Hey all! Thank you for all the reviews and alerts! I can't tell you how much that makes my day. I had originally meant this chapter to be much more angsty but it descended into fluff as you shall soon see.
Chapter 15
The Winchester family sat in their private living room. Sam perched tensely on the edge of the sofa like he was ready to bolt and Dean, the outward picture of confidence, slouched low in one of the stuffed chairs.
John Winchester surveyed the room with an expert's eye and moved to disable a camera concealed in a plant by the window. He ripped the wiring from the device with rather more gusto than was warranted.
Sam flinched.
"So, want to let me in on what's been happening boys?" he asked in a quiet voice that always indicated he knew exactly what had been going on and was going to make them spell it painfully out.
Dean barely reacted to the question but Sam saw his nostrils flare. The simple tell spoke volumes of how his brother really felt under the mask of indifference he wore. Sam figured it was easier to act like he didn't care that admit he cared too much.
Sam could never stand awkward silences though and rushed to fill the gap. "Wow, Dad, where to start? I don't suppose anyone else filled you in?" he stammered.
John sat down and folded his fingers into a steeple. "Perhaps. I'd rather hear it from you though."
Their father looked at Dean as he said it, like he had forgotten it was Sam who spoke. Dean didn't say anything however and picked at a loose thread in the chair's lining.
Sam attempted to follow his older brother's strong-and-silent lead but the words spilled out anyway. Heart-to-hearts with John always made him nervous.
"Okay, to start, there's been cook-offs, snowball fights, I found someone to agree with me about Dean's naming talents, Gabriel ate all the chocolate in the house and I didn't get any, it turns out that Sarah likes tofu too, Dean rode a horse to the airport—" Sam was pretty sure he was just verbally vomiting now.
John's eyes flashed at the mention of Dean's late night ride. "Let's talk about your date, Dean. The one with Cas-tell."
"It's Castiel, Dad. Cas-tee-el. Like the angel," Dean said slowly and sat up a little straighter. It figured Dean would let Sam ramble on like an idiot but the moment Castiel's name got mispronounced he had something to say.
"Doesn't matter," John replied dismissively. "You're actually telling me that you live in a house surrounded by beautiful women and you still managed to end up on a date with a guy?"
Sam cleared his throat. "Technically, Dad, Castiel won the date. Dean picked his burger anonymously."
John glared at Dean regardless, like it was somehow his fault that both he and Cas liked bacon-cheeseburgers. "Fine, but that doesn't explain what he is still doing here a week later. You do realize that I am in the middle of a campaign? You realize that this will all be aired on national television?"
Dean shrank further into the chair at that. If he slouched any harder, he might be in danger of disappearing into the fabric entirely.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
John stood up and leaned over his eldest. "Yes. You. Do." He tried to make eye contact but Dean steadfastly continued to unravel the chair's stitching like it was his own personal mission.
Sam was mildly shocked; normally Dean was the pleasant child, the peacemaker, the one who remained irrevocably on their father's side. His reticence was practically a full-scale rebellion in comparison.
"Dad. Leave him alone. He's doing the show like you asked, isn't he?" Sam moved to stand by his father but John never once glanced up. Seriously, it was like he was invisible.
John bared his teeth. Not used to defiance from his oldest son, his cheeks turned a bright red and a vein in his neck popped out. Surprisingly, when he spoke however, he voice remained unnaturally calm.
"Deny it all you want, Dean, but you will swear to stay away from him, understand? Do you think openly associating with—Cas-tee-el—who, besides being a man, hasn't got a dime or accomplishment to his name and happens to possess the most embarrassing and obnoxious family I have ever met—is going to help repair your brother's image or this family's reputation?"
So that was it. His dad was going to play the family card. The one thing that could get to Dean like no other. Sarah was right though; Dean didn't need to spend any more time paying for Sam's mistakes.
Sam opened his mouth to tell Dean as much but at a hard look from his father, the words evaporated into thin air.
"Pick anyone you'd like, Dean, as long as it's not him," their father finished.
John paused then and his expression softened minutely. "Son, I know you've had it rough. After Mary's accident, life has been hard for all of us. You've had to grow up on your own and take care of Sam while I worked long hours. And you couldn't stop what happened to your brother last summer after Jessica died. I get it, I do. But this is not the time or place to indulge in your personal fantasies—family means sacrifice and if I know you, I know you'll do what's best for this family."
John didn't give Dean the option of saying no. He just walked out.
With an exhausted sigh, Dean leaned over to rest his head between his hands. "Well that went just perfect," he muttered.
Sam reached down to tentatively rest a hand on Dean's shoulders. "Don't listen to him Dean. If you like Castiel—"
Dean shrugged him off with a jerk though and glared up angrily. "And if I do, does that make any of the things Dad said less true?"
