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[isolavirtuosa]

That River in Egypt 15-21 of 21

[fanfiction] Dean / Cass

canon divergent AU from 15x19, Dean being Dean

Previous parts here.

- 15 -

“Dean!”

I was already ducking as a witch went flying over my head.

“I’ll finish the ritual, you get Sam out of here!” Patience asserted, picking up the stinky potion that Sam had been concocting and starting to chant in Latin.

I eyed my unconscious brother (Patience’s vision hadn’t quite made it on time to warn him), then attempted to haul him over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry.  “Fuck,” I breathed out, every part of my body screaming in complaint.

“Sam is too heavy for you to comfortably carry,” Cass informed me as he sent the witch flying across the room again.

“He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother,” I grunted.

“What does your familial connection have to do with Sam’s superior height and weight?” he asked, squinting at me.

“It’s a say- you know what, never mind,” I grumbled, limping my way towards the door.

Patience finished chanting and threw the potion at the witch who was trying to get up yet again from the ass-kicking that Cass was giving her.  The glass containing the potion shattered, some hinky pink smoke poured out of it, and the witch turned into a rat.

“Huh,” I said.

“Get it!” Patience demanded.

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to ‘get it’ with a Big Foot over my shoulder, but apparently Cass was on the ball and caught it by the tail, holding the former witch up for scrutiny.

“Gross,” she complained.  “And where the hell is Cl-”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Claire declared, kicking the door in for no reason other than to make an entrance.  “The stupid witch hexed my car.”

“Well good thing we already wrapped everything up,” Patience said with a sigh.

Sam’s weight was starting to compress my spine, but suddenly he was gone.

I stared at Cass.  “I had him.”

He hoisted Sam effortlessly over his shoulder.  “It’s fine.”

I made a face at his showing off, and then turned my attention back to Claire and Patience.  “Well that was a clusterfuck.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens to a straightforward case when you get the Winchesters involved,” Claire said with a shrug.

“Excuse me?” I said, making a face at her.

“You heard me.”

I scoffed.

“Wasn’t Sam supposed to do the spell?” she asked, squinting at my brother’s unconscious body.

“Knocked unconscious by a… knocked-unconscious spell,” Patience said, squinting at her own wording.

“I will take care of Sam,” Cass declared, handing Claire the rat-witch.

“Cass, wait,” I said, hand grabbing his free shoulder just as he took flight.

We were suddenly back in our motel room.

I tried not to lose my cookies.

“Dean,” he said with a frown, “you should have helped the girls with the clean-up.”

“We need to talk,” I said, glaring at him.

“I need to do a…” Cass paused and frowned, “‘anti-knocked-unconscious spell’.”

“Cass.”

“Dean.”

We stared at each other.

“Come home,” I blurted out.

Cass gave me his most long-suffering sigh.  “I have my own home now.”

“That’s bull!” I snapped, irritated.  Your home is with me.

Just fucking say it, you pussy.

I didn’t say it.

Cass placed Sam on one of the beds, then started going through his duffel bag, pulling out weird-smelling herbs.

“You’re an angel living in the friggin’ suburbs, man, it makes no goddamn sense.”

“I enjoy it,” he said with a human-like shrug.

“And you don’t enjoy the bunker?” I asked snottily.

“It served its purpose,” he said, starting to mix some of the herbs in a motel coffee mug.

“‘Served its purpose’?!” I spat back at him.

“It was a wonderful home for us when we needed it, but I am at a different point in my life now,” he explained, unperturbed.  “To be straightforward, I think we’ve all outgrown it.”

I sputtered at that.

Cass spared me a glance, then shook his head, looking disappointed.

“So you’ve outgrown me?” I snarled.

That finally got him to stop being such an asshole and look a little guilty.  “Of course not, Dean.  You know I love you more than anything.”

“More than your stupid house?”

“It’s not stupid,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Guess that’s a ‘no’, then.”

“You are such a child.”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“No, I said that you are a child, not me,” he said, looking confused.

“I know you are, but what am I?”

His brow furrowed.

Not that it was cute as hell or anything, or that the sheer adorableness caused some of my self-righteous anger to fade.

“Pee-wee Herman,” I offered as an explanation.

“Is that some kind of urinary tract infection?”

I tried not to laugh.

Cass smiled, eyes meeting mine before flicking back to Sam as he began with his Enochian mumbo-jumbo.

“It didn’t work,” I pointed out when Sam continued to lie there unconsciously.

“Why are you so impatient?” he grumbled at me, and almost on cue Sam popped up with a gasp.

“Where’s the witch?!” he demanded.

“Rat,” Cass offered.

“With Claire,” I added.

“Oh…” Sam said, leaning back against the headboard.  “Huh.”

“If that is all…” Cass said, moving like he was about to leave.

I grabbed his arm again.  “We’re in the middle of something.”

“It seems wrapped up to me,” he replied, eyeing my hand.

“Dammit, Cass,” I growled, finding some of that misdirected anger again.

“I should… go…” Sam commented, stumbling to his feet and still seeming a little dazed.

“I think you should rest a little longer, Sam,” Cass suggested.

Sam blinked and sat down again.

“Is he okay?” I asked, my big-brother-concern taking over for a moment.

“The effects of the spell should wear off in two to six hours,” Cass assured me.

“That seems kinda… long…”

“Let’s go outside and let Sam rest.”

All I could do was follow Cass outside, though I paused in the doorway to look back at my very disheveled-looking baby brother.  “Sammy, lay down and rest, okay?”

He gave me a vacant nod like he used to do when he was little and had a fever and would just do whatever I said, then he laid back down on the bed.

I shut the door as quietly as I could before flipping back into Angry Mode.  “Look, I’m get-”

Cass pointed to his phone that was held to his ear.  “Yes, Patience, Sam is okay.”

I started stewing.

“Can you put Claire on?” he asked, then paused.  “Hello, Claire.  No, that’s not how eyes of newt work.  No, Claire.  No.  Stop doing that.  Stop everything that you are doing and wait for me to come back.  No,” he repeated, rubbing his temples.  “I will see you shortly, goodbye.”

“I ain’t even gonna ask,” I said, watching him pocket his phone.  “So you’re going again?”

“Claire needs my assistance.”

“Oh, okay then.”

“You do not need to be so abrasive, Dean.”

“I’m abrasive?” I growled at him.  “I haven’t seen you in weeks, Cass.”

“I’ve been busy fixing up the house,” he said with a frown.  “The house that I asked you to visit, but you have declined my every invitation.”

“’Cause I ain’t gonna normalize this bullshit!  What are you even doing, Cass?  A house in the suburbs?  Ya gonna find yourself a nice little wife and settle down with your 2.5 kids and a dog?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?!  Then why the fuck are you doing it?!”

“Dean, you are upset, and this conversation is no longer productive.  Please go inside and take care of Sam, and I’ll go help Claire before she disrupts the space-time continuum.”

“I’m sorry this conversation isn’t productive enough for you,” I spat out.  “Here I am, trying to figure out why my…” and here I stumbled, “my… my boy… my boyfriend of three years just dumps me out of nowhere to go live his Real Housewives of Lebanon fantasy by himself.”

“Well maybe you should try listening for once,” Cass said, starting to sound annoyed.  “I don’t know how many different ways I can explain it to you.”

“English would be a good start!”

Cass had the nerve to actually throw his head back in a frustrated sigh.  “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Doing what?  Having a friggin’ conversation?  Taking a little responsibility?”

“I’m not going to allow you to continue… ‘guilt tripping’ me for making choices that you do not agree with,” he said.  “It’s my life, and it’s what I want.”

“A life without me,” I muttered bitterly.

“You are the one who made it very clear to me that I am not ‘Barbie’ and you are not ‘Ken’, and that we will not be living ‘happily ever after’ in my ‘Malibu Dream House’,” he growled at me.  “You keep acting as though I am the one who has put this chasm between us, when it is you issuing the ultimatums, you insisting that if it is not your way, then it is no way.”

“That’s not how it is.”

“It is exactly how it is, and Sam and I are tired of paying penance to your never-ending list of reparations.”

“What the hell does Sam got to do with it?”

Cass paused at that.  “I spoke out of turn.”

I’d been leaning against Baby, but now I pushed myself up to my full height, getting in Cass’s face.  “What the hell does Sam got to do with it?” I repeated.

He looked guilty.

Why the hell did he look guilty?

“Goddammit, Cass, tell me.”

“It’s not my place,” he said, and he looked downright pitying.

What the hell was he pitying me for?

“I need to go.”

“Don’t you dare run away.”

“Dean, you know where I live and you are welcome to come there any time,” he informed me.  “Goodbye.”

And the fucker flew away.

- 16 -

I was wasted.

I crawled over to my bed, but any attempts to actually get up onto it were quickly refuted by gravity.  I got myself into a mostly sitting position and let my head flop back against the mattress.

Fuuuck.

Everything was shit, and now I couldn’t even sleep in my goddamn bed.

My head started lolling to the side and I tried to return it to an upright position.  The attempt failed, and I found the ground getting closer and closer.

“Cass,” I grumbled into the floor.  “Cass?  Get your ass over here.”

Of course he didn’t come.

I felt very pathetic lying here on the floor, so I tried to get up again, but it didn’t work out.

“Cass, c’mon,” I slurred.  “Cass, please.”

Was he going to make me beg?

I hadn’t seen him since our fight back at the motel in Ashland however many weeks ago that was, ‘cause I sure as hell wasn’t about to go over to his place with my tail between my legs.

He could come to me.

Would he come?

He wasn’t coming.

“Please,” I begged.  “I needa talk t’ya.  ’M s’rry.”

My phone buzzed, but it was all the way in my pocket.  I had to close my eyes and rest for a moment before I managed to get it out.  Then there was the whole ‘reading while drunk’ issue.  I squinted at the notification until the letters finally formed a ‘Cass’ and something along the lines of ‘be there soon’.  Relieved, I closed my eyes again.  Needed to rest.

I startled awake, fumbling for my gun and only coming up with my phone.

There was that sound again, an ominous thumping.

“Dean?”

“Cass?” I croaked out.

The door opened slowly.

“Cass?” I repeated.

“Oh, Dean,” he sighed, closing the door behind him and approaching me slowly, almost cautiously.

“Y’r heeeere,” I breathed out.

“Of course,” he said, sitting next to me on the floor.

It took supreme effort, but I inched closer to him and managed to lift my head high enough to rest my cheek against his thigh.

He seemed to hesitate, then rested his hand in my hair like he usually did, stroking gently.

I closed my eyes again.

“Dean,” came a gentle voice, startling me awake again.

I seemed to be drooling on Cass’s pants, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t care.

“What happened?” he asked.

“N’thn,” I mumbled.

Cass continued to stroke my hair.  “Would it be alright if I sobered you up?”

I nodded into his leg.

He pushed his grace into me, and the alcohol dissipated.

Which was pretty friggin’ awkward, seeing as how I was laying with my head on his lap.

“What happened?” he repeated, fingers still scratching soothingly into my scalp.  As soon as the dude figured out he had permission to touch me, he kind of never stopped.

“It’s nothing,” I sighed, keeping my eyes closed so I didn’t have to see how embarrassing the situation was.

Cass waited.

He was very good at waiting.

I sighed loudly.  “So Sammy’s havin’ a kid.”

Not even a stutter in the motion of his hand, because of course he already knew.

Always the last to know.

I swallowed.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Cass finally asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered.

“…how bad was the fight?”

“It wasn’t a fight,” I protested.

“However you wish to label it,” Cass said with a sigh.  “You are… out of sync.”

“I guess that’s one way a puttin’ it.”

He was giving me those stupid puppy dog angel eyes of his.

“Sam said he’s not gonna raise the kid in the life,” I blurted out.

“Is that not what you would want for the child?”

“Of course it’s what I want, it’s just not reality,” I grumbled.  “Ain’t no way a Winchester’s gonna walk around this earth without gettin’ harassed by every little thing that goes bump in the night.”

“Perhaps the child will be a Leahy.”

I snorted at that.  “You know what I mean.  We got enemies, no matter what you wanna call us.  I mean, Ben-” I started and immediately stopped.

“The gates of hell have been closed,” Cass pointed out after it was clear I wasn’t going to continue.  “Demons won’t be coming after you.”

“Okay, but who’s to say they won’t suddenly open?  And there’s other shit out there besides demons that want us dead.”

“That’s true,” he acquiesced.

“Yeah, so we gotta stay smart, we gotta stay safe, ya know?”

“And to you, the bunker is the only safe place.”

“Obviously.  It’s friggin’ god-proof.”

“Perhaps Sam is willing to take the risk if it’s to live the life he’s always wanted.”

“Risk his kid?”

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple.”

“Whatever, man, I know you two are off collaborating-”

“Dean.”

I rolled my eyes with a huff.

Cass’s hand paused, then slid from my hair to cup my cheek.  “And what does Eileen want?”

That gave me pause.  “Uh…”

“It seems to me like this is a decision between Eileen and Sam, not you and Sam.”

I scowled up at him.

He gently moved his thumb along my cheekbone.  “You’ll be a great uncle, though,” he said like it was a fact.

I wasn’t so sure.

“You already love this child so much,” he assured me.

I huffed out a breath at that, but it was true.

Cass leaned down, brushing his lips against my forehead.

That just made me feel completely pathetic and I couldn’t help but whine his name, followed by a pitiful, “stay.”

Cass sat up again, the stroking motion of his hand resuming.  “I can’t.”

I breathed in sharply, trying not to… whatever it was I was about to do.

“Come to my place, Dean,” he requested softly.  “Just for tonight.  Please?”

“It’s the middle of the damn night.”

“And…?”

I pulled away from his touch and sat up, pressing my back to the bed.  “You’re already here, Cass, why can’t you just stay?”

“I believe your exact words were, ‘if you leave, then don’t even think about coming back’?” Cass mused.

“You know I didn’t mean it,” I muttered irritably.

“Yes, I did know that,” he agreed.  “And yet you still felt the need to say it, Dean.  Felt the need to keep up the pretence.”

“Cass-”

“I’m not coming back here,” he informed me, rising to his feet.  “So if you want to see me, you have my address.”

“Dammit, Cass.”

He looked down at me, unimpressed.

I always did this, and it was so fucking pointless.

So I made a different choice.

“You’re driving,” I muttered, pushing myself to my feet.  Cass might’ve de-drunkified me, but now I was a bit hungover and I didn’t want to risk Baby with my potentially shitty driving.

Cass blinked owlishly at me.

I opened the door and started shuffling off towards the garage.

“Dean?” he called after me, confused.

Was it that weird that I was doing what he asked?

I didn’t say anything and kept moving forward.  When we got to the garage, I tossed Cass the keys and got in the passenger seat.

He still looked confused as he sat down next to me.

“Let’s go see the Malibu Dream House,” I said, staring out the window.

“It’s in Lebanon…”

“Just drive, sunshine.”

I could feel his smile without having to look.

So he drove.

- 17 -

“You’re really in the ‘burbs, huh?” I marveled, looking around at all the manicured lawns.

“Yes, Dean,” Cass answered perfunctorily, pulling the garage door shut behind him and joining me in the driveway.

“Can’t really see the stars too good,” I commented.

“Did you message Sam?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes.  “Yes, mom.”

“He will appreciate that,” he said.  “He gets worried when he wakes up and you’re not there.”

“Sounds a little Single White Female.”

Cass squinted at me.  “So are you suggesting that perhaps a bit of distance would be healthy?”

I frowned.

Cass just shrugged and went up the walkway to the porch.

I followed, taking a seat on the swing.

It squeaked loudly.

“I don’t know how to fix that,” he said, sitting next to me.

“I’ll get ya some WD-40 in the morning.”

“How are some letters and numbers going to fix my swing?”

I turned to him, feeling myself grinning.  “Just trust me, I’ll take care of it.”

Cass started to smile back.  “Okay.”

Were we making up?

I wanted to make up.

I stretched my arm along the back of the swing, hoping Cass would lean into it.

Instead, he turned his face towards the sky.  “There are still a few stars to see.”

“I guess they’re not so bad,” I said with a shrug, my eyes tracing the Big Dipper.

“I like it here,” Cass said softly.

I breathed out a long breath, trying not to snap at him.  I was all evolved and crap now.

“Anywhere that isn’t where I am,” I muttered instead.  ‘Cause that sounded tough and not completely insecure.

Cass leveled me with his most exasperated expression.  “You are in fact, as Claire would say, ‘literally’ here with me, Dean.”

I glared out at the sky.

“I long for you,” he confessed softly.

I rolled my eyes and tried not to be embarrassed for him, which is why my cheeks were getting red.

“And I would do anything for you,” he continued in a similarly cheesy vain.

“Ya gonna come back to the bunker then?”

“…but I won’t do that.”

We were both quiet, until I finally had to ask, “did you just ‘Meatloaf’ me?”

“What does ground meat have to do with anything?”

I turned to stare at him.

That smug-ass angel knew exactly what he was saying.  He caught my glare and admitted, “I did ‘Meatloaf’ you.”

“Stop being a smart-ass,” I complained.

“But it’s your favorite quality of mine,” he teased, oblivious.

He was so close, but it was like some wall had gotten thrown up between us.  I looked at him helplessly.

His eyebrows scrunched together, his own face taking on a panicked look, and suddenly he was catching my cheeks in his hands, pulling me closer.  “Dean, my beloved, please…”

“Please what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, averting his eyes.

“Cass?”

“I’m not going to give in to you anymore.”

“What?” I asked, my voice cracking a little.

He sighed, taking his warm hands away and standing up.  “It’s late.  You need to get some rest.”

“Hey,” I complained, catching his wrist and trying not to panic.  “What did you mean by that?”

He chewed on his bottom lip, a weirdly human habit that I hadn’t seen him do before.  “Just as I said,” he finally decided.  “As much as I long for you, I can no longer simply acquiesce to your petulant demands.”

Cass apparently longed for me.  So fucking cheesy.

I couldn’t look him in the eye.  “I’m not petulant,” I complained in a tone that definitely wasn’t petulant.

“You are being ‘peak’ Dean right now,” he informed me.

“Screw you,” I muttered.

He sighed loudly and unlocked the front door.  “Come on.”

I briefly considered staying outside freezing on the porch before following him in.

“This is the living room,” he explained, and it’s a good thing he did, because there was literally nothing in the room but a big book shelf full of books.

“Dude, ya ever think of getting, I dunno, a couch or something?” I scoffed.

“I haven’t gotten around to it,” he said, unbothered.  “Here is the kitchen.”

The kitchen actually looked nice, the pots and pans hanging over the island kinda like in the bunker, and a cozy four-seater table set near the window.  “Not bad.”

“The bathroom is this door on the left,” he continued, giving me a knowing look.

He’d sobered me up, but he hadn’t emptied my bladder.

“And my room is at the end of the hall,” he concluded.  “Obviously I do not sleep so you are free to use my bed.”

“That was the most unsexy offer to sleep in your bed that I’ve ever heard,” I muttered, opening the door to the bathroom and quickly shutting it behind me.  I groaned in relief as soon as things started flowing.

The light had been left on in the bedroom, and there was one of my old t-shirts and some wookie pajama pants that I’d given to Cass neatly folded at the end of the bed.

“Good night, Dean,” Cass called from down the hallway, probably in the living room.

“Night,” I replied, tugging on the pajamas and dumping my clothes on the chair by the door.  I slid in between the sheets, expecting them to be musty from disuse, but actually…

I nestled into the pillow, breathing in Cass, and then I was out.

- 18 -

“Good morning, Dean,” Cass greeted me cheerfully as I shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing my eyes.

I did a doubletake.  Then I found myself grinning.  “Sweetheart, ya don’t gotta wear an apron to make cereal,” I pointed out.

Cass looked down at his ‘kiss the cook’ apron, then flicked his eyes up to meet mine.  “You’d be surprised.”

“Nah, I probably wouldn’t,” I said, biting back a laugh.  He could be weirdly clumsy sometimes, and he didn’t belong anywhere near a kitchen.  “You made coffee?”

“Of course,” he said, pouring me a cup with a flourish.  Some of it spilled over the rim.

“Really puttin’ that apron to work, huh?”

“Actually, I never spill anything on the apron itself,” he explained.

I snorted, accepting my mug and taking a sip.  “Not bad.”

“I am capable of brewing coffee, Dean.”

“Ehh,” I said, earning myself a Very Annoyed Look.  I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me.

Cass sighed.  “It is difficult to stay angry with you when you personify joy like that, even if it is at my expense.”

“Then don’t stay mad,” I pointed out, feeling my cheeks warm.

He shook his head at me, pouring the milk into the cereal bowl and carrying it over to the table.  “I hope this breakfast is to your satisfaction.”

“Looks like you slaved over it all morning,” I said, accepting the bowl and digging in.  “Mm, good cereal-to-milk ratio.”

“You’re a brat,” he scolded me, taking a seat on the other side of the table.

“I’m complimenting you.”

“Sarcasm isn’t complimentary.”

“Says you,” I said with a shrug, shoveling more cereal into my mouth.

“You’re a terrible house guest,” he pointed out.  “Did you sleep well?  The mattress hasn’t remembered you yet.”

“Yet, huh?” I murmured with a mouth full of cereal that probably took away from the flirtatious tone I was intending.

“I would like you to stay here more often,” Cass replied sincerely.

I swallowed the rest of my cereal.  I plunked the bowl back down on the table.  I looked out the window.  I was running out of ways to avoid the conversation.

“You don’t have to,” he finally said when it became apparent that I wasn’t going to answer.

“You’re not gonna come home, are you?” I asked quietly, resigned.

“The bunker is not my home.”

I took in a sharp breath, feeling like I’d been sucker-punched.

“I guess it won’t help if I say that you are my home,” he said, reaching out to touch my hand.

I pulled it away.

Cass stood up abruptly, stomping over to the sink and dumping the remains of his breakfast down it.

I looked down at my hand.

I looked at Cass’s turned back, vibrating with anger.

I had to stop doing this shit.

I just didn’t know how.

Maybe if I just told him that.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I croaked out.

Cass sighed, but at least he stopped vibrating.

“I just wanna fix things, okay?” I said.  “I know all I ever do is make things worse, but I wanna fix this.  I just can’t get outta my own damn way.”

“I am aware.”

“Cass, tell me what to do, man.  Tell me what I gotta do to make this right.”

He turned around to face me, head tilting slightly.

I rubbed my mouth anxiously.  “Do I gotta move in here with you?”

“No,” he said.  “I’d like you to, but only if you actually want to.”

“And there’s no chance you’d-”

“No.”

“Cass.”

He waited.

“Do ya need a commitment?” I asked, clutching my spoon a little tighter than necessary.  “Ya need me to swear off flirting?”

“I don’t ask for the impossible.”

“Okay, well, whaddya want, a ring?” I asked flippantly.

Cass went very silent.

No, he wasn’t…

The angle of his head tilt intensified.

He was really thinking about it.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit-

“Yes,” he said suddenly, “I think that I would like a ring.”

“Ya lookin’ for something in a princess cut, or…?” I tried to joke, my tone sounding scared and desperate even to my own ears.

“If you’re not genuinely offering…”

I tried to swallow my pride.  “I’m… I’m not not offering.”

He still wasn’t giving me anything.

Fuck, I just had to do this.  “Honey, if you want a ring I will get you a ring.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

What was I getting myself into?

But it was for Cass, so I shook my head.  “I’m committed, okay?  To you,” I clarified.

He stared me down for another uncomfortable moment, then was suddenly back at the table, holding out his hand to me.

I took it this time.

“I’m not trying to force you into something,” he said slowly.

“I know,” I assured him.

“It’s just… I felt as though you’d been making so much ‘progress’ before I asked you to move here with me,” he continued.  “I thought that you would be ‘ready’, and when you were not, perhaps I was a bit resentful.  Of course your typical overreaction of telling me to never come back did not help matters-”

“I’m sorry.”

Cass closed his mouth mid-sentence.  Then he squeezed my hand.  “We are not always the best at communication.”

“You’re includin’ yourself in that?”

He nodded.  “It’s not only you, Dean.  From the night we first made love- stop making that face and listen, please.  I knew it was wrong to continue sexually liasing with you when you were so uncertain about your sexuality and about our relationship.  But it made me feel so connected to you, so I... so I was selfish, and I continue to be selfish every time that I keep my mouth shut in order to keep the peace.”

“Honey, I dunno if I really get what you’re sayin’,” I confessed, still holding his hand tight and not being terrified.

“I know,” he said, lifting up our laced hands and pressing a kiss to the back of mine.  “I can’t ever truly convey to you how important you are to me, how essential you are to my very being.  And yet sometimes being with you is the loneliest I have ever felt.”

Well that was a punch in the gut.

“I know it’s hard to hear, but I need you to hear it,” he said firmly.  “You can be very sensitive-”

I tried to scoff and it came out more like a strangled sob.

Cass was giving me puppy dog eyes, and I could see him struggling, wanting to comfort me.

I took a breath and let it out.  Fine, I was fucking sensitive.  But I could control it.  I didn’t need to spiral about how I made Cass feel the friggin’ loneliest he ever felt.  This was fine.  Everything was fine, and I was going to just shut up and listen.

Cass took a breath of his own.  He slid my hand to his cheek, pressing into it.  “You’re a sensitive person, Dean.  And Sam and I, we’ve… we’ve done some things in the past that have… left their mark on you.  So I understand why you don’t react well when you perceive that Sam and I are ‘plotting’ behind your back, or that I am ‘running away’ from you.  And I think… well, I won’t speak for Sam, but I feel guilty about some of the things I’ve done in the past, and so it makes me hesitant to address difficult topics with you.”

“Whaddya mean?” I asked.

“I mean that... sometimes… I cannot fault you for your extreme reactions, and perhaps I even… I deserve it.”

“Jesus, honey, no,” I said, shaking my head.  “We gotta stop keepin’ score, okay?  And blamin’ ourselves for stupid shit from the past.”

“So you are also going to stop doing that?”

“Yeah, yeah, pot, kettle, all that,” I sighed, cradling his cheek.  “I need you, Cass.  So if I gotta put a ring on it and start comin’ around here more, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“And we’re going to talk openly and honestly about our feelings?”

“Jesus.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“We can… set a timer.  Ya know, one minute intervals of feelings.”

“Followed by one minute intervals of sexual favors?”

“You are filthy, you know,” I pointed out.  “…but only one minute?”

“It was your idea,” he said with a shrug, his eyes staring into mine all soulfully for someone being kind of a lech at the moment.

“Can we make up already?” I blurted out.

“We’re working on it.”

“We’re working on it,” I repeated.  And sure, I was probably gonna fuck it up.

But maybe…

Maybe I wanted to try.

- 19 -

I slid out from under Baby, wiping my hands on my jeans.  I went to the garage to get the engine oil, then came back to finish up the oil change.  I was just wiping off the dipstick when some random dude with a golden retriever started talking to me from the end of the driveway.

“So you’re Mr. Impala.”

“Guess I been called worse,” I said, putting down the hood.

“Drives my wife crazy, she’s always rantin’ about the environment and the noise and the children,” he said with a chuckle.  “Don’t know what she’s gonna do when I get my ‘67 Camaro running.”

“No shit?” I asked.  “That’s gotta be a thing of beauty.”

“Yeah, if it only ran,” he said, shaking his head sadly.  “I’m Dave Thompson, from across the street.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking the few steps down the driveway and shaking his hand.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Dave said, giving me a surprisingly firm handshake for a guy in a mock turtleneck.  “You must be Castiel’s-”

“Yeah,” I said, and okay, maybe I should have let him finish the thought, because now I was apparently Cass’s belonging.  “And who’s this guy?” I asked, wanting to abort and immediately being drawn to the fluffy drooly creature that didn’t understand awkwardness.

“This is Josiah,” Dave said, giving the retriever a pat on the head.

He gave a little bark, but he licked my hand when I held it out to him, so I went in for the ear scratch and immediately got myself a new friend for life.

I could feel myself grinning like an idiot as I crouched down in front of him, but hey, dogs were awesome.  “We had a dog for a while, but it turned out ‘he’ was a ‘she’, and she ended up giving birth to a litter of puppies.  Couldn’t keep ‘em all and didn’t want ta separate ‘em from their mom, so we found her a new home.”

“That’s too bad,” Dave started out sympathetically, but then he tilted his head in confusion (which was not as endearing as it was on Cass).  “Wait, you thought your female dog was male…?  I mean, didn’t you notice…”

“Listen, man, I ain’t the dickmaster general,” I said, earning a snort from Dave.  “I just rub the ears and give the beast its food.”

“Fair enough,” he said agreeably.  “Well, Josiah here is definitely all dude.”

“Friendly dude,” I said, grinning as he licked me in the face.  I gave him one more thorough ear rub before standing back up straight.

“He really likes you,” Dave marveled.  “He doesn’t usually take to strangers so quickly.”

“I smell like bacon,” I confided in him.

Dave cracked up.  “So that’s the secret.”

I just grinned, feeling oddly at ease with this suburban dog dad.

“Dean!”

We both turned to face the house, watching as Cass scrambled out the front door.

“Dean!” he repeated more urgently.

“What’s up, Cass?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Hello, Dave,” he said, sparing a glance for his neighbor.  “Hello, Josiah,” he added, making sure to greet the dog.

“Hey, man,” Dave greeted him.  “Finally got to meet your partner.”

“That is wonderful,” Cass said, clearly not even listening.  “Dean, the Alexa is plotting again.”

I bit my lip, trying not to grin and failing miserably.  “Yeah, honey?  She pickin’ on you?”

“This is hardly a laughing matter,” he scolded me.  “Why would Jack unleash such evil on us?”

“Pretty sure he said it was a Father’s Day gift?”

“I know that gifts are things that you are supposed to keep, and I have tried utilizing it to the best of my ability, but I am at my wit’s end”

“What has Alexa done now?”

“I asked her to set a five minute timer.”

“Okay.”

“She set five one-minute timers.”

“Okay.”

“So I told her to ‘cancel all timers’ and to set a ‘five minute timer’.”

“I think I see where this is going.”

“She will not stop ringing, Dean, no matter how many times I request that she ‘cancel all timers’.  They just keep going off, to the point that I cannot accept that there were actually that many timers set to begin with.”

“So you think she’s intentionally fucking with you.”

“Yes,” he breathed out, exasperated.

“And you need a big, strong man to wrangle her into submission?”

Cass squinted at me.  “Yes, Dean, a big, strong man to turn off the robot speaker.”

“Sounds like I’m the man for the job,” I said, waggling my eyebrows at him.

He huffed out a sigh.

Usually, this was when I leaned in to give him a quick, affectionate kiss.

Was it okay?  In front of Dave?  In front of Dave’s golden retriever with the weirdly biblical name?

In front of Dave’s mock turtleneck?!

I leaned down, giving Cass a little peck on the lips.  “I just gotta clean up the driveway a little, and then I’ll be right in.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a nod.  “I will ‘hold down the fort’ until you arrive.”

“Good luck,” Dave offered.

“I will need it,” Cass said solemnly.  “Goodbye, Dave.  Goodbye, Josiah.”

I watched Cass go back up the walkway because he was wearing jeans and it was a good look.  Also, I didn’t want to gauge Dave’s reaction to the all the homosexual activity going on in his neighborhood.

"Well that was a disgusting display.”

I whirled around to face Dave, ready to be angry now that my worst fears were realized, only to find him grinning at me in a friendly way.

“People our age aren’t supposed to still be that in love,” he said with a snort.

“Huh?” I said, rubbing my nose.

“Wish the missus would look at me like that besides Valentine’s Day and birthdays.”

I wasn’t sure who he’d caught looking at who, but my shoulders relaxed and I grinned back.  “What can I say, we still got it.”

Josiah gave a cheerful bark.

“He gets it,” I said with a snort, crouching down to give him one last thorough pet.  “Well, I better get in there before Alexa takes Cass behind the bleachers and steals his lunch money.”

“Technology,” Dave said with a middle-aged shake of the head.  “Hey, so you’re going to be around here more, right?  The wife’d love to have you both over for dinner some time.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to fiddle with my ring and failing.  “Yeah, uh… I’ll be around and uh… Cass’d like that.”

“Alright, see ya around, man.”

I cleaned up all the oil change gear, setting it back in the garage and pressing the button to put the door down.  I pushed open the door to the house, and was immediately greeted by the sound of a timer.

“Alexa, stop timer!” Cass growled with all his angelic might.

I bit my lip.

“Alexa, stop all timers!  End all timers!  Terminate!”

I came up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist.  “Time for the big gun?”

He twisted his head slightly so he could squint at me.  “The big gun that’s going to yell at the robot until he gets so frustrated that he just yanks her cord out of the socket?”

Okay, yeah, that sounded like a pretty likely scenario.  “So you don’t want me to fix it?”

Another timer went off.

Cass sighed loudly.  “Please use your big strong man powers to make it stop.”

“Alexa, stop timer.”

“So you’re just going to do exactly what I’ve already done thirteen times?” he grumbled at me.

I nibbled on the shell of his ear.  “You gonna be a smartass here?”

“Well, I am very smart,” he hummed, clearly enjoying my ministrations.  “And I have an impeccable ass.”

I snorted at that.  “Impeccable?”

“Do you prefer ‘immaculate’?”

“Immaculate?” I sputtered out, cracking up.

Another timer went off.

“Alexa, stop all timers,” I wheezed out.

Another timer went off just to spite me.

“Alexa, cancel timer.  Cancel all timers for all time.  Just shut up.”

“Sorry, I didn’t get that,” Alexa replied.

“Sonuvabitch.”

“Dean, please save me from the big scary Echo,” Cass requested, not helping matters with all his sass.

Another timer went off.

“I'm gonna fuckin' cook you, and I'm gonna fucking eat you!” I growled.

“That doesn’t seem like an appropriate solution,” Cass pointed out unhelpfully, with a complete and utter lack of appreciation for John McClane quotes.

Alexa and I continued to trade barbs for a while, until I finally gave up and yanked her cord out of the socket.

“Thank you, my love,” Cass said, giving me a smooch on the cheek.

“Anytime,” I said.  “But whadda we do with this beast?” I asked, twirling the cord around my finger.

“I hear attics are an excellent storage place for unwanted things that cannot be thrown away,” he said, taking the Echo from me.  “I never understood why humans would need such a place, but I think I may now know.”

“Still think Jack was fuckin’ with you when he got that thing,” I commented as we moved towards the attic.

“Jack is a good boy,” Cass protested.

“He’s a Winchester.”

Cass smiled at that.  “I think he meant well by it.”

“Why do people need robots to turn on their lights?  Ain’t we got perfectly good hands to do that?”

“Why do people need vehicles to transport them when they have perfectly good feet?”

“You take that back.”

Cass just hummed in amusement as he climbed up the ladder to the attic.  He looked around when he reached the top, then held a hand down to me and I passed him the Echo.  “Goodbye, Alexa.  You shall not be missed.”

“Hasta la vista, baby,” I agreed, wrapping an arm around Cass’s shoulder after he stepped down from the ladder.  “Hey, Dave and his wife wanna have us over for dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” Cass said agreeably.

“Are we a suburban married couple?”

“Pretty much.”

“Huh.”

Cass kissed me on the cheek and we went back to the living room to watch a movie.

The fire alarm going off let us know why Cass had set the damn timer in the first place.

“Take out from the Chinese place?” I suggested

“Take out from the Chinese place,” Cass agreed, tossing out the burnt dinner.

- 20 -

“Mornin’, honey,” I mumbled as I felt my cheek getting attacked by smooches.  “Jesus, Cass, it’s a little early for all that-” I started to say, then blinked my eyes open.

Definitely not Cass.

The little puppy stared into my eyes, then gave a happy bark and resumed licking my face.

“Hey, buddy, who are you?” I asked, picking the dog up and resting him on my chest as I gave him a thorough pet.

“Surprise?” Cass offered, standing in the doorway.

“This my birthday present?” I asked, entranced by the soft red fur and the soulful brown eyes.

“Yes, I… do you like her?” Cass asked hesitantly.

“Oh, it’s a ‘her’?” I asked, happy to avoid another ‘why is my male dog giving birth on the kitchen floor’ kind of situations.

Cass was still looking unsure.

“I love her,” I informed him.

“It was Jack’s idea.”

That gave me pause.  “This another Alexa situation?”

“Jack told me that he thought the Alexa would help us bond.”

“Is that what the little shit said?” I scoffed.

Cass frowned.

“I’m joking,” I said quickly, flashing him an apologetic look before turning back to my new best girl.  “Does she have a name?”

“I thought you should name her.”

I nodded.  “Well, I ain’t got no clue yet, so let’s just call her Rex.”

“Rex?” he asked incredulously.

“She’s a happy girl, isn’t she?” I observed as she started licking my face again, but this time more slowly and affectionately.

“Yes, I selected her very carefully.”

“Good job, sweetheart.  You gonna join us here, or what?”

“If I’m not intruding.”

I caught the little quirk to his grin, and I couldn’t help but grin back.  “There’s enough Dean to go around.”

“How… generous,” he said, lifting up the sheets and curling into bed next to me, resting his cheek on my shoulder while I played with the dog.

“She’s a Shiba Inu,” he told me.  “They’re hunting dogs.  Very loyal.”

I stuck a finger in the ring of his t-shirt and tugged him up higher until our lips could meet.  “Thank you,” I breathed into his mouth.

“Of course,” he breathed back.

The puppy barked, annoyed at being interrupted, and reclaimed me for herself.

Cass huffed out an annoyed sigh.  “Is this how things are going to be now?”

“Yep, you’ve been replaced.”

“Hmph.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he settled back into the crook of my neck, hand draped possessively across my stomach.  “Cass honey?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Where’s she gonna live?” I asked quietly.  I could feel my insides starting to melt a little as she dropped her head between her paws and seemed to fall asleep on my chest, but I was also starting to feel the anxiety creep in.

“She’s yours, Dean,” Cass offered.  “She is welcome to stay here any time.  You can keep her at the bunker with you if you wish.  I will help you with any arrangement that you desire.”

Thing was, I rarely slept at the bunker anymore, even if Eileen and I were there most days, doing the Bobby thing.  The less I was on the road, the more the bunker was starting to be ‘work’ and Cass’s was starting to be...

“I didn’t mean to put pressure on you,” Cass murmured, taking my hand in his.

I’d been fidgeting with my ring again.  “It’s not… you don’t gotta…” I trailed off, not really sure where I was going.

He just held my hand and waited.

“Maybe uh…” and Jesus friggin’ Christ was Winchester pride a bitch, “maybe she could stay here.”

“I’d like that,” he said, putting my hand back on my stomach and carefully petting the sleeping dog.  “I must admit, I’ve grown attached to her these last few days, taking care of her with Jack as we waited for your birthday.”

“Okay,” I said, hoping to leave it at that and for Cass not to notice when suddenly all of my things were in his closet and I was sleeping here seven nights a week instead of five.

But Cass’s eyes were on me.

He knew.

“MaybeIcouldstayheretoo,” I breathed out in a rush.

“I’d like that even more,” he said, beaming with sincerity.

“Okay,” I said.

We laid there for a while, me and the pup mostly snoozing while Cass cuddled us both, but then she was awake and suddenly tearing down the hallway.

“I thought she’d never leave,” Cass deadpanned before putting the moves on me.

“The door’s open,” I pointed out between pants.

Cass slammed the door shut with a flick of his wrist.

“Tryin’ ta get me hot and bothered?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at him.

“Yes,” he growled, attacking my neck with a ferocity that was probably gonna need a little splainin’ at the party later.

“Sweetheart,” I hummed, trying to not get lost in the thing he was doing with his teeth and kind of losing the plot.  “Sweetheart,” I repeated, “you’re uh… mm, really goin’ to town there…”

He paused, looking up at me contritely.  “I may have become a bit overly amorous.”

“Jealous?”

He squinted at me.  “Are you asking me if I am jealous of the dog that I myself purchased for you?”

“Well are ya?”

“I feel overwhelmed and elated that you are willing to move in with me,” he explained.

So that wasn’t really a topic I wanted to linger on.

Cass seemed to read it on my face, his expression suddenly anxious.  “Dean, did I push you?  Is this not-”

“No, honey,” I cut him off.  Honesty, transparency.  This was how I made our relationship work and didn’t end up losing Cass forever.  So why was it so damn difficult to make my mouth move?  “I wasted so much time,” I finally breathed out.

Big blue eyes stared into mine questioningly.

“It’s hard for me to say what I want.”

Cass nodded knowingly.

“And ta admit when I’m… ya know, wrong.”

He smiled at that, fondly amused.

“But uh… you and me?  Here?  I want this, okay?”

He nodded again.

I sat up, forcing Cass to back up before pulling him close into a hug.

He hugged me back just as fiercely.

Then he started getting frisky again, because Cass was a friggin’ horndog.

Not that I minded.

I bit my lip, fingers digging into whatever they could get, when there was a scratching at the door, followed by a very sad, very lonely bark.

Cass glared up at me from where his mouth was otherwise occupied.

“We can’t just leave her out there,” I panted.  Nothing killed a boner like a crying baby.

“Dean, we are… in flagrante delicto,” he said, sounding scandalized.

“Yeah, but… cute puppy.”

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” he asked, frowning.  Because Cass was definitely a friggin’ horndog, no matter how much Sam tried to claim that I was the corrupting influence.

“Probably,” I said, giving him a very wet smooch on the cheek before pushing him away so I could get up and open the door.

The puppy gave a delighted bark and started circling my legs.

Cass looked annoyed.

I gestured down at my flagging but still slightly interested dick.  “Where were we?”

Now he looked downright scandalized.  “I am not going to blow you in front of this innocent creature.”

I shrugged.  “Your loss.”

He squinted at that.  “You were the one who specifically requested, ‘as many blow jobs as can be performed in 24 hours’ for your birthday.”

I crouched down to give my girl a good pet.  “Yeah, and I haven’t even gotten one yet.”

“You are being very frustrating right now,” Cass growled at me.

I shot him a flirtatious grin.

“Deaaaaan.”

Okay, so maybe I was a little bit of a corrupting influence, but it was my party and I could get blown if I wanted to.

And obviously I enjoyed winding Cass up.

“I regret getting you that pet,” he grumbled at me, making an unhappy exit from the bedroom.

“Don’t listen to him, girl,” I assured the puppy.  “He’s gonna love you almost as much as I do.”

She wagged her tail at me.

Cass stuck his head back in the door, glowering.  “You are already on an ‘I love you’ basis with this creature?”

“Mm-hm,” I said, letting the dog lick my face.

“Do you know how long it took me to get an ‘I love you’?”

“Too damn long,” I told him sincerely.

That gave him pause.

I thought I might try being sincere for a little longer.  “But I can say it easier now.  ‘Cause of you.”

“Dean,” he said in that way of his that said so much more.

“Love you.”

It was like he was glowing from freakin’ happiness.  “I love you, too.”

The puppy barked happily.

“And baby makes three…” I commented.

Cass’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” I said, giving the dog a last pat and standing up.  “Coffee?”

“It will be ready in… 97 seconds,” he informed me.

“Perfect.”

- 21 -

“See, now that we got this steak all beautifully marinated, we gotta get it on the grill,” I explained to Maura, shifting her a little higher on my hip as I used my free hand to pick up the tongs.  “It’s all in the wrist.”

She cooed her agreement.

“Dean, do you want me to take her?” Eileen asked, holding her arms out to her daughter.

“Nah, I’m good,” I said, carefully lining the steaks up on the grill.

“Unca,” Maura agreed, tightening the grip of her little hands on my shirt.

“She’s a woman of refined taste,” I explained.

Eileen rolled her eyes.  “Wow, Maura wants to stay with the man who spoils her rotten, what a surprise.”

“It’s an uncle’s job.”

“Do not give her any sugar.”

“Of course not,” I lied.

“I’m watching you,” she said, pointing at her eyes and then at me.  “Be good for Unca,” she added, giving the baby a kiss on the head.  “I’m gonna try and get Daddy to stop checking his phone every five seconds.”

“Good luck with that,” I said with a snort, before turning back to my work.  “Okay, now we close the lid.”

Honey came running up, giving me a greeting bark.

“Unca,” Maura insisted, pointing at the dog.

I airplaned her down to the ground, keeping a hold on her waist as she giggled and pet the dog.

Honey tried to jump on her, so I airplaned her back onto my hip.

Maura giggled.

“Honey, how many times I gotta tell ya not to jump on my girl here?” I scolded her, but I was pretty sure Honey was laughing, too, the way she was barking and running around my legs.  “Oh, hey, I love this song,” I announced, shifting Maura up closer to my shoulder so we could dance .  “Hey hey mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.”

My niece shrieked with delight, because she did indeed have refined taste and knew that Zepp totally rocked.

“Oh, hey, baby girl, you hear that sound?”

She peered up at me curiously.

“Listen carefully,” I said tilting her closer to the grill.  “Oh, yeah, they’re gonna be gorgeous.”

She pointed at the grill.

“Exactly,” I said, lifting the lid.  “Whoo-ee, lookit these beauties.”

Maura babbled appreciatively as I lined the steaks up on the plate.  “Hey, Sammy, can you make yourself useful and take these to the table?”

“Not now, Dean,” he whined, still staring at his phone.

I looked at Maura and shook my head.  “It’s a good thing you take after your mom.”

She grinned a big gummy grin at me.

“I got them,” Jody said, taking the plate from my hand.  “Damn, Winchester, these smell incredible.”

“Made my own rub,” I told her with a wink.  “Where’s Unca Cass, I’m ready for those burgers.”

As if on cue (but really from supernatural angel hearing), Cass pushed open the sliding door and approached the grill with a platter of burgers.

“Thanks, darling,” I said, setting the platter next to the grill.  “Where ya been?”

“Entertaining our guests,” he said, then shot a glance at Sam.  “Since the guest of honor does not seem to be up to performing the task.”

I snorted at that.  “Well, at least everyone’s gonna eat well,” I said, lining the burgers up on the grill.  “Can you grab me a beer?”

“I suppose,” he said, moving towards the cooler by the picnic table.

I watched him go, my eyes glued to his ass as he crouched down to open the cooler.  Those jeans were just painted on.  I nodded appreciatively.

“You’re too old to be ogling,” Claire informed me as she sidled up beside the grill.

“The man has a great ass,” I shot back at her.

“Since I have the same genes, thanks, I guess?”

“You’re welcome,” I told her magnanimously.  I eyed the burgers and tried flipping one.  They still needed a little more time.  “You see that, baby girl, you want the bottom a little browner before you flip them.”

Maura chewed on her bib, but I was sure she was listening.

“Here you are,” Cass said, pulling the cap off the bottle with his bare hand before handing the beer to me.

“Thanks,” I said, stealing a smooch.  He knew random acts of inhuman strength got me hot and bothered.

And then Maura leaned in and kissed Cass on the cheek, and my heart just about damn melted.

“You givin’ Unca Cass kisses?” I cooed at her, and we rubbed noses together as she giggled.  “Okay, gotta flip the burgers.”

“Oh, crap, the results are in,” Sam announced, looking panicked.  “What if I didn’t… I can’t look.”

Eileen took the phone from him.  “I’ll look.”

I looked at my oaf of a brother, then at his adorable daughter, and asked her, “can you go to Dada?  He needs some emotional support, ‘cause he’s, ya know, fragile.”

“Dada,” she said with a solemn nod.

“Sammy, take Maura,” I said, holding her out to him.

“Hey, pumpkin,” he said, perking up a little in the glow of Maura’s smile.

“Dada,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

I rolled my shoulders after passing her off.

Cass rested his hand at the small of my back, pouring some healing mojo into my aching body.

I slid my arm around his shoulder, leaning into him as my eyes darted between my burgers and Eileen.

Her face suddenly lit up in a grin.  “Sam Winchester, esquire.”

“I… passed…?” he asked slowly.

She nodded happily.

“I passed!” he declared, tossing Maura into the air.

She shrieked with delight as he caught her and swung her around.

Everyone gathered in the yard with cans held up in salute, congratulatory pats on the back, and general merriment.

“Hey, man, ya finally did it,” I told Sam.  “You’re gonna be the friggin’ oldest lawyer ever.”

Cass squinted at me.  “There are many living lawyers older than Sam…”

“Yeah, but not like new lawyers.”

“A man in California passed the bar at 74-” Cass tried to inform me.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, smacking him on the butt.

He made a face at me, but accepted that I was an asshole and that he had agreed for better or for worse.

Moment over, I went back to take my burgers off the grill.  I took a quick sip from my beer that had sadly been sitting there untouched, and damn did that hit the spot.  I hadn’t had a beer in forever.

One of Garth’s twins let out a god-awful shriek, and when my eyes found him, he was pinned under Honey.

I whistled sharply.  “Honey, get your ass over here.”

She quickly ran over to me.

“What’d I tell ya ‘bout jumpin’ on little kids?” I scolded her.

Honey whined.

Of course then that Samstiel kid came running over, calling for Honey.

She stared up at me sorrowfully.

Whichever-one-it-was threw his arms around her neck, then started scratching behind her ears.

She wagged her tail and whined at me.

“What, are ya some kinda masochist, kid?” I asked the twin.

“Yes,” he replied solemnly.

The kid was a werewolf and all so I guessed my little dog wasn’t going to break him.  Probably.

“Okay, fine, go play,” I told my dog, and she barked happily, promptly knocking the kid on the ground again.

He shrieked with delight.

I shook my head.  “Kids these days.”

“Dean Winchester, suburban dog dad,” Claire said with a snort��as she passed by, chowing down on a burger.

“Hell yeah,” I agreed.

She gave me a funny look.

I winked at her.

She shuddered and continued on her way.

I was still grinning as I flipped over the hot dogs, only for it to occur to me that she probably meant that as an insult.

That I usually would have taken it as an insult.

“Hello, Dean.”

I glanced over at Jack, feeling my smile warm.  “Hey, kid, ya made it.”

“Yes, I was able to finish my paper more quickly than expected.”

Because after you rebuild heaven, why not start your undergrad?  Obviously God needed a degree in anthropology.

Jack was such a weird kid, but I guess he was ours.

“I can take over here if you would like to go inside for a while,” he offered.

“Jack, a man’s grill is sacred-”

“-and I have studied your grilling technique for many years, so though I may not surpass the master, I can at least carry on his traditions in an acceptable manner.”

I squinted at him.

“Cass misses you,” he offered.

“Oh,” I said, because we weren’t one of those gross codependent couples that couldn’t be apart for 5 minutes, but we’d spent the whole damn week trying to get the whole family down here for Sam after Charlie hacked into the Kansas bar and found out that he passed, and it had been a whole big thing and I hadn’t gotten to see Cass much outside of the ‘party’ context, and maybe, just maybe, I kinda missed him, too.  “Look, you gotta, take these babies off-”

“I know,” he assured me, gently taking the tongs from my hands.  “I’m ready.”

I gave him a nod and headed inside.

Cass was in the living room with Bobby, Jody, and Donna.

“Hey,” I said, leaning in to kiss him and then just deciding to sit on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, because while we weren’t codependent, I just liked touching him.

“Dean,” Cass said brightly, settling his hand on my knee.

“Hey, Deano, heckuva burger,” Donna said, holding up her plate.

“I am the meat man,” I declared.

“Huh,” Jody said, while Donna just took another bite and nodded her agreement.

All-in-all, it was an alright party.

Sammy came in holding a sleepy-looking Maura a little after 8.  He was looking pretty damn sleepy himself.  “We’re gonna get going,” he told me.

“Past your bedtime?” I asked with a snort.

“Har har, you try studying for a year straight while raising a baby and let me know what that does to your sleep schedule.”

“No, thanks, think I’ll just keep being awesome.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

I looked at him, really looked at him.  I looked at my baby brother, the lawyer.  The father.  “Prouda you.”

He paused, looking taken aback.

“Really prouda you,” I repeated, wrapping him in a hug with Maura squished in between.

Sam returned the hug, squeezing me tight.  “Thanks,” he breathed.

It started to get awkward, so I patted his back and pulled away.  “Drive safe,” I told him.  “Or better yet, let Eileen drive ‘cause she’s a functioning adult.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled at me before moving deeper into the room to say the rest of his goodbyes.

Cass came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder.

I reached up, rubbing his bicep absently.

“I’m proud of you, too,” he said softly, just for my ears.

I snorted.  “’Cause I’m such a swell party planner?”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “And also the ‘other thing’.”

I shot him a look.

He kissed my cheek.  “I know it hasn’t been easy for you to… to ‘let go’ of Sam.”

I huffed out a breath, looking back towards the door as Sam carried Maura out to the car.  “He’s right here, man, ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Well, he is returning to his home in Wichita.”

“But that’s not what you meant.”

“No.”

My grip tightened on his arm.

“You raised him well, Dean.”

I scoffed at that.  “How many times did I drag him back in ta all this crap?”

“It’s not about being perfect,” he scolded me softly.  “It’s about being there.”

“I know, baby, I just…” I trailed off, trying not to get emotional in front of so many witnesses milling around our living room, and not being very successful.  “I always feel like I fucked it all up.”

“Oh, Dean,” Cass sighed, moving to be beside me, his hand easily slipping into mine.

I found myself led out to the porch.

Sam was fighting with Maura’s car seat while Eileen sat in the driver’s seat, ready to go.  She caught my eye and touched her hand to her chin before arcing it towards me in a ‘thank you.’

‘Of course,’ I signed back.

She smiled at me before turning back to say something to Sam.

There was suddenly a crowd in the front yard as everyone migrated from the back, ready to see the Leahy-Winchesters off.

Sam finally managed to secure his daughter and get into the car.

Everyone was waving and calling out their goodbyes as they pulled away, and our neighbors were probably gonna be a little annoyed, but I looked around me, and it was all family.  They were here for Sam (and possibly for the Meat Man’s amazing meats), this family that we built, this strange, wonderful family.

“Dude, are you about to cry?” Claire asked with a snort.

“Strong men also cry,” I growled at her.  “Strong men also cry.”

She blinked at me, round-eyed.  “The… Big… Lebowsky…?” she asked slowly.

“She’s finally learning,” I said with a choked laugh.  “Shit,” I added, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

Cass squeezed my hand carefully.

I clung back.

And then Jody was at my other side, resting her hand on my shoulder.  “Ya did good, kid,” she assured me.

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about raising Sam or just putting together the party, but either way the tears were freely streaming down my face.

“This is real growth, Dean,” Garth assured me.  “You’re finally actualizing-”

“Stop,” I groaned, running my sleeve over my face again.

“Ah, there he is,” Garth said with a knowing nod.

“We don’t gotta make a spectacle of this,” I complained.  “Jack, you better not of left anything burning on my grill.”

“I removed all the meat before coming to bid farewell to Sam and Eileen.”

“Good man,” I said.

He beamed.

“Look, I love you all, et cetera,” I explained, “but why don’t we get back to the party already?”

 I received a few too many encouraging pat-on-the-backs and sympathy eyes as the party guests proceeded to do as I asked.

Cass led me over to the porch swing and sat me down.

I put my face in my hands and scrubbed.

“You can let it out, Dean.”

“Think I kinda already did.”

He cupped my cheek, gazing down at me softly.

The tears started tumbling down again.

“Dammit,” I muttered, looking away and rubbing my eyes again.  “This is so dumb.”

“It’s not dumb,” he assured me.

“You’re not the one cryin’ like a dumb baby,” I muttered.

“They are predominantly happy tears, correct?”

I nodded.

“Then that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

I mustered up a glare, tugging him forward until he just sat on my lap and I could hide my face in his chest like I wanted.

Cass returned the hug.

“Sammy’s gonna be okay, isn’t he?” I whispered.

“He is,” Cass agreed.

“I’m gonna be okay, too, aren’t I?”

“You are.”

I breathed in deep and let it out slow.  The last of my tears absorbed into the soft material of Cass’s t-shirt, and I was finally ready to face the world again.

“Sunshine, you ever have bacon cooked on the grill?” I asked with a last sniff as I sat back in the swing.

“No, I have not.”

“Okay, that needs to be rectified ASAP,” I said, smacking his behind so he’d get up.

Cass fell into step behind me as I went back into the house.

“This is totally gonna revolutionize your life,” I assured him, reaching for the bacon in the fridge.

He smiled at me fondly, but with a twinkle in his eyes that definitely said, ‘I don’t think so.’

I was prepared to spend the rest of my life showing him the finer things of life that he didn’t know he needed.  “Jack, step aside, the Meat Man is here to make all your dreams come true!”

Cass’s eye roll was a tangible thing.

I grinned at him and booped his nose.

He scrunched it up immediately, looking offended.

“I’m gonna be okay,” I decided.

And I was.

[isolavirtuosa]

That River in Egypt 8-14 of 21

[fanfiction] Dean / Cass

canon divergent AU from 15x19, Dean being Dean

Previous parts here.

- 8 -

“Sorry, all I’ve got is the couch and the blow-up mattress,” Donna said apologetically.

“You kiddin’?  This is perfect,” I assured her.

“Well it’s no memory foam…” she lamented.

“We’re just happy to have a place to stay that isn’t a crappy motel,” Sam put in.  “Thanks for putting us up, there was no way we were gonna make it back to Lebanon tonight.”

“Glad to have ya,” Donna beamed at us.  “I figure you can take the couch, and Dean and Cass can take the mattress?”

I froze.

“I don’t sleep,” Cass explained, giving Donna a polite smile while he glanced anxiously at me from the corner of his eye.

“Well, sure, but I figured ya might need a bit of a rest and a cuddle after that messy hunt of yours,” Donna barreled forward, oblivious.

Sam had his ‘oh shit’ face on.

“Did Sam tell you?” I asked, eyes narrowed.

