Title: The Trenchcoat Avenger of Truman High

Author: rons_pigwidgeon

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Rating: NC17

Warnings: Masturbation, Underage Drinking, Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Blow Jobs in a Car, Car Sex, Sex in the Impala, Bathroom Sex, Hand Jobs, light dom/sub play, Homophobic Language, Homophobia, Homophobic language (way to be a dick, John)

Chapter Summary: Castiel's life is just starting to settle into something close to normal. He has a boyfriend. He can wake up in the morning without an ever-present ache in his heart. Life is starting to gain some of its color again. And then Sam Winchester goes to college.

Author's Note: Be advised that this will be the last chapter that occurs before canon. Next chapter will jump ahead to the pilot.

"Damn, you two are cute," Avery says as she surveys them curled together on the couch. She's dressed in her shortest skirt and a slinky top that barely covers her breasts and the skin just above her belly button.

"Thank you. You look like you are heading to Studio 54," Castiel responds, smirking.

Avery rolls her eyes. "You sound like—" she cuts off, shaking her head. "Nevermind. I'm off to the club. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Castiel nods, his stomach clenching. The image of Dean flashes in front of his eyes. He cuddles closer to Ryan and waves at Avery. "Don't do anything crazy, and be careful."

"No worries, I got my girls and my very best friend at my side." She pulls her sparkly pink tube of mace from her teeny tiny purse and waves it at them, grinning. "Night, gentlemen."

"Night, Avery. Be careful," Ryan says after her as she saunters out the door. "She certainly doesn't leave anything to the imagination," he says after the door's closed, and they're alone for the first time in a week.

"She is her own person. What shall we do with the apartment all to ourselves tonight? Neil's sleeping over at Maria's, so it's just us."

Ryan grins, leaning into Castiel's face. "I can think of a few things."

"Oh yeah?" Castiel closes the last inch and presses their mouths together. Even after six months together, Ryan's kisses are still soft and tentative, like he is always asking permission to touch Castiel, unlike Dean, who took with a possessive aggression that matched Castiel's own. Despite the hesitation, they are good, sweet. Castiel slides closer, lifting up to straddle Ryan's knee, raising his hands into Ryan's soft hair. Ryan groans, pulling him closer by his belt. It's just getting good when three knocks interrupt them, quick and confident, followed by four more in quicker succession… was that 'Smoke on the Water'?

Castiel is up and at the door in less time than it takes Ryan to realize he's gone. He pulls open the door to find Dean Winchester leaning against his door frame. He looks awful, eyes red-rimmed and puffy like he hasn't slept and his left eye is bruised. His clothes are dirty and wrinkled, and he's holding himself stiffly despite the leaning, like he's been cramped in the car driving around for a long time without any breaks. Despite all of it, he's still the most beautiful thing Cas has ever seen. "Dean?"

Dean musters up a tired smile. "Hey Cas. You haven't heard from Sammy lately, have you?"

Cas frowns, confused. "You told me not to talk to your brother, and I have respected your wishes."

Dean slumps a little. "Of course, the one time you actually listen to me…"

"What's the matter, Dean? Is Sam alright?"

"No—Yes—I don't know. He's gone, took off. He didn't even leave a note or anything. His duffel was just gone, and he's not answering his cell. I've been looking all over the place, but I can't find him. I was sort of hoping you'd know where he was."

Something clicks in Castiel's head, and he understands where Sam is and also why he might have left without telling Dean where he was going. "Dean, Standford began classes two days ago. He's probably at school."

Cas watches as Dean shifts his jaw, the muscle in his cheek clenching. "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. Thanks, Cas." His eyes flick past Castiel to Ryan, still sitting on the couch watching them. Cas had forgotten he was there. "Looks like I was interrupting. Sorry about that. I'll see you around." He knocks on the door frame and turns around with one final, lingering look at Cas, like he was just a neighbor asking for sugar and not the love of Castiel's life walking back into it after an eight-month absence.

Cas feels his world start to crumble, but this time he's not letting it happen. He ignores Ryan and grabs onto Dean's shoulder, turning him around and pulling him into the apartment. "Dean Winchester, if you think for even a moment that you can walk back into my life after not a word for eight months, and then walk back out again, you are dearly mistaken. Find a seat. We're going to talk." He shoves Dean towards the couch, turning his attention to Ryan with a forced smile. He hates to have to do this, but there is no choice in the matter. "Ryan, I apologize, but I will have to cut our evening short. I will see you on Tuesday."

