As it was cloudy all day and rained occasionally, it was already quite cold at 6 pm. Dean stuck his hands in his pockets to keep his fingers from freezing and stumbled over his recent purchase.

It wasn't like he was new to buying condoms, he just sourced them at gas stations or small town stores. Or buying them from vending machines. They were usually in public restrooms or tucked away behind a motel building where they couldn't be seen from the parking lot, but everyone knew they were there.

Shopping was easy and he wasn't even ashamed of it. The assortment was reasonably sized for both Betas and Alphas; one or two items could be added to a purchase or slipped a few coins into a vending machine.

You didn't have to think too much about it, you just had to pick a mid-price range - never skimp on condoms, son, a few extra cents will save you thousands in the future, as their Alpha had told him more than once - and you were done. It was just condoms, not a rocket science!

But when he walked into the drugstore here in N.Y. and found Alpha condoms, he realized it wasn't one or two shelves, it was a whole fucking aisle. Dude, he had no idea there were so many brands. And they all came in different sizes, colors, scents, flavors, and shapes.

Yeah, he admitted, with money in his hands and if he had a little more time, he'd probably buy the whole collection to explore. Only at the moment he just needed a condom big enough to stuff Castiel's Alpha cock into and not have to worry about it bursting. Did he want that badly?

I guess he did. Because when an employee - a dreadlocked Alpha in his twenties, wearing a blue employee vest - noticed his cluelessness, he bombarded him with questions like how big his Alpha's cock was, how long he'd been knotting, if he had any condom preferences, and if he was allergic to latex, which was the only reasonable question. He even almost... almost sent Alf a message saying 'Are you allergic to latex?'

In the end, he left with non-latex condoms of standard Alpha size, extra thin for extra sensitivity. There were five of them, wrapped in a beautiful black paper velvet box with gold embossed lettering that almost looked like some kind of jewel box. And they cost so much that it made him feel embarrassed at the checkout. He simply picked out the most luxurious and expensive thing they had, because that was exactly what he imagined might be sitting in Castiel's nightstand drawer.

Now he just had to hope he'd be willing to use them. If he judged by first impressions and Alf's dangerous business, he was more the type who didn't like condoms, but he'd been surprised a few times in the time he'd known Case, so...

He glanced down the street and saw a familiar Toyota on the other side, at the very end, with dark silhouettes. He grinned a little and waved to Alf's guys before putting his hand back in his pocket. He stumbled over his purchase again, but this time the other half; two travel packs of lube. The Alpha salesman thrust them into his hand with a knowing look after he confessed that he couldn't answer his questions because he hadn't slept with his Alpha yet. God... like he needed that. Just this morning in the bathroom... he'd started with his favorite video of a beautiful Beta brunette riding a plain, uninteresting Beta guy. He'd had it saved for ages and kept going back to it. It was going to be the usual quick, morning job before he started making breakfast, but then... now that he had his own cock in his hand, he wondered what it would look like if the Alpha was there with the brunette. And once his thoughts turned in that direction, he couldn't help but think of Castiel. The smell of him, the tattooed fingers and the impressive piece of him that was rolling around in his pant leg and... Shit! He got so wet he had to take his pants off completely. Then he shoved his fingers as far up his ass as he could, but it still didn't feel like enough. Plus... he didn't do it often. During the heat of course. He might as well have stuffed a broom handle into his hole then, how desperately he needed to be filled, but normally he usually made do with just jerking off.

A familiar feeling low in his back and lower abdomen warned him that he'd better stop thinking about what he'd done in the morning, unless he wanted to smell under Alf's nose like a horny Omega. And he... probably... didn't want to.

A klaxon sounded behind him.

He hadn't even had time to look back when a beautiful Maserati in matte black, only the hood, mask, and handles were glossy black, slid to the pavement with ease and almost inaudibly. And the whole car looked like it had just rolled off the production line.

Alfa gracefully got out of the driver's seat.

He took a quick step around the car and grabbed Dean by the chin before lifting his face to his so he could kiss him, giving Omega a chance to get a good look at him. This time he wasn't wearing a jacket or tie, just as he had the first two times they'd met. His shirt was white and his top two buttons were undone. That was all he noticed at the moment. Then the cherry-almond smell and taste of cigarettes, along with the menthol that clung to Castiel's lips, had him in its embrace.

He ran a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and pressed himself hard against him, trying to get as much of the kiss as he could before the Alpha broke it off again too soon.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel murmured close to his mouth before he tilted his head and pressed his nose into his shoulder.

He did the same, and his Omega growled loudly, enthusiastically, completely entranced by the fact that he was here. His Alpha was here and that was just great. That feeling always managed to shut out any unkind thoughts, including the very thought of how ridiculous and dangerous it was to feel this way in Castiel's presence.