"That's the thing, Dean! He's wrong about this. I don't need you to—"
But Dean wasn't listening and cut Sam off before he could explain. "Why does it feel like I'm always choosing between what's best for you and being happy?" he asked in an exhausted sort of way.
"You don't have to. I would never ask that of you. I'm not ten anymore."
"Well I think the whole world knows you're not exactly an adult either, Sammy. Case in point, last summer. Someone's gotta look after you."
Sam's throat closed up. Dean never mentioned that summer, had never blamed him for the drugs. He'd visited Sam on a daily basis in rehab.
From his expression, Dean seemed to realize he'd gone too far but he didn't recant what he'd said either. He merely looked…resigned.
"I better get going," he sighed and stood up. "I'm expected to go on a one-on-one date with each of the remaining contestants over the next couple of days. Wish me luck," he added without any real enthusiasm and walked away, leaving Sam behind to wonder when his family had become so dysfunctional.
Sam watched Dean play the part of the perfect son for two whole days and it was excruciating. It was like a switch had been flipped and Dean had gone into robot-mode, burying his real self under layers of distant politeness and not-quite-there smiles.
Dean laughed at all of Ruby's scandalous jokes during their snowmobile ride to an abandoned mine that sat on the property and offered Lilith his jacket when she failed to bring one on their walk. Anna received a dozen roses at lunch and Dean even braved the library at Sarah's request and somehow managed to stumble through a semi-intelligent conversation about Jane Austen's various merits.
Sam tried his hardest to pretend that his gut didn't clench when Sarah laid her hand casually on Dean's shoulder. He wanted to Dean to be happy after all, even if it was with her.
Sam had the advantage though of watching everything play out over the monitors. He hadn't expected that his attempt to worm his way into the camera room would be successful. However, a woman with a shiny ID badge and a set of unnaturally white teeth had practically squealed when he'd shown up at the door and yanked him quickly inside. And if she creepily stroked his arm while he studied Dean's dates, Sam pretended not to notice.
It seemed he was doing a lot of pretending lately.
In the end though, even if Dean had been an ass, he was still his brother and Sam knew that regardless of what had been said in the aftermath of their dad's arrival, that Dean would do anything for him, or be anything for him. It was time for that to change. Sam was clean, healthy and in a better place and it was Dean's turn to have someone look after him. Possibly two someones, if Castiel could be included.
And, after two straight days of letting Becky (yes, he'd eventually asked her name) molest his forearm and observing an epic case of fake-it-till-you-make-it, Sam was convinced that Castiel was exactly what Dean needed.
He's finally realized it sometime on the second afternoon as he watched Dean sit pleasantly through Bela's personal fashion show. She'd seriously tried on half her wardrobe and Dean had just sat there and let it happen. Which meant either A) he'd had a lobotomy without anyone noticing or B) he was so unhappy he didn't even have the energy to pitch a fit about being forced to give fashion advice. Either scenario was fairly terrifying.
Finally though, it came time for Dean's date with Castiel and Sam held his breath. Dean had waited by the barn, ready to give Cas a ride in his baby and right on cue, Castiel had shown up, wearing that blue shirt that matched his eyes. Dean's face lit up for the first time in forty-eight hours and the pair had both stared hopefully at each other for all of about one second before John burst onto the scene with a lady on each arm and demanded that Dean take them all for a ride.
Becky groaned in disappointment at that one and Sam had had to agree.
Which was how Sam found himself asking Gabriel for Castiel's phone number. And that sounded all sorts of wrong when he thought about it too hard.
Castiel was sprawled haphazardly over the bed as the downstairs clocked chimed the midnight hour. He'd barely seen Dean the past two days. It was like John Winchester had arrived and Dean became a stranger again.
But if Dean needed space, Castiel was determined to give it to him. He remembered trying to tell Gabriel that he was gay; he'd agonized over it, practiced at least ten different conversations and taken Gabriel to his favorite candy shop just to discover that his brother had known he was gay all along and simply wanted to watch him sweat.
He still thought of the fifty bucks he's spent on candy that day with bitterness.
Castiel's phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting him from his thoughts, and an unknown number flashed on the screen.
Inbox: 303-555-5485
Meet me in the kitchen?
It took him a moment to type out a reply. He always made sure to text in complete sentences with proper spelling.
Sent: Castiel Novak
Who is this? I am unfamiliar with this number.
There was no answering buzz though. Castiel turned the phone over curiously. Without consciously making a decision, he slipped into a pair of worn shoes and out into the hallway, latching the door behind him.
The kitchen was dark, but the moonlight streaming through the windows highlighted a silhouetted figure that sat at the counter.
"Dean?" Castiel asked, heart leaping into his chest.
The figure jerked suddenly, like it had been surprised and Castiel heard something splash onto the floor.
"Shit." Dean's unmistakable voice floated across the room. Castiel approached the counter to find Dean scowling at the chocolate cereal he'd spilled everywhere.