Ryan is eying Dean like he might have a gun. Castiel can't even say for certain that he doesn't. Ryan gets up from the couch as Dean nears him, barely paying Ryan any attention as he slumps on the other side of it and buries his face in his hands. "Castiel, are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Ryan asks, edging towards Cas, brows furrowed.

"Yes. Dean and I have quite a lot to discuss, and I would prefer that we converse in private. Again, I apologize for the sudden cessation of our evening, but this is very important."

His expression crumples, understanding fading the light in his eyes and leaving him looking a bit like a sad puppy. "Right, yeah, okay. I'll uh… I'll call you tomorrow?"

"I will see you on Tuesday," Cas insists, giving him a significant look. He would feel guilty for giving Ryan the brush-off, but all his focus is concentrated on Dean.

Ryan nods, attempts to kiss Cas goodnight on his way past, but Cas slips from his grasp and goes to Dean, kneeling on the couch cushion next to Dean and facing him, taking his hand. He waits until the front door clicks closed before speaking. "You look terrible. Have you eaten anything in the last twelve hours? Do you want an icepack for your eye?"

Dean slumps over his knees and rubs at his face, sighing loudly. "A lot's been going on, Cas. I've been a little too busy looking for Sammy to eat."

"And yet you managed to get punched in the eye. I am going to get you some food and a beer. You are to stay right there and do not move. Do you understand me?" Dean's head nods up and down, but he doesn't look up. Cas goes to the kitchen and puts together the best sandwiches he can muster with what little is left in the fridge. When he comes back, Dean is sitting up and his eyes track Cas' progress across the living room. He looks as though he is going to take Cas' demand for a talk seriously. Cas pushes the plate with his sandwich into his hands and curls up next to him, not touching. "Tell me what happened."

Dean meets his gaze for only a second before turning his eyes to the sandwich and setting the plate on the table so he can pick it up and take a bite. It's a minute of chewing before he finally says anything. "I was on a hunt with Dad. Sam said he didn't want to come with us, so we left him at the motel. Once we finished the job, Dad stayed back for clean-up and I went to the motel to start packing. When I got there, Sam was gone and so was all his stuff. I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. I talked to the motel clerk, nothing, went to the bus depot, nothing, went to the train station, nothing. Called Bobby. He hadn't heard from him either. I tried every other one of our friends, but no one's heard anything from him. So I started driving around, thinking maybe he'd gotten it in his head to hitch-hike. I couldn't find him anywhere."

Cas has been holding back, trying to let Dean finish the story, but there is a glaring hole in the story that he just can't understand. "Dean, it's the end of August. Where were you hunting?"

Dean freezes, glances at him out of the corner of his eye, picks his sandwich up and takes another bite. "This is a really good sandwich, Cas. I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"Dean."

"Yeah, I know. This is just kind of a big deal, you know? The last person I told didn't take it well. You're gonna think I'm nuts."

"I already think you're nuts and love you anyway. Tell me."

Dean blanches at the admission, staring at Cas like a deer caught unawares. "You…"

"Of course I do, you idiot. Why do you think I've put up with you this whole time? Now tell me the damn secret before I make you tell me." The menacing glare he throws at Dean must work because he stops fidgeting and puts the sandwich down.

"I'm not a mechanic."

Cas huffs a laugh. "Yes, I'm aware."

"Well, I've worked as a mechanic before, but that's not my… job, per say."

"Dean."

"Fine, okay. I'm what's called a hunter."

"I wasn't aware that that was a profession, but fine. What do you hunt?"

He hesitates again, and Cas has to dig a fingernail into his forearm to get him to answer. "Ow, Jesus, Cas!" He rubs the crescent indent on his arm with a sour look. "Ghosts, okay? And werewolves, witches, all kinds of creepy crawlys. I hunt monsters, okay?"

Castiel sits very still, eyes fixed on Dean. The logical part of his brain tries to claim that this is impossible. Werewolves, vampires, witches, they simply do not exist. But the spiritual part of him knows that they do, because God and angels and demons exist, as does Heaven and Hell. Why would the other supernatural beings not also exist? Thinking back on all the stories Dean has told him, all the times he has talked around a situation, made it clear that he was hiding something from Cas. All the weapons and other strange paraphernalia in his trunk that he thinks Castiel hasn't seen. "Alright," he says, more relaxed than he feels.

"Alright? That's all you've got to say? I just told you I hunt werewolves."

"And ghosts and goblins and all other manner of supernatural beings, yes, I heard you."