"Hey, Alpha," he replied, his gaze running over the man's chin as he pulled away a little exploratively.

Castiel shrugged. He probably would have noticed it anyway, but mostly he noticed it because he had a freshly shaved lip himself. From his shaved cheek, his eyes slid down his neck, stopping on the hollow between his collarbones, made visible by the unfastened buttons. And besides it, a piece of black ornament in the shape of a toe. What was tattooed on his chest, however, he could only guess.

Castiel stepped back and tilted his head to the side a little.

"Ready to go?"

Dean's gaze wandered to the fancy car and he bared his teeth in a grin.

"In this little pet? Absolutely!"

"Good," the Alpha nodded. "Can you drive?"

"Sure!" He replied, almost offended. "Dad started teaching me as soon as I could reach the pedals."

"Then you drive," Alpha decided, tossing the keys in the air.

He grabbed them and ran to the steering wheel with a beaming smile, full of enthusiasm.

He loved Baba more than anything and hoped his love would never find out, but just... Surely he couldn't pass up the opportunity to test drive a car like this? He slipped into the cream leather-covered seat, glanced over the polished, dark wood-lined dashboard with its gold detailing and touchscreen above the gearshift, gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel in his hands and sucked in... He sniffed several times to make sure his Omega nose wasn't deceiving him, and no, it wasn't. The car smelled of newness, fresh cigarette smoke, the exact same smoke that wafted from the Alfa, so definitely his brand, and of course his smell, only it was so faint it was barely perceptible. This car must really have rolled off the production line a while ago.

The door slammed shut as Castiel closed it behind him.

He looked back at him and found him pulling out a cigarette and preparing to light it. He wrinkled his nose in displeasure at the thought of smoking. The smell of cigarettes was literally impossible to get out of skin, both from the seats and from Dean's jacket, and the last thing he wanted was for it to soak up the cigarette smell that would overpower his father's scent. Their Alpha didn't smoke in the car or when he was wearing his jacket, precisely because he couldn't forgive himself for cigarettes, but he didn't want everything to smell of them. Even in the days when he pulled a pack a day, he preferred to go out in the cold or somewhere far away so he wouldn't smoke right under Sammy's... and Dean's, for that matter... nose and stink up the Impala forever.

Castiel obviously didn't care though, because he just raised his eyebrows questioningly and looked at the road as if to indicate he wanted them to get out of there already, and meanwhile he pulled over.

He gave him one more hard look before he finally looked down at the keys in his hand and sighed a little. Hanging from a black fob with a gold Maserati logo on it was one of those ugly, modern keys that didn't actually look like car keys at all.

"Just need to find a hole to fit it in," Alpha stated unperturbed.

He grinned at the stupid joke.

"Thanks for the advice. Good thing something that big doesn't just fit in a any hole," he replied, half as a double entendre and half because the key was really absurdly large and only fit in the port above the touch screen.

"I'm sure you can do it," he replied just as calmly, his scent unchanged, and blew a puff of smoke.

He felt that familiar burning sensation at the tips of his ears. The Alpha was the only one who could make him feel shy so easily, and that was only because he uttered ambiguous remarks in a perfectly calm voice with that haunting, gravelly accent of his. He clenched his jaw in frustration as the blush refused to subside, and shoved the key into the ignition with unnecessary vigor.

The engine immediately started smoothly and virtually inaudibly. The only way to tell that the car had started at all was that the alarms behind the steering wheel lit up and the touchscreen was filled with the car company's logo. And then by the faintest tremor of the pedals that barely made it past the thick soles of his massive army boots. It was terribly unusual. Baby was spinning like a kitten, providing free magic fingers for the driver's ass, for twelve hours straight. And if someone recorded purring, he could reliably tell if something was bothering her, what speed she was traveling at, or if she needed a fluid refill.

This car was gorgeous, luxurious, and probably fucking expensive, but it was completely soulless. Not that it really mattered at this point, he wanted to test drive it anyway, but... it was just weird.

"I guess now's not the best time to say that... practically speaking... I don't have a real driver's license, huh?" He flicked an eye at Alf.

"Terrible news," he replied, quite sarcastically, whereupon he squinted a little and leaned in towards Dean, bringing his scent - sweetly tart - dangerously close. "I've got one for you too..." he said, and for a moment Dean thought he was going to be thrown from the wheel now. "The car runs on gas, not on documents," he finally said, and with a small, rueful smile, he leaned back in his seat again.

Dean laughed a little.

He stepped on the gas, turned the wheel and... wow! Shit! It was like trying to drive the air. The pedal slid almost all the way to the floor under his foot and the steering wheel spun in an unnatural way. He wasn't expecting it, so he hit the brake hard like a complete novice and the car jerked so hard that Alfa had to catch his hand on the dashboard, causing the burning tip of his cigarette to fall off. And straight onto the obviously brand new velvet carpet.