Donna was taken aback by my tone.  “Tell me what, Deany?”

It was hard to stay mad with all that Minnesota nice pouring over me, but I managed.  “About me and Cass,” I gritted out.

“What?” she asked, starting to realize that she was in the middle of a minefield.  “No, no one told me?  I just have eyes?”

What the hell did that mean?

“I didn’t know it was a secret since you’re so… ya know, obvious about it and all.”

What the hell did that mean?!

“Gosh, I really stepped in it, didn’t I?” she said, starting to look distressed.

“It’s fine,” I said , moving towards the windows and staring out of it pointedly so I wouldn’t have to look at anyone else.  “Appreciate havin’ a place to stay,” I offered, which was all the smoothing over that I was capable of at the moment.

“Hey, Donna, think I can borrow your shower?” Sam blurted out.

“You betcha, hon’,” Donna said, though she didn’t sound quite as cheery as before, and that was on me.  “I’ll grab ya a towel, c’mon.”

I let out the breath I was holding when the two sets of footsteps disappeared down the hall.

“Dean.”

I didn’t turn around.

Cass turned me around for me, crushing our lips together.

And I clung to him like a man drowning.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead to mine.  “I hate when you do that,” he whispered.

Cass hated me, my panicked brain informed me.  “What, I didn’t mean to… Donna…”

“Dean,” he whispered, his nose nudging mine.  “I hate when you run off half-cocked, no plan, and almost get yourself killed.”

“Oh…”

“If Sam and I hadn’t gotten there in time-”

“But you did,” I assured him, all thoughts of me about to be shish kebabed by an angry wraith easily pushed aside.

“I need a rest and a cuddle,” he requested, sounding uncertain.  Like he wasn’t sure he could ask for that.

Was he allowed to ask for that?

“Of course, sweetheart,” I agreed, running my hand up and down the small of his back.  “I’ll take care of you.”

Cass gave me a little smile.  “I’d like that.”

I pulled away to change into my pjs.  I could probably use a shower, but that was what tomorrow was for.

Cass arranged the blankets on the air mattress and crawled under the covers.

I crawled in after him, curving my body around his and holding him close.  “Just for a little bit, okay?” I whispered, all my previous paranoia creeping back in.

“I just want to know that you’re here,” Cass replied.  “That you’re safe.”

“I’m here, Cass,” I promised, kissing the back of his neck.

He curled his hand over the one I had holding his waist, squeezing.

I promptly passed out.  Almost killed by wraiths and all that.  It was a long friggin’ day.

I woke up how I usually woke up, in an octopus-hold with Cass, but something felt different.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, still half-asleep, so I pressed lazy kisses to his neck instead.

“Good morning,” he rumbled at me, grabbing my ass like he did pretty much every morning to start revving my engine.

“I feel like crap,” I complained, but my hips were already starting to move.

“Then stop running headfirst into obvious traps,” Cass scolded me, but there was no bite to it as his hips moved lazily with mine.

“Yeah, yeah, blow me, Cass.”

“In front of your brother?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, I’m totally right here, guys,” Sam complained from the couch.

It took me a moment, but then I was throwing a snarky grin over at my brother.  “Well, maybe you can finally learn something.”

“All good, thanks,” he announced, hastily tossing his blanket over the back of the couch and getting up.  “I’m gonna go for a run.”

“Now?” I scoffed, looking at Donna’s kitschy clock hanging over the mantle, declaring it to not even be 7 yet.

“Yep, definitely now,” he decided, making his exit.

“He has the friggin’ energy to run when we just got finished runnin’ for our lives?” I complained into Cass’s neck.

“I believe his regular workouts keep him in shape so as to not… ‘feel like crap’ after a slight exertion,” he informed me.  “Also, in human years he is significantly younger than you.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” I complained.

“I’m not,” he replied, thoroughly groping me.

“Ya gotta cut that out,” I said, trying not to sound breathy.

“Why?” he asked, squinting down at me. ��“Sam left.”

I snorted at that.  “Yeah, okay, but there’s no door on the living room, Sunshine.  Don’t think Donna's ready for the Cass full-frontal quite yet.”

“On the contrary, I think she would enjoy it,” he said, still squinting like he was thinking real hard.  “Jimmy kept this vessel in excellent condition.”

“Is that you bein’ cocky?” I asked, grinning.

“I’d fuck me,” he declared.  “I’d fuck me hard.”

I was dying.  “You did not just quote Buffalo Bill at me.”

“No, Dean, I did,” he explained.

“Shit, you’re a keeper,” I informed him, deciding it was time to make out like teenagers.

Cass seemed pleased, and was more than happy to reciprocate.

There was a loud noise that had both our heads shooting up.

Donna was sitting in the middle of the floor, obviously having tripped over Sam’s duffle bag when she tried sneaking through the living room to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Cass greeted her, hand still obviously groping my ass.

“Mornin’ there,” she said, trying to look anywhere but at us.

“Hey, Donna,” I said, easing away from Cass’s groping.

He gave me a very disappointed face.

“Thanks for letting us crash,” I said, then pressed a very quick kiss to Cass’s forehead before getting up.

“Of course,” she said, rolling herself back up on her feet.  “The more the merrier.”

I followed her into the kitchen.  “Hey, I’m sorry about last night.”

“No, hon’, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, I shouldn’t have,” I said firmly.  “I’m just not used to… talkin’ about it, ya know?”

We could finally look each other in the eye again.

“You two are cute,” she said, punching me on the shoulder.

“It’s not serious,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She gave me crazy eyes at that.

“It’s not,” I insisted, taking the coffee filter she handed me and putting it in the machine.

“Men,” she complained.

“Women,” I shot back.

Donna just gave me a knowing smile and poured the coffee beans into the machine.

- 9 -

I set my coffee on the table and went over to open the fridge, ready to rustle up something for breakfast, when I heard the familiar flapping of wings.

“Good morning, Dean.”

I whirled around, a grin already taking over my face.  “Hey.  Been a while.”

“Apologies, Jack needed me,” Cass said, giving me a rueful grin of his own.

“No worries, honey,” I hummed, sticking my finger into the knot of his tie and dragging him closer.  “Now gimme some sugar.”

“You usually take your coffee black, Dean.”

I bit my lip, trying not to let my grin get any stupider.  “Cass.”

“Oh,” he said, a little light bulb turning on in that weird, weird angel brain of his.  “You want to kiss.”

“That’s the idea, yeah,” I agreed, leaning down.

Cass met me halfway and proceeded to back me into the fridge with his enthusiasm.

The enthusiasm lasted quite a while and showed no signs of letting up, until an interrupting Sasquatch cleared his throat loudly and complained, “uh, guys?  Need to make my shake.”

Cass pulled his lips away from mine which was really friggin’ annoying and I chased after him.

“Apologies,” was all he could get out before my mouth was on his again.

Then I found myself being lifted off the ground, spun around, and plunked on the island.

I gave Cass a dazed look.

“Sam needs to make his shake,” he explained, but then he was kissing me again, so I just went with it.

Sam did his thing, not that I was really paying attention to him, what with making out with Cass on the kitchen island and all.

“You have a bedroom, ya know,” he gave as his parting shot before finally exiting the kitchen and leaving us alone.

“Cass,” I mumbled into his mouth.

“Dean,” he moaned back.

I felt a little smug about that, but I pulled back the tiniest fraction.  “Honey, I’m tryin’ to talk to you.”

“Why?” he asked, looking completely confused.

“Good question,” I hummed, giving him a quick smooch.  “But Princess Hair was right?”

“About?” Cass asked, moving to my neck since I insisted on continuing to talk.

“Mm that’s nice, sweetheart.”

He did it a little more.

I groaned fingers digging into his back.  “I uh… shit… okay, um…”

“Why are you still talking?” he complained, doing really nice things with his mouth.

“I don’t knoooow,” I moaned, eyes squeezed tight.  “Oh, uh… bedroom?  We have a bedroom.”

Cass peered up at me, eyes narrowed in determination.  “I like it here.”

This friggin’ angel really wanted to get freaky in the middle of the kitchen.

Was I the prude in this relationship???

Not that it was a relationship relationship.

“Down boy,” I scolded him with a nervous laugh.

He hesitated.

I tried not to feel shy, because I hated that, I absolutely hated that, but oh well, here we were.  “Wanna blow you,” I said quietly.

Cass’s breath seemed to catch, not that he actually needed to breathe.  “I’d like that.”

“So, bedroom?” I prodded him.

Cass blinked up at me.

“Now,” I said, adding some urgency to my tone.

Which was a mistake, because suddenly the world was spinning and my stomach was turning and then we were in the middle of my room.

“Goddammit, Cass.”

“You seemed to be in a hurry,” he said sheepishly, easing me down onto my feet.

“You know I hate flying.”

“I seem to also be in a hurry…”

I grinned at that, even as another wave of nausea hit me.  “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

He squinted at me.  “So you have no virtue?”

I cracked up.  “Got me there.”

“Speaking of no patience and no virtue…” he trailed off, looking down at the bulge in his pants, then batting his eyes up at me.

“You’re getting a little shameless,” I informed him, going for my nightstand to grab a condom, “and I like it.”

“Corrupting angels seems to be one of your turn-ons,” Cass mused.

I turned around to tell him the bad news, but apparently he’d graced his clothes away while I had my back turned and was standing there completely naked.  “Uhhh mmm yes?”

“Eloquent,” he said, eyebrows quirking.

I held up the empty box of condoms for him since my mouth didn’t want to work.

His whole face creased in concentration, trying to solve this seemingly unsolvable problem.  “I’ll go procure-”

“You don’t get sick, right?” I interrupted him, mouth working again ‘cause of course I was about to blurt out something stupid.

Cass looked annoyed at the interruption.  He really was a total horndog now.  “No, I do not get sick.  What does that have to do with any-”

“So that applies to like, ya know, all diseases?” I asked.  “Venereal diseases?” I added for good measure.

“Yes, Dean, I am unable to contract venereal diseases,” he said, his squint intensifying.

“Cool,” I said.  “Cool, cool, cool.  So, uh… don’t really need the rubbers then, yeah?”

He looked taken aback.  “We don’t?”

I took a step closer, trying to build my confidence.

Was this what I wanted?

I stared at Cass’s very naked body and knew this was absolutely positively what I wanted, so I gave him a nod.  “You’re not gonna get pregnant, so…”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.  “I thought we were using them to contain the mess.”

“Oh, sweetheart, the mess is half the fun.”

“So we’ve only been having half the fun….?”

“Afraid so.”

He was suddenly right in front of me, gazing determinedly into my eyes.  “I would like to have all of the fun now, please.”

“I gotcha,” I assured him, sinking to my knees.

Cass dragged his fingers through my hair, looking down at me with a mixture of affection and arousal and wonder, and yeah.

We were doing this.

- 10 -

“They’re gonna be here soon, so why don’t we just put them in Cass’s room?” Sam suggested.

“We have like a hundred rooms, why don’t you set up another one?” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Do you not remember what a pain in the ass it is to set up the beds?”

“The itty bitty bed a little heavy for baby?” I asked, eyes focused on the onion I was chopping.

“Dude, when was the last time Cass even set foot in that room?”

“I don’t know his life,” I said dismissively.  “It’s his room, anyway, so why are you asking me?”

“’Cause you’re here and he’s somewhere up in heaven, doing angel stuff?”

“Did you try calling?”

“Yes, Dean,” Sam ground out, sounding exasperated.

“Did you try praying?”

“Obviously, yes.”

“Oh, well sometimes he ignores you,” I said, then magnanimously looked up towards the ceiling and prayed, “oh Castiel, angel of the most boring day of the week, Sammy has a question for you.”

We both waited.

“No answer,” I said with a shrug.

“Okay, so can you answer-”

My phone started ringing.

I grinned as I answered, mostly pleased that Cass had ignored Sam but answered for me, but also just the teeniest littlest bit pleased to hear his voice after a couple of days.  “Hey, Cass.”

“Hello, Dean.  What did Sam need?”

“He wants to know if Claire and Kaia can sleep in your room while they’re here,” I explained.

There was a pause.  “…in our room…?”

I swallowed.  Oh.  “No, uh… no, you know, the room we set up for you when you first moved in here.”

“…that room?  I haven’t set foot in there for over a year, I’d hardly consider it mine.  The girls are welcome to it.”

Over a year?  Were Cass and I living together?  Shit.  “Uh, cool, yeah, great, uh… yeah.”

“Dean…” he said, sounding amused.

“Yeah, um, okay, are you coming home soon?” I asked, not that I cared, because we were going to be busy with our house guests.

“As soon as I can,” he assured me.

I glanced at Sam, who was pretending he was not listening but of course he was, so I turned my back to him and murmured softly into the receiver, “I miss you.”

I could hear the smile in Cass’s voice as he echoed back at me, “I miss you, too.”

“Say hi to Jack, okay?”

“Of course.  I love you.”

“Yeah, uh…” I cleared my throat, feeling the heat rushing to my face.  “Later, buddy.”

“Later, ‘dude’.”

I snorted as I hung up the phone, then returned to my onions.

“…so…?” Sam prodded me.

“Well, Cass said that since your weak delicate girl muscles can’t handle putting together a bed, Claire and Kaia are welcome to use his room.”

“I’m sure those were his exact words,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Word for word.”

Sam scoffed at that, and all was right with the world.

I finished making the burgers, Sam finished changing the sheets in Cass’s (former?) room, and the girls finally came bursting through the front door.  They were here to do research on Dark Kaia and her spear, and they were staying for however long it took.

I got everyone fed, Eileen joining us for dinner, and then we moved to the library for brews and books.

“Why do you have so many books?” Claire complained.

“Funny thing about libraries,” I mused, happy that there was someone who hated research as much as I did.  “Full of books.”

“Ugh,” she groaned.  “Fuck books.  Want another beer?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said, shaking the beer I’d been nursing all night, a little bit still sloshing around in the bottle.

Claire blinked at that, then shrugged and got up.  “Anyone else want one?”

“I’ll take one, thanks,” Sam said, not looking up from his laptop.

‘Nerd,’ I mouthed to Eileen.

‘Total nerd,’ she agreed.  ‘But it’s hot.’

I made a face at her and she laughed.

“You’re dating the biggest nerd of them all,” Claire announced, before disappearing out of the library to go get the beers.

I sputtered for a bit.  “We’re not dating,” I finally declared as decisively as I could.

Sam and Eileen both leaned back in their chairs, their expressions clearly saying, ‘here we go again’, and Kaia looked between them, intrigued.

“We’re best friends,” I explained to her, “with benefits.”

“I mean, aren’t most romantic relationships between best friends?” Kaia reasoned.

“No,” I scoffed.  “Who wants to be in a relationship with their best friend?”

“Claire and I are best friends,” she said with a shrug.

“Eileen and I are best friends,” Sam rushed to put in.

I rolled my eyes.  “It ain’t the same.”

“It’s totally the same,” Claire announced, back a lot quicker than I’d thought she’d be, and already being annoying as she passed out beers.

“It’s not,” I protested.  “You don’t fuck your best friend.”

They all looked at me like I was an idiot.

“I mean that you don’t fuck them romantically,” I explained, because obviously they were all idiots.  “That’s why they’re your best friend.”

“Oh, boy,” Claire marveled.

“Dean is known to frequently visit that river in Egypt,” Sam explained to a confused-looking Kaia.

That made her look even more confused.

“De Nile,” he clarified.

‘Wha?’ she mouthed.

Claire was now looking similarly confused.

I smirked at my brother and his complete failure to communicate with today’s youth.

“The Nile?  Denial?” he tried desperately.

“Oh,” Kaia said, frowning.  “But who says ‘de’ instead of ‘the’?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” I tsked at him.

“Can we get back on topic here?” he asked, looking around the room desperately for an ally.

Unfortunately, he had three.

“Yeah, um, so you really don’t think you and Cass are dating?” Claire put in.

“We’re not,” I said flatly.

“Okay, but you like go on dates all the time.”

“We don’t go on dates, we just hang out like normal best friends,” I clarified as calmly as I could, trying not to lose my temper over this idiotic line of questioning.

“You go out to eat together.”

“Friends gotta eat.”

“Cass is an angel, so technically no, he doesn’t have to eat,” Sam put in.

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“You go to the movies,” Claire continued.

“Again, something platonic friends do all the time...” I grunted, really, really trying not to yell.

“Dinner and a movie, literally the quintessential date night.”

“I go with Sam to dinner and movie, are we dating?”

“You took Cass on that bee-keeping Groupon.”

“He likes bees!” I snapped.

“Gettin’ a little testy there, Winchester,” Kaia put in.

“Why do you all have to romanticize this thing with Cass?” I growled.  “We’re best friends, that’s it, end of story.”

“They’re living together,” Sam put in unhelpfully.

“They have to buy a new bottle of hand lotion every time we go to Walmart,” Eileen put in less helpfully.

Claire and Kaia seemed confused.

Eileen made a lewd gesture with her hand.

“Right, penises,” Claire said, wrinkling her nose.

“Enough!”

Everyone turned to me, unimpressed.

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” I said, downing the rest of my beer, then getting up to get another, and screw them all very much.

When I came back they were comparing notes on their dream hauntings, because that was a normal thing that hunters talked about together, not gossip about who was ‘dating’ who.

Not that anyone was dating anyone.

- 11 -

“I believe under the law that we are common-law married,” Cass said, squinting at me.

I proceeded to perform the most spectacular spit-take to have ever been performed in the history of spit-takes.

“Dude, gross,” Sam complained, wiping at his shirt with a napkin.

“Get over it,” I said dismissively.  “You’re gonna have to explain that one, angel,” I stated, glaring into Cass’s eyes.

He shrugged, leaning forward to slurp his milkshake through a straw.

“Castiel, you can’t just say shit like that and then act all innocent,” I spat out through gritted teeth.

“I’m not that innocent,” he said with a grin.

“Really?  Britney?”

His grin widened as he returned to his milkshake.  “We are legally eligible to be married.”

“Uhhh, okay, but so are a lotta people?”

“We are considered to be a married couple by our friends.”

“Just because Jody said-”

“Sam?” the jerk interrupted me, turning to my brother.

“I don’t want to get involved,” he said, shifting in the squeaky diner booth and looking between us almost nervously.  “But uh, yeah, you two totally act like an old married couple.”

Cass gestured with his hand as if to say, ‘see?’

“Yeah, but no one actually thinks we’re married,” I protested.

Sam made one of his faces that said he disagreed.

Cass just slurped his milkshake.

“Whatever,” I muttered, wiping up the last of my spit-take from the table, and shoving the wet napkins away from me.

“Can I getcha a refill?” our waitress asked, offering me an amused grin.

“That’d be great, sweetheart,” I said, and when our eyes met, there was a little spark.  Which was kind of amazing, because lately whenever I tried to flirt with the waitress I always got an eyeroll or a look of disgust and a rant about the patriarchy.

“Comin’ right up,” she said, and then she honest-to-god winked at me.

Usually Sam was mildly annoyed with me when I was on the prowl, but he actually looked angry this time.  “Really?  In front of Cass?”

“What does Cass care?” I protested, while feeling like an asshole.  But why did I have to feel like an asshole?  I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

And Cass was just drinking his milkshake, for all the world looking like he couldn’t care less.  “A dog’s gotta bark,” he declared with a shrug.

Sam let out a startled burst of laughter.

“I’m sorry, am I the dog in this situation?” I demanded.

“If you have to ask…”

“Jackass,” I muttered.

Cass’s hand nudged mine on the seat.

“Here ya go, one spittle-free Coke,” the waitress said, passing the drink across the table.

“Just the way I like it,” I accepted it with a grin.

Sam rolled his eyes.

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” she added.

“Sure thing,” my eyes dropped to her ample bosom where her name tag was, “Katie.”

She walked away with an extra swish in her step, and my eyes followed obediently.

“Satisfied?” Cass asked, slurping at his milkshake.

“How can I be-” I started to say, but then quickly cut off the very dirty thing I was about to say with a glance at Cass’s hand clasped with mine, resting on the seat between us.  I didn’t even remember taking his hand.

“How can you be…?” he prompted me.

I was being a dick.  “Yeah,” I said softly.  “I’m satisfied.”

Cass’s expression softened.

“Just needed to bark a little,” I assured him.

“I don’t mind.  I know who you’re going home with.”

“Pretty confident there, buddy.”

“I’m really good in bed,” he deadpanned.

I cracked up while Sam pretended to gag.  “Yeah, can’t argue with that,” I agreed, finding myself leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

Cass looked smitten, touching my cheek gently.

“Ahem.”

Oh, fuck, I just kissed Cass in public.

In front of all these strangers.

In front of the waitress I’d been flirting with like two minutes ago.

In front of Sam’s salad.

“Always gay or taken,” Katie sighed.  Her eyes met Cass’s as she said, “sorry about that, hon.”

“Nothing wrong with admiring the view,” he offered.

I squinted at him.  ‘The view?’ I mouthed.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he mouthed back.

I rolled my eyes because no one needed to see me blush.

“It is a nice view,” Katie agreed.  “I’ll be sad to see it go, but I won’t mind watching it leave.”

Was Katie my soulmate?

“’Cause of your butt,” Cass supplied.

Yeah, no, Cass was…

Cass was…

Cass was quoting The Office and being kinda possessive, but we didn’t need to use the s-word here.

I left Katie a very nice tip, and made sure to walk nice and slow to the exit.

- 12 -

Me and Cass were curled up against the headboard, watching Get Smart.  His head was resting on my shoulder, and I couldn’t help constantly glancing down at him.

“How you doin’?” I asked, nudging my nose into his hair.

“Fine since the last time you asked,” he informed me, not looking up from the laptop.

“No need for sarcasm,” I complained, fixing my own gaze back on Maxwell Smart and his antics.

“Dean, you have asked me that question six times since the episode started.”

“Yeah, well… yeah…” I concluded.

He rubbed my thigh absently in a completely non-sexy way, like he was trying to pacify me without actually interrupting the episode.

I tried to let it go.

“Okay, but he stabbed you,” I complained, apparently not letting go.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Cass murmured.

“Wasn’t a big deal?!” I repeated, getting more agitated.  “The nutcase angel stabbed you with an angel blade!”

He sighed, finally turning his face towards me.  “I’m fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, but…”

His gaze was patient.

“…you almost weren’t,” I spit out, trying not to let the words tear me apart.

“Dean.”

I couldn’t seem to unclench my jaw.

Cass tilted his head up, pressing a feather-light kiss to my cheek.

I cleneched harder.

“Shhh,” he murmured, like I was some frightened animal.

Maybe I was.

“I’m alright,” he whispered, pressing his lips lightly along my jawline.  “I’m alive.”

I closed my eyes, breathing out harshly.

He redirected my face towards him, and I could feel him staring at me even with my eyes shut.

I didn’t want to face him.

Cass pressed his lips to mine, unmoving, not a kiss, but weirdly comforting.

“Cass,” I whispered, my lips moving against his mouth.

“I know,” he assured me.

“But you don’t,” I choked out.  “You’ve never had to… you don’t know what I’m like when you…  You don’t know.”

“Oh, Dean,” he said softly, reaching up to cradle my face.

I caught his hands, holding them to my skin.  “I can’t go through that again,” I whispered, then tried to swallow the words back down.

Cass was quiet, hands still pressed warm to my cheeks.

I looked down, to the side, up, anywhere but into those warm, sympathetic eyes.  “Don’t need your damn pity,” I muttered.

“It’s not pity,” he said.  “How do you think I feel every time you throw yourself to the lions?  With Amara?  Michael?”

“Okay, but I didn’t die, I wasn’t gone,” I muttered petulantly.

Cass rolled his eyes.  “Metatron?”

“I was barely dead like even a day,” I protested.

“You were resurrected as a demon!”

“I was around.”

“You were ‘around’?” Cass asked, sounding exasperated.  “Is this making you feel better?”

“Yeah, kinda,” I said, giving him a little grin.

“You are incorrigible,” he informed me.

“I know you are, but what am I?” I taunted him, hooking a finger in his tie and loosening it.

“Have we concluded the ‘talking’ part of the evening and moved on to the ‘sexy’ part?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“It’s always the sexy part with you an’ me, baby.”

“Dean.”

I started unbuttoning his shirt.  He hadn’t changed into his sweatpants and t-shirt like usual after he came back from heaven, and that suddenly had me thinking.  “Does it still hurt?”

“A bit,” he admitted.

Was I really up for this?

I slid his shirt off his shoulders, then inched up his undershirt.  A shallow cut stretched along his rib cage, but something looked wrong about it.  I pressed my fingers lightly to the skin under it, and it was hot to the touch.

Cass winced, and I quickly pulled my hand away.

“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure me.

Oh, no, no, no, I did not like this, nope, not working, I was gonna…

“It’s okay,” he repeated more firmly, taking my hand and placing it over the wound without so much as a blink.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” I whispered, feeling the heat and the blood and the wrongness against my skin.

“I trust you,” he replied easily.

I let out a shuddering breath before leaning in to look at it up close.

It really didn’t look like much, but a little deeper, and…

Why was it so hard to breathe all of the sudden?

Cass ran his fingers through my hair, stroking soothingly.

A strangled sound tried to claw it’s way out of my throat, so I pressed my lips just above the wound instead.

Cass gasped at that, but his fingers stayed steady in my hair, and I got the impression that it was an appreciative gasp, not a pained one.

I did it again, and his fingers grasped my hair, tugging lightly.  That made me feel calmer for some reason.  “You know how I feel about you, right?” I mouthed into his skin.

“Of course,” he replied.

I mapped my way across his ribcage.

“It’s nice to hear sometimes, though.”

I paused, not daring to look up because I knew he’d have that look, that damn look he got that was full of love and and patience but also disappointment and longing for everything I wasn’t giving him.

His touch gentled.

“I love you,” I whispered, knowing my voice was barely audible.

He let out a breath that he didn’t need to take in the first place.  “I love you, too.  So very much.”

“Good,” I mumbled, feeling embarrassed.  “So don’t go dyin’ on me.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to have ‘God’ on our side,” he pointed out.  “Jack has said that he doesn’t want to interfere, but he is a Winchester after all.”

“He always brings you back to me,” I agreed, suddenly needing to throw my arms around his waist and hold him tight.

Cass hissed, and I sheepishly eased my hold away from his wound.

“Come up here,” he said, both hands gripping my biceps and guiding me where he wanted me.

“Sorry, I just needed ta be... close,” I mumbled.

“Me, too,” he assured me, wrapping his arms around me and tucking his head under my chin.

I hugged him more carefully this time.  “I love you,” I repeated, almost above a whisper.

It was nice to hear sometimes.

It was nice to say sometimes.

Baby steps.

- 13 -

“Dammit, Cass, how many times do I hafta tell ya?” I growled, slamming the empty coffee pot on the shelf.  “You drink the last cup, you make a new pot.”

“I thought you were finished, seeing as you already had 2 cups,” he replied all sassily, and then took a long sip of his coffee to add insult to injury.

“That ain’t the point-”

“I apologize for not asking if you needed a third cup of coffee.”

“It ain’t a real apology when you gotta use a qualifier.”

“Dean, chill out,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.  He was sitting next to Cass at the table, also nursing a cup of coffee like a smug bastard.  “You’re lookin’ kinda twitchy for a guy goin’ for another hit of caffeine.”

“Hey, do I ever leave you with an empty pot?” I snarled at him.

Sam held his hands up innocently.

“Exactly, so Cass needs to get his ass over here and make a new pot.”

Cass just raised an eyebrow at me, while Sam looked miffed.

“Dude, don’t talk to your boyfr-”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“It’s fine, Sam,” Cass said, still not moving to get up.

I glared at him.

“Dean is attempting to assert his dominance,” he continued.

I paused at that.

“Oh,” Sam said with a knowing nod.

“No, stop right there,” I interjected.  “None of your nerd talk.”

“So you’re not trying to ‘prove your manhood’ after last night?” Cass asked with a challenging glint in his eye.

“What?” I asked, not sounding at all frazzled.  “Last night?”  My voice didn’t go up an octave.  “Nothing happened last night,” I asserted convincingly.

“I don’t think I wanna know,” Sam said, going back to his coffee.

“’Cause there’s nothing to know,” I declared.

“Dean is bothered that I am more sexually dominant than he is,” Cass carried on like no one else had spoken.

I scoffed at that.  “Yeah, no.  That’s not…  No, because I’m…  So you see…”

Sam looked very unconvinced, and Cass was sitting there like the words coming out of his mouth weren’t absolutely insane.

“You’re deflecting from the real issue here!” I finally declared, waving the coffee pot around.

Sam snorted.  “Dude, you used to brag about letting chicks tie you up and smack you around.  Don’t know why you’re bein’ so cagey about your kinks now.”

“How am I being cagey?” I complained, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I do not ‘smack’ Dean ‘around’,” Cass said with a frowny squint.

I groaned, but something I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto suddenly released.  “Cass, man, ya gotta learn subtlety.”

“Huh?”

“Ya kinda give the game away when you say you don’t do the one thing but don’t comment on the other…”

“Oh…” he said, his squint getting squintier.  “Apologies.”

“Nah, Sammy’s right,” I admitted, sitting down at the table across from them.  “I own my kinks.  So, last night-”

“I do not want to know,” Sam cut me off, enunciating each word carefully and precisely.

“But don’t you want to talk about our issues?” I asked, batting my eyes at him.

“They’re not my issues,” he stated firmly.

“Exactly, so mind your damn business.”

Sam sighed loudly.

“Dean.”

I turned to my traitorous angel.

He was frowning all disapprovingly.

I thought about apologizing for being a dick.

I thought about the vulnerability of not being able to move, of not being able to see.

I thought of Cass, gentle, strong, taking care of me-

I didn’t need to be taken care of.

Yep, that was the anger talking.

“I shouldn’ta yelled at you,” I conceded, letting my eyes flit over to Cass’s.

“No,” he agreed, “you shouldn’t have.”  He was waiting for more.

“…my bad…?” I offered.

“Dean,” he said in his most disapproving tone.

But then I realized he was giving me sexy eyes.

I swallowed.  “I won’t do it again?”

“Dean,” he sighed, “you know I do not abide lying.”

“I’ll try my best not to do it again?” I offered.

“Better,” he agreed, head tilting slightly.

My lips felt dry, so my tongue darted out to wet them.

Cass’s eyes tracked the movement in what some might consider a predatory manner.

“I’m sorry,” I stated clearly.

His smile lit up his entire face.  “Thank you, Dean,” he said, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand, before passing me his coffee.

I took a grateful sip and immediately regretted it.  “Jesus, Cass, is there even coffee in this cup?” I complained, tasting sugar, milk, and not a whole lot else.

His face clouded over again, though there was still that glint in his eyes.  “One would think that you actually want me to get angry and punish you.”

I choked a little on the milk going down my throat.  “Punish me?” I sputtered.

Cass just arched an eyebrow at me.

“Fuck,” I breathed out.

Sam cleared his throat.

Shit, we shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen.

In front of Sam’s frou frou smoothie.

But I was kinda invested.  “You have somethin’ in mind?” I asked, then swallowed.  “A punishment, I mean.”

“I have something in mind,” was all he said.

“Fuck.”

Cass looked me up and down, shrugged, then stood up.

I watched him, my mouth kinda gaping open like a fish.

He started to leave.

Sam was staring intensely at his smoothie.

“Dean?” Cass called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, c-coming!” I stuttered, rushing to my feet and knocking over my chair in the process.

“Not today you’re not,” he informed me before disappearing out the door.

I froze in my efforts to pick up my chair.  “Fuck,” I breathed out, then decided to leave the chair on the floor and my brother traumatized as I chased after Cass.

And maybe tomorrow I would take it out on him again, or maybe tomorrow would finally be the day I realized none of this masculinity-dominance-bullshit mattered.

We’d have to wait and see.

- 14 -

“Yeah, but just picture it,” I told Cass, pushing the door to the bunker open and clomping down the stairs.  “It’s angel versus Angel, one’s a servant of God and all that crap, the other is a total douchebag, who will win?”

“Dean, I’m not going to have a cage match with Criss Angel,” Cass stated flatly, dashing all my dreams.

“But you could definitely take him.”

“Being a ‘douchebag’ is not a crime worthy of heavenly retribution.”

“It should be.”

“Oh, hi, guys,” Eileen said, leaning against the table and casually holding a book over what were definitely her bare breasts.

I tilted my head to the side a little, thinking the change in angle might give me a better view.

“Dean,” Cass complained.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” I complained right back at him.

Cass sighed loudly.

“So,” I said, clapping my hands together cheerfully.  “Sammy here?”

“He’s around,” Eileen agreed with a nod.

“Awesome,” I said, still trying to see behind the book.

Cass smacked me in the arm.

I held my hands up innocently.

“Thought you two wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,” Eileen commented.

“Oh, yeah, the hunt was a total bust, just some kids with too much eyeliner,” I explained.  “Figured we’d drive straight back and avoid the crappy motel.”

“Good thinking,” she said.

I wondered if her arms were getting tired, because that was one heavy-looking book.

“Well, we apologize for the intrusion,” Cass said, his hand going to my lower back and guiding me forward.  “We are headed to the ‘Dean Cave’ for pizza and a film.”

I glanced down at the pizza box in my hands, then looked back at Eileen and her tireless arms.  “Yeah, we’re gonna watch Giant, so we should be down there for 3 hours or so.  In case you and Sammy wanted to continue engaging in, ya know, library banging.”

“Dean,” Cass groaned, pushing me forward a little more roughly than necessary.

“Thanks,” Eileen said, and I had to hand it to her, her composure didn’t break even once.  Sammy must have been freaking out, wherever he was off hiding.

I would have looked for him, but Cass was being very insistent that we move along.

In the Dean Cave, I decided to take one of the recliners since those long drives were starting to be hell on my back.  I plopped the pizza box on the arm of the chair and opened it, while Cass took the other recliner.

“Can you put in the movie?” I requested, holding out the DVD.

“Of course,” he said, giving me a once-over that said he knew my back was bothering me.

“I’m kinda sore,” I decided to admit, and immediately warmth was flooding down my spine as Cass brushed his fingers along the back of my hand, taking the DVD.

“Thanks, honey,” I said, settling more comfortably into the recliner.

“Of course.”

“Youwan sompizzuh?” I asked, a piece of pizza hanging out of my mouth as I held the box out to him.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, returning from putting the DVD in to accept a piece.  “Also, that is disgusting.”

I flashed him a grin, making sure he could see all the chewed-up food in my mouth.

He shook his head at me, but he couldn’t hide his own smile.

“You’re gonna love this one,” I told him, fixing my eyes on the TV.

“I do enjoy this period of cinema,” he agreed.  “Dean?”

“Mm?”

“I’ve been… thinking…”

“That explains the burning smell.”

“Dean.”

I smacked his arm, still grinning.

“I… I think that Eileen and Sam may need more privacy,” he said slowly.

“Uhhh, then they can get a room?” I suggested.

“That’s not quite what I meant.”

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.  “The movie’s startin’.”

Cass flicked his hand and the DVD paused.

So this was a serious conversation, then.

Something churned unpleasantly in my stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began.

“About Sam an’ Eileen gettin’ a room?” I tried to joke, forcing a grin.

“About… Dean, there’s a house in the suburbs of Lebanon,” he said.  “It’s small, but there’s a large yard and a nice garage-”

“I’m sorry, a house?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, it’s very-”

“You’re gonna buy Sam and Eileen a house?” I asked, because I must be misunderstanding something.

“Not for them,” he said, shaking his head.

It hit me then.  Hard.  “What the hell do you need a house for?” I growled, feeling the anger rise up like an old familiar friend.  “You don’t even gotta sleep or any of that shit.”

Cass started squinting at me, so I gave him my profile.  “Well, I thought it would be nice to start a garden-”

“Oh, okay, a garden,” I scoffed at him.  “You’re gonna run away to start a friggin’ garden.”

“Dean,” he sighed loudly.  “I wish you would allow me to finish speaking before rushing to conclusions.  The house would be for us.”

My anger immediately deflated into confusion.  “Us?”

“Yes, you and me,” he said, picking up the pizza box from the arm of the chair and setting it on the floor.  He sat in its place, resting his arm along the back of the recliner and leaning closer.  “It would be nice to have our own place.  The garage is spacious enough for two cars, so you would be able to tend to Baby, and as I mentioned, there is space for a garden, and there is a slightly creaky but charming swing on the porch that would be pleasant to sit on in the evenings and-”

“Slow down, man,” I stopped him, resting a hand on his knee.  “Cass, c’mon, the bunker is home.”

“I know that,” he said.  “But you are good at creating homes, Dean, and I think that you could create a new home in this house, because it’s just what we need, it has sunlight, Dean, sunlight, because humans need sunlight-”

I was starting to realize that Cass’s run-on sentences were a sign of how nervous he was.

“Okay, honey, but like I said, slow down,” I urged him, rubbing his knee.  “This is kinda outta left field.”

“Sorry, I just… I want this,” he blurted out.

I still hadn’t quite caught up, but Cass wanted something.

Cass, who willingly sat through whatever movie I chose.  Who let me listen to my music at whatever volume I wanted.  Who ate whatever I put in front of him.

Who, if I told him to jump, would level me with an exasperated glare, but then begrudgingly ask, ‘how high?’

Cass, who never asked me for anything.

Who let me say that dates weren’t dates, that sex was just for fun, that we weren’t friggin’ common law married (because that one was true).

Cass wanted something.

I just wasn’t sure it was something I could give.

[isolavirtuosa]

That River in Egypt 1-7 of 21

[fanfiction] Dean / Cass

canon divergent AU from 15x19, Dean being Dean

- 1 -

“Mistakes were made,” I mumbled into the warm back of the stranger I was naked in bed with.  I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that my head was gonna explode, so I decided not moving was the best option.

The warm body shifted.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” I hummed, hand running down an impressively toned tummy, enjoying the feel of soft skin over hard muscle.

My partner let out a contented sigh, and I found my hand moving lower.

Fingers moved through coarse hair before idly stroking.

“Dean,” she breathed out, but there was something not quite right.

I started stroking with more intent, feeling her thicken.  My breath started escaping in heated pants.

“Dean,” she moaned, and there was definitely something not right.

My eyes started to flutter open, pain shooting through my head.

The familiar feel of memory foam under me, the dark lighting of the bunker...

My hand slowed.

I would never bring a stranger here.

I would never bring a...

I let go, skittering out of bed like a frightened child.

“W-who...” I started to stammer, but I already knew the answer.

Women didn’t usually have low, gravelly voices.

Or dicks, for that matter.

Cass sat up, looking at me with a weird mix of confusion and arousal.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I blurted out, continuing to back away from the bed until I hit the wall.

“Do what?” he asked, his voice coming out almost like a growl with how rough it was.

“Uh… you know, uh…” I trailed off, before squeaking out, “why are you in my bed?”

Cass frowned.  “Do you not remember last night?”

“Not really, no.”

His frown deepened.  “Dean.”

I stared at him helplessly, feeling his disappointment in me like it was a physical thing.

“You assured me-” he started to say, then shut his mouth and looked away, clenching his jaw.

Oh, fuck, what had Drunk Dean done?  Because Hungover Dean had a headache and a pissed off naked angel in his bed with no idea how any of this had come to be.

That wasn’t entirely true.

I was trying to tell myself that there was a reasonable (a.k.a. non-sexual) explanation for all this, but…

There were flashes.

There were also a number of used condoms tied off in the trash can.

Jesus Christ.

“We didn’t…” I tried.

“We did,” he replied flatly.

“Okay, but we didn’t…”

“We had sex, Dean.”

“Okay, but… why?”

Cass threw the covers aside and got out of bed, gathering up his clothes from the floor.

He was pissed.

Also, he was very naked.

Not that I was noticing how fantastic his ass looked as he bent over to grab his shirt.

The guy was in great shape; who wouldn’t want to look like that?  That’s all I was doing, experiencing a little body envy and all that.  The burgers and the booze hadn’t been kind to my waistline lately, but Cass could put away anything and still look amazing.

You know, amazing in an objective kind of way.

In the blink of an eye, Cass was fully clothed, and I finally realized that I’d been naked the whole time, too, which had been fine when we were both naked, but now that it was just me, it seemed kind of awkward.

I subtly rested my hands in front of my junk.

Couldn’t really hide the love handles.

Not that Cass would notice.  Or care.

Except that we apparently had sex last night, and regret seemed to be the opposite of why he was pissed.

Cass was attracted to me.

Cass thought I was fuckable, love handles and all.

It was kind of a nice thought, besides that fact that it was terrifying and something we just needed to not bring up ever again.

Because this was definitely not going to happen again.

I’d been drunk, and I was always flirty when I was drunk, and one thing had led to another, but-

“I’m leaving, Dean.”

I was startled out of my denials by reality.  “What?”

“I do not stay where I’m not wanted.”

“You’re wanted!” I blurted out, then immediately backtracked.  “Sam-”

“Dean,” he said, and oh boy, was he disappointed in me.

“No, look man, I didn’t…” I trailed off, having no idea where I was going.  “Let me get dressed and uh take a few Advil, and then, you know, we can… talk?” I suggested, trying not to cringe too hard at the word.

“If you can fit me into your busy schedule,” he said coldly.

“It ain’t like that,” I complained.

“I didn’t mean to inconvenience you,” he continued, relentless.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to get my shit together.  Then I realized I’d left the family jewels on display.

“I’ve had it in my mouth, Dean,” Cass said, sounding very unimpressed.

I blinked at him slowly.

He shot a look towards my crotch area before letting his eyes drag back up my body to meet mine.  He raised an eyebrow, still frowning.

I had one of those flashes, and it involved Cass’s mouth stretching wide and blue eyes staring up at me, and that just wasn’t something that I should be thinking about.  Ever.  It wasn’t hot.  It absolutely wasn’t.  Fuck.  Change the subject.  “Did you like it?” I blurted out, and then wanted to kick myself.

He squinted at me like I was an idiot.  “Yes.”

“Oh, uh…” I trailed off.  “Did I?”

“Yes,” he said, exasperated, because yeah, okay, who wouldn’t like a mouth on their dick?  A mouth’s a mouth and all that.

Something occurred to me.

“So did I…” I hesitated.  “What did I… do?”

There was that squint again.  “You ejaculated.”

I sputtered at that word picture.  “No, uh, no, I mean… to, ya know, pay you back.”

“No money was exchanged.”

I was pretty sure he was fucking with me now.  “I’m asking if I…” I trailed off, making a vague blow job gesture near my mouth.

“No, you did not sing karaoke.”

“Castiel.”

“Are you asking for a… ‘play-by-play’ of our sexual encounter?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure, that’s one way a puttin’ it.”

Cass sighed loudly.  “I performed fellatio on you.  I found it enjoyable.  You enjoyed it to the point of ejaculation.  Then you proceeded to ‘jerk’ me ‘off’.  We both found it satisfactory.”

“Oh,” I said.  ‘Satisfactory’ wasn’t very high praise.  Then again, repaying a blow job with a hand job didn’t seem very… gentlemanly.  “I didn’t…”

Cass waited for me to continue.

“I mean, that’s it?” I asked, rubbing my hand along my jaw.  I’d thought it was kind of sore, but that was probably my overactive imagination, trying to create boogeyman where there were none.

“No.”

Now it was my turn to wait for Cass to continue.

He did not.

“Ya gonna keep me in suspense here?”

“Do you really not remember?” he asked with a frown.

“I uh….”

He stared harder.  “Sam?  The nachos?”

“What the hell does Sam have to do with it?!” I asked nervously.

“We had fallen asleep, and then Sam dropped the plate of nachos in the kitchen,” Cass explained, which explained nothing.

Except…

The crash startling me awake.

Cass laughing as I suggested stealing Sam’s nachos.

Sam yelling at us groggily, friggin’ lightweight that he was.

Then…

Oh…

No, that couldn’t be….

“After we absconded with the bag of tortilla chips and consumed a large amount, we resumed love-making and performed mutual fellatio on each other.”

“You could just say ‘sixty-nine’.”

“Sixty-nine.”

“See?  Much better.”

Cass’s squint seemed to intensify.

Kinda reminded me of his o-face.

Oh, fuck, there were visuals.  Lots and lots of visuals.

Cass sighed loudly.  “Dean.  Get dressed and take your Advil.”

I bit my lip, very confused about how I was feeling but definitely worried that Cass was going to leave mad and never come back again.  “So you’re just gonna leave,” I said, and it came out sounding more like an accusation than the plea it actually was.

“Yes, Dean, goodbye.”

I had my mouth open, ready to stop him, but he was already gone.

“Sonuva bitch,” I muttered, starting to hunt around for some clothes to put on before it all seemed like too much effort and I just threw on the dead-guy robe.  “Fucking Cass,” I muttered, but suddenly that took on whole new connotations.  With visuals.

Nope, nope, nope.

I found a bottle of pain relievers and dumped some in my hand, swallowing them dry before tossing the bottle back on the floor.  I dragged myself to the kitchen, found I had no desire to continue moving, and flopped down at the kitchen table.

“You’re an asshole, you know,” Sam grumbled as he came lumbering in.

I tensed.  What did Sam know?

“Corrupting Cass like that,” he continued, opening the fridge but then groaning as the light met his eyes.

Oh, Jesus, he knew.  He knew, and he was gonna-

“He doesn’t even eat food, so clearly he took my chips for you,” he complained, grabbing the juice and quickly closing the door.

“Who says Cass took your chips?” I asked, feeling like I was on more even footing now.

“The flap of his wings while I was cleaning up the floor.”

“Coulda been a bird.”

“Really, Dean?  A bird?  In the bunker?”

“Crazier shit has happened,” I said with a shrug.

“Not cool,” Sam grumbled, clunking a cup on the counter.

“He was probably just trying to help you,” I said, going for another tactic.  “I mean, eating nachos at 3 a.m., man?  Think of your girlish figure.”

“Not cool,” Sam repeated, then ended up spilling half his juice on the counter in a failed attempt to pour it in the cup.

I snorted, but that made my head hurt more.

“Where is he anyway?” Sam asked, wiping the counter with a sponge.  “Figured he’d be just as miserable as us this morning after that liquor store he drank.”

Oh, yeah.  How this whole damn mess got started.

“So you wanna say that I’m ‘corrupting’ Cass, when you’re the one who got a friggin’ angel drunk.”

“I didn’t think he would take me literally-”

“He takes everything literally, Sam!”

Sam had been sipping his juice slowly like it pained him to swallow, but he took the cup from his lips, looking thoughtful.  “Okay, fair enough,” he agreed.  “I shouldn’t have carelessly suggested that Cass drink a liquor store.”

“You’re damn right ya shouldn’t of.”

“You seemed to enjoy it.”

Goddamn it, did he know?

“You better send Cass out to buy more Tostitos,” he added.

I mean, all three of us had been drunk off our asses.  Some grateful richy rich couple had lavished us with bottles of champagne after we rescued them from the monster of the week, and apparently it really did get you drunk fast, even when you may have previously believed you were no longer capable of getting drunk…

Anyway it was a nice kinda drunk where we were all laughing over anything and everything, and then Sammy said he was going to bed, so Cass said… something about watching… cat videos?  On YouTube?  So we went to my room and…

Blue eyes staring up at me, mouth stretched wide, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Sam was giving me a weird look.

“Cass’ll get right on those nachos,” I said smoothly.  Nothing to see here.

Sam looked at me for a long moment, then shrugged and took his cup to the sink.

He didn’t know.  How could he know?  If he knew, there’s no way he would play it this cool.

We were safe.

We’d gotten away with it.

Everything could go back to normal.

- 2 -

Cass didn’t come back to the bunker for almost two weeks.

Not that this was anything new; he was always pulling a disappearing act.  Though apparently he was texting Sam.

He just wasn’t texting me.

So it was perfectly justifiable that I jumped out of my skin when he appeared beside my recliner in the Dean Cave.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, making my name sound like a curse.

“Hello yourself,” I complained, trying to play it cool like I hadn’t just leapt from my seat and made an unseemly shriek.

“Were you not expecting me?” he asked, sounding a little too sassy for my liking.

“You haven’t been here for weeks!”

“Since we had sex?” he suggested, the sass just sassing up to whole new levels.

“Cass!” I protested, eyes darting around the room nervously even though I knew Sam was out with Eileen.

“I’m sorry, are we still not talking about it?” he asked.

He was definitely not sorry.

“I mean, ya don’t hafta go announcing it,” I complained.

The little shit actually cupped his hands around his mouth and boomed, “we had sex!”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I feel like that’s my prerogative.”

“Okay, Bobby Brown,” I muttered.  “Live your life.”

“Dean,” he said, and it came out long-suffering.

I finally dared to look him in the eye, and that was a mistake.

He looked weary, and I was the one who put that expression on his face.

“I missed you,” I blurted out.

His eyes softened.  “I missed you, too.”

“So can we just go back to normal?”

His expression darkened again.  “‘Normal’,” he repeated like it was a dirty word.

“What the hell’s wrong with normal?” I shot back.

“I’m not going to pretend that nothing happened.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to.”

“That’s exactly what you’re asking.”

“I’m not…” I tried, and gave up.  “Fine, maybe I am.  But what’s wrong with that?  What’s wrong with how things were?”

He just stared at me, all frowny and disappointed.

I knew that I was messing this up, I just didn’t know how to not mess it up.  “Cass,” I said, giving him what was probably an incredibly pathetic look.

He scowled at me, then looked away.  “It meant something to me.”

Oh, shit, oh, shit, he was gonna leave.  I had to say something, something not stupid or offensive, or he was going to leave and not come back.

I was maybe starting to panic a little.

Or a lot.

“Dean.”

And I had maybe been sitting there not saying anything for a while.  My eyes snapped to Cass’s.

He cupped my cheek with his hand and then he leaned in.

Oh shit was he gonna…?

He pressed his lips to my forehead.

That felt… nice.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.

He gave me a rueful smile.  “I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” I asked, squinting at him.  “Pretty sure I’m the asshole here.”

“Probably,” he agreed, a little sparkle in his eyes.  At least we were back to joking.  “But I should have… it was wrong of me not to speak to you all this time.”

“Oh.”

He ran his thumb down my cheek before pulling his hand away.

His hand was kinda big.  Solid.  Comforting.

Not that I wanted to follow after it.

“I was hurt, but… I understand,” he finally said, and he looked guilty now.  “The things you said when you were intoxicated were simply ‘the alcohol talking’, and I should not have taken… advantage of you.”

What the hell had I said to him that made him think I wanted to have sex?  With him?  Multiple times?

And yet as much as I wanted to claim that I didn’t remember anything, okay, that was actually a complete lie.

Dean Winchester didn’t get blackout drunk.  And I’d had plenty of time over the last couple of weeks to think about that night.

About how I’d thrown myself at Cass.

I want you, I’d whispered into his ear when all we’d been doing was watching stupid animal videos on YouTube.

There was no spark, no cause, no reason at all, just me being drunk and horny.

And Cass, drunk as he was, had tried to stop it.

Cass, with his feelings.

Cass, who was completely unused to being drunk, being out of control, had pushed against my chest, said something along the lines of, I don’t want this if you don’t feel the same, and then…

Well there was no use dwelling on it, right?

Yeah, Cass, yeah, me, too…

Lying to an angel.  I was going to hell.

Again.

‘Lying’.

Nope, nope, nope, we just needed to forget this whole thing and move on.

“Look, man, it’s cool,” I informed him magnanimously.

His gaze narrowed.

“I got an extra brew,” I said, reaching into the cooler next to the couch and pulling it out.  “The Untouchables is on,” I added, gesturing towards the TV which I’d been watching before Cass had shown up.  “Movie night?”

Cass didn’t answer for what seemed to me like an uncomfortably long period of time.

The bottle started to sweat in my hand as I continued to hold it out to him.

“Dean, do you understand that I want you sexually?” he finally asked.

I tried to come up with something clever to say, came up blank, and I was pretty sure my face was beet red.  “Yeeessss?”

He breathed out a loud sigh.  “That doesn’t bother you?”

“…nooo…?”

“So sitting next to you, watching a movie together will not make you uncomfortable?”

Now that one I could answer.  “Of course not, Cass.  You’re my best friend, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that, okay?”

He looked like he was having some kind of war inside of himself, but he finally took the bottle from my outstretched hand.  “You’re my best friend, too.”

And everything went back to normal.

- 3 -

“How the hell does this keep happening?” I groaned incredulous.

Cass growled something unintelligible into my back, his arms wrapped tightly around my middle.

Thing was, I knew exactly how it happened.

You’re not drunk, Dean?

I ain’t drunk, Cass.

You seem vaguely inebriated.  I do not wish to have sex without full consent.

Then use your mojo to sober me up, Jesus.

And I had continued to do with my hand exactly what I’d been doing previously, sober as a judge.

“Go back to sleep,” Cass mumbled, kissing the back of my neck.

It gave me goosebumps.

Fuck.

“Gotta pee,” I said, shoving out of his hold and throwing my feet over the side of the bed.

Naked again.

I grabbed my robe and made my exit as quickly as possibly, slamming the door behind me in my haste.

Goddammit, how had this happened again?

We’d been watching The Golden Girls for chrissakes.  And yeah, I’d had more than my fair share of that bottle of bourbon, but Cass?  Really?  I mean, was my right hand not sufficient?  I needed a dude to jerk me off?  Was I that friggin’ lonely?

No, that wasn’t what was going on.

I wasn’t going to think about what was going on.

Instead, I peed.

Then I realized that I’d left Cass in a panic.

After I had promised him…

He was going to be so mad at me.

He was going to leave.

He was absolutely going to leave.

I was running down the hall before I could really think about it.  “Cass!” I called as I threw the door open again.

He was sitting on my bed, fully clothed now, trench coat and all, and looking just about as pissed as I expected.

“Hey, there, buddy,” I said, not knowing what to say now that I was actually here.

“Hey, pal,” he replied, dripping with sarcasm.

“Look…” I tried.

“I think you’ve made yourself quite clear, Dean.”

I chewed on my bottom lip.  “Cass, c’mon, man…”

“Fool me once, shame on you,” he said, shaking his head.  “Fool me twice, and I am the one who is shamed.”

“It’s not like that.”

“What is it like then, Dean?”

“I dunno, man,” was all I could come up with.

“I see,” Cass said, standing up brusquely.

He was gonna go and he was never gonna come back.

My hand was gripping his shoulder tight before I’d even told myself to move.  “Don’t go,” I said, which might have come out a little like begging.

Cass didn’t soften at all.  In fact, his eyes turned hard as steel.  “Have you been having sexual relations with me so I won’t leave?”

“What, no,” I said incredulously, my hand still gripping him tight and trying to save myself from perdition.  “Why would you think… I’m not… I don’t think I’m… am I…?”

“I don’t know, Dean, are you?” he asked, unrelenting.

“No,” I decided.  Sleeping with Cass so he wouldn’t leave?  That was a little extreme.

So why was I sleeping with him then…?

Look, that wasn’t important.  What was important was smoothing things over and making sure this never, ever happened again.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“You did.”

I stopped mid-speech and swallowed.  “Yeah, but-”

“I can barely look at you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as his eyes flicked away from mine.

Oh, shit.

No, no, no.

“I’m sorry,” I whined pathetically.  How could I make him understand?

I didn’t even understand.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, brushing my hand away and moving past me.

All I could think of was that stupid fight, why does that something always seem to be you?, Cass walking out of the bunker while I just sat there.  Stood there?  Leaned there.

What did any of that matter?

“Don’t go!” I blurted out.  Again.

Cass sighed loudly but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.

“I dunno what’s up with me, okay?” I tried to explain, stepping closer to him.  “I dunno why we keep ending up in bed together, but what I do know is that you’re important to me.  I can’t… I need you, Cass.  I need you.”

“That all sounds rather selfish to me,” Cass ground out, not looking at me.

And that punched me in the gut, because as much as I acted like a selfish douchebag, in reality I…

I held back the sob that seemed to come out of nowhere.  “I hate how I treat you,” I whispered.  “It’s fucked up,” I tried to explain, my voice cracking.  I took a breath, trying to push it all back down.

Cass’s head tilted in profile, still not quite looking back at me.  “I understand, Dean.  It’s because I allow you to treat me this way.”

A tear escaped its way down my face.  I quickly rubbed it away, not wanting to deal with it.  With what it meant.

“I’m indulgent with you,” he continued, “in a way that no one else in your life is.”

I caught the sleeve of his trenchcoat, clutching the material between my fingers.

“I think you need it, but you don’t know how to accept it,” he said.  “Love, compassion, sincerity.  These things, they all… ‘rub you’ the ‘wrong way’.  You reject them even while you’re reaching out for them, longing for them.”

I tasted blood, realizing I’d bitten my lip so hard it was bleeding.

Cass turned around, his eyes finally meeting mine.  “And I’ll let you do it every time,” he said sadly, thumbing over my lip and healing the cut, “because I love you, Dean.”

I wanted to tell him to stop.  That he deserved better.  He wasn’t stuck with me, he could let go and move on and I kissed him instead.

And instead of telling me to fuck off, Cass used all that angelic strength of his to lift me off the fucking floor and take me back to bed.

- 3 -

I’d figured out the problem.

“We’re in the Dean Cave,” Cass observed from his chair next to mine.

“Yes,” I agreed, not looking away from the TV.

“We always watch Dr. Sexy in your room,” he pointed out.

“Sometimes it’s good to change things up.”

Cass seemed to accept that at face value.  He stopped bugging me about it, anyway.

And here we were, a couple of dudes sharing some pizza and some beers, watching TV, and not having sex.  As two dudes usually did.

See, it was obvious now.

