seat. Dean found it peculiar just how much of an effect Viktor had on his son, shaking him from his relaxed and friendly state, to one of something reminiscent of a soldier, a good and stern listener with a solid body and perfect form.

Dean swallowed hard, eventually tearing his eyes away from Castiel. They'd pulled up to what could only be described as a strip mall, which confused Dean as it had a gate only openable by a card. But instead of fast food and cheap jewelry stores for teenagers littering the available space, there were lines of tuxedo and bridal shops, shoe stores advertising their best leather, stores filled with suits, and only one shop Dean could call 'casual'.

It shocked him to be lead into the suit store. Dean stared around at the collection of finely made jackets and pants hanging on polished silver racks, pressed shirts folded on clear tables. Dean looked to the rest of his group, who were dressed casually. "Why are we in a suit shop?"

"You need suits," Viktor explained, clapping a man on the shoulder as he came over to greet them before pushing Dean off to a dressing room, tossing him into different pants and jackets and ties and shirts, measuring him, choosing the colors that looked best on him.

It was a new and confusing experience, the new man whipping around without a second thought to any of his motions, scribbling on a pad and measuring Dean repeatedly, seemingly in the same places, which seemed strange, but he wasn't about to argue with a man who's hand was a mere inch from his crotch.

It was done quickly, however, and Dean was grateful for that, returned to the group without anything with him. They left the store, and Dean looked back and the glass windows housing the nice clothing. "I thought I was getting a suit?"

"Suits," Viktor corrected. "And you are. They're tailoring them while we're out."

"So where are we going now?" Dean had been following behind the three men, but Castiel had gradually slowed his pace until he was walking even with Dean, who turned on what he considered to be protection mode to the best of his ability. He stepped closer to Castiel, who in turn, stepped closer to Dean.

It wasn't uncomfortable to be in such close quarters until Dean realized the four of them were pressed into a pack, his arm and hand brushing against Castiel's. He looked over at him. "Why are we walking so close?"

"Pack mentality," Castiel muttered back, turning his head. His lips were against Dean's ear, and his nose in his hair. Dean shivered. "Gather close in time of danger for safety, and general protection. You have it in you, Winchester."

"Good to know," Dean said back. It didn't stop them from walking far closer together than Dean deemed necessary, as there was barely anyone in sight walking around the mall. He took a minuscule step away, but Castiel just drifted with him, sticking close.

Dean didn't fight it, he just let Castiel stay close, their arms and hands still brushing together.

They eventually made their way to a shoe store, where Dean was told to choose two or three pairs of shoes. He didn't see why he'd need so many, as the only choices in the shop were shoes that would go with his suits. But he chose three pairs. A set in black, in brown, and in grey. The workers in the shop, along with Castiel's father and Mychalla, stayed behind as they fitted the supportive soles for Dean's shoes, as well as buying a new pair for Viktor. Castiel and Dean were permitted to go next door into the previously deemed casual store.

Dean didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this.

Based on the observation that all of the other stores in the strip mall were made for what Dean would consider to be gentlemen and others who wish to be fancy, it was a shock to see this store, which appeared to be a mix of Hot Topic, and Forever 21. Weird floral prints and nice jeans and silky button-ups littered the front of the store, gradually fading to darker and more casual clothing toward the back. The store was split in half, women's and men's, and Castiel led the both of them back to the men's section filled with dark clothing and t-shirts.

Castiel scanned over a few stacks before digging in, pulling out dark-washed jeans and slightly fitted t-shirts, tossing them at Dean, hooking a few over his own forearm. Dean caught the articles of clothing, following along blindly until Castiel tossed a pair of canvas shoes at him.

He growled, adding the sneakers to the top of the pile of clothing bundled in his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Shopping."

"So, what? Am I like, your mule?"

"I can carry my own clothes," he responded, holding up a shirt, looking over it before tossing it at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Then why am I holding all of this?"

"Those for you."

Dean stopped. "Can I not choose my own clothes?"

"No."

Dean groaned, following after Castiel again, his steps wider as he caught back up to him before slowing his pace once more. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, I choose for you, you look good, we both win."

"So why don't I choose clothes for you?"

"I know what I look good in." Castiel tossed two pairs of pants, one jeans, the other something black, along with a few sets of shorts on to Dean's pile, adding a few of his own before heading back to the dressing rooms.

"And I don't?" Dean asked as they stopped outside of a room. He dropped his pile of clothes on to the counter as a woman counted the number of articles he had. "And how do you even know my sizes?"

"I guessed."

"You're very short with me," Dean said, sitting down on one of the benches outside the line of dressing rooms.