"And that doesn't… freak you out or anything?"

"Yes, but I have no reason to believe you are lying, and the types of books Bobby Singer keeps would heavily suggest you are telling the truth."

Dean squints at him, shaking his head. "Dude, every time I think I get what's going on in that crazy head of yours…"

"Dean, I believe in God and the Bible and angels and demons. It is not a stretch to believe in the rest."

"Okay, well sorry to burst your bubble, but angels don't actually exist, and if God does, I'm gonna punch him in the face, but yeah, the other stuff is real."

Cas is going to ignore Dean's assertion about the angels. He scoots a fraction closer to Dean, so that his knees butt up against Dean's thigh. "May I ask what you were hunting when Sam left?"

"A ghost. Dude had a thing for dressing little boys up in those pageant dresses and killing them. And yes, it was as weird as it sounds."

"And did you… take care of the ghost? How does one take care of a ghost, exactly?" He cocks his head to the side, considering the idea. Perhaps they have corporeal form?

"Salt and burn the remains," Dean answers as though he's explaining how to make a ham sandwich.

"I'm sorry, what?" Castiel has no frame of reference for what Dean is telling him. He can't imagine why salt would be necessary or burning a body. Are they actually corporeal? He hadn't really thought that, even though he'd considered it.

"First you have to figure out who the ghost was, you know, before they died? Then, you go dig up their remains, cover them in salt, and burn them. Don't ask me why it works, but they burn up right along with the bones."

"And why the salt?"

"It repels them. Kind of like ghost kryptonite."

"And did it work on this ghost?"

"Yeah, it did. Saved one of the kids, too." Dean picks the sandwich back up and takes a few more bites, eyeing Cas every few chews as though he thinks Cas might freak out on him at any moment. Castiel takes the time to try to work his way through the implications of this news.

"You're uh, you're bein' kinda calm about this."

"Would you prefer I have a screaming fit or fainting spell?"

"No, it's just… strange. The last person I told freaked out on me and kicked me out of her apartment."

Castiel narrows his eyes, disliking the sound of this. "Her apartment?"

"Yeah, sorry, we weren't together or anything. Didn't think you'd care."

Castiel leans in to make Dean look him in the eyes again. "Are we together now?"

Dean's eyes are practically glowing and so bright green that it takes Castiel's breath away. "Do you wanna be?"

It is all the confirmation Cas needs to invade the small space left between them and press his lips to Dean's. The way Dean immediately puts the remains of his sandwich down and curls around Cas, crowding him against the back of the couch and invading his mouth is exhilarating. Castiel moans into his mouth, pulling him closer with fists clenched in his jacket, untucking one leg from underneath him to drape over Dean's lap as though to keep him there. Eventually, Dean pulls back, eyes warm and happy. "I missed that," he whispers, hoarse and quiet, almost reverent.

Castiel smooths a hand over his cheek, letting the stubble on Dean's jaw prickle his skin. "I missed you, too. Does this mean you forgive me for helping Sam?"

Like a switch turning off, the light leaves Dean's eyes and is overtaken with something dank and dark. "It's not your fault. Sam didn't want to be a part of our family's all. You thought you were doin' somethin' good."

"Sam going to college doesn't mean that he doesn't want to be a part of your family. Sam loves you very much. He wants to make his own way in life. He was very insistent that he did not want to join 'the family business'." Castiel pauses, cocks his head in thought. "I suppose now that I know what you do for a living, it makes a little more sense. He doesn't want to be a… hunter. He wants to be…" Normal is what Cas wants to say, but he has a feeling that would not go over well. "Something other than what you and your father want."

Dean huffs and sits up, looking sour and unhappy. "He's an ungrateful idiot who's gonna get himself killed."

"By going to college? Do you really believe that?" Castiel sits up as well, loops his hand through Dean's arm, leaning into him.

"You haven't seen the stuff I've seen, Cas. He's gonna be all alone out there. Sammy's a decent hunter, but he's gonna get soft. He's gonna forget to watch himself. And we got enemies. Dad's been hunting since I was four. He's killed alotta things, but not everything. Some got away. If they find out Sammy's not with us, he's a goner."

"Sam is smart. He can take care of himself. And there's no reason you can't go out to check on him whenever you're in the area."

"He doesn't want my help."

"I doubt that. He wants your support and love as much as I can tell you want to give it."

Dean doesn't answer, fiddles with the sandwich, picks a piece of bread off the last corner and eats it.

"Sam will be fine. I've managed to live twenty-one years without being killed by a monster. Sam can last four."