"Can you really drive?" He asked, quite rightly incredulous, as he lit up again.

"Oh, shut up. This isn't a car, it's a bloody spaceship," he snapped, angrily jabbing his finger at the touchscreen, which immediately lit up and showed him a wide menu of settings.

He was so distracted by the car that he belatedly realised he'd just told Alf to shut up.

With bated breath, he froze, ready for a burst of anger. He literally couldn't imagine Alpha taking this from Omega, especially since he'd already told some knothead to shut up, go jerk off or kiss his ass a hundred times.

No one liked that, of course, but the Alphas could be particularly aggressive.

Castiel didn't move, though. He continued to lean back comfortably in his seat, one leg stretched out and the other bent so that he could rest his hand with his cigarette on it, and he watched Dean from under lazily squinted eyelids.

"You're right," he agreed instead of getting angry. "There are too many computers in modern cars for nothing. Plus these types," he tapped his finger on the center armrest, "aren't fit for the city. Next time I'll take you somewhere you can enjoy the ride more."

He let out the breath he'd been holding and sucked in the air again, this time to check that Alf's scent really was as calm as his own. This was one of the surprises Castiel had in store for him.

"Is that a promise?" He allowed himself a flirtatious smile.

"Yes, a promise and a plan for the next date," Alpha nodded, then nodded towards the road. "Now get going. I'm hungry and especially thirsty," he added with a hint of crankiness in his voice that actually sounded quite cute to Dean.

Anyway, he had to give him the benefit of the doubt. He himself was so hungry he could have eaten a cow with its horns, so he gently pressed the pedal down and turned the wheel just as carefully, and this time he managed to get the car moving without jerking like he was convulsing.

He wasn't at all surprised when the old Toyota peeled off the pavement as soon as they passed it and took off after them. For a moment, he had a hundred urges to try to outrun Alf's men, only he had to concentrate too hard on the road. Granted, he'd googled the whole thing a few times, so he could look like a dude who didn't need a map, but still... Driving a car like this, and in a city like New York, was too unfamiliar for Dean to try to do anything dangerous. Not that he'd be willing to admit to being cautious.

And the worst part was that the trip actually took almost as long as if they'd walked, because of all the annoying roadwork and one-way streets that made them spin around like rats in a maze. Eventually, though, they arrived at a small, currently half full, parking lot in front of a low bar building. He found one parking spot and while he parked gently, as if driving a cloud, he simultaneously checked in his rearview mirror that the Toyota had pulled into another empty spot near the exit.

He turned off the engine and looked out the front window.

By Dean's standards, the sports bar didn't look bad, but now that he was looking at the scratched plaster, the slightly creased metal door with a wooden sign that had a bulldog's head painted on it, and the blacked-out windows where it was clear that no one had gone to much trouble to pick out the paint when one of the window panes broke, he began to feel uneasy. Yeah, the Moscow Doll didn't look great either, but this place was probably a price tag too low. He realized it even more a moment later when they got out and Dean noticed a group of smokers coming around the corner, all staring intently at the car.

The Impala knew how to get attention, and in practically every town they'd arrived in, there was at least one person who admired it out loud, but it was somehow... subtle. Not like Alfa's Maserati, which was literally a pack of thousands slapping anyone who came near.

If Alf even noticed, he didn't care. He swept a quick, wary glance across the parking lot, even in the dim light of the streetlights you could see him sniffing, and when he didn't seem to see anything suspicious around, his expression softened and he put an arm around Dean's shoulders.

It was a possessive gesture he was sure he wouldn't have tolerated from anyone else, but in Castiel's case he didn't mind. Not anymore. He leaned into his side a little, taking in his scent, and actually grinned a little impishly as they walked to the door, the Alpha's sovereignty forcing his way right through the middle of the onlookers, cigarettes in hand. They were probably all Betas, but even they easily recognized Alpha with his Omega, who simply wasn't to be trifled with.

"You should know this place doesn't look like the places you probably go to," he didn't let himself remark before opening the door and walking in first. Purely just so the Alpha wouldn't be surprised by anything he saw inside.

Castiel gave him one of his cutely uncomprehending looks, his head tilting a little and his lips parting before he walked through the door Dean held for him and stopped a little ways behind it.

He let go of the door and watched what the Alpha was looking at.