No one else ever came into my bedroom.  Sure, Sam stuck his nose in if I was sleeping late or if I was playing my records too loud for his delicate womanly ears, but he never actually came in.  We didn’t hang out in there.  A bedroom was a man’s sacred space.  It was a space for a man and the person he was about to have sex with.  Er, woman.  The woman he was about to have sex with.  Well, when talking about me personally.  Other dudes might have sex with men.  I had sex with women.  And okay, yeah, the two (do we go by days or number of orgasms because then it was five) times with Cass.  But that was because he was in my sacred space when he shouldn’t be.

Sacred space was not a euphemism.

Anyway, problem solved, everything was back to normal.

“This episode is less plausible than usual,” Cass commented.

“Really?  Are you a medical professional now?”

“I don’t need to be to know that no hospital would allow a surgeon to operate on his own brother when he has a potential head injury from being in the car accident with said brother which caused him to need surgery.”

“Just don’t think about it,” I said, waving off his very boring criticism.  “Look at the sexy doctors and enjoy.”

“The plot is distracting me from the sexiness,” he complained.

“Oh my god, you’re the guy who watches porn for the plot,” I groaned.

“I always find the plot difficult to follow,” Cass said, turning his squint on me.  “The leaps of logic that the characters make rarely follow an understandable path.”

“I think the path is ‘we wanna bang and any flimsy excuse will do’.”

“I still find it most perplexing.”

“Dude,” I said, shaking my head.  I couldn’t help my grin.  “You’re supposed to get off to it, not write essays about it.”

“I’m just trying to understand…” he started, then trailed off, his expression going completely confused.  “Why is Dr. Sexy taking his shirt off in the middle of an operation?”

“Don’t question it, just enjoy,” I assured him.  I sure was.

“You realize that the admiration you feel for Dr. Sexy is actually lust, right?” Cass asked, staring at me hard.

“What, no,” I protested, though for some reason I still couldn’t quite remove my eyes from those pectorals.

“I think you would find a sense of peace if you just admitted it,” Cass said with a shrug.

“What’re you, the closet police?” I grumbled.

“Are you in a closet?” he shot back.

“Shaddup,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my chair.

He did so.

I tried not to think about it and instead focused on all the important action happening on the television.  All the hospital monitors were beeping and alarming and basically going nuts, so Dr. Sexy was about to do Something Drastic to save his brother.

Fuck, he was hot with no shirt on, body sheened in sweat as he dared to do the operation that everyone said was impossible.

“I have a crush on Dr. Sexy,” I muttered.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Cass said, smiling at me warmly before turning his eyes back to the TV.  “Dr. Wang is more my type.”

That jolted me upright.  “You have a type?” I asked incredulously.

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully.  “I suppose it is more a turn of phrase.  People I am attracted to certainly vary with their physical and mental characteristics.”

“But you’re into Dr. Wang?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him.

“She is… assertive and driven, yet has a vulnerable side that she tries to keep hidden which I find… endearing,” he decided with a nod.

“And she’s got nice tits.”

Cass sighed loudly.

“Are they not nice?” I asked.

“They’re lovely,” he assented.  “I just wish you wouldn’t boil people down to their physical attributes.”

“She’s a character on a TV show, man…”

“So you don’t do the same thing to the waitress at the diner?  The clerk at the gas station?  The ‘damsel in distress’?”

“We’re talking about how you wanna bone Dr. Wang, not fighting the patriarchy or whatever,” I complained.

“Sorry, dude,” he muttered sarcastically.  “She’s so hot, I desire frequent intercourse with her.”

“Don’t be lame,” I protested.

“My legs are fully functional.”

I threw a pillow at him.

Cass just glowered as it bounced off his head.

I snorted.

“At least I don’t want to ‘bang’ that imbecile shirtless doctor in cowboy boots.”

“He’s a brain surgeon!”

“A terrible one,” Cass muttered.  “He always disregards appropriate scrubbing procedures, he speaks to other doctors about his patients in defiance of HIPAA, he has sexual relations with interns in closets-”

“Maybe you’re just jealous.”

He huffed out an annoyed sound.

I waggled my eyebrows at him.

His glare got very… sexy.

I swallowed.

Whatever, sometimes I found dudes attractive.  It didn’t have to mean anything.

In fact, the fact that Cass was very attractive didn’t mean anything at all.

“Dean,” he growled at me, and it sounded like a warning.

It was now undeniable that I was getting hard.

Which made no sense and was stupid.

Why did Cass now equal sex to my brain?  Well, no, not my brain.  The other brain.

God fucking dammit.

“Dean?” he repeated, but it was softer now, a question.

“Do you like guys and girls?” I asked, because who the fuck knows.

He hesitated before answering.  “You mean sexually?” he finally clarified.

I just nodded my head.  Me and words weren’t friends right about then.

“I don’t really consider genitalia a concern, so I suppose the simplest answer to your question would be ‘yes’.”

“Oh,” I said.  I nodded.  Then I shook my head.  “But you’re an angel.”

“…and…?”

“Isn’t that a, ya know, a big sin and all that?”

“Dean, God was similarly unconcerned with gender,” Cass said.  “And also, Chuck is an asshole.”

“Oh,” I said.  It took a minute.  “And hell yeah he is.  Fuck that guy.”

Cass sighed, giving me a fond look.  “It’s okay, Dean.”

I didn’t ask what was okay.  We didn’t need to talk about this anymore, or how it pertained to me.

Instead I reached over and tugged on Cass’s sleeve.

He studied my face.

I pulled a little more insistently, and he immediately gave in, moving towards me.  I looked up at him, standing over my recliner, and tugged again until he leaned down and I could rest my hand against his stubbly cheek.

Cass’s eyes stared into mine, asking a question.

I guided his mouth to mine, making sure he didn’t have to ask twice.

Cass seemed very into it, until he wasn’t, pulling back abruptly.  “Sam…”

Why in the hell was he saying my brother’s name while kissing me-

Oh, right.

Sam was still up, nerding in the map room, and was known to stick his nose in the Dean Cave when he was bored.

“Meet me in my room,” I decided, giving him one last thorough tonguing to make sure he didn’t make any detours.

“Okay,” he agreed, sounding kinda breathless, his stare a little glassy.

I grinned, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV.  “See you in five.”

Cass appeared in my room in exactly five minutes, and proceeded to take me apart.

The next day we had sex in the Impala.

The day after, we had sex in the cheap motel we were staying in while Sam was out interviewing witnesses.

Apparently, my bedroom wasn’t the problem.

- 4 -

“I need to get laid,” I decided.

Sam gave me a funny look over the shopping cart he was pushing around Walmart.

“Sorry, Donna Martin, are you still waiting for marriage to lose your V-card?” I asked, tossing the jumbo box of condoms into the cart.

“Really, a 90210 reference?”

“If the skirt fits,” I said with a shrug.

Sam sighed loudly.  “I’m just wondering why you need to get laid so bad when apparently you’ve already gone through like thirty condoms since we were here last month.”

“What, are you keeping tabs on how many rubbers I go through now?  Things with Eileen that bad that you gotta live vicariously through me?”

“Whatever, dude,” Sam scoffed at me.

I threw in another box of condoms just to be an ass.  And also Cass and I were probably gonna use them.  I mean, we could use them separately.  Like independently.  With chicks.  I had taught Cass all about safe not-involving-angel-blades sex, and he was ready to take those lessons out into the wild.

So Cass would have sex with women.  Or dudes.  Whatever, I didn’t judge.  And I would have sex with women.  And we could go through two large boxes of condoms.  And annoy Sam by buying even more condoms next time we were shopping.  This was a win-win.

“I see you got the cherry-flavored ones,” Cass murmured from where he was suddenly lurking behind me.

I didn’t jump out of my skin due to years of practice and turned very slowly to face him, glad that Sam was already in the next aisle.  “Wha?” I asked intelligently.

“I prefer them to the non-flavored ones,” he explained with a nod of approval.

“But you don’t… taste things?” I tried.

“Yes, but I like the way they feel in my mouth.”

“…oh,” I said, trying not to have sexual thoughts in the middle of a Walmart.

“I’d like to try different flavors, too, though,” he mused.

“Uh-huh.”

Cass squinted at me.  “Are you alright?”

“Peachy,” I squeaked.  “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s in the hair-care aisle, trying to decide on a hair mask,” Cass said, his eyes glowing as he searched for and located my brother.

That was kinda hot, too.

Fuck.

What was wrong with my brain?

Cass was not hot.

Well, no, okay, fine, objectively he was an attractive dude.  If you were into dudes.

Which I wasn’t.

Except, you know when I was.

Fine, I was into Dr. Sexy.

Patrick Swayze.

Gunner Lawless.

This list was getting long but I couldn’t leave out…

Harrison Ford.

But who wasn’t?  Every dude had a man crush.  It was a thing.

Does every dude fuck their best friend?

Suck his cherry-flavored dick?

I needed to get laid.  That was what this was.

“We’re going out tonight!” I declared to Cass.

He shrugged disinterestedly in response.

So a few hours later we were parked at a bar, drinking beers and scoping the room.

“The chick in the low-cut top is definitely checking you out,” I informed Cass.

He glanced towards her, which made her blush and look away.  He turned back to me with that same disinterested look he’d gotten when I’d suggested this whole thing.  “That’s nice,” he deadpanned at me.

“Dude, c’mon, have you seen that rack?” I complained.  Cass got all the good attention and he didn’t even appreciate it.

“I’m more interested in your rack,” he said, taking a bored pull from his beer.

“I don’t have-” I started to sputter and stopped myself.  Now was not the time, because a woman in a very short skirt had just walked into the bar, looking like she was on the prowl.  “Okay, things just got interesting.”

Cass rolled his eyes.  “Can I go home yet?”

“Whaddya mean, go home?”

“I mean that I have no intention of watching you shamelessly flirt with that young woman,” he informed me.

“Uh, dude, that’s why we’re here,” I protested.

“It’s why you’re here,” he corrected me.  “I just came along to enjoy our date.”

“I’m sorry, our what now?”

“Our date,” he repeated, not explaining at all.

“We came here to pick up women,” I tried explaining.

“No, you ditched Sam, took me to dinner, then took me to a bar for a ‘nightcap’,” he told me, and actually that was a fairly accurate description of our night.

So there hadn’t been a lot flirting with the ladies.  It was still early, and there just hadn’t been that many women of interest in the bar, so Cass and I had been talking, playing darts, and doing other best friend stuff.

It seemed like a date, but that was just ‘cause… uh, the women, right, there were no women to flirt with, so we were flirting with each- I mean so we were hanging out with each other like usual.  And yeah I took him to a diner first, ‘cause bar food was crap, and yeah I paid, because I always paid because Cass didn’t have any money.  And I stole some of his fries off of his plate and he did that eye flash thing to try and get me to stop, but it kinda turned me on and we played footsie under the table, but it was all very platonic, non-gay footsie.

You knew it was non-gay, ‘cause here we were now, ready to pick up some women.

Well, I was ready.

Cass could do whatever he wanted.

So I told him so.

He stared at me for a long moment.  When he finally spoke, he seemed tired.  “So you would like me to have intercourse with a woman?”

“Or a dude, whatever, I don’t judge.”

I could actually feel his eye roll.

“Fine,” he said.

I had been opening my mouth to argue, but now I was just confused.  “…fine…?”

“Yes, fine,” he said, pushing out of his seat.  “That woman earlier seemed prepared to mate with me.”

“Jesus Christ, Cass, don’t call it mating…”

“I will call it whatever I want to call it,” he said, picking his drink up off the bar and sauntering away like he was some smooth, attractive dude who was good at picking up chicks.

This was fucking ridiculous.

Cass flashed those baby blues at the chick in the low-cut top, and all the sudden she was inviting him to sit next to her, and they were talking easily, and she kept leaning forward to give him a nice view, and he was looking, I could goddamn see him looking, and I was…

...proud…?

Nope, that definitely wasn’t what I was feeling.

I was pretty sure I was seething.

Well, two could play at this game.

Except instead of getting out of my seat and going to flirt on my own, all I could do was watch Cass and this nameless chick.

Why was she touching his arm?

Why was he laughing?

Was he really going to go home with her?

It irritated me.

Obviously because Cass was getting lucky and I wasn’t.

Cass could fuck whoever he wanted.

It was fine, I didn’t care.

In fact, after one more beer, no make that a shot, I was going to get up and flirt with Short Skirt.

“Dean,” a voice growled in my ear.

“Huh?” I said, my reaction time weirdly slow.

“Get in the car.”

“But uh, whattabout your date?” I asked, definitely not being jealous.

“You are my date,” he reminded me.

“This isn’t a date,” I protested lamely.

“Get in the car,” he repeated.  “I’m tired of these stupid games and I will have you now.”

“Oh,” I said, not relieved at all.  “So we’re gonna…” I trailed off, then just mimed a blow job.

“Yes,” he said, irritated and frustrated and exasperated and all the -ed’s.

“Awesome,” I said, slapping some cash down on the bar to cover our tab.

Then I went out to the car and let Cass have his way with me in the backseat.

- 5 -

I woke up warm and safe, which as usual, sent me into a panic.

“Gotta… coffee,” I decided, trying to disentangle myself from Cass’s octopus hold.  I’d gotten a foot on the ground even though there was still an arm around my chest, but suddenly I was being yanked back into bed.

“It’s not time to get up,” a voice growled in my ear.

Fuck, Cass had a very sexy morning voice.  “You don’t gotta sleep,” I complained, trying to squirm away from him.

“I find that resting with you gives me a feeling of ‘recharging’,” he hummed, worming his way back into my arms and resting his cheek against my chest.

Why did we just fit together like this?  “Coffee,” I protested.

“Later,” he assured me, pressing a sleepy kiss into my skin.

“This is non-consensual cuddling,” I muttered.  How had I gotten trapped here?  Every morning I ran out on Cass, and every morning he let me… which wasn’t as shitty as it sounded.  I mean, it’s not like I kicked him out of bed.  I just left.

Not as shitty as it sounded.

Anyway, Cass was forcing cuddles on me which was actually pretty shitty, except that he was so warm and huggy and I was asleep.

I woke up irritated, my arms reaching for the warmth.

“I have to go,” Cass apologized, kissing my forehead and easily pulling out of my grip on his arm.

I didn’t whine.

“Heaven ‘shit’,” he explained, and I knew he was quoting me.

“It can wait,” I muttered, still reaching for him.

“I’m afraid it can’t,” he said, giving me a soft smile.  “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“What, in a few weeks?” I complained, starting to feel more awake.

“I hope not,” he assured me.

I frowned up at him.

He leaned in, kissing my eyelid.

Jesus, when did we start doing shit like this, and when did I start liking it?

“I love you,” he said softly, almost to himself.  “I’ll see you soon.”

My face felt very warm as he disappeared.  I tried to settle back into sleep, but the bed that had felt so comfortable a couple of minutes ago just felt empty now.

I decided to finally get my damn coffee, a glance at my alarm clock telling me that it was a lot later than I expected.

Sam caught my scent on the way to the kitchen and followed me in.

“You gonna sleep the day away?” he tried to joke.

Why did he have his serious face on?

Oh, shit, did he know?

Did he know?

He didn’t know.

Did he?

Sam leaned against the counter, all fake casual.  “So Cass carried you in from the garage last night.”

How the hell did he know that?  We’d been at the bar pretty late, then we’d been in the parking lot for… a while.

Dean, do you think you can come again?

Cass was a persistent guy, I’d give him that.  Singularly dedicated.

Anyway, I was exhausted and I fell asleep afterwards, and Cass was a friggin’ angel and all, so it was really no big deal if he… wait, he literally carried me inside?  Fireman’s carry or princess style?

I definitely wasn’t going to ask Sam, and he was starting to look at me funny.

Deflect, deflect!

“Jealous?” I shot back.

Wait, what?

No, that wasn’t…

“Of what?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Ya know, of the uh fun times me an’ Cass had,” I said, and dammit, NO.  I was losing control of the situation.  Need to get things back on track.  “Pickin’ up ladies.”

“Cass picked up ladies?” he asked flatly.

“Kinda,” I said.  We’d sort of had it out between round one and round two, and it turned out that the chick with the nice rack had definitely been interested, and he had to politely turn her down because he was only interested in me.

Which was weird, but whatever.  Kinda nice.  Mostly weird.

Cass was a weird guy.

Sam let out a very loud sigh.  “Dean.”

“What?” I complained, cradling my coffee cup in front of me defensively.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

Shit, he knew.  Why did he always know?

He couldn’t possibly know.

“Doing what?” I asked, leveling him with a hard stare and daring him to say it.

“The drinking, Dean,” he said, exasperated.

“Huh?”

Sam’s frown deepened.  “You’re turning into Dad.”

“Wow, Sammy, really?” I asked incredulously.

“You were so drunk last night you let Cass drive Baby and carry you to your bed bridal-style.”

Well, that answered that question.

“Dude, I wasn’t drunk,” I shot back, annoyed.

Sam did not appear to believe me.

“I was in a sex coma,” I explained.

“A sex… coma…”

“An inexperienced young lady such as yourself wouldn’t understand, but when you-”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you were drunk.”

“Um, yeah it does, because Cass won’t even have sex with me if I’m drunk, so-” I screeched to a halt.

“Why would you want to…” Sam trailed off, his brow creased in concentration.

Abort, abort.

How did I get out of this one?

“Cass won’t let me have sex.  With ladies.  When I’m drunk.  Because consent,” was the genius explanation I came up with it.

Sammy still looked like he was doing quadratic equations in his head.  Then his eyes widened.

Nope, nope, nope.  “That’s why I need boxes of condoms.  To have sex with all the ladies.  When you’re not drunk you can, you know, go for round two.  Or three.  With chicks.  In their vaginas.”

“Stop talking, Dean.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Sam sank into the chair across from me at the table.  “You and Cass…”

“No,” I said very assuredly.

Sam groaned, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling.  “I can’t wrap my mind around this.”

“There’s nothing to wrap around,” I said firmly.  Certainly not my thighs around Cass’s waist.  Which had been happening a lot lately and I didn’t really know how to feel about that, but now was certainly not the time to unpack all that.

Sam breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.

I suddenly felt… shame?  Or that Sam was ashamed of me?  Was that what this was?  Well, Sammy had always been ashamed of me, just more for the non-politically correctness and the alcohol and the gambling, less the sexuality thing.

He seemed to read my mind, sitting up straight and quickly sputtering out, “hey, you know I’m weirded out that it’s Cass, not ‘cause Cass is a dude, right?”

“I uh…” I trailed off, not sure how to respond.

“I mean, I know he’s been in love with you forever and all, but I always thought it was unrequited?”

“Hey, no reason to bring up the L-word,” I said, feeling supremely uncomfortable.  “Unless we’re talking Jenny Schecter,” I attempted to joke, but it was starting to feel harder to breathe for some reason.

Sam’s eyes went all puppy dog.  “I’m sorry, I’m being an ass.  I’m really happy you told me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, looking around the room at anywhere but that sympathetic face.

“Okay,” he agreed in that pacifying way of his that meant he didn’t believe me at all.  “Just know you can always talk to me?  About anything?”

“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I said, standing up and taking my mug to the sink.  I washed it and then put it in the dish rack to dry.

Sam was still sitting at the table, wagging his little puppy dog tail at me.

I got out of there as fast as I could.

- 6 -

“Is it truly worth being upset over?” Cass mused, stroking his fingers through my hair.

I was sitting on the floor between Cass’s open legs while he sat on the couch.  It was weirdly comfortable, especially with the hair stroking and all.

Also, it was easier to talk when I didn’t have to look into his eyes.

“I’m not upset,” I explained.  “I’m… whatever, it shouldn’t have come out of my mouth.”

“Well I’m glad that he knows,” he said, nudging my cheek with his knee.

“He doesn’t know anything,” I growled.  “He thinks that we’re fucking.”

“We are fucking, Dean.”

“No, but like he thinks that we’re a couple.”

“We are a couple, Dean.”

“What?” I asked incredulously.  “We are not a couple.”

“Oh.”

I was definitely not going to turn around to see what kind of look was on his face.

Which was a mistake, because it was probably smug as fuck.

“So why are we sitting like this?” he asked, that smarminess leaking through every syllable.

“Whaddya mean, why are we sitting like this?”

“I thought physical proximity paired with intimate touches was something only shared by couples.”

“This is hardly intimate,” I tried to protest.

Cass took his touch away.

I swallowed down a whine.  I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.

“Something wrong, Dean?”

“Shaddup,” I muttered.

He scraped his fingers through my scalp again, giving my whole body a pleasant tingle, and then he was tugging gently, guiding the back of my head to rest on his thigh.

Dammit, I was looking right into his eyes.

“Shall I do this for Sam?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me.  The strokes of his fingers had gotten slower, more deliberate.  “As an expression of our friendship, since apparently this form of touch is completely platonic.”

I glared at him.  “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then stop telling me that we’re not on a date, that we are not in a relationship, that you don’t feel the same way about me…”

I looked away from him.

His fingers paused, resting in my hair.  He tapped my chin with his free hand.

I let my eyes meet his again, but it was under protest.  “Why do you gotta make such a big deal about everything?”

“Because it’s a big deal to me,” he said, and I could see the hurt crinkling around his eyes.

“Cass,” I sighed, not wanting to deal with All This.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, looking vulnerable.

I assumed that he meant the whole hair-stroking thing, but he could have been talking about anything from drinking the last of the coffee without brewing a new pot, to his recent habit of picking me up off the ground because he was too impatient to wait for me to walk to the bed.

Anyway, the answer was mostly the same.

I shook my head.

A little smile tugged at the corner of Cass’s mouth, but he didn’t look happy.

I was just the worst piece of shit sometimes.

I sat up, turning to face him better.  “Let’s go for a drive or something.”

Cass’s head tilted to the side, his expression that of a perpetually confused angel.

“We can maybe swing by the movies, see what’s playing?” I suggested, waiting for understanding to dawn.

It took a little longer than I hoped, but when it did, Cass’s smile seemed to light up his face.  “I’d like that,” he agreed, not even mentioning the D-word.

I decided to change since we were going out, so I upgraded my holy jeans for slightly less-holy jeans, and tugged on a clean t-shirt.

“You look nice,” Cass said as we walked to the garage.

He just said it so casually that it made me tongue-tied.  “Thanks,” was all I could manage to get out.

I wasn’t going to return the compliment.  Not that Cass didn’t look nice, because he kind of looked amazing out of the trenchcoat and into his own jeans and t-shirt, but there was absolutely no reason to tell another dude how ‘nice’ he looked, even if he…

“You look good,” I murmured into Cass’s ear before strapping on my seatbelt and keeping my eyes laser-focused in front of me.

Cass seemed pleased, and we could all just leave it at that.

I let him pick the movie, which was probably a mistake, because of course he picked a chick flick no matter how much I tried to teach him the ways of having good taste in movies.  But it was kind of a weird chick flick with a surprising amount of action, and it was more about mothers and daughters than about romance, which wasn’t anything I could relate to, but it was kinda interesting despite the theater being mostly empty.

Cass and I got the last row to ourselves, so it didn’t feel so weird to keep my arm over the back of his seat, or to share my coke with him even though it only had one straw.

No one was watching us.

No one cared.

Cass was watching the credits with the same delighted expression he’d had plastered on his face through the entire movie.

I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

His smiled widened.

As we walked back towards the lobby to toss our trash, I let the back of my hand brush against his.

It was the stupid movie’s fault.

“I really enjoyed it,” Cass said cheerfully, pushing the empty popcorn cup into the trash.

“It didn’t suck like I thought it would,” I agreed.

“You could just say that you liked it.”

I sighed, holding the door open for him.  “I liked it,” I admitted with a roll of my eyes.

“See?” Cass said, looking pleased.

“Whatever,” I muttered.  I pulled my keys from my pocket and unlocked Baby.

“It is not ‘whatever’, Dean, it is ‘yes, Castiel, you’re right’,” he said, doing an impression of me that was really just his regular voice and a frown.

“Ha,” I replied, sliding into the front seat.

“I know you,” he continued to complain as he sat down next to me, strapping on his seat belt.  “I know the things you don’t allow yourself to like.”

“Thanks, Carl Jung, but I’d rather get laid than psychoanalyzed on a date,” I grumbled.

Oh.

Cass didn’t say anything, but I could see that damn smirk out of the corner of my eye.

Couldn’t take the d-word back now, just had to make sure it didn’t happen again.

It wasn’t going to happen again.

It absolutely, positively wasn’t going to happen again.

- 7 -

Sam had found us a case, so we were all sitting in the library, reading ancient tomes about friggin’ centaurs.

“I mean, they’re basically talking horses,” I complained.  “Do we really gotta take out Mr. Ed?”

“Three people are dead, Dean,” Sam informed me in his bitchiest tone.

“Yeah, three dude-bro assholes,” I pointed out.

“Perhaps we can find a way to take them back to Thessaly,” Cass suggested.

“See,” I said, gesturing to Sam.

He just rolled his eyes at me, before burying his nose in his book again.

He’d kinda been doing that all night.

It was the first time the three of us were all together since my diarrhea of the mouth the other day, and I couldn’t help but wonder…

Cass caught me looking at Sam anxiously, and he nudged my foot with his under the table.

I’d taught him that move.  I did it to him when he was in his head about something.

He mouthed something at me.

I frowned.

‘He doesn’t care,’ he mouthed more slowly.

‘How do you know?’ I prayed at him.

‘We talked,’ he mouthed, like that was supposed to give me any comfort.

“What, so you two are conspiring behind my back now?” I growled.

Sam looked up from his book, shooting a nervous glance between me and Cass.

“Why are you such a dramatic queen?” Cass asked.

Sam guffawed at that.

“It’s ‘drama’ queen,” I groaned.

“That, too,” Cass agreed.

Sam guffawed more loudly.

I did not like this.

I did not like this at all.

I slammed my book shut and stood up rapidly.

“Dean.”

Cass’s voice was soothing, like he was talking to a frightened animal.

Abort.

A strong hand caught my arm as I rounded the table.

“I apologize, my teasing was inappropriate,” Cass offered.  “Stay.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something, took one look at Cass, and shut it again.

Interesting…

But I was still in fight-or-flight, and Cass was really friggin’ strong, no matter how hard I nonchalantly tried to escape his grip.

“Dean, the case…” Sam finally put in lamely.

“I think you two nerds got it covered.”

“Yes, but we enjoy your company,” Cass said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah?  This ball of sunshine?” I asked.

“I certainly wouldn’t call you that,” he said, wrinkling his nose.  “That would be… hot and unpleasant.”

I wanted to make a dirty joke, but I was keenly aware that Sammy was sitting right there.

Which was stupid.

Because I loved making dirty jokes in front of Sam, since he either laughed along with me or was a complete priss and got all put out, which was equally hilarious.

So why couldn’t I…?

“I’m not gay,” I blurted out.

The matching looks of sympathy I received for that verbal diarrhea only served to set me more on edge.

I started backing away.  “I’m not,” I insisted.

“No one said that you were,” Cass said gently.

I turned to glare at Sam.  “He says it with his eyes.”

“What?” he bristled at me.  “Dude, I never-”

“I read ya loud and clear,” I said, glaring harder.

“Dean, it’s Sam,” Cass said, sounding exasperated.

I looked at him, ready to go off, but those damn eyes batted up at me, and then I was turning into a pathetic ball of mush.  “Yeah, it’s Sam,” I said in a much more broken tone than I intended.

And Cass got it immediately, giving me the most puppy dog eyes of all puppy dog eyes.  “Dean, he doesn’t think any less of you.”

I scoffed at that.

“Is that what you think?” Sam cut in, giving Cass a run for his money on who had the most pathetic puppy dog eyes.

“Whatever, man,” I muttered.  “‘Overcompensating’.  That’s the word, right?  Dean, the giant fairy?”

And Sam looked guilty, proving my point exactly.

I moved to leave.

“I’m an ass,” Sam declared.

“Yeah, well,” I agreed.

“I didn’t… I’m an ass,” he reasserted.  “I know we joke around and stuff, but I shouldn’t… there’s just some things you don’t say, and I get that now.”

“Whatever,” I muttered, not sure of how much more of this kumbayah bullshit I could take.  “I don’t care.”

Sam and Cass exchanged long-suffering looks.

I narrowed my eyes at them, but Cass was using his angelic strength to tug me into the chair next to him.

“Look, if I had known that you really were-” Sam tried to say.

“I really was what?” I asked, my voice dropping about an octave to Threat Threat Abort Abort.

Samuel did not get the message.

“You know, that you’re-”

I glanced at Cass.  “Did you just kick him under the table?”

“No,” he deadpanned at me.

I felt myself start to smile.

“I’m glad that you’re enjoying my pain,” Sam muttered, his face all scrunched up.

It was less about Sam and more about Cass, but he didn’t need to know that.  Because yes, kicking people was always funny.

I kind of wanted to kiss Cass, but that would be weird.

“Can you just not make a big deal out of everything?” I settled on.

“How am I-”

“We don’t have to have a Winchester hug-it-out moment over me and Cass fucking, okay?”

“It’s not about-”

“I’m bi, okay?  Not gay.”

Sam looked relieved.  “Okay.”

“Cass and I don’t do gay stuff,” I explained.

“…what…?” Sam asked, looking panicked again.

Cass sighed loudly.

I ignored them both, flipping open a book.

“No, I’m sorry, you’re gonna hafta explain that one,” Sam complained.

“Do you want the sordid details of our sex life?” I asked, not looking up because I really didn’t want to look at either one of them at the moment.

“God, no,” he said, “but… I mean, you’re two dudes, so…”

“We don’t do butt stuff,” I explained succinctly.  That should cover it.

“Um, I’m really going to regret asking this, but um… what do you do then?  To have uh non-gay sex?”

“We do dick stuff,” I said, because duh, obviously.

I couldn’t see his face, but I could still feel the contortions he was putting it through before he finally said, “so uh, no, wait, sorry, um… what?”

I had really failed Sammy on sex education, which was kind of embarrassing, but more on his part, because honestly, I’d educated him plenty and he’d just covered his ears and did his best not to listen.

“We do stuff like you do with a chick,” I explained.  “Just, there’s two dicks instead of a chick.”

“But the two dicks together are not… gay…?” Sam tried to reason out.

“Exactly,” I said.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

“It says here that centaurs do not handle their wine very well,” Cass put in.

“So you want us to party with them?” I asked, happy to move away from my conversation with Sam and back to the supernatural.

“Well, it could perhaps serve as a distraction,” he reasoned.

Sam still looked like he was having a coronary, but everything was back on track.

[isolavirtuosa]

hi, do you also happen to be await the morrow on fanfiction.net? your writing styles just seem really similar so i was just wondering lol i love your fics <3

Thanks for your message, but nope, that's not me :)

[isolavirtuosa]

It's Called Flirting Dumbass 9-16 & Postlude

[fanfiction] Dean / Cass

Canon Divergent AU from after the Final Battle in 15x19

The title pretty much sums it up.

Previous parts here.

- 9 -

Well, it wasn’t really the end of the story.

“I’m gonna get you laid,” I informed Cass, leaning over the bar’s table and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you going to be doing the laying?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

I sputtered at that, retracting my hand.  “What?  No, it’s gonna be a lady, ya know, a proper lady,” I explained.  “Well, no, she’s not really gonna be a lady in the like manners kinda way, just the vagina kinda way, ya know?”

Cass was looking at me like I was crazy.

“I mean, she’s gonna be a little loose,” I continued.  “In her morals?  Like me?  Ya gotta be a little loose to sleep with strangers in a bar.”

“I thought it was preferable that they be tight,” he said, looking me dead in the eye and oozing what could only be termed as sexual prowess.

I suddenly tasted copper and realized I’d bitten through my lip.

The Confident Sex God look was replaced by worry, and Cass reached across the table, brushing his thumb over my lip and healing it.  “Did I cross a line?”

I snorted nervously.  “Huh?  No, I uh, just… uh yeah, uh, no you’re right, wanna keep it… tight, ya know, uh, just uh didn’t uh…  When’d you get so filthy, man?”

“I learned it by watching you,” he deadpanned.

That got me to actually laugh, and I nudged his foot with mine under the table.  “Dude.”

“I thought inappropriate humor was required when mounting a mission to be ‘laid’.”

“Yeah, man, you are absolutely correct,” I assured him.  “Just, uh, you know, aim it at the ladies, not your wingman.”

“But what if I’m more attracted to the wingman?” he complained.

“Dude,” I complained back, tugging at the collar of my t-shirt.  It felt hot in here.  “Focus, c’mon.”

Cass’s eyes flicked from my eyes to my lips and then back again.

Had he always been this obvious…?  “Three o’clock.”

“That is not an accurate representation of tim-”

“Just look over there,” I said, nodding my head to my right.

Cass looked.

“She’s hot, huh?”

He shrugged.

“Really?”

“Not my type.”

“Hot is not your type?”

“Dean, there’s more to attraction than ‘hotness’.”

“Is there though?”

“I do not wish to sleep with random strangers.”

“Okay, but you totally did it with that reaper that killed you like on the first date.”

“I was human then,” Cass said, shaking his head.  “I had… urges.”

“So angels really are junkless,” I realized, feeling somehow vindicated.

“It’s not that I don’t experience sexual attraction as an angel,” he said, eyes going all squinty.  “It’s that the attraction doesn’t usually overwhelm my self-control.”

“Dude, you literally didn’t have sex for thousands of years,” I pointed out.  “That ain’t self-control, that’s like self-flagellation or some shit.”

He gave me a long look of fond exasperation, before finally saying, “The point is that though I may experience ‘urges’, I do not need to sate them.”

“Then what’s the point of havin’ ‘em, man?”

“Something can be said for the excitement of desire, even unacted upon,” he rumbled, his gaze holding mine.

I licked my lips.  “Not buyin’ it,” I tried to protest, even as my voice hitched.  “And save that shit for the ladies.”

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked, continuing to look at me with his bedroom eyes, because apparently that was a thing that Cass had.

“Damn, Cass,” I said, looking away with a shake of my head.  “Pretty sure you could take anyone home with that look.”

“Not anyone.”

My eyes flicked back to his, catching the rueful smile on his face.

I wanted to correct him.

“Those two women in the corner seem taken by us,” he said, nodding his head towards a table behind me.

I scoped out the situation, and he was right, it seemed promising.  We ended up going over and chatting the two women up, buying them drinks after they invited us to sit down with them.

They were sitting next to one another at a high-top table, so I sidled next to Madison, the outgoing blonde, and left Amy, the glasses-wearing librarian-type for Cass.  He had all this game now, so I left him unattended while I tended to Madison.

We were having a great time and I was thinking it was just about right to suggest heading out together, so I turned to my other side to check on Cass.

He was doing just fine, his eyes all crinkled up in that smile that I kinda thought was only for me, but apparently random stranger librarian chicks got it, too.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, resting my hand on his shoulder to get his attention.  “You doin’ alright?”

“Yes, Dean, very well,” he said, eyes flicking to mine and growing warmer.  “Amy and I were just discussing the migratory hab-”

“So nerd stuff.”

Cass gave me a flat look.

I caught the collar of his shirt and pulled him down for a quick meeting.  “Less nerdy, more sexy, man,” I whispered.

He rolled his eyes at me.

“C’mon, drop one a those lines of yours and get her to take you home,” I encouraged him.

“I am not interested in intercourse, Dean.”

“Uh, dude, you totally said you were.”

“I am not interested in intercourse with strangers.”

“Casssss,” I groaned at him.  “Sometimes you just gotta take the plunge.”

“Go back to your ‘hook-up’,” he said dismissively.

“Fine,” I growled at him, letting go of his shirt and quickly flipping back to Flirty Mode.  “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Madison and Amy had been watching us and whispering together, a mirror of me and Cass, but Madison immediately focused her attention back on me.  “Might be worth the wait,” she parried back at me.

I thought things were going well.

“You two are cute,” she said, nodding her head towards Cass.

“Some might even say downright adorable,” I said, because I was comfortable in my own skin..

“They might say that,” she agreed easily.  “Your sheer dedication to getting your friend laid is admirable.”

“I sense a ‘but’ here.”

“Those two are not goin’ home together tonight,” she said, nodding her head towards Cass and Amy who were now playing soccer on the table with their straw wrappers.  “Which is too bad, ‘cause your pal’s a total DILF.”

“That’s what I’m always sayin’,” I complained, before backtracking a little.  “Uh, not that I’d fuck him, I mean, but that he’s totally fuckable, right?  He should be out there… you know…”

“Fucking?” Madison suggested.

“Exactly.”

“I’d take him for a spin,” she said with a grin.  “Just got the feeling I’m not the one he’s waiting for.”

I chewed on my lip, feeling guilty for some reason.  “Yeah, he uh… his son’s mother, she passed…” I said, sprinkling in some truth with the fiction like I always did.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Madison, her face genuinely crinkling up in concern.

I shrugged.  “He had to bring up the kid himself, ya know?  Just never really thinks about what he needs or wants, always thinkin’ about the kid and everyone else first.”

“Well, he’s lucky to have a friend who cares about what he needs.”

“Dunno about that,” I said, rubbing my nose.  “Feel like I get things wrong more than I get ‘em right.”

“Can kinda relate,” Madison said with a rueful smile, and then she was leaning in, touching her lips to mine.

I froze.

Madison pulled back, a wrinkle between her eyes.  “Guess I’m not the one you’re waiting for, either?”

Was I having performance anxiety or something?  I shook it off, turning the charm back up.  “Sweetheart, I’ve been waitin’ for you my whole damn life,” I said, pulling her back in and giving a masterclass in making out with strangers.

We started to get ready to head back to her place, when I realized Cass and Amy were no longer sitting at the table.

Did Cass actually…?

This wasn’t pride I was feeling.

I decided not to name the ugly feeling roiling in my stomach.

“Ames, I’m heading out,” Madison called over to her friend, who was at the back of the bar, playing darts with Cass.

“Yeah, okay, trying to throw pointy weapons in a crowded bar here,” Amy said, waving at her friend with her free hand while she aimed her dart.

“Cass, you good?” I asked, moving a little closer.

“I will… ‘not wait up’, as the saying goes.”

“Good man,” I said, patting his arm.  Then I settled my hand on Madison’s waist, guiding her towards Baby and another one-night stand.

- 10 -

Cass was next to me in the front seat, leaning a little too close, eyes studying me.

“What’s up?” I asked, throwing him a glance.

“It’s just the way the light is striking your face right now…” he trailed off, his mouth curving into a smile.  “It’s truly beautiful.”

Sam groaned in the back seat.

I threw a glare at him through the rearview mirror.

Cass just ignored him, still smiling at me.

“Hey, Casanova, where were all these lines when we were at the bar the other night?” I asked.

“I save all my good lines for you, Dean,” he replied with a little quirk to his smile.

I rolled my eyes and pretended I wasn’t blushing.

Sam sighed loudly.

“You know, little brother, you’re the one who wanted us to get out of the damn bunker,” I told him with a frown.

“When I suggested we do Vegas, I didn’t realize I’d be trapped in a car for hours with Ross and Rachel.”

“Did you just call me… Jennifer Aniston?” I asked, confused.  I should have been insulted, but I was weirdly pleased.  Jennifer Aniston was hot.

Sam and Cass were both looking at me like I was an idiot.

I stuck out my lower lip, focusing on the road.

We went a few more miles before a big rest stop sign loomed up ahead of us.

“You need a wee-wee break, Sammy?”

“Yeah,” he said, not looking up from his phone or acknowledging my mocking tone.

“Ya need a knuckle sandwich while we stop?”

“Sounds good.”

I rolled my eyes at Cass.

‘He’s happy,’ Cass mouthed back to me.

‘He’s being a dick,’ I mouthed back.

Cass shook his head, but he was smiling.

I pulled Baby up to the gas pump and got out.  “Cass, put twenty on pump 1 and get me some nachos,” I said, handing him my credit card.

“As you wish,” he replied, accepting the money.

“And make sure you get extra cheese.”

“As you wish,” he repeated, already halfway towards the convenience store.

“I ain’t playin’ around, Wesley, I’m talking smothered in orange!”

“As you wish!”

I always both loved and hated when Cass started quoting movies at me.

“Dude,” Sam groaned, finally removing his eyes from his phone and getting out of the car.

“Dude yourself.”

“If you could see how cheesy your stupid grin looks right now…”

“There is nothing cheesy about this face,” I protested as I lifted up the license plate to get to the gas cap.  “My nachos better be cheesy, though.”

Sam just muttered something under his breath and took off for the bathroom.

Cass returned with the nachos.

“Oh, Cass, you did not mess around,” I said admiringly as I pulled out the gas nozzle and inserted it.  “Chip me.”

Cass pulled out a chip, careful to scrape on some extra cheese from the sides of the paper container before pushing it into my waiting mouth.

I expressed my gratitude unintelligibly with a mouth full of food.

I was just hanging the pump back up, insisting that Cass try some nachos when Sam came back to the car.

“Mmmm,” Cass said in an overly fake tone as he chomped noisily on the chip.  “Molecules.”

“You’re a cretin,” I complained, reaching up and absently thumbing some cheese away from the corner of his mouth.  It was an unconscious action that didn’t mean anything, except my thumb was lingering, and then it was tracing over Cass’s very round bottom lip, and then I was snatching my hand away and getting in the car.

“Unbelievable,” Sam muttered.

“What’re you goin’ on about?” I grumbled at him.

Cass sat down next to me, offering up the plate of nachos.

I took one and crunched on it as loudly as I could.

- 11 -

After Vegas, I just wanted to keep driving.

“It ain’t Hawaii, but it’ll do,” I decided as we stepped into the sand, facing the Pacific Ocean.

“I’m looking forward to a drink with a superfluous and ineffectual umbrella,” Cass declared.

“Dunno that they do those here, man,” I informed him regretfully.

“I will find them,” he said, taking off with a determined stride.

“Good thing we stopped for some beachwear,” Sam commented as he weaved between beach blankets, looking for a good spot to set up.

“Yeah, he looks good,” I said, eyes still following Cass as he moved in the opposite direction.  He had on honest-to-god flip-flops to go with his board shorts and his open Hawaiian shirt.  He looked like a genuine beach-goer dad.  A really well-built beach-goer dad who appeared to work out on a regular basis and attract a surprising amount of female attention for his age.

What had that one-night stand called Cass?

Your pal’s a total DILF.

“I meant for all of us to not stick out like sore thumbs in flannel and boots on the beach, but okay,” Sam said, and I could hear his eye roll without seeing it.

“Shut up,” I grumbled at him.

“Oh, I’m keeping out of it,” he declared, finally finding a spot he deemed worthy and throwing down his towel.

I put my towel down next to his, kicked off my sandals, and buried my feet in the warm sand.

Sam did the same, grinning.

“This ain’t bad, yeah?” I said.

“Pretty damn great, actually,” he acquiesced.

I didn’t think that life could get much better, but then Cass came ambling towards us, carefully balancing three coconuts filled with something very alcoholic.

“Where did you get these?” Sam asked with a laugh as he accepted his.

“I had to go a little far,” Cass admitted.

“Tell me you didn’t fly to Hawaii or something.”

“Then I will not tell you that.”

Sam and I cracked up, toasting with Cass and sucking down our fruity imported drinks.

It was a perfect day, full of Cass-isms (I don’t feel like this umbrella is protecting my drink from the sun at all), Sam being a giant (no, Dean, my head having its own orbit is not the reason I keep getting hit with frisbees), the warm sand, the happy little dogs running around with their happy owners, and the soothing rhythm of the ocean lapping against the shore.

It was peaceful, and I didn’t mind it.

“We should keep going,” Cass suggested quietly as we sat watching the sun set.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“I remember when the redwoods up north were still saplings,” he said, smile soft.  “I’d like to see how they’re doing.”

“Dad took me and Sammy up to one of the redwood parks when we were little.”

“Wasn’t he on a case?” Sam put in.

I’d kinda forgot he was there.

“Yeah, something loose in the woods,” I said.  “But man, that drive through the park...”

“It was pretty spectacular,” Sam agreed.

“I wouldn’t mind seein’ it again.”

“Then we can go?” Cass asked hopefully.

“Don’t see why not.”

Sam cleared his throat.

Kinda forgot he was there again.

We both turned to look at him.

“Don’t mean to rain on your parade, but I gotta get back to the bunker,” he explained.

“You need to get back to Eileen,” Cass said with a knowing nod.

Sam looked like he wanted to protest, but then he just nodded, too.  “Yeah.  We’ve still got some things to work out, but I think we’re good.”

“We can visit the redwoods another time,” Cass decided.

Not that I was disappointed.

“Why don’t you two go without me?” Sam suggested.  There was a strange glint in his eye.  “I can catch a plane back.”

“Sammy, no,” I said, shaking my head vigorously.  Winchesters did not get involved with those death traps.

Sam rolled his eyes at me.

“Look, it’s my responsibility as your older brother to make sure you’re safe-”

“I can fly him back,” Cass put in.

“That’s almost as bad.”

Cass looked insulted.

“Dude, not everyone’s afraid of flying-” Sam tried to put in.

“And not everyone’s afraid of clowns,” I shot back.

Sam and Cass were both rolling their eyes now.

I sighed loudly.  It wasn’t fair to have both of them calling me out on my bullshit.

“Why don’t we go back to the hotel, and we’ll figure out how to get Sam back in the morning?” Cass suggested.

“Sounds good,” Sam said agreeably.

“Whatever,” I muttered.

Cass knocked his knee against mine.

I shot him a wary look.

He just smile softly at me.

Well, shit.

I smiled back.

- 12 -

Whoever made those coconut drinks was a little heavy-handed on the rum, and I passed right out as soon as I hit the mattress.

Unfortunately, my bladder didn’t get the message, and I found myself blinking awake an hour later.

“...what we decided,” Sam was saying, his voice low.

“I think it’s the best decision for the two of you,” Cass agreed quietly.

“Thanks, man, it’s just... you know.”

“I do.”

“You gotta take care of Dean for me, okay?”

Cass chuckled at that.  “Dean doesn’t want to be taken care of.”

“Trust me on this one, he wants to be taken care of.”

I bristled at that.  Who was the one always taking care of Sammy’s ass?  In fact, who was always taking care of everyone?  There was no one...

Oh.

“I will always watch over him,” Cass assured Sam.

Whatever they were talking about, I didn’t like it.  I rolled over with a very loud groan as my back cried out for my memory foam.  I sat up and scratched my belly before kicking my legs over the side of the bed and lumbering off to the bathroom.

Those little bastards pretended like they hadn’t just been talking shit about me when I came back to the room and flopped onto the bed.

It was all very annoying, but I passed out before I could really care.

The room was quiet when I woke up again, sunlight streaking in around the edges of the cheap curtains.  I sat up with a yawn and a grumble, squinting into the light.

“Did you sleep well?”

I flailed around, ready to defend myself, but for some reason I didn’t go for the gun under the pillow.  My eyes focused on Cass, sitting in a chair pulled up next to my bed.  “That’s still creepy!” I yelled at him.

Cass shrugged, unaffected by my agitation.

“Dude,” I complained, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.  “You’re gonna give me a coronary.”

“I think that’s all the cheeseburgers for breakfast, Dean.”

“Shaddup.”

“Me being silent won’t make it any less true.”

“It’s too friggin’ early for your attitude,” I complained, flopping back onto the mattress.

“Shall I procure you some caffeine?”

“Yes, please,” I said, not sure why I felt the need to be polite to Cass, but also very strongly feeling the need to be polite to Cass.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon,” he said, disappearing even before his last syllable had faded.

The motel door opened, which even to my sleep-addled brain seemed like suspiciously good timing.

“You’re finally awake,” Sam scoffed at me, pulling off his sweatband and shaking out his hair like a Pantene commercial.

“Did you even sleep?” I shot back at him.  “We’re on vacation, ya know.”

Sam let out a puff of air that was either a laugh or a sigh, and started pulling clean clothes out of his bag.

I groaned, rolling onto my stomach and pulling the blanket over my head.

“Cass is gonna take me back to the bunker after breakfast.”

“Your funeral,” I declared into my pillow.

“Dean…” Sam said, and it was that damn tone.

“Don’t start.”

“Look, I know I said was keeping out of it-”

“Then keep out of it.”

“-but this is really getting ridiculous.”

I peeked out from the blanket, shooting a glare at my baby brother.  “What exactly is getting ridiculous?”

“You,” he said, meeting my gaze evenly.  “Cass.”

“What about me and Cass?” I asked before my better judgement kicked in to stop me.

“You know.”

“I don’t,” I countered, fully out of the blanket cocoon now and wanting to kick myself because why the hell was I encouraging Sam to keep talking?

“If you don’t know, then that’s just sad,” he said, shaking his head.  “The staring, the little nicknames, the awkward touching-”

“Awkward?” I repeated, because sure, that was the word to latch onto.  “Look, Sam, I don’t know what you’re trying to get at here-”

“It’s called flirting, dumbass.”

I choked on whatever else I was about to say.

“You alright there?” Sam asked, vaguely concerned.

I shook my head vigorously.  “It’s not… we’re not… you can’t possibly…”

He gave me a very unimpressed look.

“Sammy, no,” I insisted.  “It doesn’t mean anything.  I flirt with everyone.”

“You don’t flirt with me.”

“Dude, you’re my brother.  That would be gross.”

“I thought Cass was your brother,” he said, trying to sound innocent.

“Yeah, but not like, biologically.”

“So it’s okay to flirt with him?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed.  “I mean, uh…”

“Figure your shit out, Dean,” he said, gathering up his clothes and disappearing into the bathroom, the lock on the door clicking resoundingly before I could think of a comeback.

- 13 -

Cass had taken Sam back for his chick flick reunion moment with Eileen, so I was left to sit on my motel bed and replay every stupid thing that had come out of my mouth recently.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

It’s called flirting, dumbass.

I knew that.

It really wasn’t a big deal.

I’d known for a long time.

It was just flirting.

I flirted with everyone.

Cass didn’t mind.

Cass flirted back.

It really, definitely wasn’t a big deal.

Cass and I were friends.

Best friends.

And Cass said happiness wasn’t in the having, it was in the just being.

And his happiness was being in love.

With me.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Love.

Flirting.

Having.

Shit.

Hunting isn’t all you are, Jody’s voice echoed in my head.  I’m not gonna waste my breath even suggesting you get out of the life.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t have more.

What did I want?

And could I… have it?

“Dean.”

I glanced up at Cass as he leaned over me.

“You feel… scattered,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

“That’s one way a puttin’ it,” I said, trying not to catch my breath at the sight of him.  “Sammy all safe and sound and tucked into Eileen’s bosom?”

“I returned him to the bunker.”

“Cool.”

Cass frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” I said, standing up from the bed and causing him to take a step back.  “You ready to hit the road?”

“Of course,” he agreed, though he was still looking at me uncertainly.

I didn’t talk the first hour of our drive, just kept the radio going on any classic rock I could find.

“Dean,” Cass finally said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Are you… upset with me?” he slowly ventured.

“What?” I asked.  “No.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah,” I said, nudging his knee with mine.

He seemed to accept what I said at face value, his hand patting my knee.

And then staying there.

The thing was, it was comfortable.  Natural, even.

The other thing was that now that Sam had said it, the bell couldn’t be unrung.

I cleared my throat.  “Cass?”

“Yes?”

“You know that’s flirting, right?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re flirting with me,” I clarified.  “On purpose.”

He gave me a strange look.  “Obviously.”

“Yeah, uh, o-okay,” I stammered, gluing my eyes on the road ahead.  “Hey, um… Cass?”

“Yes, Dean?” he said in that fond yet exasperated tone of his.

“Do you think… I… do I flirt with you?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Oh,” I swallowed.  “Well, I mean, yeah, of course I do.”

“You flirt with everyone, Dean.”

I slapped the steering wheel.  “See, that’s exactly what I told-”

“It’s a defense mechanism,” he talked over me with a nod.

“-Sammy, uuuh…”

“I don’t take it too seriously,” he added.

I frowned at that.  “Hey.”

He cocked his head at me.  “Should I take it seriously?” he asked in such a low tone that I could only assume it was his ‘bedroom’ voice.

I swallowed.

Then I swallowed again for good measure.

“I enjoy your attention,” he informed me.  “But I don’t have any expectations.”

That made me feel kind of… shitty.  “You don’t deserve that,” I said quietly.

His brow furrowed.  “What do you mean?”

I bit my lip, frowning.  “You don’t gotta just accept whatever scraps I throw you, man.  You deserve all of it.  The whole shebang.”

“Are you offering?” Cass asked, sounding amused.

I swallowed.

He studied my face.

I gripped the steering wheel more tightly.  “I don’t know,” I finally whispered.

Cass breathed out a startled sound.  “Dean?”

“I don’t know,” I repeated tensely.

He squeezed my knee, staying quiet while I tried to work through it.

I turned the radio up louder and kept moving forward.

- 14 -

Somehow over the next couple of hours my hand had migrated from the steering wheel, to covering Cass’s hand on my knee, to all laced up with his like a couple of kids on their first date or something.

Which was not what this was.  At all.

I licked my lips nervously.

“Dean,” Cass rumbled at me, soft and soothing.

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it to the park before dark,” I said quickly.

“We can get a motel and go in the morning,” he suggested.

“A… motel…” I repeated.

“Dean?”

I squeezed his hand more tightly, surprised Cass wasn’t completely grossed out by how damn sweaty my palm was.

“I wasn’t propositioning you,” he explained.

“Yeah, of course not.”

“You seem… tense.”

I let out a little laugh that was supposed to show how unbothered I was, but it came out sounding a little more hysterical than I intended.

Cass was quiet, letting me calm myself down.

“Let’s keep driving,” I finally decided.

“Okay,” he agreed.

There was still a little light when we reached the park, though the sun was slowly disappearing.

“Incredible,” Cass whispered.

I squeezed his hand, mellowed out by the long drive and Cass’s solid presence beside me the entire way.

We parked at the visitor’s center, only a couple other cars in the lot at this late hour, and we started to walk.

Cass was going full Jane Fonda, resting his hand against the bark and murmuring softly to the tree as he gazed up at it in wonder.

“Ya gonna hug it or what?” I asked.

“Do you think it would be inappropriate?” he asked, head tilting to the side.

He was so damn sincere, that all I could do was shake my head and say, “nah, it’s fine.”

Cass flattened himself to the tree, exhaling like he’d been holding himself back.

I bit my lip, trying not to grin.

“You should try it, Dean.”

“I’ll leave the communing with nature to you,” I said, though for some reason I reached out my hand to rest it on the bark, next to Cass’s.

I’d been around ancient cosmic entities before, but there was something about these tall ass trees that made me feel the immensity of creation in a way that those assholes never could.

Our gazes met across the bark, Cass smiling carelessly like a little kid.

I felt my insides go all soft.

Okay, there was one ancient cosmic entity that could.

“C’mere,” I said, reaching my free hand to the back of his neck.

He squinted in confusion, but he was still smiling.

I wished I could put into words what I was feeling in that moment, but being good at words wasn’t really a Dean Winchester trait.

So I did what Dean Winchester always did in situations like this, and jumped head first into the fire.

Cass gasped as our lips met.

I kept my eyes closed as I pulled away.  I wasn’t ready to face to the consequences of what was potentially a total clusterfuck.

“You could kiss me back,” I whispered, trying to sound casual and flirty and not whiny and pathetic, missing the mark pretty spectacularly.

“Dean,” he growled, and that was all the warning I got before I was pinned against the tree, being kissed to within an inch of my life.

Cass didn’t seem to mind being in the driver’s seat, once he had permission.

I let go.

- 15 -

“I think I wanna re-open Singer Salvage,” I decided, staring up at the stars through the redwoods.  The only light was a little flashlight I had beside me, so the whole sky was frigging spectacular.

“Do we have to move to Sioux Falls?” Cass asked, fingers running up and down my arm lazily.  Apparently we were a ‘we’ now.

“I dunno,” I said.  “I mean, the bunker’s home.  I don’t think I could leave.  Don’t think I want to.”

“There’s plenty of places in Lebanon to operate a junk yard,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’ll support you however I can,” he offered.

“You bein’ the supportive boy-…?” I started and faltered.

“Yes.”

I breathed out slowly.  “Cass?”

“Yes, Dean?”

I shifted on the blanket I’d spread out on the cold ground, propping myself up on my side so I could look him in the eye.

Cass met my gaze easily.

I looked away.  Nope, I wasn’t actually that brave.  I settled on blindly groping for his trenchcoat and clinging to it instead.

He waited patiently.

“Cass,” I said, my voice coming out weirdly high.  I cleared my throat.  “All this… you know, flirting…”

“I am familiar with it,” he agreed, letting his fingers slide up my arm again.

I bit my lip.  “Yeah, but…”

I didn’t know what to say.

Cass settled his hand on my hip, leaning in closer.  “You gave me permission to flirt with you,” he murmured into my ear.

“Uh-huh, I did,” I said, nodding dazedly.

“You gave me permission to ogle you,” he continued, his breath against my ear making me all… tingly.

“Yeah, and you sure took advantage of that one,” I tried to joke even though my mouth was going dry.

“And you gave me permission to kiss you,” he said, but it sounded almost like a question.

I swallowed.  “Yeah,” I admitted.

Cass breathed out a sigh that sounded a lot like relief.  “So I think we can dispense with the pretenses, Dean.”

“All I got is pretenses,” I tried to protest.

“I know,” he said gently, then pressed a kiss to my temple.  It was sweet and soft and made my eyes prick.  “But you can let go now, Dean.”

“Don’t think I can,” I whispered.

“Then we’ll take our time,” Cass murmured, this time kissing my cheek.  He seemed to hesitate for a moment, before asking, “I’m not crossing a line?”