Dean gives him a look that he can't read. "I laid a salt line under the carpet in the doorway to your bedroom and another one under the trim around your window, plus I carved a few protection symbols into the inside base of your head and foot board."

Castiel is taken aback. He doesn't know what to say for a moment. Eventually, memory takes over. "I've never seen any carvings on my bed."

"They're hidden by the box spring. Didn't think you'd like it if you found pentagrams on your bed."

"When did you do all this?"

"Day you were at work and Avery and Neil were out. Couldn't exactly tell you what I was doing."

Castiel is again speechless. He stands up and walks to his bedroom to check the bed frame, astonished to see carvings of pentagrams on each inside corner, crude and obviously done with a pocket knife. When he turns back around, he finds Dean in the doorway, watching him with wary curiosity. "What would have happened if I'd found those when I moved?"

"You would have freaked out? I wasn't really thinking about that. I wanted to know you were as safe as I could make you."

"And you're worried that not doing this will be cause for Sam to be hunted by one of the creatures you or your father has failed to kill?"

Dean shrugs. "Or some other big bad. There's a lot more out there hunting humans than we can kill."

"But Sam knows that, unlike me until this conversation. Don't you think he'll look for the signs?"

"Not if he's caught up in being Joe College. He's gonna get comfortable, forget. He's gonna slip."

"I think you need to let it go. Check on him when you can. He will be fine."

Dean huffs, but doesn't say anything. When Cas enters his personal space, he lets him. "I want to talk about other things now," he says, setting his hands on Dean's hips.

"Like what?"

"You."

Dean shifts his weight from one foot to the other and crosses his arms over his chest. "What about me?"

"A few months after you ended our relationship, Sam called me to ask for my help with you. He said you were drinking to access and using drugs."

"I might have had a rough patch, so?"

"Are you still using?" Dean opens his mouth to answer, but Castiel cuts him off with a finger poked into his chest. "Do not lie to me."

He sighs, reaches up to rub the back of his neck. "No, I'm okay now. I had help."

Castiel raises an eyebrow, taken aback. "You sought psychological treatment?" He never in a lifetime would have thought Dean would do something so healthy.

"Fuck no, I met a girl. She sobered me up, then she dumped me when I told her about the life." His mouth pinches at the edges.

Castiel's blood boils at the thought of Dean with anyone else, but he can't fault him. Castiel himself had found someone new as well. And this woman helped him when Castiel couldn't. He can't fault that. "That can't happen again, do you understand? You're too important to let yourself slide down that slope."

"I won't. I'm good now."

"Good." They stare at each other for a long time, neither moving away, neither saying anything. Dean's eyes are intense and so, so green. He missed them. He missed Dean. He leans in at the same time Dean does, and suddenly there's an explosion of movement. Their mouths mash together, Dean's hands are on his hips, lifting him up as he rushes towards the bed. They collapse on the coverlet, hands tugging, fighting out of their clothes. Dean's fingers bite into his skin, clenching him tight as though worried he might slip away. He moans, arching his hips into Dean's boxer-brief-covered erection at the same time as he fumbles to get rid of the fabric. Dean curses, kicking behind him, struggling out of his boots and jeans before shoving the rest of his clothing off.

It's blissful when their skin finally touches, no barrier between them. Dean groans into his neck, nipping at him, fingers meandering down his body to wrap around his cock, giving it a few quick tugs. Cas shoves him over onto his back, crawls over him to suck the head of his cock into his mouth, smiling at the way Dean's head falls back on the pillow like he's just taken a hit of heroin. "Fuck…" he mutters. Cas shows him no mercy, wasting no time taking him down his throat. He's out of practice, gags a little, but moves past it. Fingers comb through his hair before gripping onto it, guiding his mouth up and down in awkward rhythm with Dean's thrusting hips.

His grip tightens, the pitch of his moans changing, and Castiel thinks he might be close to coming. He pulls off, panting, staring Dean down like a lion after prey. Dean returns the look with a matching one. He pulls Cas up, kisses him with vicious intent, biting at his lip, scratching nails into the back of his neck, grabbing onto his ass cheek so hard there will definitely be bruises later. "Wanna fuck you," Dean mutters against his lips, low and gravelly.