"I'm boss of you."

"Your dad's the boss of me."

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, slowly rotating to set his pile of clothing down on the counter. "You sure about that, Winchester?" He took a warning step forward, eyes narrowing even more, glinting into predator territory. Dean raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip quirking up in a smirk.

It only took Castiel two large steps to be close to Dean, bending down, hand directly beneath his neck, pressing on the hollow, forcing him back into the wall behind the bench he was sitting on with a grunt. Castiel brought his face in close, pressing harder on Dean's neck. He wasn't cutting off airflow, but it hurt, a stinging pain shooting from the points of his collarbones. Castiel moved in closer still, breathing harder than Dean was used to hearing, though still controlled. Their noses brushed together, and Dean's eyes crossed to keep them on Castiel's.

"You sure you want have this argument," Castiel asked, voice low and gravelly. He reached out to grab Dean's hand with his free one, sliding it up and forward on to his upper thing, placing it on the inside. Dean's fingers wrapped around the shaft of his gun, nestled in his thigh holster, and he gulped. Hard. Castiel smirked lightly. "Winchester."

Dean continued to stare at Castiel, finally admitting defeat as the woman behind the counter called for their attention. Castiel still hadn't broken away, so Dean gave in, tearing his eyes downward. Castiel smirked a bit more, sliding back from Dean, dropping his hand from his neck.

Rubbing the sore spot Castiel had created, Dean wandered over to the counter, only to be handed the piled of clothing. He was pushed toward a door by Castiel, and within moments was alone in the square room, mirror reflecting sharply back at him. He winced at his image. The lighting was unflattering.

"Do I really have to try these on?" Dean called out through the door, half-heartedly glaring at the pair of jeans in his hand. They looked as though they'd fit slim, and there were a few tears in them.

"Which o- It doesn't matter," Castiel added on. "You still have to put on. You have show me too."

"Dude, seriously?"

"Yes."

Dean groaned, but he knew better than to argue with Castiel. He wiggled himself in to the jeans, looking at himself in the mirror. They didn't fit as slim as he thought they would, but the tears made him feel like a rebellious teenager. Not that he wasn't, of course. Just not this kind of rebellious teenager. All he needed now was a lip piercing, and he'd be fit for any teen-wave rock concert out there.

He stared at his body. The shirt he had on fit him nicely, not too loose, not too snug. He liked it. But the jeans… "Do I really have to show you?"

"Yes."

"Whatever," he groaned out in a mumble, stepping through the door.

Castiel was immediately looking over him appreciatively, smirking a bit to himself as his eyes dragged over his legs, then back up over his abdomen, and finally back down his legs.

Dean felt uncomfortable.

Ogled.

Castiel continued to stare for a moment, but snapped himself out of it. "I'm…" He shook his head. "It's good. Get it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Castiel was looking up at his eyes now, and Dean could tell he wasn't fucking around. With what felt like the hundredth eye-roll that day, he turned and stalked back into the room, changing in to the original clothes he'd arrived in.

Castiel looked much more relaxed as he reemerged, his standoffish attitude seemingly long gone. He grabbed the pile of his own clothes, waiting for Dean to collect his own before walking toward the checkout counter.

"Same purchase, different bags," Castiel said as he set down his clothes, pushing his pile to the side as he let Dean set down his own. The girl at the front began ringing up the clothing. Dean watched the price of it rise substantially with every article she rung up, but Castiel was distracted with the packages of boxers and panties lining the front. He grabbed a few packs of the silken boxers, placing a few on Dean's pile. He grab a package of the panties. "Look at these," he said to Dean.

"Very nice," Dean muttered.

"I want them."

"You in to cross-dressing?"

Castiel shrugged, looking at Dean, waiting for some sort of answer that only came in the form of yet another eye-roll. He tossed the package on to his own pile, and the girl rang them up, trying to keep the judgmental look off of her face without much success.

The total cost of their purchase was nearing $800, and Dean was shocked. "That's way too much money."

"Nonsense," Castiel said, handing over his credit card. The woman swiped it before Dean could even begin to argue, and he let out an anguished groan as the purchase went through.

"God, that's way too much."

"No. Don't argue with me."

"I was going to pay you guys back for all of this stuff! That's a lot of money."

"We wouldn't have accepted it anyway."

"My money? Your dad said I could pay you back…"

"He lied." Castiel had his bags around his wrist, and Dean grabbed his own, following the other out of the store, where they met up with the elders, making their way over to the store they'd just come from. "Hi father."

"Castiel. You get clothes?"

"Yes." Castiel nodded, holding up his bags. "I got some. Dean did as well."