“You’re not crossing a line,” I assured him, finally working up the guts to slide an arm around him and pull him into a hug.

“You have to tell me if I do,” he whispered into my hair.

I could feel how uncertain he was, and it sucked.  “I know I haven’t been clear, but… you know.  Me, too.”

I could feel Cass’s squint without having to see it.  “You, too, what?”

“You know,” I repeated, because surely if he didn’t get it the first time, he’d get it the second time.  “The thing.”

“Dean,” Cass groaned, sounding very done with my shit.

“I don’t know why I gotta say it,” I complained, pulling away from him and sitting up.

Cass sat up, too, frowning.

I was screwing this up.  “It’s just… it ain’t easy for me.  To say those words.”

“What words, Dean?” he asked, and he really had no clue.  I had screwed this up so royally that he really didn’t know what I was trying to say.

Cass deserved better.

“What you said before you went to the Empty,” I tried to explain.  “That.”

He was quiet for a moment, before asking, “when I told you that I love you?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding fiercely.

“I do love you,” he said, knocking his knee to mine.

“Me, too, Cass,” I breathed out.

“…you also love yourself?” he questioned me.  “That would be a relief to hear, but-”

He deserved the whole shebang.

“Iloveyoutoo!” I blurted out.

He stared at me, wide-eyed.

“Okay?” I asked, reaching out and tugging on his lapel, hoping the dark hid how red my face was.  “You get it now?  All the flirting?”

“I’m beginning to,” he said, a slow smile creeping across his face.

“Glad that’s all cleared up,” I said, looking anywhere but at Cass and rubbing my nose anxiously.  “So you could… you know, kiss me again.  If you wanted.”

“You were a lot better at flirting when you were unaware that you were doing it,” Cass said with an amused chuckle, but then he leaned in and kissed me again, so I didn’t mind the attack on my character so much.

It also reminded me that while I liked a partner who took the lead, I was a fan-fucking-tastic kisser, and Cass didn’t know what he was in for.

Better at flirting my ass.

Instead of the needy moan I expected, though, Cass made this weird happy noise in the back of his throat that made my heart clench.

“You like that sweetheart?” I hummed at him, lips still touching.

“It is like the birth of a star,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Come again?” I said with a snort.

“Our tongues tangling together,” he clarified.

“Are you writing me poetry?” I laughed, though maybe somewhere deep down I was kinda sorta moved.

“You emblazon poetry on my heart.”

“Cass, you gotta stop with the Pepé Le Pew schtick.”

“I am unfamiliar with this person.”

“Jesus Christ, buddy, he’s a cartoon skunk.”

“I do not wish to be a cartoon skunk…” he reasoned out slowly.  “But I enjoy making you blush.”

“Who the hell is blushing?”

“You,” he replied flatly.

“Well it must be ’cause I’m so embarrassed for you,” I tried to cover for myself.  “Ya know, sayin’ all that cheesy crap.  Em-baaarassing.”

“I’m not embarrassed at all,” he said.  “I will tell you how much I love you in as many ways as I desire, and it will continue to bring that wonderful rosy blush to your cheeks.”

I opened my mouth for a witty comeback, came up with nothing, and just let my lips flap like a fish for a while before settling on, “you’re so lame.”

“You’re the one who loves me,” Cass said with a shrug, trying to sound casual but he was frigging beaming as soon as the word ‘love’ came out of his mouth.

“Guess I’m lame, too, then,” I said, laying back down and staring up at the sky.

For once I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.

- 16 -

We headed out of the park, on the hunt for a greasy spoon open in the middle of the night.

I felt… right.

“Dean, this Pepé Skunk character seems highly problematic,” Cass complained as he scrolled on his phone.

“Dude, it’s Looney Tunes, not, ya know, friggin’ Aristotle,” I tried to explain.

“Aristotle promoted a virtuous character in order to obtain happiness.”

“Guess that counts me out,” I said with a snort.

“At least you are not sexually harassing this cat,” Cass said, squinting at his screen.  “Dean, do you really think that I am like this deviant?”

I groaned.  “It was a joke, Cass.  ‘Cause you were coming on strong?”

He sniffed at that, like he was offended.

I grinned, running my thumb over his.  For some reason, we’d been holding hands since we got in the car.

“I prefer Tweety.”

“Huh?”

“Tweety,” he repeated, like it would all make sense now.  “Of all the Looney Tunes, he is my favorite.”

“Dude, you’re gonna pass over Bugs Bunny for Tweety Bird?”

“I do not care for Bugs Bunny.”

“Blasphemy.”

“It’s a children’s cartoon.”

“Double blasphemy.”

“Dean,” he said, all disapproving.

It made me kinda tingly.

Okay, a lot tingly.

“Shit,” I said as something suddenly occurred to me.

Cass cocked his head to the side.

“What’re we gonna do about Sam?” I asked, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we can’t tell him,” I explained.

He waited.

“About us,” I clarified.

Cass pulled his hand away from mine like he’d been burned.

I turned to him in confusion.

“If that’s how you feel,” he said stiffly.

“Huh?”

He wasn’t giving an inch.

And then it clicked.  “What?  Cass, no.  That’s not what I meant.”

“I feel the meaning was perfectly clear.”

“No, shit, why do I keep messing this up?” I groaned.  I was starting to realize that the ramifications of my years of denial and repression probably weren’t going to be solved by a single make-out session.  It was going to take a long time and a lotta actions to prove to Cass that I was in this, and what I was about to say probably wasn’t going to impress him all that much.  “I don’t want to tell Sam ‘cause uh… so he uh… I mean he kinda kicked me in the ass about flirting with you, and I don’t want him to know that he was right?”

“…what?”

“He’s just such a damn know-it-all,” I tried to explain.  “He thinks he knows me better than I know myself, and he was all implying that I had feelings for you…”

“Don’t you…?” Cass pointed out tentatively.

“Yeah, obviously,” I said.  “That’s not the point.”

“And the point is…?”

“The point is that if we tell him we’re together after he gave me that big speech, then he’s gonna be friggin’ unbearable in his smarmyness.”

“So you don’t want to tell him because then he would think he was right.”

“Exactly.”

“But he was right.”

“Completely.”

“You just don’t want him to know that.”

“Yes.”

“Dean, you are a complicated human being.”

“I try,” I said with a grin.  I felt like maybe we were back on the same page again.  “Can I have your hand back?”

“I haven’t decided.”

Okay, still in the dog house.

“So we will have to… hide our relationship?” Cass asked.

I had to give it some thought in order to come up with a plan to both appease Cass and torture Sam.  “No.”

“But…?”

“We flirt more than ever.”

“Dean, I am not following.”

I felt my grin going a little maniacal.  “The old arm around the back of the couch trick, a lot of gazing into each other’s eyes from questionably close distances, romantically-inclined pet names, ‘accidentally’ brushing up against one another every time we walk past…”

“This sounds about the same as usual.”

I clucked my tongue at him, annoyed.

Cass reached out and laced our fingers together again on the seat.

I was slightly less annoyed, and also I had a brilliant idea.  “We should have sex in his bed.”

“…what…?” Cass said, his voice coming out strangled.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” I said, pleased that the plan was coming together.  “We ramp up the flirting, and we have sex on every surface available in the bunker, and see how long it takes him to figure it out.”

“You want to have sex?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Yeah,” I said confidently, my cheeks barely even red.  “Lots and lots of sex.”

“Oh.”

Cass was still holding my hand, but he seemed distant.

“Do you… not want to?” I asked, all the junkless comments suddenly coming back to haunt me.

“I want to,” he growled at me.

I swallowed.  “Awesome.”

“Just not in Sam’s bed.”

“It’ll be hilarious.”

“I know I am not the most experienced, but I have no intention of what we do to be hilarious.”

I licked my lips nervously.  “So what are you intentions?”

Cass just quirked his lips at me, and I realized I hadn’t been watching the road and I should really do that.

I cleared my throat loudly.

“According to this plan of yours,” he spoke as though we hadn’t just been sharing a moment of very awkward sexual tension, “I may touch you and flirt with you as much as I desire?”

“That’s the idea, buddy.”

Cass huffed out an annoyed sound.

I squeezed his hand, trying to convey my affection to him without having to actually say it.

He wasn’t pacified, but pushed forward anyway.  “I won’t lie to Sam, but okay, we can play your silly mind games.”

“Silly,” I scoffed.

“Incredibly.”

I huffed out my disdain.

Cass responded by leaning in and pressing a feather-light kiss to my cheek.

Okay, I was a damn tomato.

“I can’t believe I get to do that,” Cass whispered with a sense of wonder.

I squeezed his hand tightly, my eyes on the endless road ahead.

- Postlude -

Me, Cass, and Eileen were hitting the books at the map table, trying to find something useful about trolls for some hunter friends of Jody’s.  Well, Cass and Eileen were hitting the books, and I was playing M.A.S.H.

“Okay, so you’re gonna marry Arnold Schwarzenegger and you’re gonna live in a mansion, and you’re gonna have 35 kids,” I informed Eileen, who was laughing so hard she was crying.

“This game is highly improbable,” Cass complained, wrinkling his nose.

“Want me to do you next?” I asked with a grin.

“I don’t see the point, and we should be reasear-”

“I’ll do Cass,” Eileen chimed in, taking my notebook and ripping a piece out.  “So who do you want to marry?”

“Dean,” he replied solemnly.

“Okay, number one is Dean, so who is number two?”

“There is no number two,” he said with a frown.  “There is only Dean.”

Eileen rolled her eyes.

“The man knows what he wants,” I said, winking at her.  Then I nudged Cass with my elbow.  “Come on, man, play the game.  Eileen was willing to take a chance on the Terminator, and that ended up with 35 kids.”

“Those children are fictitious.”

“Cassssss,” I groaned.

“Fine,” he sniffed.  “Helen of Troy.”

“Helen… of Troy…?” I repeated.

Eileen just snickered, her pen already scratching away on the paper.

“Are we talkin’ like Galyn Görg or…?”

“Not a film representation, the actual Helen of Troy,” Cass said, exasperated.  “She was truly beautiful, though her personality left much to be desired.”

“Is that your type?” Eileen asked, still snickering.

“Unfortunately,” Cass agreed.

“Excuse me,” I said, offended.  “I have a great personality.”

Cass and Eileen exchanged a look that I definitely didn’t like.

“Okay, we’ve got Dean and Helen of Troy, who’s next?” Eileen asked cheerfully.

“Gandhi,” Cass stated.

“I’m sorry, Gandhi?” I scoffed.

“I need at least one option for decent conversation.”

I was beyond offended.  “So you’re gonna marry Gandhi?  You know he’s a… whatsit, a fruitpire!”

Cass just shook his head like I was so beyond dumb it couldn’t be helped.

I glowered at him.

“Number three is Gandhi, got it,” Eileen said writing it down.  “And number four?”

Cass looked me dead in the eye when he said, “Idris Elba.”

I was confused.

He leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied.

“You’re into Idris Elba…?” I asked slowly.

“Yes.”

That really bothered me for some reason.  “What, is he better-looking than me?”

He just shrugged.

I turned to Eileen for support.

She also shrugged.

Why was this bothering me so much?  He’d said that Helen was beautiful and all that, but…

Meanwhile, Cass and Eileen were cheerfully filling in the rest of the answers.

I glowered at them.

Cass leaning in and murmured, “stop sulking,” into my ear, then gave me a little nudge in the cheek with his nose.

I leaned into it, getting all tingly.  So Cass always turned me into John Travolta in Grease, chills multiplying and all that.  Whatever.  “You’re not marrying Idris Elba,” I said, trying to be stern.

“Of course not,” he agreed, resting his cheek on my shoulder and gazing up at me.  “He’s already married.”

I made a face at him.

“And you’re the only one I want.”

I sniffed at that.

Cass grinned at me, directing my mouth to his.

I begrudgingly allowed it.

Eileen cleared her throat loudly.

We pulled away just in time for a, “so get this…”

Cass and I both put on our innocent faces as Sam walked in with his nose buried in a book.

“There’s records of trolls being killed in Norse tradition,” he continued, still not looking up.

I made kissy lips at Cass.

He gave me an exasperated look.

I snickered.

“Are you even listening?” Sam complained, finally looking at us.

“Yes,” Cass said, at the same time that I emphatically declared, “nope.”

“We’re kind of busy here, Sam,” Eileen said with a frown.  “Cass, tell me when,” she said, starting to dot her pen furiously on the paper.

Cass looked perplexed.

“You gotta tell her when to stop,” I explained.

He squinted for a long moment, before finally declaring, “stop.”

“Are you playing… M.A.SH.?” Sam asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Duh,” Eileen said, counting the dots and then counting her way down the list to cross things off.

“And that’s the important thing you’re doing instead of listening to me about how to kill trolls?”

“Definitely,” I agreed.

Sam turned his incredulity on me.  “Didn’t you say that M.A.S.H. is game for 13-year-old girls who want to… ‘braid each other’s hair’?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

He gave me an expectant look.

“I ain’t playin’,” I said with a shrug.  “Let the girls have their fun.”

“Dean started it,” Cass pointed out unhelpfully.

I clucked my tongue at that.

He gave me a very shit-eating grin.

“Okay,” Eileen announced, putting down her pencil, “the results are in.”

Cass cocked his head to the side.

“You are going to live in a shack,” she said, shaking her head.  “And you’re going to work as a bikini inspector.”

I threw my head back and laughed from my gut.

“That does not sound like a real job, and I certainly did not offer it to you as a potential career path,” Cass complained, brow furrowed.

“I had to improvise,” Eileen said with a shrug.  “On the upside, you’re going to drive the Batmobile.”

“Awesome,” I said.

“And you’re going to marry Dean.”

“This fortunetelling game told you that?” Cass asked, suddenly taking the game very seriously now that my hand was on the line.

“It did.”

“Dean, we’re getting married,” he said, turning to me with a big, dorky smile.

"Let me call the florist,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Really?” Sam interrupted, looking huffy.

“Really what?” I asked.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh, what doesn’t bother me?”

“That Cass wants to marry you?”

“Should it bother me?”

Sam made a disgusted noise.

“Does it bother you?” I shot back, trying to hide my grin.  “You some kinda homophobe, Sammy?”

He looked appalled.  “Dude, no, that’s like the opposite of what I’m saying here-”

“Really, ‘cause it sounds to me like you got a problem with a dude wanting to marry another dude…”

“Dean, stop, you know that’s not-”

“If Cass thinks I’m sexy, then Cass thinks I’m sexy,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

“You are very sexy,” Cass confirmed.

“See,” I said.  “The man has good taste.”

Sam looked to Eileen for help.

She held her hands up helplessly, because Eileen was not getting involved.  One might suggest that she actually was getting involved by not letting Sam in on the very obvious truth, but then one would be a dumbass, because not telling Sam was frigging hilarious.

“So what would you say is my sexiest feature?” I asked.

“Your ass,” Cass deadpanned with no hesitation.

I chomped into my bottom lip a little too hard, because he had that whimsical look in his eyes that said he was joking, but he was definitely not joking.

“That’s it, I’m not getting involved in this,” Sam declared, stomping away.

‘He didn’t even tell us about the trolls,’ Eileen signed, trying not to laugh.

“Dean, this is getting mean,” Cass said with a frown.

“Okay, but is it our fault that he’s that friggin’ clueless?”

“Is he, though?” Eileen asked.  “Because you two are acting exactly the same as you were before you were dating.”

“That’s not true,” I protested.

“We were engaging in a lot of flirting,” Cass pointed out.

“Yeah, but it was, you know, unintentional.”

“It was very intentional on my part.”

“Yeah, okay, but…”

Cass thumbed along my jaw, smiling fondly.

I swallowed.  “It’s uh intentional now.  On my part.”

“I got that,” he said, still smiling.

“We all got that,” Eileen pointed out, “except for Sam.”

“I told Cass we should have sex in your bed and maybe he’d figure it out.”

Eileen wrinkled her nose, then her expression shifted to intrigued, then went back to nose-wrinkling.  “Please don’t.”

“Well how else is he gonna know?”

“You could… tell him?” Cass suggested.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sorry our liaisons are not ‘fun’.”

“I ain’t sayin’ that,” I protested, poking him in the side.  “They’re just more fun when they’re a sordid secret.”

“And you developing the mental maturity to have a proper conversation with your brother about the status of your romantic life would be like… you having the mental maturity to realize that your ‘unintentional’ flirting was in fact intentional,” Cass said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled.

“So, Dean, are you ready for your turn?” Eileen asked, holding up the M.A.S.H. paper.

“Nah, I don’t need to know my future,” I said, shaking my head.

“Dean, this is hardly an accurate fortunetelling device,” Cass put in.  “I am certainly not going to become a… ‘bikini inspector’, and it is highly unlikely that Eileen will wed Conan the Barbarian.”

I grinned at the reference.  “Yeah, sure, but I kinda like how life is goin’ right now, and I’d rather, ya know, keep goin’, and uh be in charge of my own destiny and all that crap.”

“Okay, I’m putting ‘daytime talk show host’ as your first job option,” Eileen said, scribbling away on her paper.  “Is Catherine Bach spelled with a ‘c’ or a ‘k’?”

“A ‘c’,” I affirmed, already lost in thoughts of Daisy Duke.

“At least wait until I leave the room,” Cass said, rolling his eyes.

“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head, because now Daisy Duke and Cass were together in my fantasy, and that was just awesome.

Cass squinted at me like he could read my mind.  Which he probably could.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he complained.

I grinned, waggling my eyebrows at him.

He sighed with long-suffering.  “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” I said, lacing our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.  “You’re lucky I love you, too.”

Sam’s voice rang through the bunker with a resounding, “I knew it!”

[isolavirtuosa]

It's Called Flirting, Dumbass 1-8

[fanfiction] Dean / Cass

Canon Divergent AU from after the Final Battle in 15x19

The title pretty much sums it up.

It’s Called Flirting, Dumbass

Isola Virtuosa

- 1 -

Sam was sitting at the map table, beer in hand, looking at me incredulously.

“What?” I said with a shrug.  “Everyone knows that I’m the better-looking Winchester.”

“I think that’s a matter of opinion,” he stated, rolling his eyes.

“Is it, though?” I asked.  “Seein’ as how everyone has the same opinion?”

“And who is everyone, Dean?”

“Dean is objectively more attractive,” Cass put in without looking up from the book he was reading.

I gestured towards Cass with a smug grin.  “See?” I told Sam.

“No way, nuh-uh, Cass’s opinion doesn’t count,” Sam said with a shake of his ridiculously shaggy head.

“Uhh, why the hell not?”

“Because he’s-” Sam started and stopped, quickly shutting his mouth.

“Because he’s an angel that’s older than dirt with the knowledge of the universe and crap?”

“I hardly possess all the knowledge of the uni-” Cass tried to protest.

“Nope, zip it,” I said, waving my beer at him.  How many had I had already?  I’d lost count at… eight…?  “Angel opinion trumps all.”

“Okay, but he’s your… best friend,” Sam said tactfully.  “Of course he’s gonna side with you.”

“If you were arguing over who was taller, I would obviously state that Sam is taller,” Cass said, setting his book down with a frown.  “If you were arguing over who has more beautiful hair, I would obviously state that Sam has the most beautiful hair.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of me.

Cass ignored me and continued.  “And if you were arguing over who was the most physically attractive, I would obviously state that it is Dean.”

“Thanks, buddy,” I said, flashing him a grin.

“I’m simply stating the facts,” he said, shifting in his chair.

Sam looked like he wanted to protest, but what could he say to that?

“Facts are facts, little brother,” I clucked at him.

“Cass’s opinion is hardly a fact.”

Cass turned his frowny squint on Sam.  “Dean has better facial symmetry.”

“Okay…?”

“Physical attractiveness can be scientifically measured,” Cass explained.  “Symmetry, distance between the eyes, distance between the eyes and mouth can all be easily calculated and compared.  Dean’s numbers are better than yours.”

“Oof, science, bitch,” I cackled at Sam.

“Whatever,” he huffed in reply.

I turned to Cass, trying to share a victorious grin, but his eyes were on his book again.

It was only later, when I was drunkenly stumbling off to bed, that Sam pulled me aside.  “You can’t be doing that, Dean.”

“What, going to bed?” I asked, trying to make my eyes focus on his disapproving expression.

“Dean,” he groaned, exasperated.

“Hey, man,” I started, ready to get defensive about letting off some steam by just having a few drinks.

“Cass is more sensitive than you think.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, confused.  “What’re we talkin’ ‘bout?”

He sighed loudly, turning into a complete priss.  “Dean, you know how Cass feels about you, so why do you insist on taking advantage of him like that?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” I said, flailing my hands around in a way that was supposed to say ‘hold your horses’.  “Who is taking advantage of Cass?” I protested.

Now Sammy’s eyes were rolling so hard into the back of his head that I could only see the whites of his eyes.

“Ya look like Lilith when you do that…” I commented.

Sam huffed and puffed and shoved his fairy tale princess hair out of his eyes.

“Look, no one here is…” I paused, looking up and down the hall before continuing, “taking advantage of anyone.”

“You are so oblivious.”

“I think you are just mad ’cause I’m totally more attractive than you,” I said, jabbing him in the chest with my finger.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Sam said, pushing my finger away.  “Maybe we can have this conversation when you’re sober.”

“I’m not drunk,” I protested.  I was pretty sure I couldn’t even get drunk anymore.  Though, okay, maybe my head was feeling a little fuzzy at the moment, but I was just tired was all.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam muttered, because apparently I’d said all that out loud.  “Not like you’re any less obtuse sober.”

“Whaddidju call me?” I asked, squinting at him.

“Good night, Dean.”

“Night, loser,” I grumbled after him as he ambled down the hall.  I was ready to escape Sam’s cryptic bullshit and catch some z’s.

The thing was, there was something gnawing at the back of my mind that I couldn’t quite shake, even despite the overwhelming coziness of my memory foam mattress.  I stared up at the dark ceiling, and for some reason Cass’s voice started echoing in my head.

Dean is objectively more attractive.

I passed out as soon as I closed my eyes, feeling strangely warm.

- 2 -

I could smell the coffee brewing as I stumbled into the kitchen the next morning.

“Good morning, Dean.”

I blinked blearily at Cass, grunted something that was probably a greeting, and sat down at the table.

“The coffee is almost ready,” he explained.

“Where’s Sam?” I groaned, rubbing a hand through my hair.

“Out for his run.”

“Ugh.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get in a little exercise,” he pointed out.

I squinted at him for a long while.  “You callin’ me fat?”

Cass just rolled his eyes, walking over to the cupboard and pulling down two mugs.

I rested my arms on the table and buried my face in them, wishing I was back in bed.

The sounds of a coffee cup being placed at my elbow perked me up enough to sit up properly.

Cass sat across from me, already sipping from his own cup.

“You’re an angel,” I informed him, taking the cup in my hands and inhaling deeply.

“And you are a human,” he replied drily.

I ignored the sass and took a big gulp, trying to chase away the previous night’s drinking.  Not that I had a hangover or anything.

“Dean, I hope I wasn’t… inappropriate last night.”

I was starting to feel awake, and my eyes shot up to meet his.  “Huh?”

“I just… you’ve been so gracious in extending your home to me, and I hope that I did not… make you uncomfortable by discussing my… attraction to you,” he said, picking out his words slowly.

“You’re… attracted to me…?” I asked intelligently.

“Dean,” he said in that way of his that conveyed disappointment, exasperation, and a touch of fondness.

“No, I mean…” I trailed off, because we hadn’t really talked about that thing that he said before he got swallowed up by the Empty.

Cass waited, raising his eyebrows at me.

I swallowed and looked down into my coffee.  “I just… I get that you have, ya know, feelings and stuff, but I didn’t think you… I mean you’re kinda junkless and all.”

“I assure you that all my junk is in working order,” he informed me.

I didn’t really know what to do with that information, so I laughed nervously and drank my coffee.  “Yeah?  Then how come you never use it?”

“I’m sorry, have you been monitoring my genitals?” Cass asked.

Coffee came spewing out of my mouth and I hit my chest, coughing a few times to clear the pipes.  “What?” I managed to squeak out.

“I was just wondering why you’re so certain about the amount of use my genitals experience.”

“Cass, man, c’mon, genitals?”

“I apologize, do you prefer ‘penis’?  ‘Dick’?  ‘Wee-wee’?”

I was grinning now, even though my cheeks felt oddly warm.  “Yeah, definitely ‘wee-wee’.”

He gave me an unimpressed look.

I nudged his foot with mine under the table.  “It’s not like you’re goin’ out and gettin’ laid every night.”

There was that raised eyebrow again.

“…are you…?” I tagged on uncertainly.

“I am not,” he affirmed.

“Yeah, see, I didn’t think so,” I said, rolling my eyes.  I knew Cass better than anyone.

“There are other ways to… use one’s junk.”

I froze again before sputtering out a laugh.  “You been spankin’ the monkey?”

“That’s animal abuse, Dean,” he said, but there was a sparkle in his eye.

I shook my head.  “Jesus, now I’ve heard everything.”  I tried not to think too hard about masturbating angels.  “I need more coffee for this.”

Cass rose up, holding out his hand to me.

I blinked, handing him my cup.

He went over to the coffee pot and refilled it.

“You don’t gotta wait on me,” I said, accepting the mug from him.

“I like to,” he said with a shrug.

“Cass...” I trailed off, the coffee slowly re-starting my engine.  “Before, you said... look, you know the bunker is your home, yeah?  I’m not lettin’ you stay here or nothin’, it’s your home as much as it’s mine.”

“I know,” he said.  His eyes met mine, his expression soft.  “I’m just not used to orienting myself to one fixed coordinate in this plane of existence.”

Our gazes were lingering a little too long.  “God, you’re weird,” I muttered so I could look away.  Then I decided to make it even more awkward by asking, “so you really think I’m attractive?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“But like… physically?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Yeah, but… really?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

He just said it with a completely straight face, and I found myself biting my lip.  “Guys don’t wanna be told that they’re beautiful, Cass.”

“Well I do not really care what ‘guys’ want to be told,” he said.  “You’re beautiful, and I can say so if I want to.”

“You’re a real charmer,” I mumbled into my mug.

“I am not trying to… charm you,” he said with a frown.  “I’m simply stating the truth.”

I grinned at that, ignoring the strange feeling in my stomach.  “You got a little game after all.”

“Is that so?” Cass asked, looking pleased.  Then worry started to take over his features again.  “I’m not… making you uncomfortable?”

“Nah,” I replied easily.  “Hard to object to the truth.”

“Indeed.”

“You want some breakfast?” I asked, ready to face the morning now that my second cup of coffee was done.

“That would be nice,” he humored me.  He didn’t need to eat.

“Eggs, toast, and bacon coming right up,” I announced, then winced when standing made my head pound.

“I’ll help,” Cass offered, which was nice and all, but he wasn’t very good in the kitchen.

“You’re on toast duty,” I told him, moving to the fridge to get the other ingredients.

“It would be my honor,” he stated gravely.

I snorted and tossed the loaf of bread to him.  Somehow, mundane things like toasting bread were just better with Cass around.

- 3 -

I was rocking out to AC/DC, waxing Baby in the garage, when Cass suddenly appeared behind me.

“Dean,” he declared urgently.

I startled, then laughed, straightening up.  “Jesus, don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”

“Dean, I cannot find the veggie bacon.”

“Um, okay, sounds like a good thing to me.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.  “Dean.”

“What would you even need that crap for?”

“I wanted to make lunch for Sam.”

“Uh, first of all, why?” I asked.  “And second of all, would he even want to eat anything that you make?”

“So rude,” he huffed at me.  “And for your information, Sam and Eileen have been having a… disagreement.”

“Whoa, whoa, what?  The perfect lovey-dovey-never-have-problems-couple-of-the-year are having a disagreement and Sammy didn’t tell me?”

“Well, you tend to be judgmental,” Cass pointed out.  “Not to mention obnoxious.”

“Wow, Cass, tell me how you really feel,” I muttered.  I decided to get back to work, leaning over the hood to reach the center with the wax.

“I just did,” he pointed out.

I snorted, glancing at him over my shoulder.  “So you think a sandwich with some fake-ass bacon’s gonna cheer him… up…?” I faltered as Cass’s eyes slid down my body and then shot back up to meet my eyes.  “Did you just check out my ass?”

Cass swallowed.  “Yes?”

I kind of didn’t know how to react that, so I went to my go-to coping mechanism, giving my ass a little shake.  “Yeah?  You like that?”

“Yes,” he said more confidently, tugging at his collar.

I cracked up, even as my face was probably flaming red, turning back to focus on the small circles I was rubbing over the hood.  “You could try being more subtle, dude.”

“I apologize,” he said quickly.  “It was… involuntary.”

“What, your eyes are magnets and my ass is the North Pole?”

“That’s ridiculous, Dean,” he gruffed at me.  “Perhaps if you were not bent over your car so provocatively…”

“So now you’re blaming the victim?” I asked, shooting him another look.

Cass looked down, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m just teasin’ you,” I assured him.  “It’s fine, look all you like.”

“Did you just give me permission to… ogle you?”

“If that’s what floats your boat,” I said with a shrug, standing up straighter now as I finished waxing the far part of the hood.  “I mean, apparently I’m so irresistible that you can’t control yourself.”

Cass was quiet.

I went over to get my microfiber cloth and started buffing where I’d waxed.

“Dean, really, I can… I can control myself,” he assured me.

I sighed, pausing in my work.  “It’s fine, Cass.  Don’t worry about it.”

“I worry a lot,” he said softly.

“Hey,” I said, and somehow I was suddenly standing in front of him, resting my hand on his shoulder.  “You and me?  We’re good right now.  Better than we’ve ever been.  We ain’t fightin’ about nothin’, as far as a I know?”

“I am equally unaware of any disputes between us,” he agreed.  He hesitated.  “But I’m making you uncomfortable.”

I thought about it.  “Yeah, kinda.”

He looked crestfallen.

“But it’s not a bad… discomfort…” I rushed forward, trying to get that look off of his face.

“Dean, it is in the very definition of the word-”

“I don’t mind it, okay?” I interrupted him.  “I… I don’t mind it,” I repeated.

He gave me a funny look.

“Look, I ain’t gettin’ any younger, and I think my best days are kinda behind me,” I tried to explain.  “So knowin’ that you’re, ya know, into me or whatever, it’s… kinda… nice…?”

“So I give you an ego boost?” he asked, looking sardonic.

“…yes…?”

“Alright,” he said, relaxing.  “I shall… continue to boost your ego, as long as… you’ll tell me if I cross a line?”

“Yeah, of course, buddy,” I said, patting him on the shoulder again.

He gazed into my eyes, then nodded.  “About the veggie bacon…”

“I fed it to the squirrels.”

“You fed it… to the… squirrels…?”

“Yep.”

“I see.”

“Just use real bacon.  It’ll help Sammy man up.”

“That is not… Dean you are a problematic human being.”

“I try,” I said with a wink.

“You have been most unhelpful,” he said, turning to leave.

“At least you got a free show,” I threw over my shoulder as I crouched down by the car to start waxing again.

“Yes, the displaying of your hindquarters was certainly illuminating,” he agreed, pushing the door open.  “I would assess that they are in excellent condition for riding.”

I sputtered at that, not really sure if I was being insulted or hit on, but feeling oddly pleased.

- 4 -

It had been a couple of weeks since we’d gotten hammered the last time, so I dragged Sammy and Cass out to my favorite dive bar just outside of Lebanon.

I didn’t tend to shit where I ate, so I avoided hustling pool there, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t still get a few friendly games in.

Also, playing pool with Cass was hilarious.

“Dean, I seem to have hit the incorrect ball again.”

I knew that he was playing dumb, but I tried not to think about it too much.  It was like going to Disneyland and obsessing over Mickey Mouse being some 26-year-old theater nerd who still lived with his parents.  Gotta keep your sense of magic somehow.

“Cass, you’re stripes, man,” I said, clucking my tongue as I moved around the table, figuring out my next shot.

“I will try to remember that,” he assured me.

Of course, on his next turn, he completely whiffed it.

“I just cannot seem to be able to handle a stick,” he said, blinking up at me innocently.

“Cass, c’mon,” I said, shaking my head at him.

He blinked some more.

“You need me to… help you handle your stick?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“That would be very helpful, Dean.”

I continued to shake my head, even as I was coming up beside Cass at the table, leaning in closer and guiding his hand into the correct position on the cue.

“This is very helpful,” Cass assured me.

“Mm-hm.”

“Oh, yes, I think I understand how to handle my stick now.”

“You’re killin’ me, here,” I said, because Cass and double entendres were not two things I thought would ever intersect in my life.  Also, I knew he wanted me to laugh, and I wanted to laugh, so I did.  “C’mon, take this seriously.”

“I’m taking this very seriously,” he told me, leaning his hip into mine.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I’d given him permission to ogle, not to flirt, but then I immediately shut it because if I said that out loud, then he’d stop.  And maybe I didn’t want him to stop.

Cass smiled at me easily, his hip warm against mine.

I didn’t mind.  I liked Cass happy.  If this made Cass happy, then I was going to keep Cass happy.  “You gonna start hitting the ball right?” I asked. resting a hand on his waist while my other hand lingered over his on the cue.

“If you show me how to do it properly,” he agreed.

“Okay, you wanna pull it back like this,” I said, guiding him, “and then you take your shot like this.”

“Ohhh, I see,” Cass said, moving with me to sink the 11 ball easily into the pocket.

“See, easy peasy,” I said, my hand still lingering on his waist.  I drew it away slowly as I moved out of his personal space.

“Indeed,” he agreed, jumping the 13 ball over the 8 ball to send it straight into the side pocket.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“I had a good teacher,” he informed me, going on to sink the next ball, and the next, before declaring, “8-ball, corner pocket,” and pocketing it easily.

“I think you’ve been hustled, sweetheart,” an older woman sitting at a nearby table hooted at me.

“Don’t I know it,” I said, shooting her a wink.  “Okay, Cass, double or nothing.”

“We weren’t betting anything, so double of nothing is in fact nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, help me rack.”

He looked very pleased with himself as he pulled the balls out of the pockets and helped put them in the rack.  “It’s a game of math.”

“Mm-hm,” I agreed, lining up the rack on the foot spot.

“I’m very good at math.”

“Ya sure are.  This time’s my break, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Great, and no more slop, okay?  Call shots only,” I said, pulling my cue back to break.

“Are we feeding pigs?” Cass asked, squinting at me.

“You gotta say which pocket you’re aimin’ for,” I explained.  “Slop’s when ya just, ya know, lazily hit the balls wherever.”

“I was hardly-”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, executing a picture-perfect break.  “I’m solids again.”

Cass’s head tilted to the side.

I winked at him and called my first shot.  And the next and the next, effortlessly making the difficult shots I was calling.  I felt a strange attack of nerves when I called the 8-ball, realizing that I was showing off and that I didn’t want to screw it up at the very end, but nerves have always worked for me, and I still pulled off the shot, sweaty palms and all.

For getting his ass completely handed to him, Cass looked weirdly happy.

“That’s what you call a break and run,” I said, throwing a companionable arm around his shoulder and directing him towards the bar.

“It was very impressive,” he assured me.

“Only way I can beat the giant math nerd.”

“Not bad, honey,” the older woman complimented me as we walked by.

“Can’t hustle a hustler,” I told her with a grin.

Sammy was at the bar, engrossed in conversation with two guys who were actually wearing pocket protectors in a friggin’ bar.

“Next round’s on Sammy,” I declared loudly, slapping my hands down on the bar next to him.

“Dude,” he said, giving me an annoyed look.

“You’re the one who ditched us,” I said with a shrug, “so you gotta buy the drinks.”

“Oh, right, I ditched you,” he muttered, being the sassy bitch we all loved to hate, but then he motioned to the bartender.  “Two more for them.”

“Thank you Sam,” Cass said, always the bastion of politeness.

“No problem,” he replied with a nod before turning back to his dorky pals.

I frowned at his back, then turned to Cass.

“Here ya go, gents,” the bartender said, sliding our beers over to us.

I nodded at her and immediately took a very long drink.  “Oh, yeah, that hits the spot.”

“The froth is an interesting… texture,” Cass decided.

“Yeah, yeah, beer doesn’t do anything for you.”

“I still enjoy the experience of drinking it together with you,” he said with overwhelming sincerity.

“Dork,” I muttered, even as I was smiling into my glass.  “So on a scale of 1 to 10, how hot was me trouncing you at pool?”

“At least an 11,” he said with an amused look.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, it was almost as hot as me trouncing you at pool.”

“Oh, so you were at like a 12?” I asked with a snort.

“You tell me,” he hummed, eyes meeting mine evenly.

I swallowed.  “Uh, yeah, totally a 12, Cass.  Babe of the year,” I squeaked out, my sarcasm not quite having the effect I wanted.  “Hey, you about ready to head home?”

“Whenever you’re ready, Dean,” he assured me.

I swallowed again.

Whenever I was ready.

- 5 -

“Thanks for making me your third wheel last night,” Sam grumbled at me as he came into the kitchen the next morning.

“Who was a third wheel?” I asked incredulously.

“Me,” he declared, pulling down a mug and bringing it over to the coffee pot.  “If you wanna take Cass on a date, just man up and ask instead of dragging me along as cover.”

“Shut up,” I growled at him.  “You were the one on the man date with your little nerd friends.”

“Daryl and Tony are cool guys,” Sam said, leaning against the counter and sipping his coffee.

“You guys gonna play Dungeon and Dragons in Tony’s Mom’s basement next time?”

“Maybe,” he declared as he shook his princess hair out of his eyes.  “You gonna be the Dungeon Master?”

“Dork.”

Sam shrugged off of the counter and headed out of the kitchen.

He was so annoying sometimes.

It was a little while later that Cass came in, giving me that bright smile that had somehow started looking natural on his face lately.

“Good morning, Dean.”

“Mornin’,” I greeted him.  I could feel my own mouth creeping up into a smile.

It was infectious, dammit.

“Did you sleep well?” he inquired, pouring his coffee and coming over to sit next to me.

“Alright, I guess.”

I felt Cass’s knee nudge against mine.

I let it stay there.  “You have fun last night?”

“I did,” he said, looking pleased.

“Me, too,” I said, and there was that stupid smile creeping across my face again.

“It’s always enjoyable to spend time with you,” he admitted.  “However, I feel that we may not have done a very good job of cheering Sam up about his tiff with Eileen.”

“Is that why we went out?”

“I believe that is the excuse you used, yes.”

“Huh.”

“But then we… ‘ditched’ Sam.”

“He ditched us for those two weirdos.”

“Dean, he did not strike up conversation with those two gentlemen until after we left him at the bar to engage in a round of billiards.”

“Whatever,” I groaned.

“It’s not ‘whatever’,” Cass said with a frown.  “Your communication with Sam lately has not been very good.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Phil, do we need to sit in a circle and talk about our feelings?”

“Sarcasm is not necessary.  I’m just worried.”

“Well don’t be.”

Cass sighed, his leg still pressed snug to mine, and at some point his hand had settled on my knee.

Now that I’d noticed it, I kinda couldn’t un-notice it, but it’d be weird if I brought it up out of the blue, right?

Cass gave me one of his damn head tilts.  “You’re tensing up.”

“It’s nothing,” I told him through gritted teeth.  “Drink your coffee.”

“I will drink it at the pace that I desire,” he said with a frown.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“Your attitude is not appreciated.”

“You gonna do something about it?” I asked with a snort, picking up my coffee mug.

He straight up just pinched me on the thigh.

“Jesus!” I hissed, spilling coffee all over the table.

“I think I’ll have my coffee now,” Cass hummed, looking pleased with himself.  He lifted up his mug and took a long drink.

I gaped at him.

Cass drained his cup and clunked it down on the table with a satisfied grunt.

“What crawled up your ass?!” I growled.

“Clearly nothing,” he said, giving me a pointed look.

I did not understand what was going on, and I’d only just realized that when Cass pinched me, his hand had move from my knee to my thigh, and was somehow just resting there like that was where it belonged.  “You’re a real piece of work today,” I muttered, looking into the dregs of my cup.  What else was there to do when obviously Cass had lost his mind.

Sam cleared his throat, coming back into the kitchen.

How long had he been standing in the doorway?

“Thought you went for your run, nature boy,” I said, grasping for any conversational straw I could find.

“Forgot my water,” he said, grabbing his water bottle and taking it to the sink to fill it.  When he finished, he turned around to face us again, then frowned.  “What’s all over the table?”

I blinked down at the spilled coffee.  “Oh, uh, Cass made a mess.”

“It was Dean,” Cass rebutted.

“Yeah, but you’re the one who-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Sam said, and with that he just left.

“Who pissed in his cornflakes?” I complained, reluctantly getting up.

Cass’s hand slid down my thigh, and then it was gone.

Good.  Who wanted awkward touching with their best friend?

I got a towel and wiped off the table, returning everything back to normal.

- 6 -

“You ready to go already?” I complained at Sam.

He held up a finger, then turned his back on me, returning to his hushed phone conversation.

“You know that cell phones are this futuristic device that you can actually bring in the car and continue your conversation as though you never left home,” I pointed out.  Jody had called us to Sioux Falls for a haunting, and I was anxious to get on the road.  We hadn’t taken a case in a while.

“I think he would like some privacy,” Cass pointed out.

“Is this like when Sammy hit puberty and discovered the wonders of jerkin’ the gherkin?”

“No, Dean, this is not like that,” Cass said with a shake of his head.

“Well are you at least ready to go?” I asked, resting my arms on the roof of the car so I could look at Cass standing on the other side.

“Seeing as how I do not need to change my clothing or participate in any human bathing rituals, yes, I believe I am ready,” he said, holding up his empty hands.

“You get shotgun then,” I said, sliding the driver’s side door open and getting behind the wheel.

“I do?”

“Yep.”

Cass seemed pleased as he took the seat next to me.

I rolled down the window.  “C’mon already, we’re gonna leave without you.”

Sam made a stupid face at me and continued talking.

I started backing the car up.

He didn’t even bat an eyelash.  The damn smarmy bastard knew I wasn’t going to leave without him.

Hunting was him and me.

And sometimes Cass.

And this time Claire and Jody.

And possibly Patience and Kaia?

But hunting really came down to me and Sammy.

Mostly.

So I waited, while still giving him as much shit as possible, until he finally came over to the car.

He tossed his bag in the trunk and went to get in on the passenger side, only to stop when he saw Cass.

“Get a move on, Sasquatch,” I said.

Sam rolled his eyes at me and got in the back.

“Finally,” I groaned, pulling out and letting my baby purr.

“Were you able to work things out?” Cass asked, glancing back at Sam.

“It’s not that simple, Cass,” he replied.

“Or perhaps humans make things too complicated.”

Sam rubbed his face with his hand.  “We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Cass agreed.

“Sammy’s still not getting’ any?” I decided to contribute.

Sam sighed loudly from the back.

“Dean, while it is not in your nature, it would be helpful to show more sensitivity to your brother’s situation,” Cass scolded me.

“I’m totally sympathetic, man,” I protested.  “Not getting laid is no joke.”

“It must be difficult for you as well, then,” he commented.

“I get laid,” I said, offended  “Ain’t nobody gotta worry about me.”

“I’m a little worried,” Cass confessed.

“Excuse you?”

“Well, every time we go out to a bar lately, you always spend all your time with me instead of finding a female companion to have intercourse with.”

“‘Intercourse’?” I mouthed at Sam in the rearview mirror, but he just rolled his eyes at me, still looking sulky.

“Dean, has your recent high alcohol consumption perhaps negatively affected your sex drive?” Cass inquired.

“Dude, no,” I scoffed at him.  “Nothin’ wrong with nothin’, all systems are ready to go.”

“So why haven’t you found a partner?” he persisted.

“Ain’t you gonna get jealous if I ditch you for some chick?”

“Yes, obviously,” he said.  “But I’m used to it.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my eyes sliding to him and then quickly back to the road.  “You the jealous type?”

“Yes,” he rumbled in that ridiculously deep voice of his.  “It seems I am.”

I could feel his eyes on me, and suddenly my mouth was dry.  “Oh.”

He was studying my face carefully now.  “Does it bother you?”

“Nah,” I said, trying to sound casual and probably failing miserably.  It was just such a strange thing to think about, Cass being jealous of the women I picked up.  Because he wanted to…

I swallowed loudly.

“You promised me you would tell me if I ‘cross’ a line,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I will,” I said with a nod.  I flicked my eyes to meet his briefly, flashing him a reassuring smile.

Cass’s expression was soft, his eyes crinkling with warmth.

It was a nice expression.

I bit my lip, looking ahead at the road again.

“Get a room,” Sam muttered from the back.

I’d forgotten he was there and it freaked me out for a second, but a quick glance in the rearview mirror told me that he had his face buried in his phone and was barely paying attention to us.

It was just him being an annoying little brother.

It didn’t mean anything.

- 7 -

Jody’s house was… loud.

“Or maybe you’re just gettin’ old, kiddo,” Jody informed me with a snort.

“Does anyone wanna hear that Billie Eilish mumblin’ after they been diggin’ up graves all night?” I complained.

“You claim to not like it, and yet you know so much about it,” Claire hummed, grabbing another beer out of the fridge and moving back towards the living room.

I rolled my eyes.  “Know who Celine Dion is, doesn’t mean I wanna listen to her secretly in my headphones like Sammy’s always doin’.”

“The lady doth protesteth too much,” she declared, disappearing back into the noise.

“I am neither a lady nor protesteth-ing,” I muttered.

“Did Claire just make a Shakespeare reference?” Jody asked with a squint.

“She does actually read,” I pointed out.  “Though the quote was kinda off…”

Jody sighed.

I knew that sigh.  It was the ‘I wish Claire would go back to school’ sigh, and it always gave me complicated feelings.

Patience came into the kitchen before I had to think too much about it, flicking her eyes over the two of us before asking, “are you two going to stay in here all night?”

“Preferably,” I said.

“Someone’s gotta keep our guest company,” Jody said, like she actually wanted to go in that living room and drink Smirnoff ices with a bunch of 20-somethings and Sam while listening to chick music.

Patience gave a live-and-let-live shrug and went back to the living room.

“So,” Jody said, and suddenly I realized that ‘I wish Claire would go back to school’ look was directed at me, which made no sense unless, “ever start to think you’re getting a little too old for grave digging?”

“You’re the one who called us in,” I pointed out.

“It was an easy enough salt-and-burn.”

“Yeah, easy after digging up three wrong graves,” I groaned, rubbing my shoulder.  Everything ached.  “You sayin’ you called us out on a case to tell us we’re too old to be takin’ cases?”

“Just starting a conversation,” she said.  “Sam and Eileen…”

“What about them?” I muttered, peeling at the label on my beer.

“Seems like maybe living in an underground bunker with the brother-in-law might not be their ideal future together,” she said, leaning back in her chair and trying to catch my eye.

I continued to shred the label.  “It’s a free country.”

She sighed, loud and knowing, but whatever she wanted to say was cut off by Cass appearing beside me.

“I was able to remove the evidence from the police locker, so they will not be pursuing Claire,” he said.

“Thanks, Cass,” Jody said with a nod.

“Of course,” he said solemnly.

“Man of the hour,” I announced, slapping him on the back.  “C’mon, sit down and take a load off.”

“I have not bore any load,” he said, but he sat down next to me anyway.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” I offered.

“Whatever you are drinking.”

I got up and went over to the fridge, grabbing two beers since mine was almost done.  I passed one bottle to Cass as I sat back down and we did a little cheers before popping open the bottles and taking a drink.

Jody was looking at me, her brow furrowed.

“Got somethin’ on my face?” I asked with a snort.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said.

I definitely minded, but Cass decided to take that moment to wax poetic about the cruelty-free vegan chapstick that was sitting on the table.

I found myself sinking more comfortably into my chair, all the sharp edges of the day blunting pleasantly.  I finished my beer, and Cass got up to get me another one, and one for Jody as well.

“Here you are,” he said, his hand lingering on the bottle after he passed it to me, our fingers nestled together.

I mean…

“Thanks,” I said, pulling the bottle out of his hold and pretending that we hadn’t basically been holding hands.

“My pleasure.”

My eye twitched at that.

“Huh,” Jody mused.

“Huh what?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Nothin’, just thinking,” she said breezily.

“About?” I prompted.

“Vegan chapstick,” she said, eyes flicking between me and Cass.

“Whatever,” I mumbled, slouching back into my chair and attempting to get my mellow vibe back.

“We have to think about the bees,” Cass stated solemnly.

I bit my lip, trying to stop the easy grin from spreading across my face and failing.

But Cass grinned back at me, and that didn’t seem so bad.

- 8 -

Apparently partying with adolescent girls was hard, because Sammy was still passed out on the couch, snoring away, when I woke up the next morning.

“Got your four hours?” Jody asked with a raised eyebrow when I plodded into the kitchen.

“Four and a half, I slept in.”

Jody shook her head, pulling down another mug from the cupboard and filling it with coffee.

“You’re an angel,” I told her, accepting the mug gratefully.

“An angel, huh?”

I wasn’t awake enough to deal with her judgement, so I drank my coffee instead.

“Dean…”

“It’s too damn early for that tone.”

“And what tone would that be?’

“The ‘I gotta teach you a life lesson’ tone.”

Jody snorted at that.  “Really?  There’s a tone for that?”

“Yep.”

“Well, then guess I better teach you a life lesson,” she said.  “There’s more to life than hunting.”

“Wow, really?” I fake marveled.  “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she scolded me, kicking the leg of my chair.

“It’s what I do,” I said with a shrug.

“Dean.”

“Whaddya want from me, Jods?”

“I want to have an honest conversation without all your little deflections.”

I opened my mouth and then shut it because I didn’t want to prove her right by deflecting again.

She looked at me, really looked at me.  “I’m not gonna waste my breath even suggesting you get out of the life.  You and me, we don’t… we can’t pretend we don’t know what goes bump in the night.  But that doesn’t mean you can’t have more.”

“I tried the whole white picket fence thing,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’m not saying… look, your life is your own Dean,” she pushed forward.  “It’s not your mother’s or your father’s or even Sam’s, it’s yours.  You don’t have to live your life for anyone else, you don’t have to live according to anyone else’s expectations.  The white picket fence didn’t work for you, then maybe you don’t need a white picket fence.  But that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing else out there.  I never thought I’d have kids again after,” she hesitated, tripping over the words, “Owen.  Never dreamed it.  Now here I am with a house full of ‘em.  And I’m happy, Dean.  I’m at peace.  And sometimes I take a case, and a lot of times my girls take a case, and we’re always gonna be in the life, but we have something more than that.”

“I’ve got Sammy.”

“Dean.”

I didn’t know how she could put so much disappointment into my name, but there it was.  “Why can’t that be good enough?” I challenged her.

“Because you’re not happy,” she said.  “Because you’re just waiting for a case to come along that ends it all.”

I clenched my jaw.

“I’m not gonna sit back quietly and wait for you to destroy yourself.”

I looked away from her, my eyes stinging.  It was too damn early for this existential bullshit.  “I’m fine, Jody,” I gritted out.

“No, you’re not,” she said, leaning forward and trying to catch my eye.  “Hunting isn’t all you are.  You don’t have to get married or have kids if that’s not what you’re looking for.  You could start selling those amazing pies you’ve been baking.  You could open a junkyard and fix cars all day.  You could volunteer for Big Brothers and help out some struggling kids.  You have so much to offer this world.”

“Okay,” I said, hoping that would get her to stop talking.

“We’re all worried,” she said softly.

“I get it,” I muttered.

“I wish you did,” she said, shaking her head sadly.  “I wish you could see how exceptional you are.”

I scoffed at that.

Jody grabbed me by the ear.

“Ow, Jesus.”

“You’re exceptional, but you’re also a little shit.”

I couldn’t help but crack a grin up at her.

She sighed loudly and let go of my ear.  “At least Cass puts a little sense into you,” she muttered.

“Is that what he puts in him?” Claire asked from where she was leaning against the door frame.

I froze.

Why did she say that?

“Claire,” Jody groaned, directing all her mom-attitude at Claire instead of me.

“You save any coffee for me?” she asked, flouncing into the kitchen and ignoring Jody’s disapproval with an awakeness only possible with youth.

Jody was still frowning at her but nodded her head towards the coffee maker.  “I’ll get some eggs goin’ in a sec.”

“Great,” she said, taking the last of the coffee and shuffling out of the kitchen.

Jody turned her gaze back on me, her brow scrunching up.

I was perfectly fine and I didn’t need her concern.  And Claire was just making a stupid joke and I certainly wasn’t bothered by that at all, because why would I care that she just implied, “Cass and me aren’t…”

Her brow scrunched up even more, before her expression softened in understanding.

That was almost worse.

“Whatever you and Cass are is your business.”

“Yeah, but we’re not…” I trailed off, not even wanting to say it out loud.  “We’re best friends,” I settled on.  “Family,” I added.

“I’m glad he’s back,” she said, letting me off the hook as she pulled the eggs from the fridge.

“Yeah,” I agreed, relaxing a little.  “I missed the little nerd when he was gone.”

“You two are better together,” Jody commented offhandedly.  She started cracking the eggs over a bowl, then paused.  “How many are you and Sam gonna eat?”

“Feedin’ that Sasquatch?” I said with a shake of my head.  “At least two, more if he’s not on one of his hippie ‘I’m a fake vegan’ kicks.”

“How are you two related?” she murmured, going back to cracking eggs.

“Pretty sure Sammy was switched at birth,” I confided in her.

“That is biologically impossible,” Cass commented, appearing beside me.

Jody startled, smashing an egg too hard and clearly getting shell in the bowl.

“Apologies,” Cass said quickly.

“Okay, but have you looked at us?” I continued.  “I mean… do we look related?”

“You are both the true vessels of archangels,” he said with a frown.  “How many bloodlines do you think-”

“But I’m sayin’, do we look alike?” I interrupted him, not wanting to listen to logic.  “I mean, he’s so freakishly tall.  And that hair!”

“You take after Mary,” Cass said, squinting at me.  “Sam takes after your father.”

“But is it the same father?!”

Cass rolled his eyes, and I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face.

Jody saw.

Jody knew.

Whatever.

Cass was my best friend, and being around him made me happy.

Period, end of story.

[isolavirtuosa]

John 14:2 and Shit

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant, starts from after Despair

The one where Cass prepares a place.

A long-ass one-shot in 13 short parts.

John 14:2 and Shit

Isola Virtuosa

- 1 -

All I knew was relentless agony through an endless passage of time, until suddenly it stopped.

I tried to open my eyes, but there was only darkness.  The pain was still there, but it was different now, as though things were being put back together rather than being torn apart.

Something gentle and warm enveloped me, and I drifted peacefully despite the agony my form was enduring.

Time moved forward, and the suffering abated.

I opened the eyes of my vessel as my form filled it.

“There you are.”

I blinked the eyes several times, slowly feeling them become mine.  Light filtered in through the window of an unfamiliar cabin.  I sat up, feeling blankets pool in my lap.

Jack stood by the window, looking pleased.

“You pulled me out of the Empty,” I observed.  “Again.”

“Yes,” he said with a nod.  It lacked his usual… boyishness.  There was a maturity to Jack that hadn’t been there before.

“You… Amara…?” I trailed off uncertainly at the sight of the Darkness twining with his grace.

“Yes, she is here with me.”

“You found another way.”

“We found another way,” he assured me, his face breaking into that familiar earnest smile.

“Chuck?” I asked, the mess that I’d left behind suddenly all rushing back to me.

“Mortal.”

“M…ortal…?” I repeated.

“Yes, I took his powers,” he explained.

“You took God’s powers?” I asked, my head tilting to the side.  “And merged with the Darkness?”

“Yes, that is what happened.”

I pushed the bedclothes aside, rising up and stumbling slightly in my haste to wrap Jack in an embrace.

“Father,” he said softly, arms encircling me as his chin rested on my shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you,” I breathed out, holding him tightly.

Jack sucked in a deep breath.  His frame seemed to tremble.

“So, so proud of you,” I repeated.  I remembered the vision that Jack had shown me when he was still in Kelly’s womb.

Paradise.

“You made me whole again,” I said as we pulled apart, clapping my hand on his shoulder.  “My vessel, my true form, my wings…” I murmured, feeling them stretch out behind me.  “You didn’t have to-”

“I had to.”

I squeezed his shoulder, overwhelmed.  “Thank you.”

“You deserve to be whole.”

I swallowed, hesitated.  “Dean?”

He looked at me knowingly.  “He’s on a hunt with Sam in Gardner, Massachusetts.”

A tension I hadn’t realized that my body had been holding in released.  I tested my wings, ready to take my first flight in a long time.

“Cass,” Jack said, and for the first time since he had brought me back he sounded uncertain.  “I don’t think you should go to them.”

I suddenly realized, “Dean doesn’t want to see me?”

“What?” he asked, looking confused for just a moment before that all-knowing look settled back on his face.  “No, he very much would want to see you.”

“Then why-”

“Rowena and I have reached an agreement.”

“Rowena?” I repeated, it taking far longer than it should to remember that she was now the Queen of Hell.

“There will be no more interference on Earth from Heaven and Hell,” he explained.  “Our only interaction with humans will be after they die and their souls arrive in our respective domains.”

“But that would mean that you will not see Sam and Dean-”

“I will see them when they come to Heaven.”

“But-”

“A human life is a blink of an eye to us.”

“That’s not…” I trailed off, trying to understand this marble statue standing in front of me.  “Sam and Dean, they raised you.”

“And I am grateful to them,” Jack said calmly.  “The best way to show that gratitude is to keep angels and demons out of their lives and let them continue their human existence unfettered.”