A shiver runs down Cas' spine. "Fuck yes," he says, redoubling his efforts to take Dean's mouth by force. He's been waiting two years to hear those words, longer really. He rolls with Dean onto his back, legs spread wide for Dean, waiting for the hand that spreads his cheeks, slides spit-slick fingers into him. He whines, ecstatic to have Dean touching him this way again, but wanting more at the same time. He fumbles for the night stand, pulls out the lube, shoves it at Dean's chest. "Want you," is all he says, heart racing so hard he might risk an attack if he were any older. Dean takes the lube and uses it to open him up, finger by torturous finger, rubbing mercilessly at his prostate until he's howling with need.

Suddenly, the fingers are gone, and so is Dean. He blinks his eyes open to find Dean leaning over the end of the bed, fiddling with his jeans, pulling out his wallet. A condom, of course. He'd been too lost on Dean to think about precautions. Dean rips the wrapper open with his teeth in a move much too practiced to be comfortable for Castiel, but thankfully he's back between Cas' legs a second later, leaning over him to kiss him into a whimpering mess as he slowly rubs the rubber-covered head of his cock against Cas' perineum, teasing him, waiting. Cas whines, digs his nails into Dean's shoulders, begging without saying a word. Dean kisses him, hard and fast, and so thoroughly he temporarily forgets his own name. By the time it comes back to him, he's being stretched open by something far warmer than any toy and it feels amazing. "Dean," he keens, clinging to him.

Dean pants against his ear, nosing there, licking at his skin as he bottoms out slow and deliberate. He waits a second, gives Cas time to stretch and adjust to him. Only when Cas lifts his hips up to take him ever further does he start to thrust. It's fast and frantic, unrelenting but absolutely perfect. Cas is overwhelmed, completely consumed, unable to stop himself from hurtling over the edge into oblivion. Dean joins him a moment later, calling out his name loud enough to risk a noise complaint, but Cas doesn't care. He has Dean in his arms, in his body, holding onto him like he's precious, breath coming out in harsh fits.

"That was awesome. Why haven't we been doing that all along?" Dean asks, wonder clear in his voice.

"Your fault. I've wanted it for years."

Dean huffs, lifts up on his elbow as if to pull out, but Castiel pulls him back down with arms wrapped around his neck, wrapping his legs around his hips for good measure.

"Mmm, stay there for just a little longer. It feels nice."

"Condom's not exactly comfortable, babe."

"Shh, another minute or two." He whispers, tightening his grip. Dean capitulates, burying his nose in Cas' hair and snuffling at him. "I love you," Cas says, quiet and completely blissed out. Dean makes a half-grunting noise and holds him closer.

Cas' fingers in his hair lull Dean into a pleasant sort of stupor. He doesn't have to think about Sammy being gone or John's anger here with his head in Cas' lap. Here he's safe and warm and nothing matters but Cas. They're laying naked in bed together, the door shut after Dean went to throw the condom away and grab a wet washcloth to clean Cas up. They've been like this for a good hour, and Dean doesn't want to move.

"I was born James Novak," Cas murmurs into the quiet of the room. It's the first thing either of them has said in half an hour.

"Huh?" Dean looks up at him, confused. He's never mentioned being called James before.

"It's true. My family called me Jimmy until I was… Mom says I was two. One day I walked into the kitchen and told them my name wasn't Jimmy, it was Castiel, and I wouldn't let them call me anything else. They went with it, thinking I would get over it when I got a little older, but I never did. They had my name officially changed when I was fifteen because I had a teacher who refused to call me anything but my legal name."

"Why Castiel? Why not Peter or Tommy or something simple?"

"I have absolutely no idea. All I know is that I feel down to my very soul that my name is Castiel."

Dean looks up at him, and can't help but grin, shaking his head. "You're so weird."

"You hunt creatures from hell for a living and you think I'm weird?"

"I think you're very weird. Probably why I like you so much." He pulls Cas down to reach his lips, and Cas is smiling into the kiss, fingers burying deeper in his hair. He lifts up on his hands and twists around until he has Cas stretched out underneath him and is nestled between his splayed legs. The second time is slower, more like making love than make-up sex. Dean hasn't ever felt as connected to another human as he does in Cas' arms. Afterwards, they sleep.

Dean hears humming as he stumbles into the hallway, headed for the bathroom. Good thing I put on boxers, he thinks. When he's done hitting the head, he peeks in the kitchen and finds Avery in short shorts and a teeny tiny tank top, shaking her hips to the radio as she works at the stove. "Good morning, Ryan. Congrats on Cas finally putting out. We were all rooting for you," Avery says as she turns grinning, poking at slices of bacon with a spatula. She drops the pan in shock upon seeing him and it clatters to the floor. Thankfully, all the bacon stays in the pan. "Oh my god, Dean?!"