He shrugged. "Eh, just means I get to have another bowl now." He smirked over at Castiel. "Maybe I should get a bell for you."
"What?"
"You know," he gestured toward the floor, "in the name of protecting the world's Cocoa Pebbles or something."
"I do not require a bell."
"Of course not," Dean breezed, not really listening. He moved toward the counter and poured another bowl. "Want some, Cas?"
"Not at this hour."
"Your loss. What're you doing down here then if you're not craving a late night sugar high or trying to eat away the memory of a bunch of horrible dates?" His eyes swept over the tight Foreigner shirt that clung to Castiel's frame and his low-riding sweatpants. "Not that I mind," he added.
"I received a message to come to the kitchen." Castiel held up his phone in explanation.
Dean grabbed the device from him and scrolled through his messages. "Huh. And you thought it was from me?"
Castiel blushed. Maybe Dean hadn't actually wanted to see him and it had all been wishful thinking on his part. "It was from an unknown number…" he shuffled his feet nervously.
Dean looked on and understanding dawned across his face. "Hey, no, it wasn't me, but if I'd had your number, don't you think I would have asked you to meet me long before this? The past two days have been the absolute worst."
Castiel looked up into Dean's gaze. "You don't regret what happened between us?"
Dean flicked a pebble his way. "What did I tell you the first night you came here? No regrets." He abandoned the cereal box and wrapped Castiel in his arms.
Castiel sank into the warmth, reveling in Dean's particular scent. Now that he was with Dean again, he wasn't sure how he'd lasted the past two days. Castiel sighed with contentment and leaned up to kiss Dean. He saw Dean's eyes flick to a green light that flashed in the corner though.
"Sorry, Cas. Stupid cameras. What do you say we take this somewhere more private?"
Thoughts of a bedroom filled his mind. His or Dean's, it didn't matter.
Instead, Castiel found himself yanked into a closet that sat a couple feet from the kitchen counter. His back was pressed uncomfortably into a wall of shelves and he twisted around to come face to face with endless rows of tomato soup cans.
"A pantry isn't what most people think of when they hear 'let's take this somewhere more private', Dean."
"And most people are totally boring, what of it?" The other man grinned and ran his hands up and down Castiel's sides, lifting the hem of his t-shirt purposefully. "Do you know how hot you look in this? It's a shame I have to take it off," he said and smashed his mouth against Castiel's.
Dean was greedy, thrusting his tongue into Castiel's mouth and pinning him against the shelves. Castiel fought back though, rocking his hips forward to line up with Dean's. Both men gasped at the sensation and Castiel did it again, smirking against Dean's mouth.
"You're killing me, Cas."
"Don't die too soon. I'm not done yet."
Dean groaned and angled Castiel's head back for a deeper kiss. Castiel reached around to clutch Dean's ass and squeezed. The other man paused in his attempt to lick his way down Castiel's neck, caught up in the sensation. Castiel took the opportunity to flip them around and slammed Dean against the side of the pantry.
The walls shook with the impact and cans crashed to the floor around them. A bag of flour on the top shelf tipped over and dusted them with white powder. Castiel clamped his eyes shut guiltily.
Dean only laughed though and swiped his tongue across Castiel's cheek, tasting the flour. "Mmmm. Can you imagine if it had been powdered sugar?" he asked cockily. Castiel looked up at the top shelf where a smaller bag sat by the first.
"That can be arranged," he said and slammed Dean against the shelf again. A second white coat crashed down around them.
"You bastard," Dean said as Castiel grinned wickedly. He didn't complain though when he reached over to kiss the other man and was meet with sweet flavor. He moaned.
"Now I have to reevaluate whether Cocoa Pebbles are actually the best tasting thing in the universe. This is coming pretty close."
"You're telling me I come in second compared to cereal?"
"I didn't say I couldn't fix it." Castiel blinked and Dean had grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup. He ducked instinctively but Dean didn't miss and upended the bottle right over Castiel's hair.
Dean eyed his work. "Better." A bag full of cashews instantly smacked him.
Castiel was very busy over the next few minutes. Apparently, under Dean's influence, his maturity had regressed into that of a five-year-old. If Gabriel could have seen him chucking M&Ms across the pantry or slipping on rice as it spilled over the floor, he would have been proud.
"Is that a chocolate chip in your eyebrow?" Dean grinned.
"Says the man coated with pancake syrup and raisins."
"Maybe you should be a chef, Cas. I'm delicious. And I actually mean that literally tonight."
Castiel kissed him softly and grimaced as his lips stuck to the other man's and he had to peel himself away.
"Go take a shower, Dean."
"Nah. I haven't finished my bowl of cereal yet. Changed your mind yet? They're full of sugary goodness and happiness and shit."
Castiel shrugged and pulled a marshmallow from his ear. "Sure."
I might have been hungry when I wrote this:)