“You are not a fetter for them!” I cried, growing more impassioned.  “They would rather have you in their lives than this… ‘deal’.”

“I’m sure they would,” he agreed.  “But is that what would be best for them?”

“We’re family.”

“We are.”

“Family should be together.”

“We will be.”

“But…” I trailed off, frustrated.

“Cass, I’m not telling you what to do,” he said with a shrug.  “You have free will.  If you want to go to Dean, then you can go to Dean.”  He didn’t bother mentioning Sam.

I felt the blood rush to my vessel’s cheeks.

“I am telling you that while you both may find temporary happiness, in the long run your return will do more harm than good.”

“I would never harm-”

“Losing you again would destroy him.”

“How would he lose-”

“You can make your own decisions,” Jack said, and now he was the one putting his hand on my shoulder.  “I trust you.  I hope that you will see things my way, and if you do, I have a job for you.  Think about it as long as you’d like.”

And then he was gone, and I was alone in a cabin somewhere in heaven.

Except I wasn’t alone.

- 2 -

I left the room, heading down the stairs.

“You’re finally awake.”

I looked at Bobby, the Winchester’s Bobby, our Bobby, and I couldn’t stop the smile that lit up my face.

“Are we gonna hafta hug?” he asked, giving me an incredibly miffed expression.

“Yes,” I informed him, wrapping my arms around him.

He patted my back twice, signaling that the hug was over.

“It’s been too long,” I told him.

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” he grumbled at me.  “Leavin’ me in this god-forsaken Groundhog Day.”

“Billy Murray was here?” I asked, squinting.  Dean liked Bill Murray.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Bobby muttered, shuffling over to the front door.  “So did you talk to the kid?  You’re on board?”

I refrained from asking if we were on a ship, because I had changed a lot more than I was being given credit for.  “Do you mean Jack?  He mentioned he had a job for me, but he didn’t enumerate the particulars.”

“Guess you did just wake up from bein’, ya know, deconstructed an’ put back together,” he mused.  “The kid probably didn’t want to overwhelm ya.”  As he spoke, he pushed the door open.

I squinted at the abundance of nature that greeted my eyes.

And then it clicked into place.

“This isn’t your heaven,” I said slowly.

“Guess your noggin’ didn’t get mixed up too bad in the reassembly.”

I took a step towards the door, gazing out at the trees and the sky.  Then I reached out to touch the frame of the door.  “Did you... build this?”

“With my own two hands,” he said with a satisfied nod.

“Jack, he gave you this land, and he let you... create new memories?” I asked, trying to puzzle it out.

“That’s one way a puttin’ it,” Bobby agreed.  “Started asking me who I want my new neighbors to be.”

“He’s knocking down the walls,” I marveled, moved by the ingenuity of it.  “It would be... family.  Together.  Real family, no more ‘Stepford bitches’ in paradise.”

“That’s the plan,” Bobby said.  “He’s got a good head on his shoulders, Jack.  And a good heart.”

“I think he gets that from Sam,” I said with a pleased smile.

Bobby looked at me for a long moment before speaking.  “I’d say he’s the spitting image of you, Cass.”

“You think so?”

“He definitely gets all that freaky staring stuff from you,” he said agreeably.

“Well, that’s a relief, that the freaky staring stuff trait has passed on down the family line,” I murmured in my most sarcastic tone.

Bobby snorted at that.  “So, whaddya think?”

“I think I need to talk to Jack.”

- 3 -

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jack asked, gesturing around the sloping valley as we walked.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed, taking in the sight.

“I think Dean will like it here,” he said, almost too casually.

I froze.

Jack just continued walking forward.  “I was thinking that Mary and her husband could build their home a little down the way from Bobby’s.”

“…why did you mention Dean?” I asked, still not moving.  Dean had many long, long years to live on earth.

He paused, gazing up at the sky.  “I told you before that I have a job for you.”

“Yes.”

He looked over his shoulder at me.  “I want you to prepare a place for Dean.”

I gazed at him.

Jack just smiled and turned, walking forward again.

“My job would be to prepare a place… for Dean…” I trailed off, picking up my pace to catch up with him.

“Correct, those are the words I used.”

“Jack?”

“Yes?” he hummed, still striding forward.

“I don’t understand,” I finally admitted.

“I think you do,” he said in that vaguely reminiscent of know-it-all Chuck way that he’d been speaking in since he brought me back.

“In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

“Am I… Jesus in this scenario?”

Jack snorted at that.  “I would prefer you be Cass.”

“That would be best,” I assented.  “I’m just… I’m wondering if this is really the best way for me to be serving Heaven right now.  Preparing a place for one man.”

“If that’s how you feel,” Jack said with a shrug.

I stared at him.

He continued looking forward.

I wasn’t sure that I liked this new dynamic; the power differential between us was discomfiting.  I felt like I was seeking his approval, and I was not receiving it.  “Am I missing something?” I asked uncertainly.

“Perhaps,” he said, “or perhaps my plan is not as perfect as I conceived it to be.  But that’s why I need you, Cass.  That’s why I need Bobby.  I don’t want to make unilateral decisions.  I don’t want to decide what is best for others.  I want them to decide for themselves.”

This man in front of me, this God, he was still Jack.  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, overwhelmed with pride.

I trusted Jack.

He gave me a relieved smile when I asked him to tell me more.

“I need a guide for the souls to bring them to the new heaven,” he explained, “and an architect to expand this place.”

“That sounds like a Herculean task,” I said, though of course I was ready to take it up.  “But…” I started and hesitated.  I didn’t mean to have a ‘one-track mind’ but, I had to ask, “you specified that I should prepare a place for… for Dean.”

“Yes, I think that will give you the most sense of purpose and fulfillment,” he agreed.

I flushed at that.

“Fill this heaven with Dean’s loved ones,” he said.  “Build him a home where he can finally rest.  That’s the job that I want you to do.”

He hadn’t asked a question, but all I could do was say, “yes.”

So I began to prepare a place for Dean.

The whole idea of it felt self-serving, and yet as I began to lead souls into the new heaven, despite my selfish motivations, I knew that I was doing good.

Mary and John moved down the street from Bobby, and the Harvelles started building the roadhouse.  It seemed like everything was proceeding smoothly.

I worked on Dean’s place whenever I had a spare moment.  And if I on occasion drifted down to earth, silent and invisible, to examine Dean’s current setting and see what he would most require in his eternal home, well, as Dean often said, ‘sometimes shit just happens.’

I didn’t interfere.

I had years of experience looking and not touching, so what was a few more years of separation?

Except that’s when Dean started ‘drunk dialing’ me.

- 3 -

“Cass, you son of a bitch.”

I tried to ignore it.

“You stupid bastard.”

Truly, I did.

“Why aren’t you here, you asshole?”

I could ignore the besmirching of my name, but the way his voice caught at the end of that last question, almost as if he were near tears…

I was in his room in an instant, standing by the bed while Dean sulked into his bottle of whiskey, taking another mournful gulp.

“You just say whatever the hell you want and leave, you just leave like everyone else,” he accused the air in front of him, jabbing his finger into it while whiskey sloshed around in the bottle.

I breathed out shakily, still staying out of his sight.

“It’s not fair!” he yelled, then threw the bottle into the wall.

I flinched as glass shattered around me.  I took a step towards Dean, who now had his face in his hands.

There was a knock on the door.

I took a step back.

“I’m fine!” Dean growled at the door.

“Yeah, of course you are,” Sam replied, sarcasm dripping into the room.  “Miracle’s out here whining for you, man.  You gonna let him in?”

“Shit,” Dean muttered, wiping his mouth with his hand before standing up.  “Look, I uh… I gotta clean something up, don’t let him in yet.”

Sam made an annoyed sound but didn’t attempt to open the door.

Dean came up with a dustbuster under his bed and quickly used it to suck up the smaller glass shards, tossing the large ones into the garbage.  “All right, let the needy bastard in,” he finally announced, sitting back down on the bed.

The door cracked open and an oversized mop came bounding into the room.

Dean’s entire face lit up as the creature put it’s large paws on his legs, licking his face enthusiastically.  “Easy, boy, you’re gonna hafta buy me dinner first.”

Sam peered into the room, looking relieved.  “You good?”

“You know me,” Dean replied noncommittally, then rubbed his nose into Miracle’s.  “Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy?”

“Maybe you should buy him dinner first,” Sam jabbed at him.

“Hilarious,” Dean said with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, well, good night.”

“Night, bitch.”

Sam shook his head and closed the door.

Dean’s expression fell, but then the dog hopped up on the bed, whimpering and nudging Dean’s face with his own.  “I know, buddy,” he agreed, though the dog had not spoken any human words with which to agree.  “Just goin’ through a rough patch,” he said, giving the dog a thorough pet before pushing the covers aside and climbing into bed.

Miracle settled beside him, lying on top of the covers and continuing to give Dean’s face occasional licks.

Dean’s heart settled, and he drifted off to sleep.

So I didn’t interfere.

- 4 -

The New Heaven was something to be proud of.  I felt it with every soul that I reunited with a loved one.  Things were truly coming together, despite all the… distractions.

“Cass, you out there somewhere?  Miss ya, buddy.”

I dropped the vinyl copy of Led Zeppelin IV that I had been about to put on the shelf with the other records.

“Something wrong?” Mary asked.  She was supposed to be helping me organize Dean’s record collection in his unfinished home, but instead she had been pulling records off the shelf and putting them in the player, dancing around and lip syncing to every song.

I would have been annoyed if I didn’t find it so endearing.  I had a weakness for Winchesters and their antics.  “No, it’s nothing.”

“You’re lookin’ pretty tense there, Castiel,” she pointed out.

I sighed, picking the album up and locating it’s proper location in ‘Dean order’ which was a kind of filing system based on ‘whatever rocks the hardest goes first’.  “Dean is praying to me.”

Her expression softened at that.  “He still prays to you?”

“Yes, fairly often,” I explained.  “Usually when he is intoxicated.”

“That’s my boy,” she said with a rueful shake of her head.

“Why don’t you ever answer me, you bastard?”

“It’s… nice to hear his voice,” I decided.

Mary smiled fondly.  “Is he cursing you out?”

“How did you guess?” I asked drily.

“I know how you two look when you fight.”

“We’re not… fighting…” I trailed off, squinting at her.  “He’s just… he’s so angry.”

“He’ll be at peace soon,” she said, lifting the needle and changing the record.

“Not too soon,” I said with a frown.

The look she gave me then was almost pitying.

“Mary?”

“I used to sing this to Dean when he was a baby,” she said, leaning her head back as she sang along, “na na na nananana.”

“He told me that once,” I said, smiling at the memory before the corners of my mouth fell again.

“Why does everyone leave me?” Dean was whispering in my ear, the alcohol infusing his every word.  “I need you here.  I need you to stay.  I need you, Cass, goddammit, I need you, why aren’t you here?!”

Mary’s hand was suddenly on my shoulder, steadying in its warmth.  “He’s going to be okay,” she assured me.

“How do you know?”

“A mother always knows.”

“That does not have any factual basis,” I said, shaking my head.

She laughed, patting my shoulder before taking away her hand.  “And yet it’s true.”

- 5 -

“Where’d you go?” Jo complained, shoving another shot towards me across the bar.

I shook my head, bringing myself back to Harvelle’s.  “Dean,” I explained, which wasn’t actually a very good explanation for why I’d been ignoring her, but Jo understood.

She rolled her eyes, picking up her shot glass and downing it.  “He being a contrary brat like usual?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” I said, “but actually, no.”

“No?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow at me.

I picked up my shot glass and threw my head back as I downed the unpalatable molecules.  “He is being neither self-deprecating nor belittling for once.  He’s telling me about Sam.”

“How is Sam?” Jo asked, tilting her head in interest.  We rarely talked about the younger Winchester.

“Dean reports that he has snuck off on another ‘case’ that is actually an excuse to- obviously this Dean’s word choice- ‘bone’ Eileen.”

She snorted good-naturedly at that.  “Good for Sam.”

“Yes, Dean sounds very happy for him,” I said.  “He truly thinks that Sam and Eileen might be on their way to that ‘apple pie life’ if they can just take a step back from hunting.”

“Well that’s the bitch of it, isn’t it?” Jo said, passing me another shot.  “The getting out.”

I held the shot in my hands, listening to Dean’s prayer.  It had gotten a little more personal, information I wasn’t quite willing to pass along to Jo.

“And it’s just… you know I’m right, Cass, you know I’m what’s keeping him here, in the bunker,” Dean confided in me.  “If I wasn’t… you know?  Then Sammy’d, he’d be off with his house and his yard and his 2.5 kids.  And I want that for him.  I want that more than anything.  That’s our happy ending, it’s what all this pain and loss and bullshit was for.  For Sammy to get out.  But I can’t seem to quite let go of him.”

“I thought you two were stocking the bar, not drinking it,” Ellen complained as she came into the roadhouse.

“Ugh, Mom, come on, everything is stocked and ready for the grand opening,” Jo pointed out.

“Looks like we’re out of one bottle of bourbon,” Ellen pointed out, picking up the nearly-empty bottle from the bar.

“Oh, no, what will all the dead hunters do?” Jo asked in a mock serious tone before breaking into an amused smile.

“Where do you get all this sass, Joanna Beth?” her mother complained, shaking her head.

“From you,” Bill said, coming up behind his wife and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“True,” Jo agreed.

Ellen sighed loudly, but they were all smiling.

They were a family again, and this seemed to be a source of endless joy for the three of them.

- 6 -

“Castiel.”

I glanced up from where I was adjusting the photo frames in Dean’s house, making sure they all lined up at perfect 90 degree angles.

“Looks like you’ve finished,” Jack said.

“Oh, no, there’s still so many details-”

“I think Dean can sort those details himself.”

“Are you… trying to remove me from here?” I asked.

“In a way,” he said with a grin.  “Father-son road trip?”

“Road trip?” I repeated, wrinkling my nose.

“I can drive,” Jack said enthusiastically.

“From what Dean has related to me, not very well.”

He actually looked offended at that, but the expression was so human that it warmed my heart, as the saying goes.  “I can drive,” he repeated, sounding like a petulant teenager.

“That remains to be seen,” I mused.

“Castiel,” he whined.

“I just want to fix a few more things-”

“It’s perfect.”

“But Dean might-”

“Dean will love it.”

“But the souls-”

“Are fine.”

I looked at him for a long while.  “I seem to have run out of excuses.”

Jack’s face lit up with a grin, and suddenly he was spinning a set of car keys awkwardly around his finger.

“Are you sure-” I tried to ask, but Jack touched my shoulder and we were in a car.  As I knew very little about cars, I could only ascertain that it was a bit older, possibly a ‘classic’ due to the thunderous rumble of the engine.  “Apparently Heaven will be fine without us?”

“Yes,” Jack agreed, revving the engine.

“That is hardly proper driving technique,” I pointed out.

“It’s not technique, it’s style,” he explained, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and sliding them up his nose.  “Buckle up.”

“I am an angel of the lord…”

The car jerked forward as he stepped on the gas.

I looked at him.

“I’m warming up,” he said, a look of concentration taking over his face.

I shook my head, unable to stop my grin as I buckled my seat belt.

We’d driven long distances together before, but something about this felt special, important.

We talked, we laughed, we sang along to songs on the radio, we stopped at roadside diners and consumed large quantities of food I couldn’t taste but enjoyed watching the delight Jack took in every bite.  We visited roadside attractions.  We even stopped to stay the night in a cheap motel though neither of us required sleep.

We simply enjoyed spending time together.

And then the most horrific pain I have ever experienced lanced through my very being.

- 7 -

I was at Dean’s side in an instant.

He was struggling with his attacker, but suddenly Sam was there with a knife and it was over.

“I’ll heal you,” I said to Dean, but Sam was talking over me about finding some kids, like I wasn’t there.

“Cass,” Jack said, his hand touching my shoulder.

I whirled around to stare at him.  “I need to heal him.”

“I won’t stop you.”

“Then why did you make me invisible?” I asked, eyes narrowing.  The new heaven, the father-son bonding time, was it all leading up to this moment?  Had Jack been running a ‘long con’ on me?

“I just want you to listen before you act,” he explained.

“Listen to what?” I spat out.  “That wound is fatal!  He only has… minutes left!”

“Yes,” he agreed.

Sam was pulling his hand from Dean’s back, covered in blood.  The panic was starting the set in.  He tried to go get the first aid kit, but Dean stopped him.

“Stay with-” he paused to gasp, “stay with me.”

A frustrated growl ripped its way out of my throat.  “Jack.”

“Just wait,” he said, completely calm, like the man he most looked up to in this world wasn’t bleeding out before his eyes.

“For what?!” I cried.

“You knew it was always gonna end like this for me,” Dean stated firmly.  “It was supposed to end like this, right?”

“No, no, no,” I said, shaking my head.  “No, never, not for Dean Winchester.”

“It’s okay,” Dean assured his brother.  “It’s good,” he said with a smile.  It wasn’t a happy smile, but it was a resolved smile.

“I will find a way, okay?” Sam pleaded.  “I-I will find another way.”

“No, man, no,” Deans said quickly.  He let out a shaky breath.  “No.  No, no, no, no.  No bringing me back, okay?  You know... you know that always ends bad.”

“Is this your grand lesson?” I demanded.  “That Dean doesn’t want to be brought back?  He wouldn’t need to be brought back if he doesn’t die in the first place!”

Jack didn’t answer.

Dean was pulling Sam closer, and now he was sharing his most private thoughts with his brother, in what was assuredly a conversation not meant for others’ ears.

“This isn’t right,” I hissed.  “Let’s just stop this now and cease making them both suffer like this.  You’re acting like Chuck, forcing them-”

“Chuck would never let Dean die on his own terms,” Jack cut me off.  “He would never let him die, period.  Not until he’d wrung every last bit of entertainment out of him for his own amusement, destroying every last part of his soul.”

“So letting Dean die is a good thing?!”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?” I ground out even as tears streamed down my face.  I let my angel blade slide from my sleeve, though I knew it was useless.  Even powered up, I was no match for God.

He sighed, but didn’t take a defensive posture against my threat.

I was probably nothing more than an ant to him.

“I wish I could show you the world through my eyes,” he said, reaching for me.

I yanked my arm out of his reach.

“Castiel,” he said, his head tilting to the side in that familiar gesture.  “I know that Dean is your soulmate-”

“I don’t have a soul!” I snapped at him bitterly.

He shrugged at that, then simply continued, “-but I think your love for him is clouding your judgement.  What does Dean want?”

“Don’t leave me,” Sam got out through his tears.

“Not this,” I said, gesturing to the tableaux playing out before us.  “Not to leave Sam alone, to leave… not to…” I trailed off, realizing that I was going to say, ‘not to leave me.’

“I’m not leaving you.  I’m gonna be with you right here,” Dean explained, striking Sam’s chest over his heart, “every day.”

“We will all be together again in heaven one day,” Jack said softly.

I’d never realized what a terrible platitude that was until this moment.  I grasped my angel blade more tightly.  “Dean deserves more than ‘one day’.  He has suffered under Chuck’s machinations for long enough, and it is time for him to have some peace.”

“Exactly.”

“No, not exactly!”

“Do you truly think that he will find peace in this life?”

“He deserves the chance to try!”

“How many times do we raise Dean Winchester from the dead against his wishes before he finds peace?” Jack asked, staring at me pointedly.

My angel blade clattered to the ground.

“Well, I did not think this would be the day,” Dean said, letting out a shuddering sigh.  “But it is.  It is, and that's…” he paused, breathing out a ‘man.’  “That's okay.”

“Please,” I begged Jack, tears now pouring down my cheeks unabashedly.

“I will not stop you in the final moment,” he said, and as I looked more closely, I could see the sheen of unshed tears in his own eyes.  “I would never stop you from doing what you think is right.  I wouldn’t, Father, I wouldn’t, I trust you, I love you, I know that your intentions are pure, but I wish… I wish with all my heart that you would not do this.”

“Why?” I gasped out.  “Why?”

“Because I know what will happen,” he said, a single tear finally streaking down his cheek.  “I know how much pain it will bring you, bring Dean.”

“You can’t just manipulate me like that,” I accused him.  “You can’t dangle some terrible divination of doom and gloom before me and expect me to do whatever you say, that’s ‘Chuck 101’, that’s…”

“I’ll show you.”

“I don’t care!”

“I need you tell me it’s okay,” Dean begged Sam, his soul already starting to separate from his body.

“It’s okay, Cass,” Jack said, giving me a sad smile before disappearing.

“Jack?”

“Dean…” Sam choked out.  “It’s okay.”

Dean smiled.  Free.

“You can go now.”

I screamed in agony.

- 8 -

I stayed on earth, unable to bring myself to return to heaven.  I walked the deserts and the grasslands and the snowy mountains, looking for quiet, looking for answers, but I found none.

I could have saved Dean.

I didn’t.

I let Jack manipulate me with his deals with Hell and his visions of the Future, and I let the most righteous, beautiful human soul on this earth die in a barn as though he were nothing more than cattle.

I didn’t know how to go on.

“Hey, Cass, ya gotcher ears on?”

I felt ashamed to receive his prayer.

“Gotta talk to you, okay?”

I attempted to recompose myself.

“Come ride shotgun.”

“That sounds like an inappropriate use of firearms,” I stated, sitting beside him.

He grinned, shaking his head.  “Goddamn, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Dean,” I couldn’t help but blurt out shamelessly.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Cass, man, chill.”

“I… what…?”

“You’re all tense,” he pointed out.  “Relax.  Look at some trees.”  He took one hand off the wheel, gesturing out the window that was rolled down.  “This place is friggin’ amazing.”

I stared at him incredulously.  Dean had been ‘stepford-ized’ or however the saying went.  “Dean…”

Those beautiful green eyes met mine, and the smile he gave me was soft.  At ease.  Peaceful.  “There he is.”

“Who?” I asked, looking around the car frantically.

He snorted at that.  “Such a weirdo,” he muttered to himself.  “You.  Castiel.  Angel of the Lord.  Saying my name in that ridiculous voice of yours.  Hi.”

“…hello?”

His grin got even brighter.  “Bobby said you were here.”

“I… yes, Dean, Jack rescued me from the Empty, but I… I wanted to go to you, I-”

“Cass,” he repeated, looking amused.  “Seriously.  Chill, dude.”

I was caught in his gaze, helpless.

“It’s a good thing,” he said, patting my arm before turning back to the road.

“A… good thing…” I repeated uncertainly.

“Just felt right when he told me how you’n Jack fixed up this place,” he said, fiddling with the radio until he found a song he liked.  He started drumming on the steering wheel.  “And when I stopped by Mom’s, she…” he paused, looking almost shy.  “She said you… ya know, you were doing John 14:2 and shit.  For me.”

“John 14:2 and shit…”

“What, is that too blasphemous for you?”

“No, not at all, it’s…” I stopped, feeling thrown off balance.  Just moments before I had been mourning this man who now sat beside me, his soul shining brighter than it ever had in life.  “Yes, I have been preparing a place for you.”

“That make you Jesus?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Jack said that he preferred I be Cass,” I said, my own brows furrowing.

Dean threw back his head and laughed.  When he’d calmed down, he wiped his mouth with his hand.  “Yeah, man, yeah, definitely.  Stick to bein’ Cass.”

My eyes could not get enough of him.

“So you gonna show me this place you prepared or what?” he asked, smacking me on the arm.

This was the second time that he had touched me.  “I uh…”

“You’re real articulate today.”

I huffed out an exasperated breath.  “Just keep driving straight.  The roads here always take you where you need to go.”

“All right then,” he said, reaching over to turn up the volume of the radio before pushing his foot down on the gas and letting the Impala roar down the empty road.

- 9 -

“This is all mine?” Dean asked as he walked around the living room, his eyes a little wide.

“Yes, but if there’s anything you want to change-”

“It’s perfect,” he cut me off, reaching out to trace his fingers over a picture of the entire Winchester family taken before the fire.  “You… did all this?”

“Yes?” I said, puzzled.  I was an angel and it had hardly been a difficult task to construct one home.

“The pictures, the cowboy stuff, the records,” he said, looking around.  “Cass, it’s exactly what I pictured in my head.”

“I know.”

That got me a look.

“It’s not like I was poking around,” I explained quickly.  “I’ve just… caught glimpses here and there.”

“Yeah, that’s not creepy or nothin’,” Dean commented, but he didn’t seem angry.  In fact, he was still smiling that beautiful smile.

“You like it?” I ventured.

“Obviously, dumbass,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder as he continued to gaze around the room.

I didn’t particularly think I was dumb or an ass, but the feel of Dean’s arm around me caused me to overlook the insult.

Dean turned to look at me, and our faces were very close.

I swallowed.

“Thank you,” he said, everything about his mannerisms warm and sincere.

“I wish I could have done more.”

"Don’t be stupid.”

“I am of superior intelligence,” I informed him, trying not to feel haughty and failing.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, unfazed.  His arm was still around me.  “Doesn’t mean you’re not stupid sometimes.”

I felt very ruffled by that, but Dean’s eyes were gazing into mine and I could feel the puffs of breath escaping his lips.

“Cass?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s check out the rest of this place!” he said, clapping my shoulder twice before letting go and moving away.

I felt a little dazed following him.  This was actually quite… alarming.  My behavior towards Dean was completely inappropriate.

“Man, this is so awesome,” he declared, spinning around on a bar stool that I had outfitted with a saddle.  He had the look of delight on his face that he got when he was indulging in some childish infatuation of his.

“I’m glad it is to your satisfaction.”

“Cass, man,” he said with a sigh.  “C’mere.”

I stared at him, puzzled.

“Come here,” he repeated more precisely.

“I am already here.”

“No, come here,” he said, patting his knee.

I stared at that offending knee, wondering if this was some kind of invitation to sit on his lap and knowing at the same time that I was losing my mind.

When I did not ‘c’mere’, Dean rose from the stool and stalked over to me, jabbing his finger into my chest.  “You’re bein’ weird.”

“I’m being weird?” I asked, my voice in a higher register than usual.

“’s what I said.”

“Why are you being so…” I trailed off, unsure of what I was going to say.  Happy?

He raised an eyebrow at me expectantly.

“…insouciant…?” I concluded.

“English,” he told me, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Why don’t you care that you’re dead?!” I finally demanded.

The sparkle faded and he met my gaze seriously.  “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a very big deal!”

He reached out and caught the lapel of my coat.

I stumbled closer to him.

“What I was doin’ back there sure as hell wasn’t living,” he informed me.

“But you were alive,” I protested, feeling those now-familiar tears pricking at my eyes again.

“What’s the good of living when everything I want’s up here in heaven?”

“What about Sam?”

“He’ll be along.”

“Is this Jack?” I asked suspiciously.  “Did you talk to him?  Did he convince you to do this?”

“I ain’t seen Jack since he did his disappearing act,” he said, adjusting his hold on my coat.

He was drawing me closer.

“Listen-” he started.

I stepped back from his hold.

“I know you’re upset-”

“Upset?” I repeated.  “Dean, this doesn’t make any sense.  You are the most vibrant soul that I know, and you should be back on earth where you belong.  You sacrificed everything so that everyone else could be safe and happy, and now it’s your turn-”

“I am happy,” he said, his eyes crinkling with warmth.  “I drank a beer with Bobby, I went to my Mom’s, and now I’m here with you in the place you prepared for me, and there ain’t much more I could ask for.”

“Is that really enough?”

“It’s all I ever wanted my entire life.”

“But it’s not right-”

“That’s the thing with free will.”

I tilted my head at him.

“I get to decide what I do with my life, and no matter how much you don’t like or agree with what I decide, it’s still my decision,” he stated firmly.

“Well I hate it,” I informed him.

That got a throaty laugh out of Dean.  “Sorry, angel, but what’s been done’s been done.”

“I could still-”

“Hell no.”

“Dean,” I said pathetically.

“Enough of that,” he murmured, reaching out and wiping the tears from my eyes, first from the left and then from the right.  “What’re the other inmates gonna think if the angels are goin’ around cryin’?”

“That heaven is a terrible place?” I sniffed.

“But how can that be true when it’s got you and me?” he asked, and he was definitely using his ‘pick up a pretty lady at a bar’ smile, so I had absolutely lost my mind.

“I should go.”

“Oh, so you prepared all this for me and now you’re just gonna dump me off and do your disappearin’ act?”

“…yes…?”

“Nuh-uh, no way, I just got you back,” he said, his hand anchoring to my sleeve.  “I know you heard my prayers, man.”

“I always hear your prayers, Dean.”

“Yeah, so why are you…?” he trailed off, looking uncertain for the first time since we’d met here in heaven.

“I don’t understand,” was all I could offer him.

“I…” he looked down, his face going red.  “C’mon, man, don’t make me say it.”

“I genuinely have no idea what you are going to say,” I said, giving him a puzzled look.  “Are you perhaps going to apologize for all the shameful abuse of my name that you infused your prayers with?”

Dean worked his jaw for a moment before finally speaking.  “So you heard all that, too.”

“Yes, Dean.  I always hear your prayers.”

“You didn’t hear them when you were in the Empty,” he muttered sullenly.

“Well, no-”

“So you don’t always hear them.”

“Why are you getting angry with me?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.  “No, Dean, I did not hear your prayers when I was dead.”

Dean inhaled sharply at that, sounding like he was in pain.

Dean, who had been so peaceful and at ease, was twisting with pain and anger the longer he spent with me.

I was starting to understand what Jack had said.  I know how much pain it will bring Dean.

“I should go.”

“Dammit, Cass.”

“I am making you unhappy.”

“Your leaving is what’s making me unhappy.”

“This is a rather frustrating conversation.”

“You’re tellin’ me.”

I looked at Dean, his face flushed with anger, and I didn’t know how to make it right.

“So you gonna run?” he asked, looking at me expectantly.

- 10 -

I stayed.

Dean’s expression relaxed.  “Come have a drink,” he said, wandering back to the bar in the living room.

I followed behind him silently.

Dean started going through the selection of beverages that I had stocked in his bar.  “Dude, Dr. Pepper?” he asked with a snort.

“You enjoy a carbonated beverage.”

“I do enjoy a carbonated beverage, but it’s not really a bar staple…” he said, shaking his head in amusement.

“There are other more standard beverages as well,” I informed him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, digging around until he found the whiskey.  “It’s real cute how you try to tell me I have a drinking problem without telling me I have a drinking problem.”

“You have a drinking problem, Dean,” I said flatly, taking the offered whiskey.

“Cheers to that,” Dean said with a snort, clinking his glass to mine.

He really was incorrigible, but I drank the whiskey anyway.

“So…” he trailed off.

“‘So’?” I repeated.

“So,” he said again.  “I think we’re both kinda… you know, bothered I guess about each other… you know… dying.”

“We’re ‘bothered’?”

“I ain’t got a better word for it, man.”

“Devastated?  Mortified?  Wrecked?  Sorrowful?  De…stroyed…?” I trailed off, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Cass, come on,” he said softly, sliding his hand over mine and squeezing briefly before taking it away.

“I’m sorry that my death ‘bothered’ you, Dean, but as you can see, I am fully alive again,” I pointed out, staring into the empty whiskey glass.  “Whereas you…”

“Yeah, okay, I’m dead for real, but so what?” he asked.  “I mean, we’re here, together, sharing a drink, exactly like we’d be doing if I was alive.  You bein’ in the Empty, that’s… I couldn’t talk to you, I couldn’t touch you, I couldn’t…” he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

I didn’t know how to take that.

“And the way you did it, Cass,” he said, finally gathering his nerve back up to continue.  “You had to know...  You had to know how much that would… bother me.”

“I’m sorry, I know that you are heterosexual-”

“Not that, you idiot,” he groaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

I frowned.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, which was nice since Dean rarely apologized.  “Cass, how could you think…  No, look, I was upset ‘cause you sacrificed yourself.  For me.  How was I supposed to live with that?”

“You were supposed to live a very long time with it,” I complained.

“Cass.”

“You were worth it.”

“Cass,” he repeated again, sounding pained.

“I would do it again, Dean, I would do it one hundred times over if it meant saving you,” I tried to explain.

“I don’t want that,” he said fiercely.  “I want you here next to me.”

“I am here next to you.”

Our eyes met and held.

“So we’re all good, yeah?” Dean finally said, breaking the silence.

“How is that your conclusion?” I asked incredulously.

“We both didn’t want each other dead, and now we’re here together, so… all good.”

“You are exasperating,” I informed him, but I couldn’t help but smile.  “Though I… I believe I understand.”

“Yeah?”

“Neither of us likes the choices that the other has made, but they were our choices to make,” I reasoned out.  “And they have led us here, to this moment, so they could not have been all bad.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed softly, putting down his empty glass and resting his hand over my mine.  He squeezed it before pulling away.

I experienced the human cliche of ‘my heart skipped a beat’.

“You seen my mom, Cass?” Dean asked out of nowhere.

“I have seen your mother before, yes,” I said, squinting at him.

“In heaven, Cass.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Yes, Dean, I visit with your mother often.”

He smiled at that.  “You and Mom are besties?”

“We are good friends,” I affirmed.

“Yeah, well, what I was getting’ at was that Mom?  Here?  She’s so… I dunno, man, but it takes me back to bein’ a kid.  She seems… younger?  Happier?”

“She does seem at peace here,” I agreed.  “And she certainly enjoys dancing while singing poorly.”

Dean snorted at that.  “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“She knows.”

That made him laugh harder.  “Jesus,” he said, wiping the corners of his eyes.  “So you’ve met my dad?”

“Mary usually assists me here in preparing your home or we go for drives, but yes, I met John Winchester once when he first arrived here,” I explained.

Dean’s grip tightened on his refilled whiskey glass.  “How’d that go?” he asked cautiously.

“It was fine,” I assessed with a shrug.

He clenched his jaw.

“Your father was… surprisingly welcoming and kind,” I offered, wanting to soothe that tension away.

He snorted, throwing back his whiskey.  “He’s a completely different person with Mom around.”

“I have nothing to compare to beyond the stories you and Sam have told me.”

He nodded.  “Yeah, you weren’t there that time back in Lebanon.”

“When you wished to have your father returned to you rather than eject Michael from your body?”

“Yes, Cass,” he said, rolling his eyes at my pointed comment.  Then he paused to rub his face.  “That time, he actually said he was proud of me… apologized to Sammy… acted like a human being.”

I waited.

He finally looked up at me.  “It was the same when I went over to Mom’s earlier.  He was just… it’s like…  I dunno, man.”

I continued to wait.

“I have these memories from… before,” he said quietly.  “And I’ve always kinda thought that I made them up.  Tried to smooth out the ol’ family history.  Made saints outta Mom and Dad.  And I know things weren’t perfect before… the fire, but… Dad was there.  He played catch with me in the yard and he took me to the park and he taught me how to bait a hook to catch the most fish.  And he was so patient with me, so… friggin’ gentle, and now I look at him here and I can see that man I thought he used to be, I didn’t make that shit up, that was really him before, and that… I don’t know how to feel about all that.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” I said, touching his arm briefly.

He gave me a half-smile.  “How ‘bout I don’t have to decide ever?”

I stared at him.

He reached out, touching my arm as I had just touched his, only he didn’t pull away.  “Losing my mom destroyed him.”

Losing you again would destroy him.

I stared at Dean’s hand.

He licked his lips nervously.

I don’t know why I swallowed, but Dean’s eyes followed the bob of my throat.

“Cass-”

“Have you seen the garage?” I asked, scampering to my feet.  I of course knew the answer to that question, as we had certainly not been to the garage yet during this tour, but I felt inexplicably nervous and I wasn’t speaking as precisely as I’d like to.

“You can show me later,” he said, his hand still latched onto my sleeve.

“I could, but you’ll want to keep your Baby in a safe pla-”

“Cass.”

I swallowed again, which was strange since I had no reason to produce saliva.

“Sit.”

I followed the command without thinking.

“I thought I’d be better at this,” Dean muttered to himself.

I gave him a confused look.

“Ya know, better at the whole uh, showin’ interest thing.”

I continued to stare at him blankly.

“Interest in you,” he clarified.

It clarified nothing.

- 11 -

“Your interest is always appreciated?” I spoke slowly, making it sound like a question.

Dean groaned.  “Come on, Cass, you’re not that dense.”

“It’s true that the density of the human body-”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I honestly don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he complained, giving my sleeve a sharp tug.  “What, is this revenge for me bein’ so clueless while I was alive?”

Every time I spoke I seemed to agitate him more, so instead I listened and waited.

Dean’s glare turned very heated.

I shifted uncomfortably.

“Really?  This ain’t doin’ nothin’ for you?”

“I… what…?” was all I could manage to get out, shifting awkwardly on the stool.  I didn’t typically experience temperature, but it felt very warm in here.

“So you’re not attracted to me,” he said, seeming to deflate.

“…wha…?” was all I could manage to say, all attempts at articulation failing me.

“I mean I’ve been giving you the patented Dean Winchester Bedroom Eyes for like the last 10 minutes, and nothing…  It’s not like I’m trying to get you into bed or- no, okay, maybe I am, but-”

“Dean.”

He paused, looking flustered.

“Getting someone into bed is a euphemism for sexual activity,” I explained to him patiently.

“Uh, yeah, gee, thanks, Dr. Ruth, really needed that explained,” he said, rolling his eyes even though his cheeks were still quite pink.

“Well, you seem confused,” I continued, “since you have just implied that you are trying to ‘get me into bed’, but you do not wish to engage in sexual activity with me, so-”

“I wanna engage in sexual activity with you,” he interrupted me.  “I mean, probably.  I mean…”

“Jack!” I called angrily.

“Why are you-” Dean started to ask.

Jack appeared behind the bar.  “Hello,” he said, giving us his customary wave before starting to pull some items from under the bar.

“Hey, kid,” Dean said.  “It’s great to see you, but Cass and I are kinda in the middle of something here and-”

“What is this?!” I demanded, gesturing around frantically.

Jack squinted at me.  “Dean’s… house?” he suggested, going back to mixing his drink.

“What did you do?” I growled, slamming my hands down on the bar to attract his attention.

Jack was unfazed, setting his drink on the bar between my hands and meeting my gaze calmly.

Dean, on the other hand, was staring at me with a startled expression.

“Castiel, the fact that you can’t accept that Dean returns your affections has nothing to do with me,” Jack informed me.

Dean’s eyes seemed to get wider.

“He does not ‘return my affections’,” I said with a scowl.  “He’s ‘flirting’ with me.  He is attempting to get me ‘into bed’.  This is not Dean behavior.  You have done something to him, and I want you to undo it.”

“Excuse me?” Dean tried to interject.

Jack looked to him and shrugged.

“Jack,” I seethed.

He shook his head sadly at me.  “You’re worthy,” he said.

“Worthy of what?” I demanded.

“Worthy of love,” he said, reaching out to touch my arm.

I recoiled.

Jack sighed and picked up the drink.

“Is this a self-esteem thing?” Dean asked, leaning against the bar and accepting the drink as Jack handed it to him.

“I believe so, coupled with the trauma and grief that he is experiencing over your death,” he agreed with a nod.

“What?  No,” I protested.  “This is Jack being… ‘Chucky’.”

“Like the murder doll?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his drink.  “Hey, this ain’t bad.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he replied, looking pleased.

“Don’t just dismiss what I am saying,” I complained.

“Why not, you just dismiss how I feel,” Dean replied in an unkind tone.

“But this isn’t you,” I insisted.

The look he gave me.

I flinched, suddenly overwhelmed by self-doubt.

“We’ve been talking for hours, Cass,” he ground out.  “We’ve been talking for hours, and you suddenly think I’m not me?  Because I’m apparently terrible at flirting with dudes?”

“Dean, you have always been less skillful at flirting with men,” Jack pointed out.

“When have I ever…” Dean started to ask but trailed off, looking embarrassed.

I was confused.  “Dean doesn’t flirt with men.  He is heterosexual.”

Dean coughed in a way that did not sound authentic.

Jack raised an eyebrow at me.

“Dean is… not… heterosexual…?” I asked slowly.

“Look, man, does it really matter?” Dean muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

I needed a drink.

Jack smiled and handed me one.

I eyed it suspiciously.

He gave me a ‘puppy dog’ face.

I took a sip, then proceeded to drink the entire thing.  “That was very palatable.”

“It has an umbrella,” Dean said, wrinkling his nose.

“The umbrella does not change the taste, and yet it enhances the drinking experience,” I concluded.

Jack nodded his agreement.  “I could put an umbrella in your drink, Dean.”

“The only acceptable time to put umbrellas in your drinks are when you’re sitting on the beach with your toes in the sand.”

“That is not a factually correct statement,” Jack assessed.

Dean rolled his eyes, then turned his eye roll on me.  “Gee, Cass, you might be right, Jack has gone all dark side on us.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated,” I informed him.

“Well, your… whatever all this is is not appreciated,” he shot back.  “Do you know how hard it was for me to…” he trailed off, looking uncomfortable and gladly accepting the drink that Jack handed him.  Then he made a face after tasting it.  “Really?  Dr. Pepper?”

“Alcohol isn’t the answer to all problems,” Jack said with a shrug.

“Dark side,” Dean repeated, shaking his head.

“Alright, your point is taken,” I conceded.  “Jack, I should not have accused you of being… ‘Chucky’.  I apologize.”

“I understand,” he said, reaching across the bar and touching my shoulder.

I accepted the touch, and it felt right.

“You were upset,” he continued.  “I was upset as well.  It was difficult not to interfere.  But if I interfere once, I’ll interfere again, and every time I do I will be stripping humans of their right to free will.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“I can’t change your mind,” he said, meeting my gaze evenly.

“I suppose you cannot,” I agreed.

“Okay, so can you two hug it out and move on already so Cass and I can continue our conversation in privacy?”

Jack and I both turned to Dean.

His cheeks were dusted in a very flattering pink.

“Of course,” Jack agreed.  “To be honest, I’m happy for you both, but I don’t need to see my dads make out.”

And with that he was gone.

- 12 -

“So…” Dean said.

“So,” I agreed.

We were both quiet.

“You still think I ain’t me?” he finally muttered.

“It’s not…” I struggled, trying to find the words.  “I’m used to you and Jack behaving a certain way, but perhaps in my absence you both…”

“We what?”

“I don’t know,” I said, brow furrowing.

When I didn’t elaborate, Dean finally spoke.  “It was hard.  For all of us.  With you gone.”

I chanced a glance at him.

“I had a lotta time to… think,” he decided.  “And when Bobby told me you were alive, I…. and then Mom said you were here preparin’ a place for me, and I wanted… I wanted you to be preparin’ a place for me and you.  I want you with me, Cass, and I always have, and I don’t think that’s any reason to think I’m some shifter wearin’ a Dean skin.”

“You want me… here…?”

“It’s what I said, dumbass.”

I frowned at him.

He shook his head.  “I want you here, Cass.”

“I’d like that,” I couldn’t help but admit, smiling dopily but then trying to shake it off.  “But I wish you would-”

“Yeah, I know,” he cut me off.  “I’m just… I turn into an asshole when I hafta talk about my feelings and crap.”

“I don’t want to be your punching bag anymore.”

There, I’d said it.

Dean just nodded, looking contrite.

“And I would like to talk openly and honestly about our feelings,” I pressed on, “because you are confusing me and it causes me discomfort”

“Any other unreasonable requests?” he muttered.

I stared at him.

He swallowed.  “I ain’t tryin’ to confuse you, Cass,” he said softly.  “And I sure as hell ain’t tryin’ to cause you discomfort.  I thought… I thought we were on the same page.”

“I don’t think we’re even reading the same book,” I said with a rueful shake of my head.

“Hey, come on now,” he complained.  “Cass, I… you know.”

Dean Winchester could sometimes be the most exasperating human being in all of existence.  “No, Dean, I do not not know, so you need to use your words to actually express what you are feeling.”

“Fine,” he muttered sullenly.  “I… like you…”

That didn’t clarify anything.  “Thank you, Dean, I like you, too.”

“No, Cass, I like you,” he repeated, face completely aflame now.  “I thought we already went through this.  I want to… you know, show you a good time.”

Apparently Dean was the one who had lost his mind now.

“Show me a good time?” I repeated incredulously.

“Shut up,” he complained, rubbing his face with his hand.  “I’ve never tried to seduce an angel… before… okay, fallen angels don’t count-”

“Dean,” I told him in my most exasperated tone.  This had really gone on long enough.  “Stop being ridiculous.”

“Excuse me?” he said, and I could see his hackles rising.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I assured him.

That only seemed to irritate him further.  “I might be bad at words, but you’re just friggin’ obtuse.”

I frowned at him, opening my mouth to protest.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, catching my shoulders and yanking me close.

I again attempted to protest, only to find the most precious of lips touching mine, and all words failed.

Dean didn’t waste any time, using the element of surprise to back me into the bar, pinning me there while he used his mouth and tongue to wondrous purpose.

I was feeling so many things in that moment that it was overwhelming.

Divine, I thought, though that word was tainted by Chuck.

Beautiful almost consumed me, but if I dared to voice it aloud, Dean would surely shy away.

“Sublime,” I settled on.

Dean gave me a funny look.

“That was sublime,” I explained.

He shook his head at me, grinning with a boyish charm that I hadn’t seen in him in so long.  “If you thought that was sublime…” he trailed off, waggling his eyebrows at me before dipping down to press his lips tenderly to my neck.

“Oh,” I breathed.

“This feels right,” Dean murmured into my skin.

“Yes,” I agreed.

He was shaking.

That brought me back to the present.  “Dean?” I asked, touching his face.

He kissed my neck again, softly, reverently, but he didn’t look up.

“Dean,” I repeated, cradling his cheek.

“This is really okay?” he whispered.

I guided his face up, but his gaze was still downcast.  I had been such a fool to doubt this, to doubt him, and now he was the one unsure.  But Dean was not a man of words, he was a man of action, so I decided to communicate with him in a language that he would understand.

He gasped in surprise as I spun him around and pinned him to the bar, putting all of the knowledge I had acquired from the pizza man to use in order to kiss him breathless.  His hands gripped more tightly at my shoulders, the rough material of my trenchcoat bunching in his fingers, but the rest of his body relaxed as he relinquished control to me.  A noise clawed it’s way out of his throat, nothing but raw desire.

We had surpassed the sublime.

“Holy shit,” he gasped when we finally stopped to take a breath.

I could only nod in agreement.

He leaned down, resting his forehead against mine.  “I’m sorry I didn’t… I mean we could have, all this time, if I just pulled my head outta my ass, but… I’m sorry.”

I brushed our noses together.  “I love you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly, still dwelling on all his regrets.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I said, running my fingers through the short hairs at the back of his neck, soothing.

“Wouldna made a difference,” he said with a little shrug, but then he was leaning into my touch.

“We can’t change the past, but we can change how we move forward,” I told him.  “We can be open and honest with one another, speak truthfully.”

“Always with the talking, man.”

“I’m not Sam,” I complained, earning myself a chuckle.  “It’s not as though I’m good at the ‘talking thing’, either.”

“Yeah, but you always come through when it counts,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to mine and then back down.  “You gotta few speeches in you.”

“I think I just know what is important to me now,” I said.  “I know what I want, I know what I need, so I can express that clearly.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean hummed, his tone turning flirty again.  “And whaddya need right now?”

I knew I was supposed to respond with either a completely oblivious or equally ‘flirty’ response, but I decided to take my own advice.  “To be with you here.  To know your heart.  To love and take care of you.”

“Stop,” he groaned, pushing against my chest like he wanted us to separate, but then gripping onto my shirt and keeping me there.

“I’ll only stop if you truly ask me to.”

Dean swallowed loudly, sliding his forehead from mine and dropping his head to my shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.  “Nah,” he mumbled.

That was about as good as I was going to get out of him.  “Okay,” I said, hugging him back.  I always enjoyed our hugs, and this one was full-bodied; I didn’t have to be careful of anything, I could just enjoy it.

This was okay now.

Dean breathed in deeply, nuzzling against my neck and pressing a soft kiss there before lifting his head.  “So you said something about a garage?”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Look, my baby has been sitting out there, baking in the sun…” he trailed off, like I was supposed to understand and agree.

“It’s heaven Dean, I don’t think-”

“I want my baby safe,” he growled at me, hands sliding to my hips and giving them a squeeze.

It may have been intended to intimidate, but it just reminded me that we could be touching lips again.

Dean tolerated my act of rebellion for about a minute before pulling away from the kiss with a huff.  “My car,” he clucked at me.

I knew he’d reached his capacity for talking about feelings, even if he was New Enlightened Heaven Dean, so I allowed him his change in subject and led him out through the kitchen to the attached garage.

“Oh ho ho, you really did this up right, Cass,” Dean assessed as he looked around the expansive garage.

I was pleased that he liked it, as he seemed to like the entire house.  I felt as though I had done my job well.

But mostly I wanted to push Dean against the wall and feel his heart beat with mine.

Had I lost my mind?

Or was this okay?

I decided to try.

- 13 -

When Dean walked into the Roadhouse with Sam at his side, it was truly a moment of rejoicing.

I stayed at the bar with Jo while the Winchester family reunited.

It was a while before Sam caught my eye, his face lighting up.

“You’re here,” he breathed, enveloping me in a hug.

“Yes,” I agreed, patting his back.  “As are you.”

“I just… I really hoped you were here,” he said, giving me an exceptionally strong squeeze that would have made it difficult to breathe were I required to do that.

I squeezed back.

“You been takin’ care of Dean?” he asked as he pulled back, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Of course,” I assured him.

“Yeah, ‘takin’ care’,” Jo repeated with a snort.

“Jo!” Sam cried joyfully, apparently oblivious to her innuendo as he moved on to embrace her.

Dean sidled up beside me and I sensed his hesitation before he took a little breath and slid his arm around my shoulder like he always did.

Usually I would turn and exchange a brief peck with him, but apparently Things Were Different Now.

Sam was talking animatedly with Jo, but he spared us a glance, eyes darting between us before his lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

Dean started chewing on his bottom lip.

I glanced up at him.

The indecision passed and he leaned down to press a quick kiss to my mouth, returning Things to How They Were.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, mirth still sparkling in his eyes.  “So Cass stopped having standards?”

“Ha ha, hilarious,” Dean said, rolling his eyes.  “You’re just jealous that I’m knockin’ boots with a bona fide angel.”

“I don’t have any boots,” I protested.

Sam made a face.

The expression on Dean’s face became what one might term ‘devilish’.

He opened his mouth to speak and I shushed him immediately with A Look.  Now was not the time to be tormenting Sam with insinuations about what his older brother was getting up to.  Or into.  Or under.  Or whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

“Oh, man,” Sam marveled.  “You are whipped.”  And then he proceeded to cackle.

“Cass,” Dean whined at me, which shouldn’t have been endearing coming from a man his age, but there it was, precious beyond belief.

“Why must you two insist on this childish sibling rivalry?” I asked, but the whining had already won.  “And Sam, we have not used whips in our lovemaking.  Yet.”

Dean started wheezing with laughter, while Sam, as the saying goes, looked like something distasteful had crawled into his mouth and died.

“Do you really need to get into the gutter with him?” Sam complained at me.

I should probably have felt poorly about my life choices, but at that moment all I could do was shrug and say, “it made Dean laugh.”

Sam’s expression softened.

Dean continued to laugh, slapping me on the arm a couple of times.  “Did you see his face?” he finally managed to gasp out.

“Yes, Dean, it was very… perturbed,” I humored him.

Sam went back to looking perturbed.

“No one teach you about the birds and the bees yet, Sammy?”

“Dude, I’m older than you now.”

“And you still haven’t gotten past missionary position?”

I decided to leave them to their… bonding.  I’d hoped that Dean’s peace with himself would allow him to welcome his brother back warmly with open affection and honest words, but not even heavenly enlightenment could stop Dean from… ‘Deaning’.

And I had to admit, the sheer joy on his face was worth the nonsense that came out of his mouth.  Watching Dean with Sam, I knew that he was truly complete now.

“What are you doing over here?”

I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see Jack coming up behind me.  “You’re here.”

“I am,” he agreed, joining me at my table.  “Why do you look like a stranger on the outside looking in?”

I frowned, not liking that description but not able to deny its accuracy.  “I…”

“When I asked you to prepare a place for Dean, I hoped that you would eventually understand.”

My head started tilting to the side.

“This isn’t just a place for Dean.”

Thoughts ran through my head like, ‘it’s also a place for Sam’, but I knew that wasn’t what he meant.  “This is… for me…?”

“They’re your family, too.”

And he was right.  But as all-knowing as Jack was, he was still just a kid.

Our kid.

“Yours, too,” I pointed out, standing up and giving him a push in the Winchesters’ direction.

Jack looked baffled.  “That’s not what I-”

“Jack!” Mary exclaimed, spotting him and wrapping him into a hug.

At the same time, Dean was slinging an arm around my shoulder.  “Hey, Sunshine, where’d ya go?”

“Just giving you and Sam a little time together,” I explained.

“Completely unnecessary, but thanks,” he said, pressing a little kiss to my temple before turning to Jack.  “Hey, kid, how’s all the heaven shit going?”

“It’s… going…” Jack said slowly, looking flustered with Mary’s arm around his shoulder, mirroring the way Dean had his arm around mine.

“This new heaven is pretty incredible,” Sam said, giving him a warm smile.

“Cass helped,” Jack said with a shrug.

“I try to tell him he did good and he always brushes it off,” Mary sighed with a shake of her head.

“Ya did good, kid,” Dean said.

Jack tried to play it off, but Dean was looking straight into his eyes and he stopped mid-word.

Dean winked at him and Jack flushed, looking pleased.

“It’s good to be home,” Sam said softly.

And I realized for the first time in my life, I was really and truly home.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite and Beyond Playlist 21-26

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda / Sequel to Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist

The one where Cass makes a Daddy Issues playlist.

Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

Parts 21-26/26 under the cut. Previous parts here.

- 21 -

I was stone-cold sober the first time Castiel casually suggested, “I know you are still wary of a penis, but how about a finger?” and immediately regretted my new teetotaling path, especially when he added, “or a tongue?” with nothing more than a casual head tilt.

My angel was filthy sometimes.

He’d been deeply irritated to find out that he was not in fact the first person to stick a finger in there during a hummer, and that he probably could have been doing it all along if he’d asked sooner.

Maybe we all were a little irritated by that.

Anyway, we’d finally gotten there, and the prostate was a magical thing.

It was just that sometimes when we were making out, as we were currently doing on my couch, with me straddling Cass and grinding on him like a bitch in heat, that I started wanting… more.

And I couldn’t put into words what that more was, but I could definitely feel it right now, hot and hard and pushing into me without actually pushing into me, and I just wanted.

“Dean,” Cass murmured into my jaw, kissing me gently.  “What do you need?”

I made a noise that one might describe as a helpless whine but I preferred to call a manly protestation.

“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing my back soothingly even as his hips were continuing that very sinful undulation.

I made that noise again, and I hated it, I wanted to speak clearly and tell Cass what I needed, but every time I grasped for the words, nothing came out but that damn noise.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, dragging kisses up to my temple.  “Dean, it’s okay to want what you want.”

I whimpered, letting go of the back of the couch that I’d been using for leverage and throwing my arms around Cass, hiding my face in his neck.

He held me tightly, still rocking his hips up, and I was a mess.  “Do you want me to take care of you?” he asked gently.

“Yes!” I cried, feeling desperate.  “Please.  Please.”

“Of course I’ll take care of you, Dean.”

“Please,” I repeated.  “PleasePleasepleasepleaseplease.”

“Shhh, of course,” he murmured, taking over completely as he laid me on my back, undressing me in showers of kisses before turning his mouth to Other Purposes.

I was really and truly a mess now, but I’d already made Cass practice saying ‘Dean Winchester never cries during sex’ until he was convincing, so it was okay if a few tears slipped out.  It was all okay, because this was just between me and Cass, but even then, even knowing that, I still couldn’t say it, I couldn’t tell him what I wanted.

He knew, obviously, but he never pushed, especially not when we were already in flagrante and all the blood that was supposed to be going to my brain to help me make good decisions was being diverted down south.

Maybe I needed him to push, though, because I didn’t know if I could ever actually say it out loud.

But the more Cass’s mouth worked, the quieter that desperate voice in my head got, and slowly the frustration ebbed away until everything was just… awesome.

“You’re okay?” he asked when he finally came up for air.

“Better than okay, darlin’,” I slurred at him, running my fingers through his hair.

His face was still all pinched with worry.

“None of that,” I scolded him.  “C’mere.”

He scrambled up to meet me, lips touching mine reverently.

“You’re too good to me, sweetheart,” I told him, wrapping my fingers around his flagging erection and bringing it back to life.  “So, so good.”

Cass sat up and pulled me back into his lap, letting me take him to to the finish line with some expert wrist action.

I would have liked to do more for him, but I was all sated and sleepy, and for some reason I couldn’t stop kissing Cass’s mouth long enough to put my mouth to Other Purposes.

He didn’t seem to have any complaints about it, sighing his contentment into his kisses.  “That was wonderful, Dean, thank you.”

“It was just a handy,” I mumbled, because this angel of mine friggin’ thanked me for handjobs like I’d just saved the world from the next apocalypse.

“The pleasure you give me is immeasurable within the fabric of space and time.”

“Jesus.”

He studied my face, that wrinkle appearing again.

I reached up to smooth it out.

“Dean, are you unsatisfied?” he asked, sounding self-conscious.

“Do I look unsatisfied?” I asked with a snort.

He paused, his head tilting to the side before a smile slowly appeared.  “No, you look like… like the ‘cat’ that got the ‘cream’.”

“Mm hm,” I agreed, licking his nose just to watch him wrinkle it.

“Okay,” he said, but there was still uncertainty in his voice.