"Hey, bubblegum, careful there." He hurries to grab the pan, snatching a kitchen towel from the counter to pick it up. "Bacon's safe, no worries. Good thing, too. I gotta tell you, I've killed people for less." He steps fully into her space with a smirk and snatches a cooked strip from the plate just behind her.

Avery stares at him, stunned. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was hoping I could score some coffee and maybe a couple more strips of that bacon. You don't mind, do you?" He gives her his most charming smile, but apparently that isn't going to work because she's glaring now.

"Seriously, what are you doing here? When I left last night, Ryan was here. And now you're here, which means Ryan is not and probably won't be again. I liked Ryan."

"What, and you don't like me? Come on now, cupcake, we both know that ain't true."

"I do, I do like you, Dean. I just… Am I going to have to deal with a broken-hearted little nerd in a week or are you here to stay?"

Dean's stomach sinks a little. "No, I uh… I'm not saying I'm moving in or anything, but I'm uh… I'm not going anywhere until Cas tells me to."

Avery relaxes a little, the frown flattening out. She's not her usual sex kitten, but she's definitely not mad at him anymore. "Okay. I'll hold you to that, though. You skip out on him and break his heart again, I'll stab you with a steak knife."

"And I'll stand still and let you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get some coffee and crawl back in bed with Chomsky back there."

As if on cue, Cas' voice rasps from down the hall, "Dean?" He sounds as grumpy as every other morning. He appears in the doorway a moment later, clutching the door frame like it's the only reason he's still standing.

"Hey hot stuff, get back in bed. I was just getting the third degree and hopefully some coffee. I'll be there in a minute."

Cas glares at him, but still shuffles into his personal space and leans up to kiss him. "Don't call me hot stuff," he grumbles into Dean's chest as he cuddles into him.

Dean smooths down his fluffy hair and lets his other hand wander down to squeeze Cas' butt, making him whine a little. Dean smirks to himself, remembering why that might be a little tender. "But you are hot. So how 'bout you get that hot little pin-striped ass back to bed, and I'll be there in a bit. And maybe if you let me sweet-talk Avery some more, I'll even have some bacon for you."

"Two minutes," is all Cas says before leaning up to kiss Dean once more and going back to bed.

"Two minutes is all I need, babe," Dean assures, watching Cas' ass shuffle away. He pivots when Cas disappears and smiles at Avery.

"You had to promise him bacon, didn't you? Now he's gonna be a crank if he doesn't get any."

Dean grins at her as he grabs two coffee mugs and starts filling them. "That was the plan, sweetheart. Hey, Cas hasn't done something stupid like switch to soymilk since I've been gone, has he?"

"Nope, he's just the same as he's ever been."

Dean nods as he pours the coffee and fixes it the way Cas likes. As he's adding sugar, he glances up at Avery. "Pulling for the other guy, huh? I didn't know you were the traitor type, bubblegum."

Avery shoots him a dirty look and points the spatula at him in a threatening way. "You broke his heart, motherfucker. He was finally starting to get better with Ryan. You can fuck off and die if you think I ever want to see him like that again."

He'd been teasing, but the sharp answer is enough to shut him up. He knows she isn't wrong. He fucked up. He probably should have stayed away, left Cas to move on. He slumps off with the coffee, avoiding Avery's glance as he leaves the kitchen. Cas is curled up under the covers, eyes squinted closed as though he's nursing a hangover. Dean sets the coffee on his side of the bed and slides in, putting an arm around Cas, who immediately rolls over and buries his face in Dean's neck. "Where's the bacon?" he mumbles.

Dean combs through his sweaty hair. "I uh, forgot. Sorry."

Cas pulls away and peers at him, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, go back to sleep." Dean tries to pull him back down, but Cas wrestles him onto his back and sits on him, forcing eye contact.

"Tell me." His eyes are like a force all their own, penetrating into his head, probing, pushing until he can't help but spill.

"I shouldn't have come back," he says, looking down at the sheets to avoid seeing Cas' reaction.

Cas lifts his chin up in a less-than-gentle move. "Do I look like a fuck-and-run to you?"

"That's not what I…" He grunts in frustration and sits up, pulling Cas closer without intending to. "You were moving on. You had that guy. I should have just left you alone. 'M just gonna fuck up and break you heart again."

"And I'm going to forgive you again. That's what love is, Dean." Cas cups his face in his hands and kisses him. "I would rather be fighting with you than spending time with anyone else. Ever."