"Good." Viktor had a bag in his hands, and Mychalla had a few garment bags in his. Viktor pointed at them. "Your suits, Dean. And your shoes."

Dean's eyes widened, and he held out his hand to take the bag of shoes, thanking Viktor as he was handed them. He made to take his garment bags from Mychalla, but he denied it, turning and walking away before Dean could really ask for them.

They returned back to their vehicle, and Viktor turned around as soon as they were back on the road. He held out a box to Dean, who cocked his head. "What's that?"

"Special cellphone."

"For me?"

"No," Castiel butted in. "Is for me."

Dean rolled his eyes at him. "You're more fun when you're not sassy."

"You're lying."

"You two get along like when you were children," Viktor said, waving the phone at Dean for him to take as he turned to look back out the front of the car. "Always bicker. Just waiting for you two to break something."

Dean looked up from his phone. "What?"

"What you mean, 'what'?"

"When we were children? Did we… know each other?"

"Of course!" Viktor said, looking back over his shoulder once again. "You not remember?"

"I don't remember much," Dean added. "Kind of dark times for my family."

Viktor nodded once as Castiel looked on with confusion. "Dark times? All you did was trade with each other."

"His mother, Castiel."

"What happened?"

"She died," Dean said, looking down at his hands. "I was pretty young. Only seven."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

It was quiet for a minute before Viktor continued, trying to lighten the mood. "But yes. You knew each other. Castiel was the one who insisted on a bounce castle for your party, and you two got angry and began to fight. You tore a part of castle out."

"We didn't," Dean said in disbelief, relaxing back in his chair.

"You did. Your father and I had climb in to pull you two out."

"How'd we pop the castle?"

"You both had pocket knives."

"I did?"

"You got set for birthday. Gave one to Castiel."

"We were fighting with them?"

"We did a lot," Castiel added. He reached across the seat to tug down the corner of Dean's shirt, pointing to the faded white scar just under his collar bone. "Ever wonder where that come from?"

"You, I suppose."

Castiel nodded. "I have one on thigh. You tore my jeans."

"You let us play with knives?" Dean asked Viktor.

"I let you stay at your house. Like I say before. Your father; great brewer, horrible man."

"I don't find it quite so surprising anymore," Dean said, and Viktor laughed.

"Just glad you never killed or hurt too bad. You not know how to use knives back then."

"I still don't know how to use knives," Dean said, though he didn't receive a response as they had just pulled in to a car dealer. On either side of him were lines of luxury and expensive cars, from Mercedes-Benz, to Cadillacs, to Ferraris, a few high-priced used vehicles scattered between them. Dean's eyes widened. "What are we doing here?"

"Castiel tell you we getting new cars, right?"

"Uhh, yeah, but I thought he was kidding."

"Not kidding," Castiel said, brushing passed Dean to one of the huge SUVs. He had to hop up in to it, and Dean was surprised that it was unlocked. He walked around to the other side, hopping up in to the passenger seat beside Castiel. "I should get this. I like Hummers. They feel good."

Dean tried not to see the innuendo in that. "What did you have before?"

"A Bentley. It destroyed now. I like to see assholes try destroy me in this."

"You'd just run them over."

"Exactly," Castiel said, running his hand across the smooth dash toward Dean and then back. "Let's go look at Ferraris."

"I thought you wanted an SUV."

"Doesn't mean we can't drive other cars."

And drive them they did.

Castiel had chosen a red one, and Dean had taken a yellow one. A race track or sorts had been in the back of the dealer beside a dirt track for testing Jeeps and other off-road vehicles. They sped around it a number of times, Castiel beating Dean out using whatever driving skills he had garnered over the years. Dean was a little more sloppy, not even having a car to his name previously. He had used his fathers car on occasion, when he needed to get to work or take Sam somewhere and his father wasn't available (or sober), and that was it.

Castiel had settled on the Hummer he'd originally been in, but Dean was more hesitant.

"I don't want a car."

"You get a car."

"I can't get a car. I can't afford any of these, and I'm not letting you buy me a car."

"It's not a choice, Winchester," Viktor finalized. "Choose one."

He chose a Jeep in similar size to Castiel's. Dean rode with Castiel back as Viktor had to drive it back for him because Dean had no license, his wallet left back at the lifeguard stand.

He was handed the keys once home, and Castiel led him back up to their rooms. Dean had just begun to unpack his new clothes when Castiel walked in to his room, flopping on his bed, two pairs of the silken panties in his hands. Dean looked at him, stepping in to his closet to put a pair of shoes away. He paused. "What's with the panties?"

"They yours."