“Are you unsatisfied?” I asked, feeling my orgasm high starting to fade.

“No, of course not,” he said, touching my cheek gently.

“I mean, I shoulda gone down on you, I know, but I just-”

“Sex is not transactional, Dean,” he said firmly, because we’d had this conversation more than once.

“Yeah, but-”

“Stop,” he said with a frown.

I bit my lip.

“I know what you want, Dean.”

My eyes darted to the side.

“And I feel… inadequate when I cannot make you feel comfortable enough to ask for what you want.”

“It’s not you, man.”

“I know that, much as you know that you do not need to fellate me because I have just fellated you, that you do not need to make sure I ejaculate first to be allowed to ejaculate yourself, or any of the other rules you have tried to impose on our sexual relations.”

“Just say ‘blow job’, Cass.”

He leveled me with a very unimpressed look.

I grinned at him.

“You’re trying to change the subject.”

“Yeah, well.”

“Blow job,” he said in a complete monotone.

I sputtered out a laugh.

“There is not always blowing, so fellatio is a much more accurate des-”

“How do you make talking about blow jobs unsexy?” I complained.

“It’s a skill,” he deadpanned, then grabbed my ass for emphasis.

I made some kind of noise that I’d rather not repeat, and allowed Cass to lure me in for another extended make out session.

Somehow we ended up on the floor, Cass on his back and me with my cheek resting against his chest while he stroked my hair.

I sighed into his skin, that little voice starting to niggle at me again.  “I’m gonna get super drunk,” I decided.

“Um… why?”

“’Cause when I’m all wasted I’m gonna tell you what I want and then we’re gonna do it,” I declared.

“I don’t want that,” Cass replied flatly.

“Yeah, but-”

“I don’t want that,” he repeated firmly.  “If you can’t talk about it when you’re sober, then we’re not ready.”

I groaned, pinching his nipple just because it was there and was sure to irritate him.

“Don’t be a brat,” he complained at me, but his eyes had gone all lidded.

He looked really good like that, a little annoyed but kinda turned on, and not for the first time I imagined pushing my way between those gorgeous thighs of his and goin’ in balls deep and I needed to stop right there because there really wasn’t any reason that we couldn’t be doing that.  No logical reason, anyway.  It was just that if we did it that way, then I’d never…

This was idiotic.

I was Dean Winchester, the most sex positive as-long-as-everyone-is-safe-and-happy-anything-goes person on the planet, and so what if Cass was in a male body and I was in a male body and we were doing the naked horizontal tango together?  Everyone was safe and fucking happy, and I just needed to get over my issues.

Easy as that.

- 22 -

I decided to start with Charlie.

She was mixing up some punch before our usual D&D session, so I joined her in the kitchen, leaving the din of nerds behind in the living room.

“Handmaiden, pass me that o.j.,” she commanded me as soon as I’d stepped into the room.

“Of course, my queen,” I said, rolling my eyes as I passed by the counter and picked up the carton of orange juice.  I handed it to her with an exaggerated bow.

“Sweet, this punch is gonna be off the hook,” she decided with a definitive nod as she dumped the juice into her concoction.  She started stirring it vigorously with the ladle, then grabbed a cup and filled it up, shoving it into my hands.

I took a sip, wrinkling my nose.  “It’s sweet alright.”

Charlie poured herself a cup and took a long drink.  “Aw, yeah, that’s the good stuff.”

I opened my mouth to speak and then shut it.

She raised an eyebrow at me.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” I said in what was definitely not a squeak.

“Dean-y,” she said, waving her cup at me.  “I know when something’s on your mind.”

“Amazing, you’re like a mind-reader,” I fake marveled at her.

“Do I sense sarcasm?” she asked, squinting at me.

‘Me?’ I mouthed at her as I pointed to myself and batted my eyes innocently.

“Oh, whatever you’re about to say is gonna be a doozy, isn’t it?” she reasoned.  “I mean, you’ve already got the defense mechanisms up to an 11.”

I looked away from her and stared at the floor because tile was fascinating.  “It’s nothing.  I just wanted to… talk about my character.”

“You wanted to talk about Blargh the Destroyer?” Charlie asked, looking for confirmation.

I nodded my head.

“Always down for a little creative time,” she said.  “You got something cooking for his backstory?”

“I, uh, not really a backstory, just uh… a new development in his uh personality,” I said, still staring at the tile.  It was very square and white.

“Lay it on me.”

“Yeah, um, okay, so you know how Blargh loves the ladies…”

“He and the Queen are always competing for the same women.”

“They do have similar taste.”

“Can’t fault them for that.”

“Hot chicks are hot chicks.”

“Absolutely.”

“And Blargh loves hot chicks,” I said, trying to get things on track.  “But lately he uh… you know, he lov- uh he goes for hot dudes, too.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, taking a breath.  Here it was.  “He’s b-… he’s b-… he’s b-b-bisexual.”

“Cool,” Charlie said, like I hadn’t just made a complete fool of myself.

“I…”

She reached over and patted my shoulder.  “I’ll make sure there’s a few hot bartenders in the next campaign along with the barmaids.  Now carry this punch to the living room.”

“Why do I have to-”

“Just do it!” my queen commanded, so I did it, feeling a little better about finally getting the word out even if it hadn’t been my smoothest line.

It was time for the next step.

I needed the right set up, and TV time with Cass seemed ideal.  While I was in charge of picking movies, Cass was in charge of picking our binge shows, and he never failed to pick something gay.

We watched Schitt’s Creek, which, okay, was kinda funny sometimes I guess.

We watched Shameless, which, okay was kinda relatable in a doing anything to survive kinda way.

We watched friggin’ Rupaul’s Drag Race, which no one ever needed to know about, but okay, fine, Bob the Drag Queen was hilarious.

We were currently watching Oz, which I wouldn’t have characterized as a gay show if Cass hadn’t picked it, but he did, so somehow we were always discussing the romantic relationship between Beecher and Keller over all the murder and mayhem.

“I’m not gay or anything…” I started.

Cass snorted from behind me as we spooned on the couch.

I barreled forward, “…but if Keller cornered me in a secluded storage room, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Dean, he literally just murdered the last person he cornered in a secluded storage room…”

“Yeah, but he like betrayed him.  Chris wouldn’t kill me, I’m too good a lay.”

“You have a lot of confidence for a man who declares himself not to be gay and then proceeds to make incredibly gay statements in the next breath.”

“I’m not gay, I’m b-” I started and fumbled.  “B-bisexual,” I concluded with a wince, wishing I could have said it without stuttering.

Cass had been stroking my arm throughout our conversation, but his hand paused for a moment, before resuming the soothing motion.  “I’m not giving you a hall pass to have sex with a rapist-murderer.”

“You do know he’s a fictional character, right?” I asked, forcing the sarcasm as hard as possible so I could ignore the way my heart was hammering in my chest.

“I know that, but do you?” he countered.

“I’m just saying...” I trailed off.

“I prefer your crush on Patrick Swayze,” Cass complained.

“I prefer my crush on you,” I said, twisting my neck around so I could waggle my eyebrows at him.

He shook his head at me, but he was smiling.

I gave him a quick smooch before turning back to the TV.

Cass nuzzled his face in next to mine, rubbing our cheeks together like an affectionate cat.  “Thank you, Dean.”

“Huh?”

“For coming out to me,” he said, kissing my cheek.  “Me, your boyfriend.  Who you engage in sexual activity with on a regular basis.”

“Don’t be a jerk,” I grumbled at him.

“Oh, I thought that was what you were into,” he hummed.

“Shut up,” I groaned, pushing at his arm.

“Deaaaan,” he protested, holding on tighter.

I gave in and let him snuggle me to his heart’s content, because it still hadn’t gone how I’d wanted it to, but we were almost there.

Next I invited Sam over for steaks.

We spent a lot less time together in heaven, and a lot of the time when we actually were together we were surrounded by our significant others or family or friends, but today I wanted it to be just the two of us.

“Your yard is looking good,” Sam commented as he took a sip of his Coke.

“Cass does most of it,” I said, eyes lasered on the steaks as I poked and prodded them with my tongs.  “He loves planting crap.”

“Poetic,” he commented.

“I planted all the herbs and stuff, though,” I added, nodding my head towards the herb garden.

“My brother, the green thumb,” Sam marveled.

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Mm?” he asked, eyes meeting mine over the grill.

“I’m bisexual,” I stated loudly and clearly.

He made one of his Faces, eyes squinting and mouth grimacing.  “I know?”

“Good,” I said, turning my eyes back to the steaks.  “How do you want yours done?”

“Medium well.”

I scoffed at that.  “That’s not how you eat a steak.”

“You asked.”

“You’ll have it medium rare.”

“Okay then, big brother,” he said, rolling his eyes.  “Why even bother asking?”

“To remind us all what dumb ideas you have.”

“Excuse you.”

“You’re excused.”

“Jerk.”

“I know you are but what am I?”

“Really?  Peewee?”

“He’s a classic for a reason.”

“He jerked off in an adult movie theater.”

“Who hasn’t jerked off in an adult movie theater?!”

“Too much information, Dean.”

“Or just the right amount.”

Sam started laughing, shaking his head.  “How are we related?”

“Do you need me to give you The Talk again?”

“Just shut up and cook the damn steaks.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, grinning.

I was pretty sure I was happy.

- 23 -

I was blasting the Yardbirds as I coasted down the highway, drumming my hands on the steering wheel.  “For your love!  For your love!”

Cass was suddenly next to me, slouching in his seat.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, giving him a quick peck before focusing my eyes back on the road.

“Hello,” he said glumly.

“Was the kiss that bad?”

“What?” he asked, his face scrunching up.  “No, of course not.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, deciding to go for the more direct approach if I actually wanted an answer.

“It’s…” he trailed off.  “Jack and I had a disagreement.”

“Really?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise.  “You’re usually two peas in a friggin’ pod.”

“Yes, well, we can’t agree on everything,” Cass said, sounding uncharacteristically bitter.

“You wanna talk about it?” I offered.

“No,” he said shortly.

I took my right hand off the steering wheel and rested it on his knee.

Cass covered my hand with his, sighing dramatically.  “Who is this?” he finally asked.

“Hm?”

“I’m not familiar with this artist.”

“You don’t know the Yardbirds?” I asked incredulously.

“I… do not…” Cass said slowly, tilting his head to the side.

“Dude, this is a serious lapse in your education,” I lamented.  “Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Jimmy Friggin’ Page…”

“I am familiar with all of these artists,” he said, his squint intensifying.

“Of course you are, they’re three of the greatest guitarists of all time, and they all got their start with the Yardbirds, man.”

“What an influential band…” he mused.

“Yeah, I’ll lend you some tapes.”

“Thank you.”

I glanced over at him.  “Hey.”

He’d been looking out the window, but he turned to meet my gaze.  “Yes?”

“That thing with Jack’s really bothering you, huh?”

A frown tugged at his lips.  “He can be very stubborn sometimes.  I understand that he can see all things, but that does not mean that he knows all things.”

“Uh… huh…”

He sighed loudly.

“Can’t you guys, ya know, talk it out?” I suggested.

“He won’t listen.”

“Will you?”

“Are you ‘Dr.’ ‘Phil’ing me?”

“Possibly.”

“I am always willing to listen.”

“Okay, then leave it to me, angel,” I said, glancing up towards the ceiling.  “Hey, Jack, get your ass down here.”

“Dean, I hardly-”

“Hello.”

We both looked into the backseat where Jack sat, waving.

“Hey, kiddo, good to see you,” I said, turning back to the road.

Cass was silent.

“Yes, it’s been a while,” Jack said, holding up a little box of tapes.  “I have finished these.”

“Ready for the next batch?”

“I am,” he affirmed.

“Cool, I’ll get them to you as soon as you and Cass talk out your issues like grownups instead of ignoring each other,” I said cheerfully.

“Dean,” Cass growled, giving me a warning look.

“What, you two haven’t said a damn word to each other since Jack got here,” I pointed out.

“I hadn’t gotten around to it,” he tried to protest.

“I felt awkward addressing Castiel directly because he is upset with me,” Jack offered honestly.

Cass stiffened at that, then slowly turned around to face the back again.  “Jack, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.  I know we are having a disagreement, but…” he hesitated, then shook his head.  “I’m sorry, I should have spoken with you right away instead of…  I was being childish.  I truly apologize.”

I slapped him on the shoulder encouragingly.  “Atta boy.”

Jack tilted his head to the side, sizing Cass up.  “I would like it if we could… find common ground.”

“I would like that as well,” Cass agreed.

“You two ‘fight’ like you’re on an episode of of Downton Abbey,” I muttered.  “Okay, so we’re gonna go back to our place, and I’m gonna fix us all some lunch-”

“Will you make your PB&J?” Jack asked hopefully.

“I will make Dean’s Famous PB&J,” I agreed, “and in the meantime you two will figure this shit out so we can have a nice family meal together.”

Neither of them seemed particularly convinced, but when we got back to the house I made a beeline for the kitchen and left them to sort their shit.

Making PB&J didn’t actually take that long, even if it was Dean’s Famous PB&J, so I decided to bake a pie first (classic apple, obviously).  I was going all out, flour on my nose and all, when Jack peered into the kitchen.

“Do you need any help?” he asked.

“I think I got it covered,” I said, rubbing my nose absently.

“Oh.”

I looked at his kicked puppy face and sighed.  He learned that one from his dad.  “You wanna learn how to do a lattice?”

His eyes lit up as he nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, get over here,” I said, nodding my head towards the kitchen island where I was working.  “I’m cutting the dough in even strips,” I explained, gesturing to the parts I’d already cut.  “Think you can finish up?”

He nodded, picking up the knife and starting in.

“You and Cass talked?”

“Yeah, we… we haven’t reached an agreement, but I think we understand each other better now,” he said, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on what he was doing.

I patted his arm, and he shot me a grin.  “So next we’re gonna lay some strips over the pie,” I explained, nodding toward the pie plate.

We were full on weaving the pie crust when Cass joined us.

“You good, angel?” I asked, leaving the pie to Jack so I could pull Cass into a hug and sneak in a grope of his ass.

“Dean, not in front of-” Cass started, glancing towards Jack.

“You know, I’m not a child anymore,” Jack pointed out, not looking up from his work.

“I know,” Cass said, and it sounded like this was all part of their earlier discussion.  “So if I…” he trailed off, then took me by surprise by grabbing me back by the ass.

I did not shriek.

“Completely fine,” Jack assured him, eyes flicking to my panic-stricken ones.  “I have finished the weaving, Dean.”

“Uh-huh, great job there, buddy,” I said, trying to ignore the fact that Cass was still groping me in front of our son.  “So we gotta uh, you know, cut and crimp…”

Jack looked up at me expectantly.

I tried to nudge Cass away, but somehow he ended up molded to my back, arms wrapped securely around my waist while I showed Jack how to cut the extra dough off with the kitchen scissors.

“You’re such a good dad,” Cass told me later when we were cleaning up the kitchen.

I snorted at that.  “I’m no such thing.”  I’d long since given up on denying paternity to the kid, but taking credit for being a good father after all the shit I put him through when I was alive?  All the baked pies and afternoons fixing cars together were never gonna make up for those mistakes.

“You are,” he insisted.  “You get through to that human part of Jack that I can’t reach sometimes.”

“I think he’s humoring me when he pretends to be interested in what I have to teach him, seeing as he’s all omnipotent and crap,” I pointed out.

“He enjoys spending time with you.”

“’Cause I’m the fun dad,” I said with a wink.

“You are,” Cass agreed, smiling all bright and sunny.  “After you finally learned to stop being such a hardass.”

“Is that the technical term, ‘hardass’?” I asked.

“Mm,” he agreed, suddenly delivering a sharp spank to my ass.

“You are out of control,” I complained, trying to not blush and knowing that I was failing miserably.

“Am I?” Cass asked, crowding me against the kitchen counter.

I chewed on my bottom lip, flustered.  “Yeah,” I finally managed to get out, hand latching onto his tie like a safety blanket.

He leaned in close like he was going to kiss me, but then diverted his lips to my ear.  “Sometimes it can feel good to let go of control.”

“Jesus,” I whimpered, hand gripping onto him more tightly.

“Castiel,” he corrected me, and I simultaneously wanted to laugh and cum in my pants.

“How do you go from dorky dad to bossy dom, like 0 to 60?” I complained, but I sounded kinda breathless.

“Am I bossy?” he asked as he pulled back, looking perplexed.  Then his head made a hard tilt to the right.  “Am I a… ‘dom’?”

“You’re not gonna deny the dorky dad part?”

“No, I am self-aware enough to acknowledge the validity of that assessment.”

“Nerd,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yes,” he agreed, suddenly hefting me up onto the counter.  “But also ‘the boss’.”

“Nuh-uh, no way, Angela,” I pretended to protest, even as my traitorous legs were wrapping around his waist.  The voice in the back of my head that usually yelled and screamed about stuff like that was strangely quiet, so I let my legs stay where they were, enjoying the closeness.

“Yes way,” he informed me, finally, finally leaning in to touch his lips to mine, the softest of brushes.

“You’re bein’ a tease, Cass,” I complained when he pulled away.

“Well, I have to get back to work.”

“You gotta be shittin’ me.”

“I shit you not,” he said, shaking his head solemnly.  “After Jack and I spoke, while we did not reach an agreement, I came to understand what I need to do next.”

“You’re not gonna do anything stupid, right?” I asked, squinting at him.

“Never,” he said, then took in my raised eyebrow and added, “again.”

“That’s my angel,” I said with a grin.  I tugged on his tie, and he took the hint, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me like I was precious.

“I’ll be home soon,” he assured me, pulling away slowly like he wasn’t quite ready to go.

“Don’t take too long,” I said, letting the material of his tie slide out from between my fingers.  “You know bossin’ me around gets me all hot and bothered.”

“I know,” he agreed.

“Did you just ‘I know’ me?” I asked, squinting at him.

“I was simply confirming your insinuation,” he said.  “And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Be wearing the red ones when I come back.”

I didn’t need to ask ‘what red ones?’, and that just increased the color creeping to my cheeks.

“Dean?  Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.”

“Good,” he said, and then he was gone.

I was embarrassed, but I found myself hopping down from the counter, eager to do what I was told.

Because in the end, it was okay to want what I wanted.

- 24 -

After a round of Sorry almost erupted into violence, Sam decided that the perfect solution to save game night was to play Twister.

“Dude, who wants to play Twister with their brother?” I protested.

“So you admit you’re gonna lose?” he asked with a smirk.

“Uh, yeah right, ganglezilla,” I scoffed.  “The issue here is that Twister is not a game of skill, it’s a game of horny preteens tryin’ to rub up against their crush.”

“That is not in the rules,” Cass said, not looking up from the rule sheet that he was scrutinizing.

I rolled my eyes.  “You don’t put it in the rules, it’s just something everyone knows.”

“It’s true,” Eileen said, nodding her agreement.

“Uh, no, it’s not,” Sam said.  “I played with my friends in junior high all the time.”

Eileen and I exchanged a Look.

“Listen, Sammy, I dunno how to break this to you-” I started to say.

“So help me god if you tell me my friends were all trying to cop a feel-”

“Your friends were trying to cop a feel,” Eileen said confidently.

“Just because you two are perverts-”

“Just because you’re a prude-” I interrupted him.

“I’d like to play,” Cass decided, setting the rule sheet down.

“Sweetheart, you can cop a feel of me in the privacy of our bedroom anytime you’d like,” I pointed out.

“I would rather put my right hand on red and test my dexterity as the game progresses.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, nodding like he’d been exonerated.

“Then you two horndogs play, and me and Eileen’ll do the spinner,” I said.

“No, we all have to play,” he insisted.

“If we all play, who’s gonna do the spinner?” I pointed out.

“I can use my grace,” Cass offered.

I raised an eyebrow at him.  He always got mad at me for asking him to use his grace for ‘frivolous things’.

“I want to play this game, Dean,” he stated firmly, with a little hint of that bossy bedroom voice of his that somehow always got me to do what he wanted.

I stopped protesting.

Eileen gave me a betrayed look, but then Cass started eyeing her up and she started eyeing him back, and suddenly Twister was yet another battleground for them in their very bizarre rivalry.

“This is much more fun when played with other people,” Cass declared as we all struggled to get our left feet on green when our right feet were on red.

“I’m not sure we have the same idea of fun,” I grunted.

“Right hand green!” he chirped.

“Oh my god, are you really spinning that thing properly or are you just stopping on whatever’s the most friggin’ difficult to do?!” I demanded.

“The latter,” he said cheerfully.

I gaped at my devious boyfriend.

“I don’t see the problem,” Eileen said breezily, twisting her arm under herself and settling on red.

“What are you, woman, a freaking octopus?!” I cried, still struggling to get into position.  “I mean, congrats, Sammy, but do we really need to be able to, ya know, literally tie ourselves in knots?”

“Dean, you could do to gain a little more flexibility,” Cass said.  “Left foot blue.”

“Hey, darlin’, I think I bend in all the right places,” I protested as I moved my foot.

“Dude, you can’t even do downward dog,” Sam said with a snort.

“Right hand red.”

“Is that really something you take pride in, Samantha?”

“Dean,” came a chorus of groans.

“Oh my god, I get it already,” I complained.  “Sorry, Sammy, do you really take pride in being able to do something called ‘downward dog’?”

“If you got it, you wouldn’t keep doing it,” Cass pointed out.  “Right foot blue.”

I sighed with relief as we finally shifted into a comfortable position.  I didn’t get the same aches and pains I did when I was alive, but okay, yeah, I wasn’t the most flexible guy in certain areas, like performing splits across Twister boards.

“Left foot green.”

“Sonovabitch.”

“Do you surrender?” Eileen asked, returning to a position where she could see my face and resume taunting me.

“I can do it,” I growled.

“You better not lose this for us,” Cass complained.

“You’re the one who wanted to be on my team!”

“Because I thought Sam’s excessively long limbs would be a hindrance to his flexibility and movement,” he said with a sigh.  “He’s usually so clumsy…”

“I’m not…” Sam tried to protest but then just gave up because facts were facts.

“Left hand red,” Cass said, and suddenly his arm was sliding under mine as he occupied the red circle between my two hands, the brush of his arm against mine almost shy.

“What are you doing?” I asked, shaking my head but grinning.

“I thought that rubbing against my crush would enhance the gameplay.”

I snorted at that, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss.  “Whaddya think?” I asked, smirking at him.

“It does add… ‘excitement’ to the game,” he concluded.  “Though you were correct in your assertion that it would probably be more practical to do this in the privacy of our bedroom.”  He paused.  “Naked,” he decided.

I threw my head back and laughed, while Sam sputtered incoherently, his delicate sensibilities thoroughly offended.

“Right hand yellow,” Cass said, completely unperturbed.

There was a crash behind me, and Sam was down for the count.

“Unbelievable,” Eileen groaned.

“Hey, you win some, you lose some,” Cass said with a shrug, rising to his feet.

“This ain’t over,” she said.  “We fight this out fair and square, no dead weight.”

“All right,” Cass agreed.  “Dean, take the spinner.”

“I am not drunk enough for this,” I said, stretching my abused spine.

“Yeah, ’cause you said you were good with cola,” Sam said, sitting down on the couch and picking up the spinner.  “Left foot green.”

Cass and Eileen both stamped their feet down on green.

“Ya know, they used to put cocaine in this,” I said, raising my can of Coke to Sam in a mock cheers and taking a long drink.

“Yeah, okay, but they don’t anymore?” he said, passing the spinner to me.

“Right hand blue,” I announced.

“So you doin’ the steps, gonna make amends next?”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” I grumbled at him.

“Ha,” came the peanut gallery’s reply from the Twister board.

“Left hand blue,” Sam said.  “No, really, man, so you’re…”

“I’m just takin’ a temporary break from alcohol,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “Lookin’ at shit with clear eyes.”

“Less brotherly bonding, more spinning,” Eileen commanded.

I flicked the spinner around and grinned.  “Red right hand,” I sang, doing my best Nick Cave impression.

Sam gave me a weird look.

“We’re watching Peaky Blinders,” I explained.

“Dean wants to have intercourse with Cillian Murphy,” Cass offered.

“I do not,” I protested, spinning the spinner harder than it really needed to be spun.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said.  “He’s your type.”

“Dark hair, dreamy blue eyes?” Eileen offered, shooting me a smirk from her twisted up position on the floor.

“I don’t have a type,” I protested.

“Not an alcoholic, don’t have a type, got it,” Sam said.

“Left foot yellow,” I growled.

“Dean doesn’t like discussing his ‘man’ crushes’,” Cass explained.

“Left foot green,” Sam said.  “Yeah, apparently, ’cause I had to hear in explicit detail all the things he was gonna do to Daisy Duke growing up.”

“Catherine Bach or Jessica Simpson?” Eileen asked.

“I mean, initially Bach, but eventually there was a ménage à trois thing going on,” Sam explained.

“Hell yeah,” I said, nodding with a great feeling of satisfaction.

Cass rolled his eyes at me.

“So you’re proud of that, but you can’t admit that a dude has pretty eyes?” Sam asked, passing me the spinner.

“Okay, Jesus, fine, yeah, Cillian Murphy is… ya know, fuckable,” I admitted.  And it felt… fine?  “Left foot yellow.”

“It is already on yellow,” Cass said with a frown

I spun it again.  “Right hand blue.”

“Did you see 28 Days Later?” Eileen asked as she slid her hand onto the space Cass was going for, trying to edge him off the board.  “I’d go through an apocalypse with Jim.”

“Yeah, I was kinda closeted when I saw it, but it might be worth a rewatch,” I mused.

“So you can swoon as you gaze deep into Cillian’s eyes?” Sam teased me.

I felt something switch on inside me.  “Aw, yeah, Sammy, can you imagine those fucking eyes looking up at you while those lips wrap around your dick?”

He made a gagging face.

It wasn’t because I was talking about gay stuff.  It was because Sam was a prude and hated it when I talked about sex at all.

My grin took over my entire face as I mimed giving a blowjob.

“Dude,” Sam complained.

“Mm, those gorgeous DSL,” I said, feeling myself go far away picturing them.

“Digital Subscriber Line?  Internet… porn?” Sam asked, looking confused.

I snorted.  “This guy thinks DSL is internet porn.”

“Huh?” he said, looking completely confused.

‘Dick sucking lips,’ Eileen mouthed at him.

I cracked up at Sam’s horrified face.

“And they are,” she said, nodding her agreement, “but also CSL.”

“What… does the ‘C’ stand… for…?” Sam sputtered out hesitantly, like he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I’m sorry, but why are you with this man?” I asked, shaking my head at Eileen.  “He can’t even find the clitoris.”

Eileen laughed at that, then mouthed at me, ‘freak in the sheets.’

“Nice,” I said, then gave Sam an approving pat on the back.

“Huh?” he said, completely lost in the conversation.

“Just playing the lady in the streets, lil’ bro, amirite?” I declared.  I gave him a big thumbs up.

His sheer confusion had me and Eileen howling.

“I would like to finish this game sometime tonight,” Cass commented, sounding exasperated.

“It’s a kid’s game, Cass,” I pointed out.

“And Eileen and I are having a wonderful time playing it.”

“You two look like you’re about to murder each other.”

“Maybe murdering each other is how we have a wonderful time.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, left foot red.”

The game went on for what seemed like most of the night, but I was having a good time passing the spinner between me and Sammy, regaling him with the details of explicit sex dreams I’d had about Patrick Swayze while he tried to cover his virgin ears and pretend it wasn’t happening.

I felt like me.

- 25 -

Cass had his arms around me protectively, cooing nonsense while I tried to sniffle away my tears.

“You’re okay, Dean,” he said gently.  “I’ve got you.”

“I know, fuck,” I groaned, sniffing long and loud and hoping that my eyes would stop dripping.

“Just let it out,” he murmured, kissing my temple.

“Already let it out,” I complained.  “Want it to stop.”

“Clearly there’s still something wanting to come out,” he pointed out.

“No, I can’t friggin’ cry anymore, man,” I sniffed.  Then I sniffed some more.  And then I just cried into his chest like some big baby.

“It’s okay,” Cass hummed into my hair.  “I love you.”

It took a while for the sobs to stop.

He held me and stroked my hair until I was quiet, then tilted my chin up to look me in the eye.  “Was the sex that bad?” he asked drily.

I couldn’t help the little laugh that bubbled out of me.  “No, sweetheart, of course not.  It was…” I started, but just thinking about it made my throat start to tighten up again.

“It was what you wanted?” he asked uncertainly.

I nodded and swallowed.

“It was what you needed?”

My nod increased in intensity.

“Okay,” he said, pressing his nose into my hair, his lips into my skin.  Barely above a whisper, he added, “I needed it, too.”  His grip tightened, and I felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

I kissed the skin under my lips.  ‘Love you,’ I mouthed into the warmth of his chest.  ‘Love you, love you, love you.’

This was all embarrassingly sappy, but I didn’t see how else anything that started with ‘Cass, I want you inside of me’ could have ended up.

Fuck, my life was a Harlequin Romance.

Even as I had the thought, though, I realized it didn’t actually bother me.  Who the fuck cared if my boyfriend tenderly made love to me while I cried?  I was exhausted, but I felt awesome.

I felt…

“I feel really close to you right now,” Cass said softly, “as if there were no longer any walls between us.”

“I feel the same,” I whispered back.  Then I realized I didn’t have to whisper anymore.  “I feel free,” I stated loudly.

Cass nudged at me insistently until our noses could touch, rubbing them together in an Eskimo kiss.

“They’re called Inuits,” he informed me.

“Huh?”

“The inhabitants of the arctic, they are called Inuits.”

“Are you reading my goddamn mind again?”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “No walls.”

“S’fine,” I decided, continuing to… Inuit kiss him.  “Just for now.”

“I will st-” Cass started, but I decided to kiss him French-style next.

When we pulled apart, he was smiling so damn much I thought his face might break in half.  “You happy, angel?”

“Very, very happy,” he said, nodding enthusiastically.

“Good,” I said.  I kissed his nose.  “You deserve to be happy.  I wanna make you happy.”

“You do,” he assured me, his eyes all crinkly.

“I don’t always,” I admitted, thumbing over the scruff on his chin, “but I’m gonna do better.”

Cass mirrored my touch, stroking along my jaw and gazing into my eyes with that huge smile still on his face.

“Enough sap,” I groaned, but I had to kiss him one more time.  “Come on, we are disgusting and we need a shower.”

He sighed, still holding me to his chest.

“C’mon, man, I don’t wanna be covered in jizz anymore,” I protested, though I really could have just laid there all day, jizz and all.

“Squeeze me, babe,” he crooned at me, hand wandering lower to give my ass a grab, “’till the juice runs down my leg.”

“I can’t even be mad at you if you’re gonna sing Zepp,” I said, trying not to laugh while simultaneously trying not to squirm when his fingers started tracing along my rim, catching the cum dripping out.

“Sometimes I like it when you’re mad at me,” he admitted.

I couldn’t keep the laugh in.

“I was going to sing Sexual Healing next,” he added, and proceeded to do so.

I was fully cracking up when Cass finally let me get up and drag him off to the shower.

“Dean?” he asked me thoughtfully as the water ran over his head.

“Mm-hm?” I hummed, working shampoo into his hair.

“Does this mean that you will be willing to penetrate me next?”

I snorted, carefully tipping his head back to keep the shampoo from going into his eyes as I rinsed it out.  “Maybe.”

“Why only ‘maybe’?” he complained, sounding like a petulant child.

“’Cause I might need you to do me again first,” I explained, waggling my eyebrows at him.

“Oh,” he said, his gaze turning thoughtful.  “Yes, okay, either proposition is acceptable.”

“That’s what I aim for our sex life to be,” I commented, “‘acceptable’.”

“I apologize, did I not properly convey my enthusiasm for both propositions through encomium?”

“Honey, I don’t even know what that word means,” I informed him, giving him a kiss and spinning us around so I could be under the spray.

Cass gave me a squint.  “In case I was not clear, I wish to partake in sexual intercourse with you at every possible opportunity from now until eternity.”

“You sure know how to make a boy blush.”

He did his best to waggle his eyebrows at me.

I cracked up.

“Why do you always laugh at me when I’m being sexy?” he complained.

I was crying again, but I didn’t care.  “Jesus.”

“That is not my name.”

“What should I call you then?” I asked, resting my arms around his neck while he rinsed shampoo from my hair.

“Daddy.”

I threw my head back in a laugh, water getting into my eyes and up my nose.  “Oh, god.”

“Again, not my name.”

“Cass, you gotta stop watching whatever porn it is you’re watching.”

“You told me it would enhance our sex life.”

“Yeah, okay, porn is awesome,” I agreed.  “But maybe you should stick to more, ya know, vanilla stuff.”

“Why?” he asked, looking at me like I was the weird one.

“Forget it,” I said, shaking my head.  “Watch whatever you want.”

“Thank you, I will.”

That sounded ominous to me.  Also vaguely intriguing.

We finished washing up and got out of the shower all squeaky clean.

Cass started humming absently to himself as he patted down his body.

“Castiel.”

“Yes?”

“You’re not funny.”

He batted those big eyes of his at me and dared to say, “I am hilarious, Dean, though not always intentionally.”

I chewed on my lip, not wanting to laugh.  “Madonna, really?”

“It seemed appropriate,” he said with a shrug, moving out of the bathroom.  “For your deflowering.”

I tried to hold my laugh in and failed.

“Like a virgin, hey!  Touched for the very first time!”

I followed his out of tune singing into the bedroom.  “So what song am I gonna deflower you to?”

“Hm…” he trailed off, looking thoughtful as he stood in the middle of the room with nothing on  “Maybe Only the Good Die Young?”

“You Catholic school girls start much too late,” I sang with a laugh, showing him how proper eyebrow waggling was done.

Cass approached me with the softest expression on his face, which really didn’t match the conversation.  “You’re laughing so much,” he said reverently.  He reached up a hand to touch my cheek.  “Am I in fact hilarious or… are you just happy?”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column b, sweetheart.”

“They say there’s a heaven for those who will wait,” he rumble-sang at me.

I had a sudden concerning thought.  “Oh, shit, have I become a Stepford Bitch?” “Never,” Cass said, letting out an amused huff.  “You always break the mould, Dean.”

“Hell yeah I do,” I agreed.  The matter was settled in my mind.  I was happy because I was happy, and that was an awesome thing to be.

- 26 -

Cass held the casserole in both hands, while Jack held the flowers.  I rang the doorbell.

We waited.

“So are you ready to be 50 shades freed?” Cass asked conversationally.

I turned to him with a stern look.  “What did I tell you about those BDSM references?”

“That I should compile a list of what I was interested in trying and then-”

“The other thing, Cass, the other friggin’ thing.”

“Oh, uh,” he paused, clearing his throat.  “The ‘don’t talk about erotica for ladies in front of…’” he paused again, then continued with an apologetic look towards Jack, “‘the’ ‘kid’ thing.”

“Yes, Cass,” I said, exasperated.  “That thing.”

“I’ve seen all the movies,” Jack said with a shrug.  “I found them… confusing.”

“The kid is watching confusing erotica for ladies when he could be watching actual porn,” I said, and that’s when my mom opened the door, covered in spaghetti sauce.

She squinted at me.

“This is a casserole,” Cass explained, thrusting it towards her.

“Thanks, Castiel, this is going to save the disaster in the kitchen,” she said, relieved.

“Hi, Mom,” I greeted her, giving her a kiss on the cheek as I moved into the house.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greeted me, before turning her attention to her inexplicable favorite, seeing as how he murdered her and all.  “Jack!  You’re here!”

“Hello,” he said, accepting her hug.

“I thought you were… where was it, the nebula…?”

“Yes, I’ve been passing my days quietly contemplating in the Crab Nebula,” Jack explained.  “These flowers are for you.”

“Thank you, how thoughtful.”

“Where’s Dad?” I called over my shoulder.

“Guess,” Mom replied.

“Garage?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, don’t wait for us to get started.”

I moved towards the living room where the door to the garage was.

“He’s going to do it now?” I could hear Mom whispering.

“Yes, he’s quite determined,” Cass said, and that was all I wanted to hear of that as I opened the garage door and stepped inside.

“Dad?”

He slid out from under the Camaro, covered in grease.  “Hey, son.  That time already?”

“Nah, we got here a little early.”

“Saving us all from Mary’s cooking?”

“Yeah, I got us covered,” I said, shifting from one leg to the other.

“I’ve just got to-” Dad started, but I cut him off.

“Can we talk?”

He sat up, wiping his hands on his jumpsuit.  “Alright.”

I pulled over a toolbox to him and sat down on it.  “Dad, I’m bisexual.”

He scoffed at that.  “I know, Dean.”

“No, I don’t think that you do,” I said, shaking my head.  I clasped my hands together to hide their shaking.  “Cass isn’t a fluke.  I’ve probably always been attracted to men and women.”

“Dean, I don’t see why that matters.”

I took in a breath and let it out slowly.  “It matters to me, and I need you to listen to me right now.”

“I am listening,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“I need you to just listen,” I tried to explain, grasping for words.  “Just listen, okay?”

“I am,” he repeated.  His tone was getting colder.

“I need you not to talk,” I blurted out, then took in another breath and let it out slowly.

“Dean-”

“Don’t talk,” I repeated, because it was stupid to be a grown man afraid of getting a smack from his father.  “Don’t talk and just listen.”

His look darkened.

“Please,” I said, because Cass said asking politely was better than being ordered around.  We could agree to disagree, but in this instance he was probably right.

Dad gestured for me to continue, not looking happy but not saying anything.

So I looked him in the eye, and I said, “I never became the man I was supposed to be because of you.”

“What is-”

“Just listen.”

“Now look here, son-”

“Just listen, John,” I said flatly, finding a strange sense of calm in his anger.

He opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m bi,” I repeated, “but no son of yours could ever be out.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Just listen to me, dammit,” I growled, not looking away from his steely gaze.  “You got to talk, talk, talk for all those years, and now it’s my turn, okay?  It’s my turn to talk, not yours.”

He hefted out a loud sigh.  “Fine,” he gave in, because he probably knew that if he didn’t, this conversation would be over and so would any chance we had at a relationship.

“Thank you,” I said in a tone that was probably more hostile than polite, but I was at least attempting to mind my Ps and Qs.  The thing was, this wasn’t on me.  He could listen or not, but once it was all out there, I’d have done my part.

He gestured for me to continue, like he was still in charge of this.

I stared him.

He waited.

I waited.

He opened his mouth.

I narrowed my eyes.

He didn’t speak.

“I was a kid,” I finally said.  “I was a little kid, and you took that away from me.  I was… I was sensitive and… kind and… you took that away.  You tried to make me into your version of a man, talking about ‘real men’, calling people ‘gay’ like it was something derogatory, treating women like objects…  You ingrained all that shit into me until it was the only truth I could believe in, and it was all bullshit, it was all a grieving man in pain, fighting a one-man vendetta against a, against a friggin’… I don’t know, but it was like you wanted to honor Mom while you were tryin’ to… tryin’ to tear every last part of her outta me,” I got out, choking on the last word as tears warmed my eyes.

“Dean,” he said, and this time he wasn’t angry but I didn’t want to hear it.

“It wasn’t fair,” I pushed forward.  “It wasn’t fucking fair.  I loved her, too, and she was a part of me, but you ripped that part of me away and made me ashamed of it.  I would flinch whenever someone told me I looked like Mom, that I was… pretty, because men weren’t ‘pretty’ and that meant I wasn’t a man, and… it was all so fucking stupid.  You made me ashamed of who I was, ashamed of… being like Mom, even if I didn’t realize it at the time, because my memories just kept fading and fading and you never wanted to talk about her, just when you were drunk, just those same stories over and over, but you didn’t even tell me, you didn’t tell me that Mom loved bacon and pie and that she rocked harder than you, you didn’t tell me, and I didn’t… I didn’t know that she was… with me, with me every step of the way in these stupid tiny everyday things, because you hoarded all your memories of her and you wouldn’t… and… and…”  It was getting harder to talk.

“I didn’t realize-” he tried to say.

“And the thing of it was, you were the one who wasn’t there,” I ground out.  “I was the man of the house.  I took care of Sammy.  I made sure his lunch was packed before he left for school.  I made sure he got on the bus.  I picked him up after school and helped him with his homework ’til the damn kid got smarter than me.  I made sure there was some kind of food on the table for dinner, even if there wasn’t enough for two.  I laid in shitty motel beds with him while he cried ’cause there was a clown painting on the wall or he was hungry or he wanted his dad for some friggin’ reason, whatever it was, I was there raising that kid while you were off chasing ghosts and getting drunk.”

“Dean.”

“I ain’t finished, old man.”

He looked like I’d punched him in the face.

My tears were dry now.  “I’m not good with words and I don’t like making big speeches, so I’m leaving you with this.  You took something away from me.  You made me less of a man.  And despite that, despite all of that, I was still ten times the man you ever were, and I’m becoming a better man every day.  I’m becoming the person I was supposed to be.  The person I would have been if you hadn’t raised me.”

The garage was completely silent.

I stood up.  “So if you want to come to dinner, come to dinner.  But know that me and Sammy, and even Mom, aren’t gonna put of with any of your macho shit anymore.  If you want to fix your relationship with me, then try shutting up and listening sometimes, and then maybe I might actually be able to forgive you and move on.”  I left the garage.

The dining room was empty, but I could hear voices in the kitchen.

My eyes sought out Cass’s from where he was putting lettuce in a bowl at the kitchen island.

“Dean, Sam and Eileen have just arrived,” he informed me, smiling warmly.

“Hey,” Sam greeted me, bumping his shoulder into mine.  “Mom said that you were gonna finally give Dad The Talk.”

I nodded.

“You did it?” he asked, sounding surprised.

I nodded again, moving across the kitchen to anchor myself with Cass.  I threw my arms around him, tucking my head under his chin.

His hands were wet from the lettuce, but he held me close anyway, stroking the hairs at the back of my neck soothingly.  “How do you feel?” he whispered into my hair.

I closed my eyes, breathing him in.  “Free.”

“Good,” he said, kissing the top of my head before going back to preparing the salad.

We had already started eating when Dad came in from the garage.

He grunted out a greeting before taking his seat.

I met his gaze with my hand firmly placed on Cass’s knee.  “You want some casserole, Dad?” I asked, holding up the pan towards him.

“Yes, please,” he replied, taking the dish from me.

It was a start.

- Hidden Bonus Track -

The tinkling ukulele of Elvis’s Blue Hawaii filled the air, competing with the sounds of the waves washing up on the shore.

“This is the life,” I declared, taking a long drink from whatever fruity concoction was in this giant glass I was drinking from.

“I would like it better if it wasn’t for all the… sand,” Cass said, like it was a disdainful word.

“It’s part of the experience, man,” I protested.

“Hey, are you two just gonna sit here the whole time?” Sam asked as he approached our beach chairs, toweling himself off from his swim.

“If we are very lucky,” I said, stirring my drink with the little umbrella.  “Perfect view of the stage.”

“So you mean perfect view of attractive women dancing in skimpy clothing,” Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

“Uh, they are dancing professionals, Samuel,” I said, clucking my tongue at him.  “Why are you objectifying them like that?”

He started sputtering.

“I think you broke Sam,” Cass pointed out helpfully.

“Ha,” I said.  “Man, that dancer on the left is gorgeous.”

“Her breasts are very full,” Cass agreed.

“Heh heh, hell yeah,” I said, holding up my hand for a high five.

Cass slapped my hand with his.

Sam looked like he was going to have a conniption.  “I thought you were supposed to be becoming a better man, less of a… you.”

“I’m a work in progress, Sammy, what can I say?”

Sam groaned, flopping down into the chair next to mine.

I looked to Sam on my left and Cass to my right, all of us with our toes in the sand wearing matching Hawaiian shirts while we sipped our drinks and watched the waves crash onto the beach, accompanied by the lovely dancing of the hula girls.  “We made it, boys.”

“Cheers to that,” Sam said, holding up his glass.

We all clinked our glasses together and watched the sky explode into colors as the sun set over Hawaii.

“Dream come true in Blue Hawaii,” Cass crooned.

Sam covered his ears, I rolled my eyes with a laugh, and all was right with the world.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite and Beyond Playlist 16-20

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda / Sequel to Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist

The one where Cass makes a Daddy Issues playlist.

Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

Parts 16-20/26 under the cut. Previous parts here.

- 16 -

Judy Collins was blasting from the living room when I got home from Bobby’s.  I peaked my head through the doorway, surprised to see my mom and Cass on the floor, surrounded by records.

Mom was laughing and she looked young with long blonde curls framing her face, but when her eyes met mine she was suddenly the short-haired woman I’d known as an adult again.  “Hey, sweetie.”

“Hey, Mom,” I greeted her, patting her shoulder and leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

She grinned up at me.  “Hope you don’t mind us commandeering your living room.”

“Mi casa is su casa,” I said, eyes flicking over to Cass.  “Hi.”

“Hello,” he said, looking up at me expectantly.

I looked between him and my mom, both staring at me.  I swallowed, then shifted over to Cass and kissed the top of his head.

Cass’s whole face scrunched up in a smile.

Mom smiled, too, and went back to looking at records.

I slid down between them, feeling a little embarrassed but pleased.  My mom had had a similar reaction to my announcement as everyone else; I’d asked her, “hey, you know that Cass and me are… you know?” and she’d nodded and said, “I know.”

But then she’d gone and changed the script a little, saying, “I’m so glad you two finally found each other.”

Like she’d always known.

I settled my hand on Cass’s knee, picking up a record.  Carole King.  “These new?”

“Mary’s contributions to our collection,” he said, and I didn’t miss the our.

“Chick music?” I questioned before I could stop myself.

Mom made a dismissive noise.  “I taught you to respect the greats better than that.”

Cass was looking at me like I was an idiot.  “You and Mary have exactly the same taste in music, irregardless of your gender.”

“We don’t have the exact same taste,” I tried to protest, but just hearing this stupid Judy Collins song was tightening up something in my chest, something nostalgic and familiar and well-loved.

“Have you ever ridden in the car with your mother?” Cass asked, squinting at me.  “Dean, I put your body together atom by atom-”

“Jesus, Cass, in front of Mom?”

He stopped at that, looking confused.  “I simply mean that I know you on the deepest levels.”

I wanted to make a dirty joke about that, but as I’d pointed out myself, Mom really was sitting right across from us, so instead I gestured magnanimously for him to continue.

He frowned at me, but continued, “…and as the person who knows you on the deepest levels, I can assure you that there is little discernible difference between the musical selections of Mary Winchester and the musical selections of Dean Winchester played at obscene volumes during long drives.”

‘Obscene,’ Mom mouthed at me, amusement crinkling around her eyes.

I snorted.

“Including female singer-songwriters,” Cass added, giving us both a frown for our cheekiness.

“I don’t-” I tried to protest, and then just let the lie die off my lips.  “Whatever,” I grumbled instead.

Fine, Cass had converted me; I liked chick music.  That didn’t mean I had to admit it out loud.  The two people in this room could read it on my face without me having to say it, anyway.

“Sooo,” Mom said, still amused from my admission before her face suddenly went serious.  “Family dinner.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“I told Sam he could bring Eileen,” she said slowly.

“Cool,” I said with a shrug.

Mom and Cass were both giving me A Look again.

“What?”

“I thought it’d be nice if you brought Castiel, too,” Mom said casually.

I didn’t mean to laugh.

Mom gave me a tired look, while Cass did his broody pout thing.

“What?” I protested.  “He doesn’t eat,” I tried, taking my hand off of Cass’s knee and flailing it in his direction.

“You do not occupy a physical body and therefore do not require sustenance, either,” Cass said, wrinkling his nose at me.  “If you do not wish for me to come, then simply say so.”

“Cass, come on, man,” I said in a tone that definitely wasn’t a whine.  “You know how hard…” I trailed off, eyes nervously flitting to Mom before deciding to just push forward, “…how hard it’s been for me and Dad to… you know… and then if you’re there, I mean you two aren’t exactly…”

“John Winchester and I have spoken,” Cass said, bringing my rambling to a screeching halt.

“What?  When?” I asked, then thought about the important stuff.  “Spoken about what?”

“I apologized about my previous abruptness with him, but he understood and respected that I had been protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” I repeated.

Cass leaned in closer, gaze catching mine.  “He makes you upset, Dean,” he said, reaching up to cup my cheek gently.  “You are in heaven, and yet speaking with your father makes you upset, and I cannot abide that.”

“I’m a grown man, Cass, it’s okay,” I said, rolling my eyes and trying to break that hypnotic gaze but not quite succeeding.

“It is not okay, but John Winchester and I have agreed to ‘start’ ‘fresh’.”

“Wish I could ‘start fresh’ with him,” I muttered.

“He’d like that, Dean,” Mom cut in softly.

“I know, Jesus,” I complained with a frustrated sigh.  “I’d like that, too, but it’s not that friggin’ easy.”

“It’s not,” she agreed, reaching over and patting my knee.  “It took a long time for me and your dad, and we still have our arguments, but… it’s like the edges have softened?” she mused.  “When you finally let go, it just…” she trailed off, searching for the right words, then seemed to give up with a shrug.  “I’m happy, and I want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy, Mom,” I told her, and it was more or less true.

She squeezed my knee gently, eyes meeting mine steadily before she retreated back to the pile of records.

I felt a little brave.  “Cass makes me happy,” I said, my voice coming out stronger than I expected.

Mom breathed out, her lips curling upwards, though she kept at her task without looking at me.

“Dean, that’s…” Cass trailed off, staring up at me like I created the universe in seven days.

“Don’t start,” I told him, squishing his face.

“Try and stop me,” he said, his words muffled by his squishy fish face.

I grinned and kissed him without a thought.

It was just Mom, and she’d always known, anyway.

- 17 -

“Why haven’t we done this before?” Cass marveled at me like he’d just discovered the secret of the universe.

“Because we are two fully grown men smushed together in a very small space?” I attempted to complain, when really I had no complaints at all about driving to a scenic lookout and proceeding to make out in the backseat of my Baby like a couple of teenagers.

“I think it’s… cozy,” he decided.

I shook my head, cupping his jaw and pulling him back down into a kiss.  Only Cass would think that steaming up the windows of the Impala was ‘cozy’.  “You’re like a horny teenage grandpa,” I mumbled against his mouth.

“The logistics of becoming a grandfather during the teenage years-”

“Nope,” I cut him off, moving my mouth down his neck.  “Less talky, more kissy.”

“Dean,” he complained at me.

I shifted, letting our eyes meet.

“We can both talk and kiss,” he informed me gravely.

“Cass, man, come on,” I groaned.

“I enjoy talking to you,” he persisted.

“I enjoy talking to you, too, sweetheart,” I told him, earning myself a toothy smile.  “But make out conversations should be more, ya know, dirty talk and stuff.”

“Oh,” he mused with a thoughtful frown.  “I don’t think you would be able to handle my ‘dirty talk’ in this confined space, Dean.”

I snorted at that.  “Yeah, okay, I’ll try and keep it together from your ridiculous idea of dirty talk.”

“You always say it’s ridiculous, but it sure seems to… ‘get the job done’,” he pointed out.

“Well aren’t you a cocky sonuvabitch.”

“Is it cockiness if it’s true?”

“Yes,” I said, then thought about it.  “Maybe?  Whatever, you’re bad at dirty talk even if it turns me on.  Everything turns me on, so it’s hardly an accomplishment.”

He looked crestfallen.

I groaned, resting my head back against the door.  “Look, the windows are already unfogging…”

Cass pushed out his bottom lip in a pout.

I reached up to push an errant hair behind his ear, then left my hand there, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into the touch, eyes still staring into mine intently.

“C’mere,” I said softly.

He leaned in until his forehead rested against mine.

“The way you talk is weird,” I informed him.

Cass worked himself up to a thoroughly exasperated look.

“But it’s kinda sexy when your voice gets all… growly and stuff, so it doesn’t really matter what you say.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, and he was using that low, growly voice just to spite me.

“I just…” I trailed off, trying to make good words and failing.  “I like it.  I like you,” I finally said, which I didn’t think was what I’d been trying to say, what with how junior-high-school-crush it sounded.

“I like you, too, Dean,” Cass said, smiling all sunnily.  At least I’d uncrammed my foot from my mouth a little, even if what was coming out of my mouth was still stupid.

“I just… I mean… you know?”

He squinted at me.

I flushed, feeling stupid and tongue-tied.

“I know,” he finally said, letting me off the hook.

We went back to steaming up the windows.

I rocked my hips up lazily between his thighs, with no real intent behind the motion, reveling in the way Cass kissed me in that joyful way of his, like he was being given a gift.

Then he started joyfully licking my nose.

“You’re not a dog!” I protested, trying to push him away.

“I have often been referred to as such,” he said with a shrug, then went back to planting kisses all over my face before licking my nose again.

“Cass!” I may or may not have shrieked before bursting out laughing as he friggin’ persisted in his nonsense.  “What are you doing, you’re so weird,” I gasped out.

“I’m showing you my affections,” he declared with a grin that said he knew he was being a weirdo and didn’t care.

“Enough,” I tried to groan, even though I was still laughing.  I pushed us up into a sitting position, one hand guarding Cass’s head from bumping into Baby’s roof while the other settled comfortably on his ass.

“You’ve done that before,” he observed, settling his arms around my neck.

“Me and Baby have been around the block a time or two,” I said with a wink.

Cass rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you appreciate me and my experience,” I said, giving his ass a squeeze.

He squirmed a little at that, but then his look went deadpan.  “Yes, your vast experience in seducing women in your car to the soundtrack of Bad Company-”

“Dude, Bad Company rocks,” I interrupted him before he could get any more hits in.

“Well, I’m certainly going to associate this album with your sweet lips for the rest of my existence,” Cass said, looking a little dreamy.

‘Sweet lips?’ I mouthed at him incredulously.

He winked at me.

I threw my head back, laughing.  “You are simultaneously the dorkiest and suavest person I’ve ever met.”

“You think I’m suave?” he asked, pleased.

“You did just get me to make out with you for like three hours,” I pointed out.  “With no happy ending.”

“I think it ended pretty happi-” Cass started, then frowned.  “Oh.  You were making a lewd reference to a hand job after a massage.”

“I was making a lewd reference to a hand job after a massage.”

“I can do that, too.”

“Wasn’t asking,” I said with a snort.  “Wouldn’t say no, but wasn’t asking.”

“When we get home,” he promised, and I felt my cheeks heat up.  Cass squinted at me for a long while, then said, “I love you, Dean.”

“Back atcha, buddy,” I mumbled, tucking my face into his neck.

“I think you may have actually come up with something more offensive than ‘I know’,” he grumbled at me.

“How is that offensive?” I complained, still not looking up at him.

“I dunno, ‘buddy’, whaddyu think?”

I snorted at his impression of me, and attempted to not sound sarcastic when I replied, “I’m sorry, darling, I love you, too.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing the top of my head.  “It’s nice to hear.”

“I know,” I said quietly, hugging him more tightly.

We held each other for a while, then I decided it was time to end our little romcom scene and head home.

Cass settled a hand on my shoulder as I drove, and I cast a questioning glance over at him.

“You seem more relaxed,” he said.

“More relaxed than what?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He leveled me with a knowing look.

I sighed, focusing on the road ahead.  “I’m fine.”

“You are anxious about me attending family dinner with you tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine, everything is just fine, fine, fine,” Cass grumbled at me.

“Don’t need Sassy Cass right now,” I complained.

“And yet you’ve got him.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

His hand slipped from my shoulder to cover mine on the steering wheel.  “It’s okay to feel what you feel, Dean.  To acknowledge it, to talk about it.”

“Yeah, sure, if I was, you know, a girl.”

“Dean,” Cass said in his most disappointed tone.

“Yeah, yeah, girls can be emotionally stunted, too.”

He paused at that, before letting out a startled laugh.

I felt myself grinning.

“You are so…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“That’s what they say,” I agreed.

We sank back into silence, until I pulled up to the house.

“I just wish you’d express yourself,” he said into the quiet of the car.

“I don’t know how,” I replied honestly.

Cass nodded, squeezing my hand before getting out of the car.

I came up beside him as he moved along the walkway, sliding my arm around his shoulder.  “It’s just dinner.  I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“It will be fine,” Cass echoed, trying to be optimistic even if he didn’t sound convinced.

- 18 -

Family dinner was fine.

When we got there, Dad was in the garage working on his car, so I left Cass with Sam and Eileen in the living room, while Mom and I headed to the kitchen to try and sort out whatever mess she’d made this time.

“Ya know, for how much you two are the same exact person, Dean sure is a good cook,” Sam commented as he passed through the kitchen to steal some carrots off of the cutting board.

“Stop with the rabbit food,” I said, smacking his hand away.

“I could have learned to cook,” Mom said with a frown.  “If I had the opportunity.”

Neither Sam nor I could stop the disbelieving looks we both gave her.

“What?” she protested.  “I totally could have.  When I first moved into the bunker Dean was just starting to really cook.  If he could get that good that fast-”

“Mom, I love you,” Sam said solemnly, “but please stop trying to cook.”

“It’s for your own good,” I agreed.

She made an offended noise, but then just shrugged.  “Alright, well then I guess you two have got everything covered in here,” she declared, walking out of the kitchen.

“I don’t have anything covered,” Sam tried to protest.

“Shut up and make the salad, bitch,” I commanded him.

“I am not your salad bitch.”

“Oh, you are definitely the most bitchy of all the salad bitches,” I said as I carefully flipped the burgers in the frying pan.

Sam muttered something under his breath and I ignored him since he wasn’t man enough to say it out loud.  Somehow we managed to put something halfway decent together from the mess Mom started, and then we were serving the food and everyone was coming to the table to eat.