"That's stupid, babe. You deserve way better than me. I'm just gonna fuck your life up. 'S'what I do," Dean mutters, unable to comprehend why Cas is being so dumb about this.

"I want you, and unless I'm mistaken by the last twenty-four hours, you want to be with me, too. I don't care about who deserves what." He leans down to begin sucking on Dean's neck, fingers trailing down his chest.

"Cas…"

"Shut up. Too much talking before coffee." He reaches over Dean and picks up the sandy-colored one.

"You started it," Dean mutters, focusing on touching Cas' stomach and sides, grounding himself in the feel of Cas' skin, trying to push out his thoughts.

"If you don't stop touching me like that, I'm going to sit on more than just your lap."

Dean raises his eyebrows. Talk about distractions. "Yeah?"

Cas gives him a heated look over his coffee mug, and Dean forgets all about staying away. He sets the cup down and licks his way into Dean's mouth, tasting of coffee and morning breath, not the best mixture, but Dean doesn't exactly care. Cas doesn't let it get too far before he's slipping away and out of bed, leaving Dean pouting and confused. "We used your last condom already. Be right back." He leaves the room with another flash-fire glance over his shoulder, and Dean's already kicking his boxers off before the door's shut. There's a small amount of high-pitched shouting and possibly squeals on the other side of the door, none of which Dean can really make sense of. He spits into his hand and starts stroking his cock, thinking about how hot Cas is gonna look sitting on it.

Cas returns a minute later with a whole plate of toast and bacon and a pack of condoms. He sets the plate next to the coffees and strips off his own pajamas bottoms. "Avery knows we won't be leaving this room until dinner," he informs Dean as he climbs back into his lap.

"Really? That why you brought the bacon?" Dean lets go of his dick to wrap his hands around Cas' hips, pulling him closer.

"I was hungry," Cas says with a shrug, bracing himself on the headboard as he leans over for a kiss. Dean lets his fingers wander, tracing the curves of Cas. He feels hands manipulating him, feels the familiar constriction of a condom rolling down his shaft. He pulls Cas closer, feeling their dicks rubbing up against each other. Cas whines a little in his mouth, lips frozen for a moment in a little O of pleasure. Dean grins, pulls him even closer, helps Cas line him up and sink down.

He drops his head back as Cas bottoms-out. Fuck, that's good. "Man, why did I wait so long to do this with you?" he mutters, raising his hips just enough to make Cas whine again.

Cas gives him a sour look and rocks his hips. "Internalized homophobia?"

"Shut it." Dean pinches his ass in retaliation. Cas isn't phased, just rocks his hips harder, holding onto Dean's shoulder for balance as he leans over to snag a strip of bacon. Dean stares at him.

"Really?" he asks, unable to help himself.

Cas blinks at him, narrowing his eyes a little as he chews.

"Are you seriously eating while we're having sex?"

"Is that wrong? Do you want some?" He grabs another strip and holds it up to Dean's mouth. Dean takes a bite, still dumbfounded. It's really good, though, and Cas doesn't seem to care, so he doesn't protest anymore as Cas feeds him. Their kisses are bacon-and-coffee-flavored now, slow and lazy to match their movements.

Orgasm creeps at the edges, ebbing and flowing like a calm ocean wave. When Dean finally comes, it takes him by surprise, gripping him tight and pulling a soft shout from his lips. Cas takes longer, rolling his hips over Dean's softening cock until it slips out, and Dean replaces it with his fingers, probing at Cas' prostate in time with the jerks of his hand on Cas' cock. Cas spills over his stomach with a muffled groan, face buried in Dean's shoulder. He lets Dean clean him up with the half-soiled washcloth, still damp from the night before. Dean takes the condom off and ties it, tossing it in the direction of the trashcan. He misses, but Cas is too busy settling into his chest to notice or care.

"I understand your distaste, but I have to see him. I was in a relationship with him for six months. I owe him at least a face-to-face discussion."

Dean stands on the sidewalk with a sour expression, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets. He glares over at the doors to the coffee shop as if he can see Ryan through the windows, even though it's unlikely that he even remembers what Ryan looks like. "Fine, but I'm gonna be right outside in case he tries to start something."

Cas rolls his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Ryan is a nice person."

Dean takes a seat on a bench just outside the doors, stone-faced. Cas sighs and leans over him to peck his lips. "I'll be out soon. Do you want me to get you anything?"

"'M good," Dean mutters, expression unchanged.