The furniture was somewhat disparate, but always solid wood, the bar old and the lino on the floor worn, but everywhere was clean. The pool tables were almost thirty years old - all had metal tags screwed on with the date and place of manufacture - but newly coated and painted. The dartboards were also new, and the place had two televisions with the sports channel still running. And, as he knew, the toilet looked good too because it was clean, there was a supply of toilet paper on the windowsill, there was a nice big mirror and even a working hand dryer. What more could one ask for? So yeah, it didn't look so bad after all. And the air, apart from the usual smell of the pub and the people in it, was permeated with the lovely smell of burgers and wings wafting from the kitchen.

"Nice place. Homey," Castiel said, and Dean let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in anticipation of the verdict.

He wasn't surprised when the Alpha headed across the place to the tables against the wall that had a good view of the bar. Wall seats simply belonged to Alphas, regardless of whether it was a seedy biker bar, a nice family restaurant, or - most likely - a fancy place for rich people. Everyone knew that. Alphas needed to feel in control of their surroundings, and a type like Castiel would hardly be an exception.

There was a small problem when he chose the table in the middle. As far as Dean was concerned, he wanted his back covered at all times.

"Shouldn't we sit there instead?" he asked, nodding his head towards a table in the corner, which was thankfully empty, even though the bar was half full. Castiel gave him a questioning look. "There's only one seat against the wall..."

He nodded in agreement, not wondering in the slightest why an Omega would want to have his back covered when he was even with an Alpha at his side, and after all, that should give any Omega a complete sense of security.

He let him sit facing the bar, contenting himself with a seat at his side. The table wasn't very big, so all he had to do was spread his legs a little and his knee would bump into Alf's. Castiel gave him a quick glance from the laminated menu he'd just picked up from the table, and Dean gave him a half-flirtatious smile in return, lowering his gaze to his own menu. Being so close to the heady scent of cherries, and at least touching each other like this, he just liked it. He felt... relaxed and content, probably because this time it was his playground and his game. Well, almost, at least. In fact, when he glanced obliquely towards the bar, he found that Jacob was currently sitting at it.

"You still got them on your heels, Alpha?" He asked, not resisting a little irritation at the thought.

The alpha gave him a look, then glanced towards the bar and finally shrugged a little.

"Yes. Most of the time. You'll get used to it eventually," he said, as if it was a given that they'd be together long enough for Dean to get used to it, and put the menu down. "I like the one with everything."

While the Alpha had apparently already made his selections, Dean hadn't started yet. He caught up quickly, and had to chuckle as he read each item because all the burgers had dog names, like a bulldog smile. The one Castiel had chosen was called 'Pitbull' and it really did come with everything one could want.

"Yeah, that looks awesome," he agreed with a small, satisfied grunt that turned much louder when he saw one of the items on the beer menu. "Oh! They have Margiekugel. I love that brand..."

It was obvious that Alf was about to reply, but at that moment a waitress approached their table. A Beta with brown eyes and long almost-black hair in a high ponytail that revealed her slender neck and shoulders uncovered by anything other than a black tank top, the straps of her bra peeking out from underneath. Her breasts were just the right size and her round ass, which was a joy to slip a glance at, was encased in jeans.

He gave her a radiant smile and she returned it, tucking a lock of her overgrown bangs behind her ear.

"Welcome to the Happy Bulldog. Do you have your food picked out as well, or shall we just order drinks for now?" She asked with a smile.

"We have our pick."

Dean looked at him in surprise; they had?

"Two Pit Bulls with chips, two Margiekugel elevenses, and two Jim Beam without ice.""

"We only have bottled Margiekugel. Do you want to pour it into a glass or bring the glass and bottle separately?"

Castiel pursed his lips and the corner of his mouth twitched, as if perhaps suppressing a growl.

"Pour it into a glass," he finally replied in a strained voice.

"Good. Be right there, Alpha," the waitress replied as soon as she'd made notes on her pad, and of course she immediately recognized his secondary designation, because no one but Alpha could act this sovereign. Yeah, only a knothead usurped the right to decide what poor, nearly incapacitated, stupid Omega wanted and needed.

"He ordered for me, too," he echoed irritably when the waitress was out of earshot. And then he mentally praised himself for keeping his mouth shut for so long.

"Yes. Did you want something else?" Alpha asked, eyes a little squinted and brows furrowed in that uncomprehending expression of his.

"No, but..."

"Then what are we talking about?"

Dean pursed his lips and counted to ten, while breathing in the nearby scent of roasted cherries with a slightly stronger hint of almonds that suggested Alf wasn't liking the direction of their discussion right now.

"I can order my own, you know? I may be an Omega, but I'm not a complete fool," he got out as calmly as he could manage, but that didn't stop his own scent from turning bitter with irritation.

Oddly enough, it had a different effect on Castiel than he expected. It didn't escalate the impending argument between them. On the contrary, the Alpha relaxed his shoulders, even bowing his head a little in a conciliatory gesture.