“Hey, boys,” Dad said, passing through the kitchen, covered in grease.  “Gimme a sec and I’ll join you.”

When he had disappeared into the bathroom, I breathed out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“Dude,” Sam said, shaking his head.

“Dude,” I replied, shaking mine back at him.

He gave me A Look, taking the platter with the hamburgers from my hand and walking out to the dining room.

Mom sat at the end of the table, Eileen to one side of her and Cass to the other.

I let my hand drag across Cass’s shoulder as I passed him, the touch anchoring me as I took my seat next to him.

He gave me one of his puppy dog faces, so I leaned in to give him a quick kiss.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his nose still brushing against mine.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I assured him, kissing him one more time for luck before pulling away.

“Young love,” Eileen commented, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry your love is so old and crusty,” I replied flippantly.

“Crusty?” she asked incredulously, making some kind of sign that I didn’t understand.

Sam snorted.

I was opening my mouth to make another jab when my dad walked into the room.  I yanked my hand away from Cass’s knee where it had been resting under the table, whacking it against the table in my haste to do so.  I cleared my throat, straightening up.

Cass seemed resigned to my behavior, but Eileen looked shocked.

‘Dean?’ she finger signed at me.

‘OK,’ I signed back at her, just about the only coherent response I could manage in sign language.

“Is it just me, or did it suddenly get real quiet in here?” Dad joked, taking his seat across from Mom.

“It is not your imagination,” Cass stated gravely.

The two of them exchanged an unreadable look and the sweat on my palms increased about 20 percent.

“Burgers look great,” Mom commented, taking one off the platter and passing them to Cass.

“So they kicked you out of the kitchen?” Dad concluded, shooting her a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t you start, too,” she growled with a mock-glare.

This was all Typical Family Dinner Fun in the tradition of the one and only family dinner we ever had all together, alive and aware, back in Lebanon.  It involved sticking to light topics like Mom’s terrible cooking, then pleasantly dispersing at the end of the meal, feeling like we were a passable family.

Usually I was good at playing my role, but there was something off this time.

I glanced over at Cass as he passed me the burgers.

He gave me a reassuring smile, acting completely nonplussed about how I’d just pulled away from him like he was on fire.

We’d discussed it before we came.  Cass understood.  He always understood.

That was a convenient excuse.

I picked at my food, barely listening to the conversation going on around me.

Cass watched me carefully, but kept his distance.

I glanced over at Dad as he and Eileen talked animatedly about ghoul-killing techniques.

Dad adored Eileen.  She was exactly the kind of woman he wanted his sons to marry.

Her hand was on Sammy’s knee under the table.

It pissed me off.

“Dean.”

His voice was so quiet over the din of conversation that I almost didn’t hear him.  Meeting Cass’s gaze, the sympathetic puppy look had ratcheted up to full power, and I felt my hand twitch, moving involuntarily towards him before I quickly snatched it back.

“Dean,” he repeated, giving me a sympathetic look.

“What?” I growled, but it came out a lot higher than I expected.  Also, I had to flick my gaze up to meet his.  “Sonuvabitch,” I muttered, because of course I had to revert to my teenage self in this stupid situation.

So then everyone stopped talking and stared at me.

“I’m gonna check on the…” I trailed off even as I was already moving to the kitchen, unable to come up with a proper excuse but running away anyway.

I expected Sammy or Cass to come drag me back to the dinner table, but instead it was Eileen who followed me into the kitchen.  “Dean?”

“It’s fine,” I said, hands on the counter as I stared out the window.

“Dean?” she repeated.

“Look, I don’t want to-”

“I can’t read your lips,” she spoke over me.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” I said, whirling around to face her.

Eileen grinned at me.

“This why they sent you in here?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.  “So I hafta look you in the eye?”

“Devious masterminds, your brother and your boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Goddamn, you are adorable,” she marveled at me.

“Huh?”

She gestured up and down my teenage frame.  “If we all met when we were teenagers, forget Sam...”

I snorted at that.  “You’re really sounding like a pedo here.”

She shook her head at me, slowly letting her own projected body de-age back to adolescence.

“Hey, you might be on to something with this whole ‘forget Sam’ thing…” I said, giving her a leer and a wink.

Eileen just laughed, hopping up to sit on the counter next to where I was standing.  “Less flirting, more talking.”

“That’s just against my nature, darlin’,” I protested.

“Dean,” she said, shaking her head at me.

“Whaddya want me to say?” I asked, starting to look away again before catching myself.  I didn’t want to be a dick to Eileen, but it was also a dick move sending her in after me when I clearly just needed a minute to clear my head.

“Why’d you freak out?” Eileen asked, not willing to give me that minute.

“I didn’t ‘freak’ ‘out’,” I said, realizing as the words were tumbling out of my mouth that I was using Cass’s air quotes.  That was embarrassing.

Her eyebrows shot up, like she didn’t believe me.

“I just-” I started and stopped.  I wasn’t going to be tricked by those big brown eyes.  “I think Sam is negatively influencing you.”

“What?” she asked, letting out a surprised laugh.

“Come on, Eileen, you’re not the touchy feely type who always wants to talk about feelings.”

“Too loo rye ay,” she said with a shrug.

It took me a minute, and then it was my turn to laugh in surprise.  “Never expected you to quote song lyrics at me.”

“I’m Irish, my name is Eileen, and I look like this,” she said, gesturing up and down her body.  “Teenage boys are not as clever with their pickup lines as they think.”

“Got that one a lot?”

She made a face at me and I laughed again.

“I definitely woulda tried that ‘you in that dress’ bit on you in my younger days,” I confessed.

“In your younger days?” she asked with a snort.  “I’ve heard you try ‘come here often?’ and ‘this coffee is hot’ in your definitely not younger days.”

“Listen, the classics are classics for a reason.”

“Hey, I’m not going to argue with your success rate,” she said, holding her hands up in deference.

“Damn straight.”

Eileen continued to look at me expectantly.

“What, you think we’ve had enough friendly banter now so I should break down and bare my naked soul to you?”

She wrinkled her nose.  “You don’t have to do all that,” she said.  “Just want to know what’s wrong.”

I sighed, climbing up onto the counter next to her.

She bumped her shoulder into mine.

“It just sucks,” I said, hoping I could leave it at that.

But of course I couldn’t.  “What sucks?”

I took in a deep breath and heaved it out loudly.  “I’m a grown ass man, but I can’t…” I hesitated, then realized that Eileen could still read my lips if I closed my eyes.  “I’m afraid.  To touch Cass.  To be with Cass.”

Even when I wasn’t looking into her eyes, I could feel her confusion.

“Infrontofmydad,” I rushed to finish.

The bump of her shoulder against mine became a more solid touch.

I didn’t want to put it into any more words than that.

That’s not how a man walks.

Cut your hair, boy, you look like a fag.

You’re not a sissy, you don’t cry over a little blood.

I remembered defiantly throwing my arm around Cass’s shoulder in front of him that one time at his house, feeling so empowered.

But that was before we were together.

That was before I proved every homophobic word that ever came out of my dad’s mouth about me to be true.

“Cass deserves better than that,” I finally said into the silence, keeping the darker things inside.

“Yeah, he does,” Eileen agreed.  “But you’re not the one taking that away from him.”

I swallowed, still not wanting to open my eyes.  “But I am,” I said quietly.  “I’m the one who’s too weak to stand up for myself, to stand up for him, to…”

“So you’re going to run away?”

The challenge in her voice had my eyes flying open.

She smirked at me.

“You play dirty, Leahy,” I complained.

“Yep,” she agreed, sliding off the counter and back onto the tile.  “Dean?”

“Yeah?” I said, then realized her back was to me.

“Sometimes… we have these ideas in our head of how things are supposed to be,” she said.  “And we try to force those ideas into being, even when they don’t fit with reality.”

This was going a little over my head, but I couldn’t convey that to her back.

“I think I’ve dreamed my entire life of being with my parents and the three of us being a family.  But when I got to heaven... I realized that we didn’t… we didn’t know each other.  So… we wanted to be a family, but we were strangers, and when we tried to force it…  We had to change our idea of what we wanted.  And that made things easier, and maybe now we’re really starting to be a family, but it looks a lot different from how I pictured it when I was still alive.  And that’s not a bad thing, just… different,” she concluded, turning around to meet my gaze again.

Sometimes I forgot how alike Eileen and I were, and other times it kicked me in the face.

I held my hand out to her, and she took it.  I squeezed gently, then let go and hopped off the counter.  “Let’s bring out dessert.”

She helped me get the bowls and spoons out, then we carried them along with the ice cream from the freezer back into the dining room, and we all endured the rest of yet another perfectly fine Winchester Family Dinner.

- 19 -

I was agreeing to spare the Pie Fairy as long as she kept my oven well-stocked when a crash startled me awake.  I squinted into the dark of the room at Cass in the middle of the floor, frantically putting tapes into a big cardboard box.  “You comin’ or goin’?” I managed to gravel out.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, giving me a sheepish look, before adding, “and coming.”

“Thought you had to work,” I mumbled, rubbing my hand over my face.  He’d told me before I went to sleep that he had Heaven Crap to do.

“I delegated,” he said, fishing the last tape out from under the bed and putting the box back in the middle of the floor.

“Maybe if you put that somewhere else, you wouldn’t trip over it?” I suggested.

“I didn’t trip,” Cass protested, sounding annoyed.  “I simply… forgot it was there.”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “Too damn early for this shit, Cass.  Come to bed.”

He leveled me with A Look as he pulled off his trench coat and settled it over the back of my desk chair.

“Oh, am I getting a show?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him.

Cass paused in undoing his tie.  “Will I receive a… ‘tip’?”

“Not just the tip, baby,” I said with a snort.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

I flushed but kept grinning.

He shook his head and carefully undid the buttons of his shirt before folding it and placing it on the chair.

“This show would be a lot more interesting if I didn’t know that the big reveal was a pair of giant white granny panties,” I sighed.

“They are neither panties nor for grannies,” he explained, pulling his pants over his feet, then folding them neatly and piling them on top of his shirt.  “I would wear something else, but I don’t want you to snap at me for wearing your clothes.”

“I already apologized for that,” I complained.  “You know I was stressed out about dinner with my dad.”

“Yes,” he said, standing in the middle of the room in just his giant white boxers and his sensible socks.

“I already admitted I was an ass.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t do it again?”

Cass gave me a head tilt and a squint that said he didn’t agree.

“I don’t want to do it again,” I reassessed.

“I know,” he agreed, his expression softening.

“I like when you wear my clothes,” I tried.

“Just not in front of your father.”

“He doesn’t… understand…”

“I understand.”

“Caaaaass,” I said in a tone that probably wasn’t a whine, but I was groggy and it was still dark and we could be cuddling if he wasn’t halfway across the room.  “Pleeeeeease wear my clothes.”

He shrugged at me and started going through my bureau.  “Your boxer shorts are the same size as mine, so I really do not know what you are carrying on about with your ‘granny’ ‘panties’ comments.”

“Yeah, but mine are black,” I pointed out, propping my chin up on my arm and watching him.

“And mine are white,” he stated.

“Everyone knows black is sexy.”

“I think white is very dapper.”

“Dapper isn’t gonna get you laid, man.”

“But Scooby Doo will?” he questioned me, holding up my Scooby Doo boxers.

“Hell yeah he will.”

“I think we have very different ideas about what is… sexually appealing.”

“I’m not gonna take fashion advice from the holy tax accountant.”

“That’s your prerogative,” he said, his voice muffled as he pulled his favorite AC/DC shirt over his head.  He held his hands out, displaying the shirt and the pair of sweats he’d pulled on.  “What do you think?”

“You look… comfy,” I concluded, pulling up the corner of the blanket and holding it open for him.  “C’mere.”

Cass’s face lit up as he clambered into my waiting arms.

I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to that sight.  “Hey, gorgeous,” I greeted him, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.

He looked even more pleased.

“You like that one?” I asked, letting my fingers linger in his hair.

He nodded.  “You do not usually compliment this vessel so openly.”

“Dude, just call it a body like a normal person.”

“Sorry, dude,” he said, rolling his eyes at me.

“Mm-hm,” I hummed, pulling him into a brief kiss.

Cass was smiling again as he tucked his head under my chin, snuggling into my chest.

“You are gorgeous,” I said softly, nudging my nose into his hair.

“That’s a nice compliment, thank you.”

I breathed him in, feeling myself start to drift.

Cass hummed to himself, the sound reverberating in my chest as I fell back asleep.

- 20 -

Jody and I sat on the edge of the pier, drinking beers and watching the sun set.  Her kid and her husband were swimming in the lake with Alex and Donna, splashing each other and laughing loudly.

“This ain’t bad,” I decided, kicking my bare feet lazily along the surface of the water.

“It’s not,” Jody agreed, looking more relaxed than I’d probably ever seen her.

“Thanks for inviting us,” I said, nodding my head back towards her cabin.

“You’re family, kiddo,” she said, knocking her shoulder into mine.

I knocked mine back into hers and enjoyed the quiet.

“Heard you really killed at karaoke last night,” Jody commented.

“Uh, hell yeah, I did,” I agreed.  “Belted out some Eye of the Tiger, House of the Rising Sun…”

“Aerosmith’s Angel,” she contributed.

I couldn’t stop my whole face from going red.  “Hey, what happens at karaoke, stays at karaoke,” I muttered.

“Yeah, not when you go to karaoke with Claire and she has a camera.”

“There are pictures?” I asked, mortified.

“And videos,” Jody added agreeably.

“I thought this was supposed to be heaven,” I groaned.

“If it helps, I mean besides your terrible singing, the video is really cute.”

“That does not help at all,” I said, finally facing her with an appalled look.

She held up a screen to me, pushing play.

I was drunk as hell, caterwauling, “you’re my aaaaaangeeeel,” and boy was that fucking embarrassing.  “Jesus Christ, Jody.”

“He certainly has nothing to do with it,” she said, flinching as I hit a particularly off-key note.  “Works better on mute,” she decided, hitting the mute button and saving us both.

Because then the camera shifted from me to Cass, who just looked completely smitten, face glowing with pure joy.

I bit my lip, a little moved seeing that raw emotion captured on film.  And also it was embarrassing as hell.  “Shut that off,” I complained, even though my eyes were still riveted to Cass’s laughing, smiling face.

“But you two are so adoooorable,” she fake-crooned.

I gave her the look of disgust that she deserved.

She grinned and turned the video off.  “Maybe you should lay off the sauce,” she suggested, nodding her chin towards the beer in my hand.

“I have laid off the sauce, which is how I got so wasted in the first place,” I grumbled.  “Gotta build my tolerance back up.”

Jody shook her head, but she was still grinning.

“Bombs away!”

Kaia and Claire streaked past us, jumping off the pier and canon-balling into the water.

Jody looked very unimpressed as the water splashed her.  “Was that really necessary?”

“Love ya, Joooodyyyy,” Claire cooed as the two swam away.

I was suddenly in shadow, so I leaned my head back to see who was blocking the sun.

A person that I hoped to be Cass loomed over me.

There’d been this whole thing where maybe I’d accidentally grabbed Jimmy’s ass, so now I tried not to assume when Claire was around.

“Hello, Dean,” he rumbled at me.  “Jody.”

“Hey, Cass, enjoy your walk?” she greeted him.

“It was… informative,” he decided.

“What could those two possibly be informing you about?” I scoffed.

“Music,” he said cheerfully.

I groaned.  “Please don’t tell me…”

Cass pulled a mixtape from the pocket of his/my jeans.  “We can listen to it on the drive home.”

“Oh, god,” I complained, dreading the grungy vocal stylings of Taylor Momsen that I was going to be subjected to.

“We also talked about ‘boys’,” he continued.

“What do the lesbians even know about boys?”

“A lot,” Cass told me with a very serious face.

“Really, Dean?  ‘The lesbians’?” Jody repeated, shaking her head.

“It’s a descriptive term,” I said defensively.

“Should I start calling you and Cass ‘the gays’?” she asked with a snort.

“I’m not gay,” I put in irritably.  “I’m b-” I started and immediately stopped, lifting my beer to my lips and taking a very long drink.  I could feel two sets of eyes staring at me, but I looked out at the water resolutely and decided to pretend that the last thirty seconds had not happened.

I wasn’t sure if my acute embarrassment was because of what I’d almost said, or because I hadn’t been able to say it.

The quiet grated on me, so finally I snipped at Cass, “are you gonna stand there all day like a weirdo or are you gonna sit your ass down?”

“How is standing weird?” he complained, even has he was already lowering himself onto the pier, one jean-covered leg going over the edge towards the water.

“Stop, stop, stop!” I cried, grabbing his leg.

Cass kept his leg hovering over the water, looking at me like I was the weird one.

“You gotta roll your pants up, man,” I explained, rolling my eyes.

“Why?” he asked, unmoved.

“Because they’ll get all wet,” I said, exasperated.

“Then I will dry them.”

“Just roll them up so you don’t have to dry them in the first place!”

“If you insist,” he said, seeming very put out as he started mechanically rolling the jeans up to his knees.

“I insist,” I said with a huff, rolling up the other leg for him.  “See?  Much better.”

Cass gingerly lowered his legs into the water, letting it lap at his shins.  “I really don’t see the difference.”

“Dude,” I groaned.

“Sorry, dude,” he replied in that extremely sarcastic way that he’d picked up recently.

“Sweetheart,” I corrected myself, getting a smile out of him.  “You are so damn weird.”

“You like it,” he said with a shrug.

I rolled my eyes and passed him my beer.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

I looked out at the water.

Cass accepted the beer and took a sip, probably trying to analyze what pleasure humans derived from drinking lukewarm hops by the water and absolutely coming no closer to an explanation beyond ‘humans like molecules’.

Jody was giving us a sappy look, but I ignored her to help preserve her dignity.

She didn’t want people to start thinking she’d gone soft.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite and Beyond Playlist 11-15

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda / Sequel to Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist

The one where Cass makes a Daddy Issues playlist.

Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

Parts 11-15/26 under the cut. Previous parts here.

- 11 -

“Hey.”

I glanced up from the jukebox to see Jo sidling up beside me.

“Hey,” I said.

Her eyes met mine, searching.

“You wanna put something on?” I asked, stepping aside.

“Sure,” she said, stepping closer and pressing the button to flip through the records.  “Dean, I’m… I’m really happy for you.”

“Uh, okay?”

“You and Castiel,” she explained.  “I mean, it’s not a secret, is it?”

“Not supposed to be,” I said, slouching against the wall.  “I just… I’m not good at telling people.”

“No shit,” she said with a laugh.  “I had to find out by accidentally infringing on Cass’s territory.”

“What…?”

“Earlier, at the pool table.”

“What about it?”

Jo flicked her eyes towards me, grinning.  “Did you not see that look he gave you when he asked if we were done flirting?  Couldn’t have said ‘Property of Castiel’ any more clearly.”

“That’s how he always looks at me,” I scoffed at her.

“Damn,” she whistled.  “And it took you two how many years to get together?”

“It’s not like that,” I protested.  “I mean, Cass is just weird, he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Uh, he definitely means something by it,” she said, shaking her head with amusement.  “It’s nice, though,” she added softly.  “You two look happy together.”

I was quiet for a moment before saying, “we are.”

“Good,” Jo said, pressing the button to select her song.  “Then quit trying to run away from it.”

“I’m not running…” I complained.

Jo looked over her shoulder to where Cass was, and then made an exaggerated motion of her head to look in my direction.

“We needed some tunes,” I protested.

“You are so lame,” Jo said with that easy laugh of hers that always filled up the room.  “We’re all dead, Dean.  We’re in heaven.  Nobody cares that you’re dating a guy.”

“Easy for you to say,” I muttered, then quickly added, “not that I do care.”

Jo laughed harder.  “This song you picked is really on the nose, huh?  Beautiful loooseeeer,” she sang at me.

“Don’t mess with Seger,” I warned her.

“Never take it aallllll,” she continued warbling.  “’Cause it’s easier, faster when you fall!”

“You’re killing me here,” I said, shaking my head.

“I’m a great singer,” she protested with another laugh.

“Pretty sure that’s a voice only a mother could love.”

“Like you’re any better.”

Jo’s selection was filling the bar now, so I turned to her with a point and sang, “Do you wanna touch, do you wanna touch, do you wanna touch me there, where?”

“I did not expect you to know the words,” she marveled.  “I mean, you do know that Joan Jett is a woman, right?”

“Yeah, figured that out on my own,” I said, rolling my eyes.  “Cass is really into this album, he was playing it nonstop for a while.”

“Bad Reputation wouldn’t be my first guess for Castiel’s top albums,” Jo said, looking amused.

I tried not to roll my eyes again and probably failed miserably.  “He goes through… phases.  So Joan Jett and the Blackhearts was his female-rockers-of-the-70s-and-80s phase.”

“I can get behind that phase.”

“Yeah, it was one of his better ones,” I agreed.  “He’s just getting over his Jesus phase…”

“His Jesus phase?” Jo repeated like she was speaking a foreign language.

“If I have to hear that friggin’ Mary Mary song one more time I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“What is a Mary Mary?” Jo asked, sounding mystified yet intrigued.

“Don’t ask.”

“Well at least he wasn’t blasting Creed or something.”

“Of course he was blasting fucking Creed, Jo.”

“Poor thing,” she said, wiping at the corners of her eye as she tried not to laugh.

“Now Sam’s been getting him into his douchey alt-rock,” I said, rubbing my hand over my face and feeling long-suffering.  “A man can only take so much.”

“Looks like you can take plenty.”

My hand slid down from my face so I could fix a glare on her.  “What’s that ’sposed ta mean?”

“That you clearly love Cass so much that you would even listen to Creed for him?”

“…oh.”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, shifting my gaze back to our table where Ellen was now pouring Cass shots while Sam looked mortified and Eileen was laughing.

“I’d tell you to quit being so damn defensive, but old dog, new tricks and all.”

“I’m trying,” I muttered.

“Okay, but it’s me, Dean,” she said, stepping into my line of vision.  “Why are you being defensive with me?”

I shrugged.  “I don’t know how else to be.”

“Jesus you need therapy,” she sighed.  “Come on, we’ve been over here long enough.”

I followed her back to the table, feeling awkward.

“You two are falling behind,” Ellen greeted us, passing over shot glasses.

I took the shot, then made a face.  “What is that…?”

“Golden Grain,” she said, cheerfully pouring out more shots for Cass.

“Yeah, I’ll stick to beer,” I said, reclaiming my seat.

“It’s just molecules,” Cass said with a loose shrug.

I patted him on the knee.  “You feelin’ anything, buddy?”

“I’m feeling the warmth of your hand,” he said agreeably.

“Okay then,” I said, watching him down those horrible shots while rubbing his knee idly.  “Still not dance-on-tables wasted?”

“It is a long and arduous journey,” Cass affirmed.

I offered him a smile that was maybe a little tired around the edges.

He immediately squinted at me in concern.

I wished it was just the two of us.  Things were always easy when it was just the two of us.  I felt less need to… hide things.

“We can-” Cass started to say, but I shook my head, so he concluded, “-have another shot.”

It got to a point where everyone was a bit wasted besides the slightly tipsy Cass, and Jo finally brought out the promised rubbing alcohol that was 99% alcohol.

“This is terrible for disinfecting,” Cass said with a frown.  “70% is much more effective.”

“Shut up and drink,” Jo scolded him, so he did.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, drank an entire bottle of isopropyl alcohol.  That’s when things started to take a turn.

- 12 -

“Cass?” I mumbled sleepily to the body that was smothering me.

I received a growl in response.

“You hungover?”

That got me a whine.

“You wanna take something?”

“I wanna take you,” he mumbled, pressing his hips very suggestively into the behind that he was spooning.

My already tired brain short-circuited a little.  “Wha?”

Cass just growled again.

“I don’t speak grumpy angel,” I said, rolling over so I could look him in the eye.

He had both eyes closed.  His hair was sticking up in every direction.  And he was decidedly naked.

“You look like you had a good night,” I said, grinning.

“I believe that is a correct assessment,” he agreed, still not opening his eyes.

I thumbed over his scruff affectionately.  “I’m pretty sure I did, too.”

“Dean?”

“Mm-hm?”

“Did I dance on a table?”

“Yeah, that I remember.”

Cass cracked one eye open and flinched a little.  “Why is there so much… light in here?”

“I’m sorry, are the blackout curtains not enough for my princess?” I teased him.

That one eye turned into a glare.  “You did this to me.”

“Okay, yeah, sorry,” I said, giving him a pacifying kiss on the forehead.  “Lemme get you some aspirin.”

“No, I want snuggles,” he whined at me.

I snorted, pulling him closer so he could lay his head on my chest.  “I think the aspirin would be more effective, sweetheart.”

“Alcohol is poison,” he groaned.  His fingers tightened around the material of my t-shirt, clutching it like a lifeline.

“Fun, though.”

“Deaaaaaaan.”

I smiled into his hair, kissing the top of his head and remembering when he looked into my eyes at the Roadhouse and declared, “Dean, I have achieved full intoxication.”

“Yeah?”

“That is the only logical explanation for why my head feels so… squishy.”

“Is that a technical term?”

“No, it is incredibly imprecise, and is further proof of the level of my intoxication,” he said with a shake of his head.  “I’m drunk.”

“Congrats, sweetheart.”

“So what do I do now?”

“Baby, you know exactly what you gotta do.”

Cass squinted at me for a long while before giving me a vigorous nod and suddenly climbing onto our table.

“Woah, Cass, hey!” I protested, trying to steady him as he stood up so quickly.

“What is happening?” Eileen asked, rescuing her beer from being kicked over with a laugh.

“Dean,” Cass said, looking down at me very seriously.  “Despite our numerous car dance parties, I don’t know how to dance.”

“Don’t look at me, I sure as hell ain’t the dancing type,” I protested.

“What do I do?” he asked desperately.

“Sammy went to Stanford, he must have danced at some college parties or somethin’,” I offered.

“Huh?” Sam said, startling awake in his seat as Cass tugged on his arm.

“We have to dance on the table,” Cass urged him, pulling him up onto the table with him.

Eileen bit her lip, and I knew she was about to lose it.

“But I don’t know how to dance,” Sam said, drunk and bewildered.

“You know the Macarena,” Eileen chimed in, and that got me to break before her, throwing my head back and laughing.

“I do know the Macarena,” Sam declared, suddenly filled with confidence.  He started doing a series of very stupid-looking arm movements.

Cass stared at him, laser-focused, then carefully copied the motions.

“Got ya covered!” Jo called from over at the jukebox.

The opening strains of Macarena filled the Roadhouse for what was probably the first time in history.

Sammy was completely into it, shaking his hips, while Cass moved mechanically like a robot, a serious yet vaguely confused expression on his face.

I laughed until I cried, Eileen leaning into me and doing the same.

When it was over, the entire bar gave them a standing ovation.

“Get down here,” Eileen said, still grinning as she helped Sam down.

Sam turned to offer his hand to Cass, but Cass shook his head.

“Dean will catch me,” he said confidently.

“Wha-?” I started to say, but he was already jumping off the table.  I let out a yelp as I was assaulted by one-hundred-seventy-some-odd pounds of angel.

“See,” he said happily, legs wrapped around my waist and forehead pressed to mine.

“Jesus,” I gasped.

“I knew you’d catch me,” he affirmed.

“You are living your best drunk girl fantasy,” I tried to complain, but I was hugging him tightly.

“Yes, I’m enjoying this part,” he said agreeably.

I spun him around once, and he actually honest-to-God laughed before I set him back down on his chair.  “Okay, Coyote Ugly, time to take a breather.”

“Dean, the coyote is a majestic creature,” Cass said with a frown, then took a long drink from his bottle of absinthe.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Why do you look so amused?” Cass complained, squinting up at me.

“Just remembering your drunken antics.”

“Well you better cherish those memories, because I am never drinking again.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m not.”

“We did have fun, though.”

“Some fun was had,” he conceded.  “I was glad to experience it once.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much my entire life,” I mused, running my fingers through his hair affectionately.

“I love when you laugh.”

I huffed out a smile.  “You make me laugh, you friggin’ weirdo.”

“Good,” he graveled at me.  Then he paused, lifting his head slightly to squint up at me.  “You like that I am a ‘friggin’ weirdo’?”

“I do,” I affirmed.

He beamed at me.

“Friggin’ weirdo,” I muttered, looking away from all that.

He pressed a very wet smooch to my cheek before curling back up against me.  I thought he might have gone back to sleep, when he suddenly declared, “by the way, I made you a playlist before I passed out.”

- 13 -

“Dean’s Daddy Issues?” I sputtered, looking up from the iPod to glare at Cass.

He smiled at me like the little shit he was, taking a sip of his coffee.  “I was drunk.”

I’d made the coffee for once, and I’d even gotten him a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water, and this was the thanks I got.  “Lindsay Lohan, really?”

“Made me think of you,” he said, and if anything he was smiling even more like a little shit.

“Man, you are not getting laid for like a week.”

“Then I guess you’re not getting laid for a week either,” he said with a casual shrug.

“Shit, how do chicks pull that one off?” I complained.

“The threat only works if you’re willing to go through with it,” Cass pointed out.

“Shit,” I repeated.  “Fine, your terrible taste in music gets a pass.  You may continue to be laid.”

“How magnanimous of you,” he said drily.

“I know, right?” I agreed.

Cass just rolled his eyes.

“And I don’t have daddy issues!” I declared after a long pause.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t,” I asserted.

He shrugged.

I scowled into my coffee.  “Like you could go a week without sex…” I muttered.

“Dean, I am hungover and incapable of dealing with your fits of illogicality.”

“Excuse me?”

He gave me a tired look over his coffee cup.

“Look, I’m just saying, between the two of us, you’re the horndog,” I stated.

“How… am I…?” Cass trailed off, looking around the room from side-to-side like someone would appear and give him an answer.  “Dean, I didn’t have sex for literal millennia.”

“And you’ve been makin’ up for lost time.”

“Well, I do enjoy taking you apart and putting you back together,” he said casually, like that was a normal thing to say.

I may have let out a very small, definitely manly whimper.

“But I think you enjoy it just as much as I do,” he continued, his gaze lingering on me.  “I don’t see how that makes me a ‘horn’ ‘dog’.”

“I dunno, maybe it’s your obsession with wanting to stick your dick in me when we agreed to… wait…” I trailed off, realizing I hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud.

Cass froze for a moment, then his expression crumbled.  “Dean, I apologize.  You are absolutely right.  I’m so sorry, it just keeps…  We agreed, and I need to control myself better.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I said with a shrug.

He hesitated, trying to catch my gaze.

Of course he knew that I wasn’t being completely honest, but he also knew that acknowledging that would piss me off.  It was the Catch-22 of Dean Winchester.

“Dean…” he said slowly.

“You wanna eat something?” I asked, standing up and shuffling over to the refrigerator.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, pulling out some eggs and bacon.  I could feel Cass pouting from across the room, but I concentrated on cooking.

Eventually he started hovering behind me with his sad little “Deaaaan”s, forcing me to turn around and face him.

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, all sad and pathetic.

“Jesus, Cass, I’m not mad,” I sighed, grabbing a handful of my Zepp t-shirt that he was wearing and pulling him closer.

“But I-”

“Shush,” I told him, giving him a quick kiss before letting go and turning back to the stove.

Arms circled around my waist and a forehead planted between my shoulder blades.

I pushed the food around the pan, then turned off the heat.  “Cass.”

A chin suddenly appeared on my shoulder.

I bumped my nose into his.  “This is a me thing, not a you thing.”

His lower lip slid out, blue eyes staring up at me.  “We should talk about it.”

“No, we should not talk about it,” I said, rolling my eyes and looking away.  I reached over for a plate and put my eggs and bacon on it, ready to chow down and forget any of this ever happened.

“So you can bottle it up until it explodes out at an inappropriate time?”

“Exactly,” I said, nudging him aside so I could go back to the table.

Cass followed, taking the chair next to me and pulling his coffee over to him from across the table.

I set to eating, not surprised when Cass’s hand settled on the table between us in invitation.  I laced our fingers together, continuing to eat with my other hand while he used his free hand to bring his coffee to his lips.

“I’m not a one-night stand,” Cass said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence in the weirdest way possible.

“Oh, is that why I can’t get rid of you?” I muttered sarcastically around a mouthful of eggs.

“I’m just saying that you have a lot of complicated rules for sex that are perhaps not necessary when two people are in a committed relationship,” he reasoned.

“Dude, it’s not complicated,” I said, watching as a little bit of egg went flying across the table.  I wiped the corner of my mouth with my thumb and swallowed.  “You get yours and I get mine.  You don’t get yours, then I don’t get mine.”

“Yes, but what is this ‘yours’ and ‘mine’, Dean?” he asked, putting down his coffee and thumbing at the corner of my mouth that I’d just wiped because apparently I’d missed a spot.  “Our lovemaking is about enjoying intimacy together and mutually achieving climax.  It is not a… sports match in which one needs to keep score.”

“I think ‘sports match’ is a better descriptor than ‘lovemaking’, Jesus, Cass.”

“Do I not make love to you?” he asked with a frown.

I snorted at that.  “Oh, yeah, darlin’, you make love with the best of ’em.”

“Your sarcasm is not appreciated,” he stated flatly.

“It’s a little appreciated,” I hummed, leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth.

“There is still egg residue,” he said, scrunching up his nose.

“And you appreciate that, too,” I said, winking at him.

He looked completely put out as he pulled me back in and kissed me thoroughly.

“See?” I said as I pulled away, unable to contain my smirk.

“You are an irrepressible rogue,” Cass complained.  “Cease in trying to distract me.”

“I shall not cease,” I teased him, tracing his lips with my thumb.

He growled at me.

I bit my lip, trying not to be ridiculously turned on.

“We’re having a serious conversation,” he informed me, taking my hand and setting it back on the table.  He was still holding my other hand.  “I think you should penetrate me.”

“Jesus fuck, Cass.”

“I wish you would stop mentioning his name…”

“I wish you would stop talking about penetrating things.”

“Well, technically you would be the penetrator.”

“Caaaaassssss.”

“If you didn’t have all your rules, you’d already be penetrating me.”

I tried to speak and failed.  He had finally rendered me speechless.

“Do you disagree?” he asked, eyes staring into mine with an earnestness that did not match the question asked.

“Whaddya want from me, Cass?” I finally managed to get out.

“I think I was abundantly clear-”

“What I mean,” I interrupted him, “is that we have discussed this before, and you know it’s hard for me to…  I… I need us to be… equal?  Ya know?  It ain’t like… it ain’t like I don’t want to pen- fuck I cannot with you and your words.  I want to fuck you, Cass, okay?”

“And I would like to be ‘fucked’ by you,” he told me sincerely.

“You are killing me here,” I groaned, having to look away from that earnest expression.  “I know it’s not completely logical, alright?  But I just feel like askin’ you to… to… you know, be the… the one who gets fucked, it isn’t fair of me if I’m not willing to do it, too.”

Cass sighed.  “I know that’s how you feel, Dean, but it’s not how I feel.”

“Says the guy who can’t wait to stick it in me,” I grumbled at him.

“Dean, I simply want to share intimacy with you, in whatever form that might take,” he said, getting back up in my personal space.  “But sometimes this body…” he hesitated, turning different phrases over in his head, “… this ‘body’ has a ‘mind’ of its ‘own’.”

Our noses were almost touching at this point, but I decided to focus on more important things.  “So Jimmy wants to do me?”

“What?” Cass asked, his squint intensifying.  “Jimmy does not occupy this vessel.”

“Yeah, but you said that your body… never mind,” I decided.

Cass’s nose wrinkled in thought and I wanted to smooth it out.  “I was referring more to the biological imperative of this body to procreate.”

I started choking on nothing, coughing loudly.

He patted my back sharply.

“Baby, you know I don’t have the right parts for procreating with you, right?” I asked, holding in a laugh.

“I am fairly certain that I know more about your biological structure than you do, yes,” he told me irritably.

“Oh, well that’s good then,” I said, looking away from that intense stare that was right in front of my face.

“I’m going back to bed,” he growled at me.

“You don’t sleep,” I pointed out.

“I have a headache and you are making me cranky,” he said, standing up abruptly.  “We will discuss intercourse further after you listen to your playlist.”

“I am not listening to this,” I protested, throwing a glare at the vile little iPod still sitting on the table.

“You will listen to it,” he said, but it was more of a command really.

I wanted to protest further, but that tone always got me tongue-tied.

Cass waved his hand in my general direction, disappearing out of the kitchen and leaving me alone with his iPod.

- 14 - (songs from Dean's Daddy Issues Playlist can be found in the main playlist or separately here)

My angel was kind of a dick sometimes.

“Daddy issues,” I muttered under my breath as I put my headphones on.  “Only chicks have daddy issues.”

“People of any gender can experience paternal abandonment,” Cass called from the bedroom.

“I thought you were sleeping!” I yelled back.

“I don’t sleep,” he replied.

I dropped my face in my hands, not sure if I wanted to laugh or lament that this was my life.

Once the peanut gallery had ceased its commentary, I started the playlist, wondering what the hell Cass had in store for me this time.

“Years ago, I knew a boy, he was his daddy's pride and joy.”

“When you comin’ home, Dad?  I don't know when, but we'll get together then,

you know we'll have a good time then.”

“I wait for the good Lord to make me feel better, and I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.  A family in crisis that only grows older.”

“Father of mine, take me back to the day when I was still your golden boy, back before you went away.”

“Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean.  My fist got hard and my wits got keen.  I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.”

“Daddy made me fight.  It wasn't always right.”

“I’m tired of being what you want me to be.”

“You were never there for me to express how I felt, I just stuffed it down.  Now I'm older and I feel like I could let some of this anger fade, but it seems the surface I am scratching is the bed that I have made.”

“I know my mother loves me, but does my father even care if I'm sad or angry?  You were never ever there when I needed you.  I hope you regret what you did.  I think I know the truth.  Your father did the same to you.”

“You're born into this life paying for the sins of somebody else's past.”

“Papa was a rolling stone.  Wherever he laid his hat was his home.  And when he died, all he left us was alone.”

“Just cause he's gone, it doesn't change the fact... he was a bastard in life thus a bastard in death.”

“I’m not forgivin’ for you, man, I’m forgivin’ for me.  And sometimes I hate you.  Sometimes I love you, sometimes I hate you.  Always, I love you, I hate you.”

“Mama don't go.  Daddy come home.”

“Can we work it out?  Can we be a family?  I promise I'll be better.”

“Don't look at the past again.  The first and last has made everything new, and you are too, so lift your head and let your story be told.  Life on Earth will end for all conceived and prove to be only a breath, a mist, a womb for what's to come.  How soon forever arrives.”

“Piece by piece, he collected me up off the ground, where you abandoned things.  Yeah, piece by piece, he filled the holes that you burned in me at six years old and you know he never walks away.  He never asks for money.  He takes care of me.  He loves me.”

I pulled off my headphones, wondering why I had just wasted the last hour of my non-life.  “Cass?” I called, stomping over to the bedroom.

He squinted up at me from his burrow of blankets, looking like some hibernating animal.

“Dude,” I said.

“Dude,” he agreed.

“You’re not getting out of this by being cute.”

“Dean, I’m adorable,” he rumbled at me, and fuck me if he wasn’t absolutely correct.

“That’s not the point,” I growled.  I didn’t miss his pleased smile, and I blustered on.  “This is judgy as fuck, and I do not appreciate it.”

“Where is the judgement, Dean?” Cass asked, squinting all innocently at me.

“Um, first of all, my dad did not lea-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he cut me off, his voice like ice.

“But-”

“Dean.”

It was that goddamn tone again, and I found myself falling silent.

Cass waited.

“The Jesus music and the Kelly Clarkson were a little heavy-handed at the end there, doncha think?” I finally said, trying for a lighter mood.

“My intoxication was overtaking me by that point, and perhaps I become a bit hubristic when I drink,” he conceded.  “But it was how I felt.”

“Yeah?  You put me back together, sweetheart?” I asked, climbing onto the bed and sitting on Cass’s stomach.

“Oof,” he grunted.

“You don’t need to breathe, as you love pointing out.”

“That does not change the fact that you’re heavy.”

“Excuse you.”

“I didn’t say that you were fat…” he said, batting his innocent eyes up at me.

I glared at him, which only made him grin and finally emerge from his blanket fort to roll me on my back.  “You all better from your hangover?” I asked, squishing his face between my hands.

“Yes, that bottle of aspirin was very efficient in easing the side effects of our excessive libations,” he said, giving me a peck before worming out of my grasp and tucking his head under my chin.

I allowed his stealth cuddling, running my hand absently up and down his back.  “Cass?”

“Yes?”

“Do you…” I hesitated.  “Do you hate my dad?”

“What?” he said, sounding surprised as he tilted his head up to look at me.  “Of course not.”

“Oh,” I said.  “It’s just…” I trailed off uncertainly.

“Your father was a complicated man,” he said slowly, weighing his words.

“He did the best he could,” I said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice and probably failing.

“He did,” Cass agreed.

“He loved us,” I said firmly.

“He did,” Cass agreed again.

“He did,” I echoed.

“Of course he did, Dean,” he said gently.  “No one would ever question that.”

I let out a little bark of laughter at that.  Plenty of people had questioned it.

“Dean…”

“I thought you wanted to discuss intercourse,” I said, doing my usual unsubtle changing of the subject.

“Well, I did, but you hardly seem to be in the right state of mind for that conversation,” Cass said, looking up at me with his cheek still resting against my chest.

“Hey, I am always in the right state of mind for intercourse,” I protested.

“Discussing it and having it are two different things,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t stop his fond smile.

My angel got fond over discussing intercourse.  “Yeah, yeah, so whaddya wanna do today?”

“This,” he said softly.

“This?” I repeated.

“Mm,” he agreed.

“Me, too,” I said, kissing the top of his head.

My racing mind needed a rest.

- 15 -

Cass and I were watching movies on the couch with our usual setup: the popcorn bowl in my lap, my arm over the back of the couch, and Cass’s head resting on my shoulder.

My eyes were fixed on the screen, one hand occupied with stuffing popcorn in my face, the other rubbing absent circles around Cass’s shoulder.

On screen, Ponyboy, Soda, and Darry were reuniting with a brotherly hug.

“I’m not gay or anything,” I said, and I could feel Cass’s eyeroll without having to see it, “but Patrick Swayze always gets a pass.”  I nodded with self-satisfaction at the declaration and returned to stuffing my face.

“What does that even mean?” Cass complained.

“Shhh, watch the movie, man.”

He groaned, and I could feel his eyes fixing on me instead of watching the movie.

I sighed, grabbing the remote and hitting the pause button.

“What is ‘a pass’?” he asked, squinting up at me.  “‘A pass’ for what?”

“Ya know, a…” I trailed off, gesturing towards the TV.  “A pass.”

“Is it like a hall pass?” Cass asked.

I couldn’t stop my bark of laughter.  “What the hell do you even know about a hall pass?” I asked, still laughing.

“We watched a film of the same name, so I am well versed in the topic,” he informed me with a frown.

“You givin’ me a hall pass, baby?” I teased him with a grin.

“Well I’m certainly not the one who wishes to have sexual relations with Patrick Swayze,” he stated flatly.

“I don’t-” I tried to protest.

“Am I not enough for you?” he complained.

“Baby, you’re more than enough,” I said, taking leave from my popcorn to touch his cheek with a smirk and a wink.

“I am not your car, and you will not address me as such,” he informed me, eyes flashing with angelic power.

I bit my lip.

“Do you understand?” he growled at me, even though he could see perfectly well for himself that I’d understood.  Cass knew what he was doing with that tone and that body language as he glared up at me.

“I understand,” I said, trying not to squeak and mostly succeeding.  “Cass,” I added for good measure.  “Sweetheart,” I added for better measure.

“Very well then,” he said, cuddling back into me with his head on my shoulder.  “You may unpause the film.”

“You’re gonna rile me all up like that and then just go back to the movie?” I complained.

“Oh, it wasn’t Patrick Swayze riling you up?” Cass muttered.

“I don’t have a thing for Patrick Swayze…”

“Ha ha,” he said, with the fakest, most monotone laugh I’d ever heard in my life.

“I don’t,” I complained.  “I just… look up to him, ya know?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Just watch the damn movie,” I muttered, unpausing it.

And if my eyes lingered a little during the scene where Darry was getting ready for the rumble, shirtless with unbuttoned jeans, it was just… you know, curiosity.  About what the guy looked like.  And maybe I was a little envious.  He was in great shape, no spare tire in sight.

Cass chose not to comment, and that was alright by me.

When the credits started to roll, I set the empty bowl of popcorn on the floor.  “What’d you think?”

Cass mulled it over before deciding, “I truly enjoyed it.  The theme of family resonated with me.”

“I like that part, too,” I agreed.  “Even if there aren’t enough action scenes.”

He rolled his eyes at me for probably the twentieth time that evening.

“Enough from the peanut gallery,” I complained, squishing his face in my hand.

Cass stared up at me with his big blue eyes and his fish face, and he was 100% still giving me attitude.

“Who was your favorite character?” I asked, deciding the redirect the conversation.

He blinked once, then immediately responded, “Sodapop.”

“Yeah?” I asked, letting go of his face.

He nodded.

“Huh,” I said.  “Woulda thought you’d say Johnny.”

“Oh, I liked Johnny, too,” he said with a nod.  “‘Stay gold,’” he graveled at me, imitating Ralph Macchio’s famous line.

“So why Soda, then?”

“You asked for my favorite,” he said with a shrug.

“You into Rob Lowe or somethin’?” I teased him.

“He is objectively the best-looking greaser.”

“Dude, Darry is definitely the best-looking.”

“Then we must agree to disagree, as we do not have the same taste in men,” Cass said with a shake of his head.

“It’s not about t-taste,” I sputtered.  “It’s about… objectivity…”

“And Rob Lowe is objectively more attractive than Patrick Swayze,” he reiterated. “Based on what?!” I demanded.

“The bedroom walls of countless teenage girls adorned with Tiger Beat posters of Rob Lowe.”

“How do you even know what Tiger Beat is…?” I trailed off incredulously.

“I know many things.”

“Like the hearts of teeny bopper girls?”

“Like the hearts of teeny bopper girls.”

“Whatever, man.”

“I’m not saying that Patrick Swayze is without charm,” he said.  “But I don’t see why you are questioning my attraction to the beautiful mechanic, Dean.  I have a type.”

“You… have a type…” I repeated slowly.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

I could feel the color creeping up my neck.  “He your hall pass?” I asked, trying to sound glib but probably coming off sulky.

“I do not require a hall pass, Dean.”

“Hey, never say never, man.”

He pulled me in by the back of my neck until our foreheads touched.  “Never,” he breathed at me.

“O-okay,” I stammered like an idiot.

Cass nodded in satisfaction, letting me go and turning back to the TV.  “What are we watching next?”

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite and Beyond Playlist 6-10

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda / Sequel to Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist

The one where Cass makes a Daddy Issues playlist.

Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

Parts 6-10/26 under the cut. Previous parts here.

- 6 -

Sam and I had a tendency to end up at the other’s front door with a six-pack at fairly regular intervals.  This afternoon it happened to be Sam knocking on my door, and I was glad to have him.

“Where ya been, dickwad?” I asked, giving him a friendly slap on the back.

“Uh, down the street from you where I live?” he said, moving into the kitchen to get the brews on ice.

“Thanks for the geography lesson, Copernicus.”

Sam rolled his eyes at me, slouching against the kitchen counter.

“You want something to eat?” I asked.

“You cooking?”

“I could make some chili,” I offered.

Sam grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, big brother will whip you up some chow,” I said, moving around the kitchen and gathering up the ingredients.

Sam cracked open a beer for each of us and set mine by the chopping board as I set to work.  “You’ve gotten so domesticated,” he mused at me.

“I’ve always cooked for you,” I said, waving it off.

“Yeah, but you didn’t always do it well,” he pointed out.

“Unappreciative much?” I grumbled.

“You know what I mean,” he said, not caring at all that he was wounding my very manly pride.  “I mean, once we were in the bunker you really came into your own, but this,” he said, gesturing to the extensive spice rack and the drying herbs hanging from the ceiling.  “You’ve gone all Julia Childs in here.”

“I would consider myself more of an Anthony Bourdain,” I commented, putting some olive oil in the pan and turning on the burner.

“Of course you would.”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m making you chili.”

Sam shrugged and took a swig of his beer.  “Appreciate it, jerk.”

“Go put a record on or something,” I said, my back to him as I worked my kitchen magic.

Sam disappeared into the living room.

I found myself humming Bad Moon Rising, until I was oh-so-rudely interrupted by Soul Meets Body blasting out of the living room.  “Dammit, Sam!”

“It was in your collection!” he shot back.

“Because of your bad influence!” I snapped, smacking my pan with the ladle harder than really necessary.  I was pretty sure there was no worse sound on this earth than Deathcab for Cutie.

“Hey, is it my fault that your angel got tired of all your mullet rock?”

“My angel loves mullet rock!”

He didn’t respond to that, but I could feel his smugness permeating the air.

I stomped over to the living, crossing my arms over my chest.

Sam was on the floor, surrounded by records as he sorted through them.

“Just so you know, every time Cass listens to this album he looks completely confused and keeps muttering to himself about how your taste in music friggin’ sucks,” I informed him smugly.

“Oh, yeah, that sounds like Cass,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, so maybe he says it in a more Cass-ish way, but the meaning is clear enough,” I relented.

“What does he say exactly, Dean?”

“He says, ‘does Sam not find this whinging tone grating on the eardrums?’” I said, doing my best eye squint and head tilt.

“Oh, kinda sounds like when he’s listening to metal and says, ‘how does Dean tolerate this affront to sound?’” Sam said, doing his own eye squint and head tilt.

I huffed at that.

Sam snorted.  “I mean, do we need to be taking criticism from a guy who listens to Britney Spears unironically?” he asked, holding up a Britney album.

That gave me pause for a moment, and then I felt my cheeks heating up for some inexplicable reason.  Maybe it was all the car dance parties Cass and I had been having lately.

My brother gave me a funny look, then tucked some of his Disney princess hair behind his ear and went back to flipping through albums.

I went back to my chili, grumbling about pussy emo music.

Dinner carried on with the same kind of relaxed bickering.  I finally got Sam to change the record, though how we ended up agreeing on listening to one of Bobby’s Kenny Rogers records, I didn’t know.

I was pleasantly buzzed.  We were talking about taking a drive up the coast, maybe with Eileen and Junior if they wanted to come.

“You should invite Cass, too,” Sam said casually.

And suddenly I just needed to know.  “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” he asked, taking a pull from his beer.

I tried not to turn red and felt myself failing.  “About… me.”

Sam was now looking at me like I was crazy, which wasn’t really a new thing, but I hated that look when I was trying to actually be open with him.

“About me and Cass,” I sputtered out.

“What about you?” he asked, looking almost amused now.

“You don’t have to be a jackass,” I muttered, staring down at the table.

“Dean, I’m not…” he trailed off.  “What do you want to know?”

“I just said it,” I grumbled.

“How I knew about you and Cass?  What about you two?”

He wasn’t really going to make me say it.  “You just… you just looked at me and you knew.  And Charlie did the same thing.  And even Bobby.  And I don’t…” I trailed off, feeling shame start to coil in my belly even as I tried to fight it off.  “I mean, it’s not like anything really changed…  Just we’re… you know, and…”

“You’re in love,” Sam supplied softly.

“I… yeah,” I said, not minding that wording so much.  “But I’ve always loved him, ya know?  He’s Cass.  So nothing really changed, it just… shifted?  But you assholes all keep giving me these knowing looks like I… I don’t know, like the whole damn universe got flipped upside down…”

“Dean.”

I stopped and looked up at him.

“That night you came over, I looked at you, and it was like… some kind of tension had been released,” he explained.  “You looked… lighter.  Happier.  It was a good thing.”

“And why did you just assume that it was all due to Cass?”

“I didn’t,” he said.  “It wasn’t really about Cass.  It was about you, letting go.”

“Oh, okay, Elsa.”

Sam groaned.  “Dean, man, come on.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Please enlighten me.”

“Okay, then,” he said, like he was about to school me.  “You’ve always had this idea of what it means to be a man-”

“Samuel,” I growled.

“You asked a question, Dean.”

I sighed, stabbing my chili with my spoon.  “Yeah, all right.  Do your Dr. Phil thing.”

“Oh, like I can tell the great Dean Winchester anything.”

“Sammy.”

We exchanged some non-verbal communication, and Sam finally seemed to accept that I wasn’t trying to be a complete ass and was ready to at least attempt to listen.  “Look, the way Dad raised you was fucked up.”

“The way he raised us.”

“No, Dean,” Sam said with a shake of his head and rueful smile.  “You raised me.”

I flushed at that, feeling my own mouth twitch into a small answering smile.  “That why you’re such a damn hippie?  ’Cause I’m pretty sure I told ya a million friggin’ times to cut your hair.”

Sam just kept smiling at me, his eyes conveying all the shit that definitely never needed to be said out loud.

“Was there a point to all this?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said, “there was.”

I waited.

“I think there are a lot of things that held you back from being happy when you were alive,” he said, “and a big one was trying to live up to Dad’s stupid standards.”

“Dad wasn’t-”

“Dean.”

Even now there was always a defense of my father lingering at the tip of my tongue.  I let it die.

“You’re really… kind,” Sam said slowly.

I snorted at that.

“Yeah, dude, I know, it sounds crazy,” he said, giving me a lopsided grin.  “But… you are.  You… were.  When we were little.  You… you always…” he trailed off, his expression losing its lightness.  “I didn’t have a mother, Dean, but you… you always held my hand when we crossed the street, and read stories to me after you tucked me into bed, and kissed my friggin’ knees when I skinned them and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I was Mother Fuckin’ Teresa,” I muttered, wishing he wasn’t staring at me with those big doe eyes of his, all watery.

“You were,” he said, the sincerity in his voice making me want to sink under the table.  “You were so… kind, so gentle, so… sweet with me.  Not with anyone else, because you already knew…  It’s like Dad beat the kindness out of you, Dean.  He sharpened you into the hunter that you needed to be, but he… he took something away from you.  Something important.  And when I was still little you could… like be yourself for a few minutes while you were taking care of me.  You were so… soft, Dean, you were…”

“Jesus, Sammy,” I groaned, because if I wasn’t already dead this conversation would literally be killing me.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I need to say it,” he said stubbornly.  “I was the only person you could be yourself with, and then I turned into a moody adolescent and you stopped holding my hand, you stopped hugging me, you stopped… everything, because I wasn’t a little kid who needed your affection anymore, but you…

“So help me god if you say I was the one who needed the affection.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at me.

I rubbed my face with my hand, feeling exhausted just listening to him talk.  “So all this has to do with how you knew that Cass and I are fucking, why?”

“Dude!” Sam cried, giving me a mortified look

It took me a moment to rewind what I’d said.  Shoulda stuck with ‘boyfriends’, but I’d dug this hole for myself and I was going to own it.  I looked Sam dead in the eye, pushed my tongue against my cheek rhythmically, and mimed giving a blow job.

The sheer horror in my baby brother’s eyes made it all worth it.  “You are sick.”

“Are you gay-bashing me?” I asked innocently.

He kicked me under the table.

I kicked him back harder.

“You’re not getting out of this by being you!” Sam snapped at me, emphasizing his point with another kick.

“Eat your chili, Sam.”

“Not until I tell you what a kind, sweet, lovable person you are,” he growled at me.

I laughed at that and picked up my spoon, shoveling food into my mouth.  It was easier when he wasn’t being sincere.

Sam started eating again, too, but then he put his spoon down suddenly.  “I saw that in your eyes.  When you were sitting on the couch with Cass.  That person you’ve always hidden away.  The one who loves so deeply and doesn’t care what anyone, especially John Winchester, thinks about it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I muttered, and refused to look at him until all the chili was eaten and we were back to the mundane topics of our regularly scheduled sibling banter.

- 7 -

Cass was a cuddler, and his dedication to it was almost pathological.  He would climb into my bed in the dead of night, throwing the sheets aside and forcing my arms around him so he could lay his head on my chest and wrap himself around me.

The first time he did it, I woke up as soon as he touched the sheets, ready to fight.

“Hello, Dean, we are cuddling,” he informed me, snuggling into me.

“You don’t just… stealth cuddle someone, Jesus,” I complained, pulling my hand away from the gun that lucky for Cass wasn’t under my pillow anymore.  “Give a guy some warning, would ya?”

“But you looked so peaceful sleeping…”

“Do I seem peaceful now?” I growled at him, still half-asleep.

He just leaned up to kiss my cheek and then burrowed back into my chest like that was that.

And that was that.

I didn’t even wake up anymore when he came clamoring in.  After years of sleeping on a hair trigger, I could finally just sleep for as long as I wanted, as much as I wanted, as deep as I wanted, without always having to be ready to defend myself on a moment’s notice.

So it wasn’t a surprise when I went to bed by myself and woke up the next morning with an armful of Cass.

“Morning, angel,” I mumbled, aiming a kiss at the top of his head.

“Good morning, Charlie,” he deadpanned at me.

It took me a moment to wake up enough to understand the reference, then I cracked up.  “You Lucy Liu or Cameron Diaz?”

“Definitely Drew Barrymore,” he said.

I laughed harder.

Cass grinned up at me, looking all mussed and rumpled even though he hadn’t actually been sleeping.

“Love you,” I said sleepily, still laughing a little as I pecked him on the lips.

“I love you,” he replied, brimming with sincerity.  He always said it back, but never as a reflex.