Cas huffs his annoyance and walks into the building, nervous now that he is faced with having to break up with Ryan. Poor Ryan didn't deserve this. In a world where Dean Winchester didn't exist or had never called Cas all those years ago, Ryan could have been his end game. But Dean does exist, and Castiel loves him so much that it physically hurts sometimes. Trying to stop would be like trying to stop a frightened horse from galloping away.

Ryan is perched on the edge of a chair in the corner, leg crossed over his knee and bouncing up and down. His face lights up when he sees Castiel, but only until he registers the expression on Cas' face. "Hey Castiel, how did the uh… rest of your weekend go?" he asks as Cas sits across from him.

"My weekend went very well, thank you. And yours?" Cas answers, breathing deeply in an attempt to squelch his nerves. It doesn't work.

"It was uh… kinda lonely. I'm hoping next weekend won't be…" He looks up at Cas from under his lashes, hands working at the label of his apple juice.

Castiel extends a hand to rest over Ryan's wrist, stopping his fidgeting, offering a sad smile. "Ryan, I'm sorry, but I can't see you anymore."

"Is it that guy from Saturday? Guy shows up after eight months and that's that?" Ryan's hopeful look dies on his face, turning bitter and a little angry.

Castiel sighs. "I like you Ryan, very much. But to make the situation as plain as I can possibly make it, Dean could have been gone for eight years or eight decades, and 'that would be that'. Dean and I have been in an open relationship since we were seventeen. Eight months is very little in the face of five years. I apologize for any pain or upset this may cause you. I enjoyed our time together. You have always been patient with me. If the situation were different, I believe we could have built a strong relationship. But I love Dean. I will choose him every time."

"Open relationship? The guy can't even be faithful to you, and you still choose him? I would never want to be with anyone but you. Don't you deserve that?" He sits forward, eyes dancing as though this argument will be what convinces Castiel to stay.

"I do not want to be rude or argumentative, but the nature of my relationship with Dean is only of concern to Dean and me. I can assure you that Dean is, has been, and will always be faithful to me. That is enough."

"There's no way I can convince you?"

"No. I'm sorry." He pats Ryan's hand, lifts it up to press a kiss to his knuckles. Ryan gently pulls it away and tucks it under his thigh. "I'd ask if it were possible to remain friends, but I get a sense that it is not."

"Yeah, no, I don't think that would work out. I'm gonna have a hard enough time getting over you as it is."

A pain pings at Cas' heart, drying the saliva in his mouth. "Again, I'm very sorry." He glances over his shoulder, sees Dean's spiked hair just visible over the window divider. "I should go. Good luck with your degree."

Ryan nods, but he isn't looking at Cas anymore. Cas turns and leaves, unable to find anything more to say.

Dean stands as soon as Cas steps out, eyebrows raised in question.

"I feel like a horrible person, but it's over," he answers.

Dean's entire expression smooths out in a half-smile. "Come on, I'll buy you an ice cream."

"I have class in half an hour."

"We'll get it to go. Not like your teacher's gonna see you eating it, is it?" He puts an arm around Cas' waist and leads him away down the street. Cas goes, glancing back at the coffee shop once, but Ryan doesn't come out. The guilt lays heavy in his stomach, weighing him down. Dean leads him to an ice cream shop, neither saying anything. As they wait in line, Dean pulls him in by the neck and presses a kiss to his temple, warm and comforting. He puts his arms around Dean's waist, ignoring the glare of a woman with two children in the corner, soaking in his warmth.

"You sure you dumped the right guy?" Dean asks, a hint of worry in his voice, subtle enough that only Castiel would pick up on it.

"No, I'm exactly where I should be. I just… feel guilty? I think I might have broken his heart."

Dean pushes Cas' hair from his forehead, looking down at him with concentrated sincerity. "You're a hard one to get over," he says, gruff and heavy with emotion.

Castiel smiles, presses a chaste kiss to his lips. "I love you," he says, soft and just as sincere.

"Yeah, me uh… me, too." Dean looks up at the menu with a twitch of his jaw. Cas smiles to himself, deciding Dean's minor discomfort is worth it to hear his sentiment returned. They order their ice cream and walk home, parting in the living room so that Cas can log in to his class.

Half an hour later, Cas' sitting at his computer, listening to a lecture on online databases, empty container of mint oreo ice cream sitting on the desk at his side. Faintly, he can hear Dean in the living room, playing Halo with Neil. Thoughts of Ryan fade to the far corners of his mind. It's worth the guilt if this can be his life.