"I never thought of you as a fool, Dean," he replied, his voice deeper, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening as his expression softened. "And I don't ever want you to say that about yourself again," he added a little more sternly, and while it wasn't a command, it was certainly a very strong recommendation that made Dean's inner Omega eagerly agree to the Alpha's request.

He tried to resist that urge for a moment before he said:

"Okay, I won't say, but..." he held up a finger emphatically, a teasing edge creeping into his voice, trying to cover his own confused uncertainty over the fact that... well, he was just pretty sure he was never really going to call himself a fool again, and he didn't know what to do with that realization, so he tried to ignore it instead, "you'll have to let me order my own. And speak for yourself."

"Sounds fair. Deal." Alpha nodded.

At that moment, they were interrupted again by the arrival of the waitress, carrying a tray with two glasses of real ale and two shots, and owning the slightly uncertain look she cast at Alpha.

"I'm sorry, but my boss told me to check your ID. Specifically yours," she clarified, nodding at Dean.

Yeah, that was the point.

He had to hold himself from grinning in amusement. Normally, the staff had no problem checking age, even for Alphas; on the other hand, most Alphas didn't actually look like Castiel. He was staring at the waitress with his ice blue eyes, not the slightest expression on his face, tattooed hands folded loosely on the table, giving off something more dangerous than the usual Alpha dominance. It was no wonder the waitress was reluctant to question the opinion of such an Alpha, and she didn't even know how dangerous he really was. That those arms, strung in an expensive shirt and adorned with gold cufflinks and a fancy watch, were lethal instruments worthy of respect.

"Sure," he said in a cheerful tone, giving her a bright smile as he took out his wallet to pull out his fake driver's license. "Here it is," he held it out to her. "I look terrible there, but everyone does on their driver's license."

The waitress alternated between looking at the photo on his license and the one on his driver's license, definitely trying to figure out if it was fake. Dean kept smiling at her, even more at ease than ever. Still, the worst that could happen was that she just wouldn't give him his beer. But he wasn't too worried about that. He'd been to bars for far worse fake IDs than this one Alf's people had made.

"Looks like it's okay," the waitress finally decided, after a brief glance at Castiel, and handed Dean his license back. "I'm sorry, but you look barely eighteen."

"Lucky for me," Castiel commented without batting an eyelash.

This time he couldn't help giggling at the surprised expression the waitress gave Alf before she blushed a little and quickly set their drinks down in front of them instead.

"Would you like me to get you a little something to go with your beer? We've got a few flavours of roasted nuts, chips and homemade salty bars with your choice of dip. Or do you have any other requests?"

"Yeah," Alpha said, reaching into his pocket from where he pulled out his usual wad of money clasped with a money clip, because he obviously didn't know what a wallet was for, or maybe he couldn't find one big enough to stuff all those hundreds into. He placed one on the table and held it with two fingers. "You'll make sure the table next to us stays empty. We don't want anyone bothering us, including you. If you see we're out of drinks, you'll automatically bring another and you won't ask any questions. If we want or need anything, we'll ask for it ourselves. If I'm satisfied, a proper reward will follow." He slid the bill over to the waitress.

For a moment, the waitress seemed unsure what to think as she looked at the bill with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. She was probably wondering if it was some kind of vlog joke, or worse, if Dean was a provocateur and Alpha was a cop checking the place together to see if they were pouring for teenagers for a fee. In the end, though, she reached for the bill, because a hundred was just a hundred.

But just as she had her hand on it, Alpha grabbed it.

"And one more thing..." he intoned, and Beta froze in anticipation of something unfortunate. "Don't smile at my Omega again. Understood?"

The waitress's shoulders slumped a little, the tense expression disappearing, and she even smelled faintly of relief as she nodded slightly.

"Of course, Alpha," he said very helpfully.

Dean grinned inwardly. It was clear this wasn't the first time she'd encountered this or a similar request. After all, he'd seen it many times himself. Overly possessive knots who needed to keep their Omegas - and not just Omegas - close together, preferably literally pressed to their bodies, and made murderous faces at even ordinary service. Every waitress, Beta, Alpha or Omega, knew how to behave around such Alphas.

Castiel dropped the bill and let the waitress take it.

"I'll bring your food in a moment," she promised with another smile, but this time she only gave it to the Alpha, then turned to walk over to the next table. Castiel couldn't see it, but Dean only had to lean in a little to see her turn the bill over in her hands several times. When she concluded that it probably wasn't fake, she pulled a sign from her apron that said 'reservation' and placed it on the table.

" Dude, that was rude. She was just being nice," he objected as soon as Beta left, but without any real anger. He hated to admit it, but there was something about this Alpha's behavior that was... damn appealing and infuriating at the same time, mostly because Dean's Omega growled every time Castiel acted like a jealous jerk. Well, that's just great, Winchester, you've done it...