"Oh, no no no," Dean said, walking to grab some more clothes from the bags, carrying a few shirts into his closet. "I didn't want any. You did."

"And I want give some to you."

Dean stopped by his bed. "And why's that?"

"You look sexy in them," Castiel said, siting up on the bed. He swung his feet around to the side Dean was standing on,pushing himself up to stand. He was close to Dean, but not too close for either of them, despite that their arms were touching.

Castiel turned to Dean, and Dean half turned to Castiel, shuffling his feet just a bit. "How would you know that?" he muttered.

"Just a guess," he replied, leaning in to mutter in Dean's ear, slipping a few of his fingers in to Dean's waistband, tugging it a small bit away from his hips. He tucked the pairs of panties in, his fingers brushing against the v of his hips outside his boxers as he slipped them out, letting the waistband relax again. "You can show me later."

Dean exhaled shakily as Castiel stepped away from him, fingers brushing against his hips as he sauntered away, leaving Dean's room to return to his own, clicking the door shut behind him. Dean turned and slumped down to the floor in front of his bed, head falling back on the mattress. That had been intense, and a bit weird.

He took a brief moment to collect himself before starting up on putting his clothes away. Once satisfied with how his closet was organized, he stepped in to his bathroom, using some of the body wash he'd been given to clean himself up in the shower. He felt refreshed and relaxed as he stepped out, only for his mood to fall, as well as his towel, the moment he saw Castiel laying on his bed.

He dropped down to pick up his towel, scrambling to wrap it back around his body as he stood once more. "Jesus christ! Why are you in here!?"

"Need to get you. Show you how to use gun." He patted the gun laying beside him on his bed.

"You couldn't have waited!?"

"Nope." Castiel was playing on his phone, laying on his back on Dean's bed, and Dean walked over, snatching the device from his hands. "He-"

"No! Get out!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Castiel sat up on the bed, reaching in to his pants, worming his gun out.

Dean grabbed the gun beside Castiel on the bed, pointing it at him. "Yes."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "That gun not loaded." He cocked his gun, pointing it at Dean as he stood, the few extra inches he had on him definitely a detriment to Dean acting strong. He swallowed, and Castiel grinned. "Mine is."

"…Huge dick…" Dean muttered under his breath, dropping his unloaded gun away from Castiel as well as his cellphone to the floor.

"I know it is."

"No that's not- Whatever." Dean dropped it as Castiel took the gun from his hand.

"Whatever you meant, it not matter. It true either way."

"That's not something to be proud of."

"One of them is." Castiel stepped behind Dean, pressing up against him. Dean growled, rolling his towel a bit tighter around his hips. He reached forward to grab Dean's hands, holding them perpendicular to his body as he slipped the gun back in to one of them. "So, first, turn off the safety." Dean did. "Now you need to hold steady." Castiel brought Dean's other hand up to rest under the gun. "Close one eye to aim, and that's it."

"I just pull the trigger?"

Castiel hummed in response, lips near Dean's ear, causing him to shiver. Castiel just pressed closer. "Aiming takes bit of practice, but we can work on later."

"So what do we do in the meantime?"

Castiel was pressed impossibly close to Dean, and while the other had no idea why, he wasn't about to complain, the slightly taller man's nose in his hair, his lips behind his ear. "I have few ideas."

"Like what?" Castiel hummed quietly, sliding his hands down from Dean's to his hips, fingers splaying out, half over the towel and half over his skin. Dean dropped the gun to the floor as his hands fell with it, covering Castiel's. "I don't think we should do this?"

"Do what?"

"You know."

It took a minute, but Castiel finally back away from Dean with a sigh, his hands dropping from his hips. "We talk later," Castiel said as he walked by Dean to leave his room, fingertips brushing against the bare skin of his waist as he passed.

"About what?" Dean asked, though Castiel was gone into his own room, door shut behind him. Dean let out a shaky exhale as he waled to his own door, clicking it shut before letting his towel drop to the ground. He found himself a pair of boxers, the new ones Castiel had chosen for him, and lay on top of his bed in them, calming himself down from the earlier experience.

Dinner had been nice and quiet, the food once again amazing, and Dean really wasn't surprised when Castiel asked him to accompany him back up to their rooms to retire for the night. "Goodnight," he said to the table, which was made up of Viktor along with Alona and a friend.

"Good night," Viktor said in return as he hugged Castiel, kissing his temple. "You be good," he muttered to Castiel.

"When I not good?"

Viktor laughed, his deep bellow echoing around the two of them. "I see the look on your face."

"What look?"

Viktor laughed again. "Be good."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Okay."