"She was flirting," he replied, as if that explained everything, giving him an unreadably calm look as he shoved the wad of bills back into his pocket.

He rolled his eyes slightly.

"Whatever you say, Alpha," he muttered, a bit of mockery slipping into his voice and especially Castiel's secondary markings without really meaning to, so he quickly raised his glass of bourbon. "So... on us...?" He suggested with a smile, toasting.

"To you, Dean," he raised his glass, "and to finally finding you."

He bit his lip, fighting both a smirk and the urge to tell him to go to hell with all this talk of his. No, seriously, this was getting ridiculous. Why did he keep doing this? Dean was here, after all. He was helpful, even enthusiastic at times. Oh, shit...! He had a packet of condoms in his pocket that he was determined to use tonight. Alpha didn't have to try and shower him with the flattery that convinced him how special he was.

In fact, he could easily get what he wanted to begin with, and if he wanted Dean's approval on top of that... yeah, he had it. Hell, he had it.

He turned the glass over in his hands.

The bourbon was warm, like it had been after a long trip in the trunk of a car, and it burned like fire as it made its way down his throat and into his stomach, where it spread out into a pleasant sensation of warmth. Heat in his mouth, heat in his gut. He swallowed the accumulated saliva and tried to keep a straight face even as his gums clenched and his lips curled. He didn't want to look like an amateur in front of Alpha.

Surprisingly, Castiel had only downed half the glass, and of course, the half hadn't moved him. He continued to wear his unchanging expression, softened by the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, but still perfectly composed, and he fixed Dean with that look of unnerving intensity. He could feel the weakness in his knees even as he sat, and the thousands of tiny fingers running down his back, and his Omega growled softly, willingly showing Alf his stomach. The urge to duck his head and bury it in Castiel's shoulder because of the feeling was ridiculously strong. He had to distract himself somehow.

Like... well... what was the last thing they'd talked about in the cabin? Surely there was something...? Alf's presence, coupled with the alcohol that was a little heavy on his tongue, was already clouding his thinking, but... Yeah! He already knew!

"Music!" He blurted into the silence hovering between them, and thank God for that.

"Oh yes," Alpha shook his head, realization lighting up his face. "I promised to bring you some Russian music."

Yeah, that was exactly what they'd been talking about this morning.

School had been one big bore that he wouldn't have graduated at all if their Alpha hadn't insisted on it while keeping an eye on Sammy. He already knew how to read, write, and do arithmetic, and that was all he needed for the life he was destined to lead. Either the old one, in the saddle of the Impala, or the new one in a Russian criminal organization, or at Castiel's side as a mafia house Omega. So he paid only the necessary minimum of attention to his studies, and now that he had two phones, he could honestly put one in the box by the classroom door and hide the other under his desk and surf the internet.

Who knows why, maybe because he had been acting like a hysteric the day before, he thought he would make Alpha happy by learning more about his country. The Wikipedia page was too long, so he just skimmed through it, preferring to try and look up something more entertaining. Music seemed like a good start, but when he typed 'Russian music' into YT and listened with one earphone in, his first and only reaction was 'What the hell...?! He'd already heard they had other music than this but... He just couldn't stop himself and had to send Cas one video with a series of question marks and exclamation marks. The literal answer to his message was, 'Yes, that's our music. It's what all the red brains wanking over Stalin's portrait are listening to. Just kidding. I'll bring you some of my favourite Russian music to show you tonight'.

And so here he was, watching Castiel pull first two phones out of his pocket, followed by an old MP3 player with buttons and everything, including a tangled pair of headphones that looked as cheap as the player itself.

"You know, nowadays you can record songs on a phone," he didn't forgive himself for the slightly derisive remark.

Alpha flicked an eye at him, but his lips twitched in a smile.

"But this," he held up the player, "doesn't have wifi, bluetooth, or GPS."

"Point taken."

Dad was far from a criminal of Castiel's caliber, but he'd done a few dozen shady to illegal things in his life and was an expert at evading cops and government authorities in general. Traveling around small towns, checking into motels under fake names, multiple fake IDs, working for cash only, smuggling their little arsenal under a fake suitcase bottom, and of course being instructed to never steal phones, pads, or computers - you couldn't tell if they had the search function turned on. And the basic command was that if things got tough, they were to get rid of all electronics and buy new ones. And if it happened to get really bad, to go completely without electronics and head towards their 'abandoned' cabin.

"Plus, I doubt I'd find my music on Spotify," he added as he shoved his cell phone back into his pocket.

He turned on the player, found something in it, and then pulled the headphones out before setting it down in front of Dean. That was his cue to dig out his own cocoon of headphones in his pocket and stick them in the player. He stuck one in his left ear, but left the other ear free to hear what the Alpha was saying.

"I put them in chronological order," the Alpha mentioned before pressing the play button.

The music started playing and it sounded almost as weird, only softer. He took a breath to comment on it when the onset of harsh guitars and a raspy voice along with a proper drum part nearly blew the top of his head off. Damn it and wow! It was proper punk rock gritty, and Russian actually suited the style better than English, it was just, just... He looked up in surprise at Castiel, who was sitting there with his calm... but no, the bastard one was smiling mischievously through pursed lips, a sparkle of mock amusement glittering in his eyes. He knew damn well he was going to surprise Dean with this, he'd done it on purpose and he was gloating. But that didn't change the fact that he couldn't imagine Alpha listening to this music. He was too controlled, almost uptight for that. Though the idea of him ever wearing a colored shearling, a jacket full of spikes, and leather pants... man, where would he stuff his Alpha sausage in them? She had a tendency to want to squeeze through even plain dress pants.

No, nope. Alpha's just shooting the shit.

"Funny," he snorted, "But you know what? I'm not falling for that. You never listened to that."

Castiel tilted his head and gave him a condescending look.

"Krasivyye aborty," he said; Dean looked puzzled. "Krasivyye abororty, that's the name of the group. It translates to 'Beautiful Abortions' and it's actually kind of a pun, too. The adjectives 'beautiful' and 'red' are pronounced a lot alike in Russian. And the song," he motioned to the player with his bourbon glass before emptying it in one gulp, "is called 'kolyuchaya svoboda'. Barbed freedom. It's a song they sang after the collapse of the Soviet Union. In it they criticise the new political system that has begun to take shape in Russia. They sing about being born harnessed to a hammer and sickle, growing up under the hooves of red pigs and having dreams of freedom that were about to start coming true. But that the pigs continue to eat from their golden troughs, and that if they did not have the weight of the ideal around their necks, they would throw away everything they have and set their skin to needle and ink."

Needle and ink? It meant...

"They sing about...?" He made a vague gesture.

"Da... Yes." He nodded. "It's such a cry of young people yearning for freedom, who no longer believe they can be free. They see the gang as their only hope for partial freedom. To give you a correct understanding," he fingered the dewy beer glass, "the army had and still has a lot of power in Russia. It is both loved and feared because it has always served the regime in the worst sense of the word. That's why there's something heady about calling someone 'brat' who stands up in front of an army officer, spits on him, and calls him a government whore."

"So that's how you joined in?"

"Me?" He raised one eyebrow in surprise before shaking his head a little. "No. I'm third generation. It runs through my veins," he tapped his elbow socket, "and beats in my heart," he brought his fist to his chest. "I am who I am, not by choice, but because that is how my destiny was written. God's will cannot be defied, I learned that long ago."

Sammy talked about mobsters having crime in the family. Guys who supposedly know nothing but the underworld and literally can't live like normal, law-abiding citizens, a little... a little like Dean himself. He wasn't as tough as the Alpha or his men, but if anyone ever happened to find out how long his list of pickpocketing was, how many times he'd tricked someone out of money or just shoved a bottle of soda and crackers under his jacket... yeah, he'd probably do a few years in total. And he didn't see any other future for himself. So that's... that's where he and Castiel were alike.

"It's a great song. Then send it to me."

Surprise flitted across Alf's face, but then turned into a small smile.

"Okay."

He returned the smile and shifted a little in his chair so their knees were touching reliably and the hand that held the player was close to Alf's folded arms. He wasn't entirely expecting it, but then again, he wasn't surprised when Castiel looked down at how close they were and then placed a hand on his forearm. It was still unusual to see how small his own wrist and forearm were compared to Alf's hand. Not bad, though.

He reached for his beer with his free hand to wash down the sudden dryness in his mouth, and turned his attention to the music. With each new song he glanced briefly at Alpha, who had been watching him intently the whole time, gently circling his thumb over Dea's forearm and slowly sipping his beer. Neither of them had anything to say for those few minutes, or the need to fill the silence that had fallen between them. Not even Dean, because this was about the music, and if there was anything he could and wanted to focus on, it was the music. And the fact that it was Castiel's favourite music made it more important, so yeah, well he'd noticed how Alf's tastes had softened over the years. He'd gone from his first hard punk rock tracks to rock with classical tones to rock ballads in which he'd heard a bit of pop. Nothing special, really. He knew it from his favorite bands too. Time and age had sanded down the edges.

But one thing was infuriating. He couldn't understand a word. He'd have to ask Alpha what they were singing about and that would just look stupid. But if it was half as important as the first lyric, he'd probably want to know. Maybe he could ask for the names of the bands and songs, look it up, and have it googled.

The player skipped to the next song and...