"Okay." Viktor kissed his temple again. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Viktor let go of his son, and Castiel turned to walk away. Dean waited until the other was in front of him, following him closely out of the room. "Where are your other sisters?"

"Anna and Rachel are visiting Mom-"

"-You have two sisters with names that start with 'A'?"

"Yes," Castiel replied, slightly irritated with the interruption. "Mom name is Alona, and her sister is Anna, that why. Hester is off studying, and Michelle is engaged."

"Isn't she the youngest?"

"Who cares," Castiel replied. They'd reached the top of the stairs, and Dean was yanked back as he made to turn in to his room. He, instead, was pulled in to Castiel's room, shoved up against the wall beside the door as it was closed. "I have a proposition for you," Castiel said, nosing up Dean's neck, pinning his shoulders to the wall.

"And wha- oh!" Castiel kissed right below where Dean's ear met his jaw, his lips cool and soft against his skin "What's that?"

"You're hot, Dean. Sexy"

"A-and?" Castiel kissed the hollow of Dean's neck, running his nose up to beneath his chin, pressing another kiss. Dean shivered, hands linking behind Castiel's back in the small. The other's tall and lean body was pressed solidly up against his own.

"And I haven't been laid in a year."

"So you want to have sex with me?"

"More than that," Castiel muttered, licking a line up Dean's neck, stopping at his pulse point. "Call it, uhh… friends with benefits."

"So you want to have lots of sex with me?"

"Oh yes." Castiel attacked his lips to Dean's pulse point, sucking a bruise in to place. Dean felt like pushing him away, the mark sure to be far too visible, but it felt too good for him to stop it. He curled his fingers in to Castiel's back on either side of his spine, and Castiel pulled away, smirking lightly. "We also make out, maybe do some other stuff…"

"So, like a relationship?"

"Without all the love, and dates, and… schmoopy things, yes."

"So, friends with benefits?"

Castiel backed himself away just enough to look in to Dean's eyes without straining or crossing his own. "How can I make more clear? Yes. Friends with benefits."

"Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

"What do you mean? I have."

"On the lips," Dean explained.

"Will once I hear answer."

Dean was quiet for a moment, his fingers still pressed in to Castiel's back, his shoulders still pinned to the wall by Castiel's hands. "Can I think about it?"

Castiel nodded. "It only eight now. Come back… eleven or midnight. Tell me then."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Castiel stepped back from Dean after sucking another bruise in to his neck, this one low enough to be hidden by one of the button-ups Castiel had picked for him earlier that day. It took a moment, but Dean was finally able to push himself away from the wall, his hand brushing against Castiel's hip as the other's ran down his arm. He stopped right beside Castiel, turning just enough to kiss his jaw before moving on, leaving his room.

Once back in what he considered to be his room, though it was still new and relatively unfamiliar, he flopped on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The touches and innuendo and longing stares throughout the day now made sense to him, but it'd been just a day that Castiel had known Dean, excluding their childhood. Was he really that desperate to be with someone that he couldn't wait? But then again, Castiel was very attractive, and seeing him do what he had done the day before, in terms of fighting and generally being a badass in Dean's eyes… Well, it'd been hot. He couldn't deny that. And it'd turned him on. He didn't want to deny that.

And Dean was always up for getting laid.

Always.

But the commitment, if you could call it that, of labeling themselves as 'friends with benefits' bothered Dean. What if he couldn't handle the uncertainty of their relationship? What if it was too much for him to deal with? What if Castiel sucked in bed?

Dean shook his head.

Castiel wouldn't suck in bed.

Dean was left to himself and his thoughts on the entire relationship and its possibilities while Castiel lay on his bed in his room, doing quite the opposite, his hand in his pants as he played on his phone, switching between videos of porn and stupid youtube videos.

He wasn't quite in the mood to get himself off, much more interested in Dean doing so for him, but it was worth the effort, he decided, to calm himself down before Dean returned with his answer in a few hours.

Both were nervous, Castiel's out of excitement, and Dean's out of worry, but lingering feelings and emotions were tied in for different reasons neither one could truly explain.

Dean turned to look at his clock. He had another 3 or more hours to himself. He closed his eyes, flipping his hands behind his head, making a makeshift pillow instead of reaching up to just grab one. He felt he needed to sleep on it, and sleep on it he did.

I forget if I did this in earlier chapters, but just as a reminder, there is the potential of: Character death (may be major), abuse, lots of violence, sexual abuse, other triggering things. If you have any questions, feel more than free to ask.

On top of that, I'm sorry it took 2 weeks to update. I was thinking about just not updating until I have he whole story written, but as I've already started publishing it, I'd like to know why those of you who read this think? Please let me know!

Thank you!