"Wait! Wait! Is that... Beyonce? Really?!" He turned to Castiel in utter dismay. "Beyonce?!"

The alpha just shrugged disinterestedly.

"I like the color of her voice."

"That's no excuse" He rolled his eyes dramatically, then pointed a threatening finger at Castiel. "If I find Bieber in there, you're a dead man to me, Alpha!"

Though Cas's corners twitched in a smile and his eyes held amusement, he too tilted his head to the side in a little confusion.

"He is one of the most successful Omega singers. Shouldn't you be rooting for him?"

"I don't care what secondary gender he is. His singing kills my soul and that's all that matters."

"Sorry," came the voice above them.

Dean's heart leapt with fright and he quickly waved a hand from under Alf's. He was so caught up in the music that he didn't even notice when a waitress approached them, even carrying a tray full of food.

Castiel, of course, didn't startle, just pursed his lips sullenly and moved his hands away from the table so the waitress could place the plate in front of him. Meanwhile, Dean turned off the music playing and placed the Mp3 along with his headphones on the edge of the table to make room for his burger. And oh god yes, it looked and smelled so good...!

The beta waitress still took both of their empty glasses - when did he ever drink that beer? He didn't even know - and placed full ones on the table, and not just the beer, but another shot of bourbon. Apparently she had taken the request literally to bring drinks whenever she ran out. Not that he was complaining. It was great that he could finally have a drink without having to hide, so he gratefully reached for the shot and took a good swig. The bourbon was still fucking warm and therefore disgusting, but somehow he didn't even mind anymore.

With a sigh, he put the shot down and focused on the burger.

"Perfect," he commented with satisfaction, picking up the burger and looking over the beautifully golden bun at Alpha. "See? This is real, American food. There's nothing like it." He took in the aroma of roasting bacon and grilled meat. "I bet you don't have anything like this."

Alpha let out a snort as he took the burger in his hands.

"We have burgers in Russia, too. We even have Burger King there."

"Then why on earth are you eating boiled cabbage?!"

"Because borscht is one of our national dishes."

"Okay, okay... whatever," he muttered, not wanting to talk about it anymore now that he had a proper hamburger in his hands. "This is America's national dish, okay? And in my opinion, there's just nothing like it..." he added very seriously and emphatically before finally... finally taking a bite.

Oh, God, yeah. It tasted just as good as it smelled and looked. Even when he'd first been here, just watching the waitresses as they brought out the food, he'd been sure it would be quality. He not only had an eye for it, but more importantly, a sense of smell. Years of traveling between motor inns and diners had simply honed his palate for the best burgers, and this was definitely one of the best thirty he'd had. He was perfectly content, just... suddenly he felt a twinge of nervousness and uncertainty, and his Omega bristled a little, as if expecting an attack. He honestly didn't know what that meant at first. He even glanced around quickly to see if his instincts were warning him of any danger. It wasn't until his eyes fell on Alpha, who was inspecting his burger, that he realized what was going on.

He slowed his chewing and focused on Castiel, who finally took a bite. At that point Dean stopped chewing altogether and watched him tensely. And waited for his verdict. And God, it was ridiculous and he knew it, but he still couldn't help himself.

Then Alf's lips parted in a smile. And Dean relaxed his tense shoulders in relief.

"That's... really good..." assessed Castiel as he chewed.

Dean swallowed his bite and grinned as he took another. He pleased his Alpha. He fed his Alpha. What could be better?

...

Krasivyye aborty is a fictional Russian punk rock band. They have been playing and singing in the same line-up for over thirty years and are a so-called "index band". Except for two years just after the collapse of the Soviet Union, they have been banned for their entire existence. They are not allowed to officially give concerts, release CDs, place their songs on Russian music portals. Of course they are not allowed to play them on the radio or anywhere in public. And a few Russian jokes at the end. Plus a Czech one directed at one of our very famous singers who has been performing for almost five decades. I've just changed it a little so you can understand it. :-D When you hire someone to do a job, don't keep checking up on them. A relaxed atmosphere helps work ethic. You'd better pursue your hobbies. Maybe clean your shotgun and count the rounds. ... Happiness is fleeting. Always take a litre more. ... It's easy for a married man to plan a vacation. The boss tells him when and the wife tells him where. ... Wife: You should respect me. Heaven sent me down for you. Husband: I know. Too bad the air defenses didn't work. ... Teacher: Ivanek, do you know who was the first Russian pilot? IvaneK Of course! Baba Yaga!. ... American archaeologists are exploring Egypt and manage to wake up a mummy. The mummy looks at them and then ask: "What year is it? And where are you from?" The archaeologists reply: "The year is 2023, and we are from the USA." "Really? What about the Madonna? Is she still singing?"