“You stickin’ around for a while?”

“Yes, as long as John Bonham does not need my assistance in carrying out his duties today,” he said.

I’d stopped asking ‘the musician or the angel?’ after about the fiftieth time Cass mentioned some famous rock musician that he had business with, because it was always a damn angel that Jack had created and named.  It was my own fault, so I couldn’t really complain.  “Good,” I mumbled instead, closing my eyes and attempting to go back to sleep.

Cass’s stare was almost heavier than the physical weight of him lying on top of me.

I cracked an eye open, meeting his gaze.  “Could you… tone it down?”

His nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Haven’t you got better things to do than creep on me while I sleep?” I tried.

“No,” he replied, continuing to stare.

I rolled my eyes and pretended to be put out.

Cass just smiled at me.  “I like the way the morning light illuminates your features.”

“You are so corny,” I groaned.

“Says the corn-fed Kansas boy.”

I snorted at that.  “Yeah, Cass?  That what you’re into?”

“Corn-fed Kansas boys?” he asked, squinting at me.

I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“Well, there’s one I’d certainly like to get into,” he said, staring into my eyes pointedly.

All the air pushed out of my lungs and I had to look away from that unwavering gaze.

There were some things Cass and I didn’t do.

He laid his head back on my chest, one hand tracing up and down my forearm in a soothing repetitive motion.  “Do you want coffee?” he asked suddenly.

“Hm?” I said, realizing I’d been drifting back to sleep.  “Nah, not yet.”

“You want more snuggle time?” he asked, scratching his five o’clock shadow against my neck.

I was supposed to tell him that men did not ‘snuggle’, but instead I snorted and rubbed my cheek against his hair.  “Yeah, darlin’, that’d be alright.”

“Good, I also desire more snuggle time,” he informed me, rubbing that beard more insistently into me and peppering in a few kisses.

I couldn’t stop my fond smile.  I kissed the top of his head and cradled him closer.

Sam had it all wrong when he said I was ‘kind’, but I could kinda see how I was a bit… indulgent with Cass.  Making him a little happy after all the shit I’d put him through seemed like the least I could do.  So Dean Winchester indulged in a little morning cuddling.  And if Cass stared at me a little too long from a little too close, so be it.  I wasn’t gonna make an issue out of his weird pastimes.

He seemed perfectly content now, staring up at me and occasionally peppering my skin with kinda sexy kisses that didn’t have any intent behind them but still made me shiver.

I shifted a little, feeling his weight pinning me down.  “You’re like a weighted blanket,” I murmured sleepily.

A frown tugged at his lips.  “You hate weighted blankets.”

“Oh, Jesus, do you remember when Sam thought one would be nice gift for me?” I asked, snorting at the memory.  “I woke up in such a panic I shot a hole in the wall.”

“Yes, Dean, I recall the time you almost killed us all because of a weighted blanket.”

“It’s like someone holding you down, man, it’s super freaky.”

Cass rolled his eyes up at me.

“This would have never happened while I was alive, would it?” I mused, cupping his jaw.

“You allowing me to function as your weighted blanket?” he grumbled at me.

“Me liking the weight of you holding me down?” I countered, and then immediately flushed, biting my lip.

Cass’s expression relaxed and he pressed a small kiss to my thumb as it brushed by his lips.  “I’m glad that those fears no longer control you.”

I guided his face closer, needing a quick kiss to settle the weird tension in my belly.

Cass pressed his forehead to mine, gazing at me gently.  “Would you like your coffee now?”

I thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

“Okay,” he said, still lingering, still weighting me down.

I squeezed him tighter, then finally let go, feeling level.

“This time I am definitely going to make the coffee correctly,” he declared as he got up.

“Big words.”

Cass just flashed me a grin before wandering off towards the kitchen, inexplicably humming You’re the Inspiration.

I groaned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and trying not to smile.

- 8 -

“I wanna see you completely drunk,” I decided, glaring at Cass over my whiskey glass.

“I don’t get completely drunk, Dean,” he replied from across the kitchen table, looking bored.

“That’s not true,” I said, squinting at him.  “Remember that time back in Blue Earth?”

Cass gave me a very unimpressed look.  “Oh, yes, the time we killed the Whore of Babylon after I realized my father had abandoned us so I proceeded to drink a liquor store.  What a nice memory to reminisce about.”

“The way you said ‘whore’,” I said, cracking up.

“Do I amuse you, Dean?” he asked with a glare, but there was no edge to it.

“Yep.”

“I do not intend to.”

“I don’t believe you,” I said with a grin, reaching across the table to loop our fingers together.

“Most of the things I say that you laugh at were not meant to be jokes.”

“Yeah, but you know what you’re doing.”

Cass got this strange, secretive smile on his face, and started tracing along my fingers.  “I actually haven’t seen you drink in a while.”

“Yeah,” I said, kinda mesmerized by the feel of his skin against mine.  “Just… feelin’ nostalgic or some shit.”

“Or some shit,” Cass repeated with a sage nod.  He continued tracing along my fingers, dipping between each one with such a feather-light touch that it was doing funny things to my stomach.

I took another sip of my whiskey, looking away from him.  “Hey, so on game night-”

“We do not talk about game night, Dean.”

I snorted.  “Okay, well then remember when you were human?  You went from the greatest of all time to a one beer queer.”

“Dean,” he said with that reprimanding tone of voice.

“What?” I asked.  “It’s true.”

“Dean,” he repeated, and now he straight up sounded disappointed.

“What?” I repeated in a tone that was definitely not a whine.  Without really wanting to, I let my eyes meet his again.

“We’ve talked about this,” he told me in his disappointed dad voice.

I gave him a blank look, because I honestly had no idea where we were going here.

“The homophobic language, Dean,” he said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Homo… hey, now, I didn’t-”

“Dean.”

“It’s a saying!”

“Dean.”

“It is,” I said in a tone that was definitely not sulky.

“That’s not the point.”

“Well how can I be homophobic when we’re…” I trailed off, gesturing between us.

Cass proceeded to give me the most patented ‘bitch, please’ look I had ever witnessed in my life, and it left me struggling for words.

“I’m not homophobic!” I finally snapped, irritated.

“I know that,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay, then what’s the problem?”

“Did you mean it in a complimentary way?” he asked, still dragging his thumb along the shape of my fingers.

“Huh?” I said.

“When you called me a… ‘one’ ‘beer’ ‘queer’… was it complimentary?”

“Obviously not, it means you suck at drinking.”

“So you used that word to belittle me.”

I stayed quiet, not meeting his gaze.

“Dean?”

“I got it, Cass.”

He picked my hand up off of the table, pressing his lips to the back.

“Sorry,” I finally mumbled.

“It’s okay,” he said, setting my hand back on the table and curling our fingers together.

“I don’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.”

“It’s just… how I’ve always talked.”

“I know.”

“I don’t…” I floundered, before finally repeating, “I don’t mean anything by it.”

“I understand,” Cass said gently.  “I know your heart, Dean, I know how good and pure it is.  But you can’t continue to use the excuse of ignorance when you’ve been educated.”

“Sam’s lectures are not an education,” I muttered.

Cass rolled his eyes at me.

I taught him that, so I couldn’t be too mad.

In the living room, the record player started crackling.

Cass looked into my eyes for a moment, then carefully pulled his fingers away from mine with a lingering brush before going to re-set the record.

The opening strains of Hot Blooded filled the air, and then he was back, taking my hand in his again like he’d never left.

We both looked at each for what was probably too long.

“This song is highly inappropriate,” Cass finally said, breaking up the intensity of the moment.

“Dude.”

“‘Are you old enough?’” he asked, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s a legitimate question.”

“That a grown man would even consider sexual liaisons with a teenage female is so distasteful.”

“Not into age differences, Cass?”

He picked up on what I was implying immediately, leveling me with a glare.  “No,” he said, sounding more petulant than he probably intended.  “What I am saying is that a being that is fully developed mentally and sexually should be interested in other beings that are fully developed mentally and sexually.”

“Whatever you say, cradle robber,” I said with a shrug.

He looked flabbergasted, and it was hilarious.

“I mean, you’re getting all holier-than-thou over like a what, a twenty year age difference?” I asked.  “Our, you know, several millennia age difference didn’t seem like a problem for you when you took me to bed, huh?”

“That’s different,” he protested, turning an interesting shade of red.  “You are fully developed.”

“Really?” I asked.  “‘Dean, you’re behaving like a child,’” I mimicked him.

Cass squinted at me.  “So you’re saying you’re… ‘not’ ‘fully’ ‘developed’?”

“Yep,” I said, doubling down.  “Pedo,” I added for good measure.

He flat-out pouted at me, his bottom lip making a big showy display of sticking out.

“Baby, I’m just teasing you,” I laughed.

“Oh, so I’m the baby here?” he grumbled at me.

“Yeah, definitely,” I said.  “Just call me Daddy.”

“Okay, Daddy,” he deadpanned at me.

It took me a minute, and then I was laughing so hard my entire body was shaking with it.  “Jesus,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes with my unoccupied hand.  “You know exactly what you’re doing,” I accused him between wheezing laughs, recalling our earlier conversation.

Cass just shrugged, but I could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I love you so much,” I said, shaking my head and smiling.

Cass’s entire face lit up.  “I love you, too, Dean.”

Just a few simple words out of my mouth could make him so happy, and yet I was always denying that happiness to him.

Instead of dwelling on that thought, I picked up my whiskey and finished it off.  “Hey, remember that time Ellen and Jo tried to get you drunk?”

“‘Tried’ being the operative word.”

“We should go to Harvelle’s,” I said, getting enthusiastic about the idea.

“I highly doubt there is enough alcohol at the Roadhouse to fully intoxicate an angelic being.”

“You clearly have not been there recently.”

“If you believe there will be sufficient quantities to achieve what you are searching for, then I’m not opposed to giving it a try,” Cass said with a shrug.  “It would be nice to see Jo and Ellen.”

“Alright, it’s a date,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

He looked perplexed but pleased, and that was all I needed.

- 9 -

Somehow our date turned into a double date with Sam and Eileen riding in the back of Baby while the sounds of Cass’s carefully curated Songs That Will Be Played in the Car mixtape filled the speakers.

“I feel like you took the theme a little too damn literally,” I muttered as both Sam and Cass enthusiastically sang along to Fine Young Cannibals.

“She drives me crazy!” Sam warbled.

“Oh oh,” Cass replied, completely out of tune.

Eileen and I exchanged long-suffering looks through the mirror.

‘At least you can’t hear them,’ I mouthed at her, and maybe it was in poor taste to be jealous of Eileen’s deafness, but she smirked at me, so I was pretty sure she agreed.

“Oh thank god,” I muttered when the song changed to Queen’s I’m In Love With My Car.

“Dean’s theme song,” Sam said, cracking up.

“Shut up,” I said, giving him a glare in the mirror.

“Yes, that’s why I picked it,” Cass explained cheerfully.

“Don’t contribute to this,” I grumbled, giving him a half-hearted smack in the arm.

Cass gave me the most innocent look he could muster up, which was pretty damn angelic, but I was on to his game by now.

“I’m in love with my car!” Sam sang enthusiastically.  “Got a feel for my automobile!”

“Such a beautiful love song,” Eileen put in.

I shot her a look.

She winked at me.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Roger Taylor fucked his car, yeah?” Sam mused.

“Sammy, how much did you pre-game before getting into my car?” I asked.

“Just a coupla beers…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or…” he trailed off, squinting at his fingers as though he were trying to count to a high number.

Eileen shook her head, touching Sam’s arm to get his attention and then signing something to him.

I still sucked at sign language, but the soft smile he gave her assured me whatever she was saying wasn’t for me.

“How does one have sexual relations with a car?” Cass mused.

“Dunno, ask Dean!” Sam declared, breaking away from his lovey-dovey gaze with Eileen to give me a shit-eating grin.

“Dude, like I would defile Baby like that,” I scoffed at him.

“So you do know how the mechanics of it work?” Cass asked, squinting at me.

“You can’t fuck a car, Cass,” I explained patiently.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” Eileen commented.

Sam nodded his agreement.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” I asked incredulously.

“Dean called me ‘Baby’ the previous evening,” Cass put in out of nowhere.  “Do you think that I should read something into it?”

Sam sucked his teeth.  “Yeah, shit, Cass, man, that’s no good if he can no longer differentiate between his car and his boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, squinting at him through the mirror.  “And also, why are you telling them our personal business?” I chided Cass.

“It’s just Sam and Eileen,” Cass said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

The obnoxious twosome in the backseat were snickering at our little telenovela, and I realized it really wasn’t a big deal.  So I took one hand off the wheel to flip them off, then rested it between the seats and wiggled my fingers until Cass took the hint and laced his fingers with mine.

“Aw,” Eileen couldn’t help but utter.

I winked at her.

She gave me a soft, knowing smile.

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling, too.

Then Prince’s Little Red Corvette came on, and my stupid tipsy brother and my annoying angel boyfriend started singing as loudly as they could, and it just felt like the Impala was filled with… joy.

I held Cass’s hand tighter, and maybe I sang along, too.

- 10 -

The lights were all blazing when we pulled up to the Roadhouse.

“Full house,” Sam commented as he pushed his way out of the backseat.

I hesitated.

Cass gave me a head tilt.

“You ready to get drunk?” I asked, forcing a smile.

He stared at me.

“Come on,” I said, letting go of his hand and opening the door.

He followed me inside.

Sam and Eileen were already filling a couple of pitchers of beer at the bar.  The Roadhouse tended to be self-serve, as Ellen and Bill’s idea of heaven apparently wasn’t serving a bunch of old hunters drinks for the rest of eternity.

I looked around for the Harvelles, spotting them holding court at a corner table.

“Dean,” Bill said, sticking his hand out towards me.

“Bill,” I said, shaking it.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Ellen hummed, getting up from her seat to wrap me in a hug.

“Hi, Ellen.”

“Haven’t seen ya in a while.”

“Yeah, been kinda busy at home,” I said with a shrug.

Ellen arched an eyebrow at me, then turned to Cass, wrapping him in a hug.

Cass had gotten very good at returning hugs.  “It’s good to see you, Ellen,” he said warmly.

“So what brings the Winchesters here tonight?” she asked.

“We’re gonna get Cass drunk,” I informed her.

“Good luck with that,” Ellen said with a snort.  “Pretty sure there isn’t enough booze in heaven to get that one drunk.”

“Your previous attempt was valiant,” Cass offered.  “Dean wishes to re-create it, but slightly more effectively.”

“Well, Jo’s got some hard stuff stashed away in the back if you can drag her away from her game,” she said, nodding her head towards the back of the bar where the pool table was.

“I will keep you updated,” I said, and Ellen grinned at me as I took my leave.

Jo was lining up a shot, bent over the table with one eye closed.

“Don’t miss!” I yelled cheerfully as she moved the cue.

The cue ball clacked into the 5 ball, sending it rolling into the pocket.

“I never do,” she said, standing up slowly and flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

Had Jo always looked so…

I shook it off, offering her an easy smile.  “Wanna put your money where your mouth is?”

“Busy,” she replied, nodding her head towards the little fanclub of hunters who were waiting by the pool table to have their asses handed to them.

“Busy, sure.”

Jo scoffed at me and lined up her next shot, sinking it easily.  “If you just came over here to annoy me…”

“We’re gonna get Cass smashed,” I explained.

“Oh?” she asked, looking intrigued.  “Is that even possible?”

“Well, this one time at game night-” I began.

Cass shot a glare at me, making me grin.

“I’ve got some 190-proof Everclear in the back,” Jo said, waggling her eyebrows.

“So it’ll be like a shitty 90’s house party…” I reminisced.

“You are so old.”

I gaped at her, offended.

“Are you two done flirting?” Cass asked, squinting at me.

“We’re not-” we both started and stopped at the same time.

“I am going to join Sam now,” he stated, taking his leave.

Jo straightened up, looking between me and Cass’s retreating back.  “I’ll bring some shots over after I finish this game.”

I gave her a little nod of acknowledgement, already following after Cass.

“Dean Winchester!”

Apparently we were at Cheers.

“Hey, you old son of a bitch,” I said, pausing to exchange pleasantries with Caleb, followed by several other hunters who called out to me before finally making my way over to the table where Sam and Cass were sitting.

“You’re popular,” Sam commented, handing me a beer.

“Not as popular as your wife,” I said, nodding over to the bar where Eileen was surrounded by other hunters.

“Yeah,” Sam said, smiling fondly.

I rolled my eyes.

Cass rested his hand on my knee as he leaned into the arm I’d settled around his chair.

I startled, having not even realized I’d put it there.

He turned to me with a frown.  “Is this… okay?” he asked, quietly enough so only I could hear him over the din of the bar.

I hesitated, but then forced a smile.  “Yeah, of course.”

“Dean.”

“Of course,” I repeated with more sincerity.  “I’m just… it’s new.”

“You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I wanna push myself.”

Cass huffed out a smile, his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

I felt myself smiling, too, briefly reaching up to cradle his cheek in my hand before going back to my beer.

Sam was giving me a look, so I chose to ignore him.

“You boys are in luck,” Jo said, bustling over to the table with a stack of glasses and some bottles tucked under her arm.  She lined up the shot glasses on the table, then started pouring from one of the bottles.  “This is the warm-up.”

“Jack Daniels?” I asked, picking up a shot and giving it a whiff.

“Coy Hill High Proof,” she said, pushing a shot to Sam, taking one for herself, and leaving the other five for Cass.  “About 140 proof, give or take.”

“Awesome,” I said.  “Down the hatch.”

Sam, Jo, and I all downed our shots.

Cass eyed us like he was cataloging something in his weird angel brain.

“Ya gotta drink ’em to get drunk,” I explained.

Cass gave me his patented ‘bitch, please’ look and proceeded to down the five shots in rapid succession.

We all cheered.

“Feeling anything?” Jo asked as she refilled the glasses.

“I am feeling like whiskey tastes like watery grain molecules and wondering why humans subject themselves to this nonsense,” Cass said with a shrug before downing the next five shots.

Jo cracked up and filled the glasses up again.

Eventually Eileen wandered back over to the table and we somehow ended up playing Quarters, everyone making Cass take a shot of Everclear every time they got the quarter in the cup.

This was all fine and good until it was Cass’s turn.  He never missed.

“Cass ish dishqualified,” Sam declared after one penalty drink too many.

“For what reason?” Cass asked, wrinkling his nose.

“For cheating,” he said solemnly.

“I am no cheater.”

“Using your angel mojo is totally cheating,” I said, grinning at him.

“How is that cheating?  It is a part of me.”

“Cheater,” Eileen put in.

“Dirty, dirty cheater,” Jo agreed.

“Filthy,” I smirked at him.

Cass glared at me, ignoring the rest of the rabble-rousers.  “I do not cheat.”

“Drink!” Eileen declared, pushing the bottle of Everclear over to him.

“Why do I have to drink?” Cass asked incredulously, finally looking away from me and over at Eileen.

“Drink!” she repeated.

“Drink!  Drink!  Drink!” Jo and Sam chanted.

“These are not the rules that we agreed to,” Cass grumbled, sullenly snatching the bottle and chugging.

We all erupted into cheers.

Cass finished the bottle and slammed it on the table.  “You are all behaving like children.”

I leaned in closer, letting my lips brush against his ear.  “Sorry, daddy, we’ll be good.”

Cass breathed out slowly, radiating pissed-off energy, but when he turned to meet my gaze, his look was pure sex.

I bit my lip, grinning at him and trying not to turn completely red.

He turned his face a bit more towards me so Eileen couldn’t read his lips as he mouthed, ‘the things I am going to do to you when we get home.’

The trying not to turn completely red thing went out the window, but it wasn’t so bad, being the recipient of the pure desire burning in Cass’s eyes.  “Babe, I think you might be a little drunk,” I pointed out, trying to laugh it off.

“No,” he said dismissively.  “You might be a little drunk.”

“I’m not… okay, yeah, maybe a little,” I agreed after a little self-reflection.  I was feeling loose and warm in a way that alcohol hadn’t really made me feel in years.

“Alright, new game,” Jo said, passing Cass an unopened bottle of absinthe.  “And if you don’t start dancing on the tables after this, I’m getting the rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit.”

“Is that… safe?” Sam asked, looking perplexed.

“I am an angel of the Lord, Sam, your disinfectant products cannot harm me,” Cass explained.

“Oh, well then, bring on the isoproperr uh isopropro… rubbing alcohol,” he finally decided.

“After this game,” Jo said.  “So let’s play Never Have I Ever, and I’ll start.  Never have I ever… uh… had wings.”

“Am I expected to drink now?” Cass asked.

“Well, if you’ve ever had wings, then yep,” Jo said.

“Does it count if an angel was possessing your body?” Sam asked, scratching his head.

Jo turned to Eileen.

“Absolutely,” Eileen said.

Sam and I both gave her a look and took a drink from our beers.

“You’re next, Eileen,” Jo said, nodding towards her.

“Never have I ever been to Purgatory,” she said.

“We’re trying to get Cass drunk here,” I complained, taking a drink along with Sam and Cass.

“We can’t help it if you two do a lot of stupid things,” Jo pointed out.

“How is being possessed by an angel or going to purgatory us doing stupid things?” I demanded.

“Knowing you two, bad choices,” Jo said.

“Co-dependency,” Eileen added.

“Fuck you both very much,” I grumbled.  “Sammy, show them how it’s done.”

Sam grinned, his eyes drooping like he was about to fall asleep.  “Never have I ever been a girl.”

Eileen and Jo rolled their eyes and took a drink, followed by Cass.

Jo’s look turned to intrigued.

“I have occupied female vessels,” he explained to her.

“Wait, wait,” she said suddenly.  “Sam was totally possessed by Meg, so wouldn’t that make him a girl?”

“I was still in my body,” Sam protested.

“Yeah, but there was a girl in your body.”

“I would hardly call Meg a ‘girl’,” Cass mused.

“Okay, this is hurting my brain,” I complained.  “Though, yes, Samantha definitely-”

Cass stopped me from continuing by covering my mouth with his hand.

“Thank you, Castiel,” Jo said with a sigh.

“What?” I protested when I was free to speak again.

“No one wants to hear your misogynistic nonsense,” she said.

“How am I-”

Cass covered my mouth again.

I glared at him.

“Trust me, Dean, I’m helping you,” he informed me.  “Now, it is your turn.”

I made a face at him and then thought about it for a while.  “Never have I ever willingly dressed like a tax accountant for years.”

“Define ‘tax accountant’,” Cass said, gazing steadily into my eyes.

“Just drink, already, J.P. Morgan,” I replied, smirking.

He looked very unimpressed with my cleverness as he took a long swig of absinthe.  He set the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and declared, “it appears to be my turn.”

“Oh, this should be good,” I said, rolling my eyes.  Cass never understood how these things worked.

Except when he did.

“Never have I ever worn women’s pink satin panties,” he said, toying with the bottle in his hand and not even looking at me.

“You son of a bitch.”

Jo stopped with her beer halfway to her lips and burst out laughing.

Sam was looking at me like I was an alien.

Eileen eyed me up and down in a way that was very confusing.

“Dean?” Cass prodded.  “Aren’t you going to take a drink?”

“Goddamn traitorous fucking angels,” I muttered before taking a long drink and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

Cass squeezed my knee gently under the table.

I could suddenly sense how insecure he felt, afraid that he’d gone too far.

Lucky for him, I was buzzed enough not to actually be angry about him revealing one of my deepest, darkest secrets.

“Nicely played, angel,” I conceded, letting my arm slide from the back of the chair to around his shoulders, pulling him a little closer.

The tension eased from him immediately, and he turned to give me a small, pleased smile.

“You’re gonna pay for that later, though,” I threatened.

“Oh?” he asked, his head tilting to the side but oozing smugness.

“Little shit,” I grumbled at him, then leaned in close to press a quick kiss to his mouth.

“Never have I ever…” Jo’s voice suddenly cut in to our little moment.  “…made a complete and utter spectacle of myself at the Roadhouse being all lovey-dovey with my boyfriend.”

Sam snorted.

I was mortified, pulling away from Cass.  Maybe I’d kinda sorta forgotten that we were in public.

Cass for his part just rolled his eyes and drank the rest of his bottle.

“You gotta drink, Dean,” Eileen pointed out.

I gave her a very sullen look and drank my beer, setting it down on the table with a little more force than necessary.  “We need some good music,” I decided, standing up abruptly and moving off towards the jukebox.

It felt like everyone in the bar was staring at me as I went.

After flipping through all the songs, Beautiful Loser seemed like the correct choice.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean’s Infinite and Beyond Playlist 1-5

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda / Sequel to Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist

The one where Cass makes a Daddy Issues playlist.

Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

Parts 1-5/26 under the cut.

- 1 -

I felt my eyes drifting open, and the fingers running through my hair slowed.

Blue eyes warmed as they met mine.  “Good morning, Dean.”

“Cass, we’ve talked about this,” I grumbled at him, trying not to get sucked into that sunny smile.

“We have?” he asked, his nose scrunching up in confusion.  He was lying on his side, his hand propped under his chin as he gazed down at me, a position he had probably been in all night as he ‘watched over me’.

“Yes, you know the rules,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“No dogs in the car?” he asked innocently, but now I knew he was definitely fucking with me.

“No pop divas before I’ve had my coffee!” I snapped at him.

“Ohhh,” he said with a nod.  “But Dean.  You do make me feel like a teenage dream.”

“Castiel,” I said warningly.

“A little absent humming hardly warrants the full name treatment,” he said, his fingers moving through my hair again.

“We have rules for a reason,” I tried to complain, but that felt really good and I found my eyes sliding shut in contentment.

“Of course,” Cass agreed reasonably.  “My apologies.”

I started drifting lazily between wakefulness and sleep.

He didn’t last five minutes before he was at it again.

“Sonuvabitch,” I growled, forcing my eyes back open.

Cass was still smiling at me like I could shoot rainbows outta my ass or something.

“You enjoy this,” I complained.

“Lying in bed with the love of my life every morning?  Yes, definitely,” he said, completely sincere.

“While singing freaking Katy Perry?” I growled.  The fact that I even knew who the singer was only added to my shame, though it really couldn’t be helped since Cass had been singing the same damn song all week.

“But, Dean, you do think I’m pretty without any makeup on,” he reasoned, suddenly rolling me on my back and pinning me down with a sparkling smile that didn’t jive with the aggression of his actions.

“When have you ever even worn makeup?” I muttered, trying to keep my breathing steady.

“Exactly,” Cass said, leaning in closer until his nose nudged against mine.

My lips parted of their own volition.

Cass grinned and kissed me obligingly.

It was still new, and we were still figuring things out, but we were definitely awesome at making out like teenagers.

Which was probably why Cass was currently humming, “you make me feel like I’m livin’ a teenage dream,” into my neck.

“Cass,” I groaned, trying to sound annoyed and not turned on.  Because I was the former and definitely not the latter.  Obviously.  “If you’re not gonna follow the rules…”

He paused with his mouth hovering over my collarbone, his breath warm against the wet hickies he’d marked into my skin.  “Will I be… punished?” he asked, his head tilting as he squinted up at me.

My dick throbbed in my boxers.  “Jesus.”

Cass shrugged and went back to sucking on my collarbone like he hadn’t just… Jesus fuck.  And then the little shit whispered, “let’s go all the way tonight.  No regrets, just l-”

I flipped him on his back, glaring down at him.  “You have to choose, Cass.  Either we continue to do unspeakable things to each other in this bed, sans pop princess soundtrack, or you get your ass up and go make my damn coffee.”

“So it’s Sophie’s choice,” he said with a long sigh.

I couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up out of me.

Cass’s expression softened, and he reached up to stroke the back of his hand along my cheek.  “That’s a nice sound,” he said, sounding all sentimental.

I just rolled my eyes and laid down beside him.  “Make your choice already, Sophie.”

He got that grumpy look on his face again like I was putting him out, then leaned in towards me so his mouth was close to my ear.  “The things I would have done to you were not unspeakable.  In fact, I would be happy to elaborate for you now, before I go and get your coffee.”

I found myself chewing on my bottom lip.  Cass was terrible at dirty talk.  Seriously awful.  And yet every time he did it, I inexplicably hung on his every word.

“First,” he declared, lips brushing my ear, “I would have divested you of your clothing in order to erotically pleasure you with my touch.”

“Erotically pleasure me, huh?” I hummed, barely holding in a laugh.

“Oh, Dean, the pleasure would have been intensely erotic,” he assured me with a solemn nod.  “I know how sensitive you are to skin-on-skin contact.”  To illustrate the point, one of his warm hands snuck under my t-shirt, skimming up my side in a feather-light touch.

My skin erupted in goosebumps.  “Very erotic,” I agreed, trying to sound more amused than breathy.

“It would have been,” he said with an over-dramatic sigh.  “And you know what else, Dean?”

“Hm?” I asked, thoroughly distracted by the fingers tracing along my skin.

“While I exploited every millimeter of your exposed flesh, I would remain fully dressed.”

“Oh?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.  I didn’t know where this was going, but it was kinda hot.

“Oh yes,” Cass said, confidently running his blunt nails up my back and making me involuntarily shiver.  “Because when the time was right, Dean, when you were a shuddering, quivering mess…”

I was getting very interested.

“I’d let you put your hands on me in my skin-tight jeans…”

My brow started to furrow.

“…be your teenage dream to-”

“Stop, stop, no, hell no, stop,” I growled, pushing him away.

Cass sat up on the bed, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Out!” I snapped.  “Get out now!”

His nose scrunched up as he let out a loud laugh.

“I can’t stand you,” I muttered, trying not to reflect on how it really was a nice sound and I was just as damn sappy as the pop-song-singing angel.

“We both know that’s not true,” he said, still grinning as he got off the bed. “Maybe,” I relented, making a blanket cocoon and huddling in it to wait for my coffee.

Cass flashed me a grin over his shoulder and disappeared out the bedroom door.

I turned my face away so he couldn’t see the sappy grin I gave him in return, and instead yelled to his retreating back, “and when the hell have you ever even worn skin-tight jeans?!”

- 2 -

“But I do not understand under what circumstances Godzilla would encounter a Leviathan,” Cass mused as he got into the car.

“I dunno, man, he accidentally ports to Purgatory or something,” I said, starting the engine.

“One does not ‘accidentally’ ‘teleport’ to Purgatory,” Cass reasoned, pushing a cassette into the tape deck.

“It’s not that serious,” I groaned.  “You don’t have to think of all the details, just say who you think would win in a fight.”

“But if I do not think about the details, then how can I properly assess the fighting capabilities of each contender?” he asked, his brow all scrunched up.

I rolled my eyes, guiding the Impala out onto the wooded lane.  “I think Godzilla would totally rip those black goo bastards a new one.”

“But with their regenerative abilities, how could he hope to prevail?” Cass asked, his squint intensifying.  “Godzilla would hardly have on hand a Bone of a Righteous Mortal Washed in Three Bloods of the Fallen.”

“Yeah, but he could smash their stupid heads off their stupid bodies,” I reasoned.

“Oh, well if their heads are stupid…” he commented, rolling his eyes now.

I took my eyes off the road to glare at him.  “They are stupid,” I said.  “And Godzilla would eat them for goddamn breakfast.”

“Is there only one Leviathan in this scenario, or are there multiple ones?” Cass asked.  “Because if there were multiple ones I do think they would be able to work in tandem in order to consume the sea monster’s flesh, but I do believe if there was only one that a singular Leviathan would fail in that endeavor and in fact would have their ‘stupid’ head smashed off.”

I leaned back in my seat, mulling it over.  I was about to reach my decision when something that had been niggling at the back of my mind since we’d gotten in the car finally reached out and slapped me across the face.  “Cass?” I said, my voice dropping dangerously.

“Hm?” he asked, turning to me.

“What the hell are we listening to?” I asked in a careful, measured tone.

“NKOTB,” he said with a pleased smile.

“I’m sorry, the what now?”

“NKOTB, the New Kids on the Block,” he extrapolated.  “They were very popular during your youth.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, ejecting the tape and proceeding to throw it out the window.

Cass audibly gasped.  “Dean!” “No!” I barked at him.  “I have to draw the line somewhere.  The pop princesses were one thing…”

“But you like the pop princesses,” Cass said, squinting at me.

“No, I do not,” I said incredulously.

“You were singing Mariah Carey in the shower this morning.”

“Because you keep playing her incessantly!”

“You’ve been playing Metallica incessantly lately, but you don’t hear me singing Some Kind of Monster.”

“Well maybe you should,” I said, because I didn’t really have anything else to say.

“Dean, you threw my tape out the window.”

“Yes.”

“That is not okay.”

“What’s not okay is playing goddamn boy bands in my Baby!” I snapped.

“You play Led Zeppelin in here all the time.”

“I’m sorry, what…?”

“I mean, they are boys and they are in a band…”

“How dare you.” “What is the diff-”

“First of all, they are men.”

“Robert Plant was 19 when he joined the band.”

I gave him a disgusted look.  “Second of all, they play their own instruments.”

“Hanson played their own instruments and are known as one of the quintessential boy bands from your timeline.”

“Stop knowing stuff about music,” I groaned.

“I will not,” he said haughtily.  “Facts are facts, even if you find them to be inconvenient to your narrative.”

My eyes could not roll any harder without me going blind.  “Your privileges are revoked.”

“My… privileges…?” he said slowly, losing some of his previous bravado.

“Driver picks the music, and the angel with no taste whatsoever shuts his cakehole,” I declared.

“Dean.”

I reached across him, fishing through the glove box until I found what I was looking for.

“Dean,” he repeated, sounding unhappy.

“That doesn’t sound like a shut cakehole,” I said, pushing in my cassette and hitting the fast forward button, counting the time in my head.

The glare I received was comical in its intensity.

I ignored the cranky angel, releasing the button and sighing in relief as the familiar piano intro began playing.  I started bobbing my head, pointing my finger out towards the great beyond.  “Just take those old records off the shelf, I’ll sit and listen to ’em by myself.  Today’s music ain’t got the same soul, I like that old time rock and roll!”

  Cass angled himself towards the window and ignored me the rest of the drive.

- 3 -

I stumbled out of bed, led to the kitchen by the smell of coffee.  There was a fresh pot in the coffee maker, so I poured myself a cup and took a long sip.  I was on my second cup before I realized that coffee didn’t make itself.

“Cass?” I called.

“In here.”

I topped up my coffee and moved to the living room, where Cass was sitting on the couch in my AC/DC shirt, walkman in hand and headphones over his ears.

He glanced up at me as I approached, his expression flat.  “Hello, Dean.”

“Morning,” I said, sliding onto the couch beside him.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“You were sleeping.”

“Okay, but you coulda woken me up,” I pointed out, arm settling around his shoulders.

“Didn’t seem necessary.”

“I like waking up with you.”

“I see.”

“Cass?”

“Yes?”

“…are you still mad at me…?” I asked slowly.

“Why would I be mad at you, Dean?”  He met my gaze steadily as he spoke.

“’Cause I threw your crap cassette out the window and wouldn’t go back to get it?” I suggested.

“Oh, you mean your complete and blatant disregard for me and my feelings,” he said with a nod.

“If that’s how you wanna phrase it…”

“It is.”

I wanted to say something snarky, but I suddenly realized that my stomach was tying itself in knots every time Cass spoke in that distant tone, and now all the witty comebacks were stuck in my throat, slowly choking me to death.

Cass squinted at me, then something in his expression changed.  “Dean.”

I still couldn’t say anything.

“You are a jackass,” he informed me.

I didn’t mean to flinch.

“And you piss me off frequently.”

I didn’t mean to make myself smaller.

“But I love and tolerate you.”

A laugh that sounded slightly on the wrong side of hysterical bubbled up out of me.  “You tolerate me?”

“Yes, I tolerate you and your terrible behavior,” he confirmed.

“Gee, thanks, buddy,” I said, wondering if I could pull away from him and go bury myself in the backyard.

“Dean,” he repeated, starting to sound frustrated.  “That was not an invitation to self-recrimination.”

“I’m not-”

“I am allowed to be angry with you for the rude and obnoxious things that you do,” he said.  “You should ‘take it like a man’.”

That threw cold water on my pity party like no other, causing me to sputter incoherently.

Cass looked pleased.

I grumbled at him, taking another long drink of my coffee.

Cass just smiled and tucked his head under my chin.

It was so foreign and yet the most natural thing in the world as I kissed the top of his head and felt stupid.

Which is why I found myself driving down the lane again, retracing our previous drive before getting out of the car and wading through the bushes.

It took a lot longer to find the stupid tape than I thought it would.

I dumped it on the nightstand on my way to the shower, and forgot about it.

Cass came and went depending on work, so it was a couple of weeks before I found myself being woken up by a pair of lips pressing up my spine.

I looked over my shoulder, smiling sleepily at him.  “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, eyes crinkling.  “I missed you.”

“Sap,” I said, rolling my eyes but leaning in for a quick morning peck.

Cass was not interested in a quick morning peck, pushing his tongue into my mouth and trying to map out my tonsils.

“Where’s the fire?” I asked, a little dazed.

“In my pants,” he replied solemnly.

I burst out laughing.

Cass looked pleased at first, but when I kept laughing he started to get annoyed.  “Dean?”

“Yuh-huh?” I managed to get out, rubbing at the tears pricking my eyelids.

“Enough,” he stated firmly, and my mouth went dry.

Cass being bossy was… something.

I found myself being pulled on top of him, two hands settling rather definitively over my ass and a tongue once again jamming down my throat.

For all his lack in finesse, Cass was actually an excellent kisser, and I was immediately drowning.

He took full advantage.

I came up for air with a gasp, trying to push a little space between our now rolling hips and failing miserably, what with Cass’s iron grip holding me against him.  “Ca-” I tried, but he swallowed up anything else I had to say, and then we were both drowning.

Cass whined into the kiss, hips moving insistently, always wanting more.

I tried to keep up, tried to give as good as I got, but Cass was a force of nature and sometimes it was just too damn much.  “Slow down,” I whispered when I could finally catch a quick breath.

“I can’t,” he whined, coming undone.

“Yes, you can,” I murmured, pressing my hand over his as he worked us both over.  “Nice and slow, baby.”

“Dean,” was all he could say, sounding distraught.

I took control of the pace, feeling more like myself and less like… whatever I became when Cass was running the show.  Rather not think too much about that in general.  I focused on Cass now, watching the way his face scrunched up, knowing he was close.

“Dean,” he pleaded.

“Okay,” I said, finally giving him permission.  My hand slid from his, going to hold his waist.

He was suddenly sitting us up, mouth pushing against mine frantically as his hand moved between us.

I murmured soft encouragements in his ear, though I was starting to stutter a little.

Cass probably wasn’t listening that closely anyway, the way he kept repeating my name like a mantra.

“Fuck,” I whispered, fingers digging into him.  “Fuck… yeah… just like that, sweetheart…”

He came apart completely, pulling me with him, and then we both just flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“What was that all about?” I finally asked, smacking my hand to his chest and then just kinda leaving it there because my limbs felt loose and relaxed and like they didn’t really have anywhere in particular to be.

“Dean, when a man and another man love each other very much-”

I made the herculean effort to lift my hand, just so I could smack him again.  “I meant that usually you let me wake up before you’re tryin’ to take things to Bonetown.”

“Oh…” he trailed off thoughtfully.  “I may have been a little more amorous than usual, yes.”

I waited.

He turned his face towards me, his whole expression going soft, damn near reverent.  “Dean.”

“Yeah?” I said, trying not to go soft and probably failing.

“Dean, you…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the nightstand.

I eyed the supersized bottle of lube sitting there, and figured that wasn’t what was making Cass look at me like I hung the damn stars for him.  Then I remembered.

“You’re turning very red, Dean.”

“No I’m not,” I said, pointedly looking away from him.

Cass inched closer, nuzzling his face in my neck.  “Thank you.”

If I said, ‘for what?’, then we would have to actually talk about how I hiked through the woods to find his stupid boy band tape, so instead I offered him a, “yeah, whatever, it’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” he said, kissing my neck, and I couldn’t really deny that.

- 4 -

I was drumming on the steering wheel, headbanging to Slayer as best I could while still keeping my eyes on the road, when Cass let out the most overdramatic sigh in the history of overdramatic sighs.

“Something wrong?” I yelled to him over the music.

He leveled me with a glare before looking out the window, turning his entire back to me.

I turned the music up louder.

Cass crossed his arms over his chest.

I started to sing along.

He shifted so he could glare at me again.

I winked at him.

He said something.

“Huh?” I said, holding my hand up to my ear.

He repeated it.

I shrugged at him.

His hand suddenly shot out, ejecting the tape.  “You are infuriating!” he snapped at me.

“Hey, now,” I said, pointing sharply at the handwritten sign I’d stuck to the dashboard that proudly proclaimed ‘driver picks the music cuz Cass has terrible taste’.  “You know the rules.”

“Fuck your rules.”

I was scandalized.  “One does not simply ‘fuck’ the rules.”

“Well I just did,” he said, cocking his head to the side and daring me to prove him wrong.

I accepted his challenge and slowly pushed the cassette back in.

“Angel of death, monarch to the kingdom of the dead,” blasted out of the speakers.

“Goddammit, Dean!” Cass yelled loud enough for me to hear, ejecting the tape and tossing it in the backseat.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s not the same,” he muttered, but the way he was looking down at his lap and not at me was pretty telling.

“I’m sorry, did you just throw my tape in the backseat?” I asked him incredulously.

“At least I didn’t throw it out the window,” he grumbled at me.

“Oh, okay, well I guess that means that you’re considerate for an asshole.”

Cass huffed out an irritated breath.  “You weren’t enjoying the music, either.”

“Uh, yes I was.”

“No, you were not,” he said, giving me a snotty look.  “You were only singing along to annoy me.”

“That was an added bonus,” I said, flashing him a grin.

“I know what you look like when you’re enjoying yourself,” he said, frowning at my grin.  “And I know what you look like when you’re just doing something to piss someone, usually Sam, off.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I put your body together atom by atom-”

I mouthed ‘atom by atom’ along with him, which earned me an exasperated huff.

“Does making light of our profound bond help you to feel good about yourself?” he whined at me.

“No, but it’s hilarious.”

“I think you have confused the definition of ‘hilarious’ with the definition of ‘obnoxious’.”

“Ooooh, sweet burn,” I said with a snort.  “Really got me there, Encyclopedia Brown.”

“Your facetiousness is not appreciated right now.”

“It’s real cute how you’re trying to play the victim when you’re the one in the wrong.”

“I am in the wrong?” he asked, and the sheer look of incredulity on his face was hysterical.

“You threw my tape in the backseat!”

“You threw my tape out the window!”

“And we had great makeup sex because of it.”

“…are you trying to get more makeup sex?” he asked, squinting at me.

“Are you…?” I asked, squinting back at him.

“…no….” he said shiftily.

“Then why are you over here, throwing my tapes all over the place?”

“That song is about Nazis,” Cass declared with a frown.

“Uh, okay?”

“You hate Nazis.”

“I do hate Nazis.”

“You killed Hitler.”

“Hell yeah I killed Hitler!” I declared emphatically, reveling in a brief moment of smug satisfaction.

“Then why do you want to listen to songs about Josef Mengele?!”

“Dude, Angel of Death is like one of the greatest speed metal songs of all time.”

“But do you actually like it?”

I opened my mouth to answer and then thought about it for a while.  “I uh…”

“Put on some Motörhead,” he said, pulling out the box of tapes.

“Not too loud for you, princess?” I scoffed at him.

“We can lower the volume,” he said, pushing Ace of Spades into my hand.

I looked at the tape in my hand.

Cass went back to looking out the window.

“I’ll give you a pass on your little mutiny since Motörhead rocks,” I decided, magnanimously pushing in the tape and lowering the volume.  “But this does not in any way, shape, or form mean that your privileges have been restored.”

“I understand, Dean,” he said, but now he seemed like the smug one.

“I’m serious, Cass.”

“Of course you are.”

I didn’t feel like he was taking me seriously at all, but Motörhead did rock, and I found myself drumming on the steering wheel again before throwing my head back and singing loudly, “the Ace of Spades, the Ace of Spades!”

Cass’s smile went soft, and he started tapping his fingers on the door in time to the music, this new weird habit that he’d started lately.

I sang louder, throwing myself completely into the song, and the louder I sang, the wider Cass’s smile grew.

- 5 -

I was in the kitchen making breakfast while Cass was going through the records in the living room, trying to find something to play, when there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t pick something shitty!” I called to Cass as I moved towards the door, expecting to see Sam.

It was Bobby.

“Hey, kid, I’ve got a ’73 Trans-Am that won’t run,” he said as way of a greeting.

“Oh?” I asked, pulling the screen door open.

“Wanna take a look?”

“Hell yeah.”

Styx suddenly started blasting from inside the house.

“You got company?” Bobby asked.

“It’s just Cass,” I said, waving it off.  “I was making breakfast, so when I finish up with that I’ll come by your place.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said agreeably, sauntering off.

Cass was in the living room, squinting at the record player like that would somehow help him hear the music better.

“Good choice,” I said, kissing the top of his head.  “I’m gonna eat breakfast and then head off to Bobby’s.”

“Oh,” he said, turning his gaze to me.  “What are you doing there?”

“Car stuff.”

“Oh,” he said, looking less interested.

“You don’t wanna watch me work my magic on a Trans-Am?” I asked, wiggling my fingers at him.

“No.”

I stuck my lower lip out.

“You’re very manly and… virile,” Cass assured me, cupping my face and thumbing over my lip.

“Uh… thank you?” I said, completely confused and fairly distracted by the warmth of his hand.

“Well I assumed you were displaying your knowledge of motor vehicles in order to flaunt your sexual viability,” he explained, which didn’t explain anything at all.  “Like a peacock,” he added unhelpfully.

“Dude,” I said, shaking my head.

“I was incorrect?”

“It’s too early in the morning for whatever it is you’re saying,” I informed him, giving his behind a sharp spank and moving to the kitchen to eat my breakfast.

Cass took the chair next to me with a squinty-eyed glare, but became vaguely pacified when I gave him a bowl of maple syrup.  “I enjoy this texture,” he informed me, sticking his finger into the bowl and then sucking the syrup off of it.

“I know, buddy, I know,” I said, trying not to grin too stupidly at my weird, weird angel.

After breakfast, Cass saw me off at the door and I headed to Bobby’s.

I was ass-deep in a fuel pump repair when I heard Bobby talking to someone.  I slid out from under the car, watching as Bobby retreated into the house before flicking my eyes to Cass.

He looked back at me, a wrench awkwardly held in his hand.

“Heya, Cass, whacha doin’?” I asked, nodding my head towards the wrench.

“Bobby asked me to hold this,” he said, looking perplexed.

“And you are doing a bang-up job of it, sweetheart,” I said, wiping my greasy hands on my jeans and crowding into his space.  “Couldn’t resist seeing me in action, huh?”

“I came to borrow records from Bobby,” he said, but there was a small smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“Mm-hm,” I hummed, pulling him in closer by the belt loops of his borrowed jeans.

“He has all of Joni Mitchell’s albums on vinyl.”

“’Cause you don’t have every song of hers ever recorded,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Not on vinyl,” he said solemnly.

I was going all soft around the edges when Bobby’s gruff voice suddenly sounded behind me.  “You two love birds gonna carry on all day or are we gonna fix this jalopy already?”

So the thing was, for all that everything had completely changed between me and Cass, those changes were private, only-seen-in-the-confines-of-my-bedroom kind of changes.  Maybe we flirted a little more in public, but the whole standing-too-close-and-staring-into-each-other’s-eyes thing was nothing new for us.

And since nothing had really changed, I hadn’t exactly gone around advertising that Cass and I were… whatever we were.  Obviously Sam had figured it out without me saying anything, because he was Sam, and he knew when I so much as took a shit sideways (“you need more fiber in your diet, Dean”).  He took one look at me and Cass sitting on the couch bickering about the correct way to assemble a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,and just broke into the stupidest grin (“you two look good together”).

Charlie seemed to have the same psychic powers as Sam, looking between me and Cass at her D&D group sitting on completely opposite sides of the table and suddenly squealing with delight (“you did it, you did it, you finally did it, OMG!”).

Now here was Bobby, either teasing us for our stupid staring routine, or being the third person to see completely through this charade, and since I had no idea which one it was, I did what any normal person would do and jumped fifty feet away from Cass like I’d just been caught doing something bad.

Cass and Bobby both gave me a look, like I was somehow the crazy one, then turned back to each other.

“I was able to successfully hold onto your wrench,” Cass said, handing the wrench back to Bobby.

“Amazing job, Cass,” Bobby said, taking the wrench and passing Cass a stack of records.  “Have some real music as a reward for a job well done.”

“Real music?” I scoffed.

“None of Dean’s hair band crap,” he explained.

“Excuse me?” I said, thoroughly insulted.

“You are excused Dean,” Cass said absently as he flipped through the records.

I was making an incredibly shocked and offended face, but no one looked at me.

“I have heard of this man, Johnny Cash,” Cass said, giving Bobby a solemn nod.  “He is the Man in Black, much like the film with Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones.”

That snapped me out of my funk and I immediately cracked up.

“Pretty sure he didn’t hunt any aliens, but sure,” Bobby said, trying to keep a straight face but not quite succeeding.

Cass ignored us both, continuing to flip through his records.  Finally he gave a contented nod.  “I will enjoy listening to these, thank you.”

“Any time,” Bobby said easily.

“I’m going to listen to them now, so please continue your manly bonding over vehicular repair,” he said, preparing to take his leave.  “Goodbye, Bobby.”

Bobby gave him a nod.

“Dean,” he said, giving me a look.

“Yeah, uh, bye,” I said, trying to communicate with a look of vast confusion that I had no idea what he was trying to convey to me.

I knew exactly what he was trying to convey to me.

Bobby glanced between me and Cass’s retreating back, then handed me the wrench.  “How’s the fuel pump looking?”

“Uh…” I said.

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

“I uh got it back in place, but I still gotta…” I trailed off.  “Look, Bobby, you know that Cass and I… you know?  I mean you know.  So… yeah.”

“Son, if you’re going to tell me something I already know, at least try using actual words to do it.”

I flushed, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  This wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.  “We’re...” I started to say, words like best friends and naked horizontal tango partners floating around in my head, all seeming inadequate.  “We’re boyfriends!” I blurted out, and then I wanted to kick myself in the face, because that was definitely not the word I’d been looking for.

“Boyfriends, huh?” Bobby said with a snort.

“Boyfriends,” I ground out, doubling down.

“All right then,” he said, and that was that.

It reminded me of that time when Sammy and I were kids, tossing a baseball around the salvage yard, and Sammy accidentally sent the ball sailing through one of the junker’s windows.  Of course I took the blame, ready to take an ass-whooping for my little brother, but Bobby wasn’t Dad, and he just shrugged and said, “all right then,” and took me through the entire process of repairing the window with him.  When we finished, he patted me on the shoulder and said, “not bad, kid.”

I slid back under the car, ready to get back to work.

“Can’t say I ever saw it coming back on earth,” Bobby said, and it was easier now that we weren’t looking at each other.  “But it just seemed kinda inevitable since you got to heaven.”

I felt vaguely embarrassed, but I just worked on the car, and eventually I found myself smiling.

Bobby’s approval always meant something to me.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 21-26 (complete)

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 21-26/26 under the cut.  Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 21 -

Cass snapped his fingers and we were back in my room.  I knew the Impala was pulled up in the driveway without having to ask.

We didn’t need to drive.  We didn’t need to eat or sleep or do any of the human things we did.  We were souls in heaven, finding comfort in the things we did on earth.

“Rest, Dean,” Cass said, guiding me towards the bed.

“I don’t-” I tried to protest, but he was shaking his head at me.

“Rest,” he repeated, pushing me until I was sitting on the mattress.  He bent over to unlace my boots.

I felt like a raw nerve.  I reached down, touching my hand to his hair, letting my fingers dig in.  “Stay,” I requested.

He looked up at me with a soft but sad smile.  “Of course,” he said, taking off my boots and then pushing at my chest gently.

I lay down obediently like a child.

Cass moved to pull the blankets over me, but I held out a hand to stop him.

“Stay,” I repeated more firmly.

“Of course,” he repeated, looking at me quizzically.

I took the blankets from his hand, holding them over me but leaving half the bed empty and waiting.

Cass looked stricken.

“Come on, man, don’t make this a whole thing,” I said, rolling my tired eyes.

“But it is very much a whole thing,” Cass protested.  If he had pearls, he’d probably have been clutching them.

“You’re warm,” I said, rolling over and turning my back to him.  I left the other side of the bed open.

“I maintain a regular temperature of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit,” he mumbled.

I waited.

The mattress creaked under his weight.

“Cass,” I complained, reaching behind me and fumbling around until I finally found his arm.  He must have been on the very edge of the mattress.  I pulled his arm over me, hugging it to my chest, and promptly passed out.

My mind tried to sort through everything that had happened.  It kept coming back to Lisa, leaning against her kitchen counter, looking at me sadly.

“It wasn’t fair of you,” she had said, shaking her head.  “Maybe we were better off without you, but it wasn’t your choice to make.  And yeah, I figured out how to live without you, but even without my memories you were always there like a ghost, that missing piece right out of my reach.”

Cass sighed softly into my neck.

I curled our fingers together, something that was becoming like a habit lately, and cradled his hand to my chest.

“Dean?” he asked, sounding gravelly and half-asleep.  “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

He nudged his nose against the back of my neck like a puppy, the rest of his body curled around me in a just-barely touching kind of way.

It was warm and nice and made me feel… protected?

From what?

Myself?

“Do you still want me to stay?” he asked, his breath warm against my neck.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” he said, then hesitated.  “This is okay?”

“It’s okay,” I said, my eyelids growing heavy again.

Cass started humming softly.

I couldn’t quite place the tune, my mind drifting back into darkness.

Cass was quiet when I woke up again, his breath a steady rhythm against my neck.  He had gotten closer, his chest pressed firmly to my back and a leg stuck between mine.

I felt myself pushing back into him, burrowing and holding his arm securely over my chest, when suddenly I was fully awake thinking, something is not right here.

“Were you humming Lady Gaga…?” I mumbled.

“Hm?” Cass murmured, coming to.

“You were humming Bad Romance…”

“Mm, yes, it’s a good song,” he agreed, nudging his nose against my neck like he’d done before.

I really liked that.  “I think we have different ideas about what makes a ‘good’ song,” I muttered.

“Clearly,” he said, and then he started slowly humming that damn song again.

It went right through me, vibrating down my spine.  “Enough,” I grumbled, letting go of his hand and shifting my shoulders away from him.

Cass went still as I disentangled us.

“Roll over,” I grumbled at him, sitting up and rubbing my hand over my face.

He squinted up at me, looking uncertain, but then he did, turning to his other side.

I stretched my arms over my head, hearing something pop, then settled back in, wrapping myself around Cass.  “Dean Winchester is not the little spoon,” I informed him.

“…what…?” Cass said, sounding lost.

“The smaller person is the little spoon,” I said, nudging him until I could get one arm under him and one around him, holding him even closer.

“In what way am I smaller than you?” Cass asked, sounding offended.

“Uh, you’re shorter for one,” I said.  “And just… smaller in general.”

“My true form-”

“No one cares about your true form,” I said, all blasé even as my mind drifted back to the car, to Cass’s glowing skin and shadowy wings.

He huffed out an offended-sounding noise, but he seemed to be fine and dandy snuggling back into me like a little puppy.

Shit, he was cute.

“See, we fit together better this way,” I said.

“You just feel your masculinity being threatened by being the ‘little spoon’,” Cass replied easily.

“I do not,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes, Dean,” he said, because of course he didn’t have to see me to know that I was doing it.  “You slept soundly and comfortably when I served as the ‘larger spoon’.”

“It’s called the ‘big spoon’, Cass.”

“My point still stands.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He seemed to accept his fate for the time being, going quiet.

“Thank you,” I finally said into his hair.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Dean.”

“Cass…”

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Okay,” I said, remembering how nice it felt and nudging my nose into his neck this time.

He made a soft, very contented sound.

Something anxious coiled in my belly.

Cass started absently stroking up and down my arm, humming Lady Gaga again.

I was trembling as I pressed my lips to the back of his neck.

He inhaled sharply, going still.

“…Cass…?” I said, my voice coming out smaller than I wanted it to.

He took my hand and kissed the back gently, then went back to humming.

I didn’t know what that meant.

I closed my eyes again and let myself drift.

- 22 -

“Dean, wake up.”

I growled unintelligibly.

“Dean, I have to go.”

That didn’t sound right.  I held the body I was wrapped around more tightly.

A huff of a laugh.  “Heaven is falling apart without me.”

“So?” I mumbled, nosing into the hair curling at his nape.  “What else is new with those dicks?”

“De-ean,” he said, all disapproving.

“Ca-ass,” I growled right back at him.

I was suddenly on my back, staring up into hard blue eyes.

His expression softened right away.  “How are you?” he asked casually, like he didn’t have me pinned to a bed.

“Peachy?” I suggested.

“No, really, Dean,” he said, frowning.  “I can stay.”

“Oh, well, then you should stay,” I said, giving him a slow and easy grin.

“I’m being serious,” he said, frowning harder.

“Hard to take you seriously when you’ve got a little drool,” I explained, wiping my thumb against the corner of my mouth.

“I do not drool,” he protested, but he was already rubbing self-consciously at his mouth.  “Dean…”

“Go do your angel crap,” I said, reaching up a hand and touching his cheek.

“Okay…” he said uncertainly.  “Call me if you need anything?”

“Yeah, I will,” I agreed.

“Okay,” he said more confidently, his hand mirroring mine to touch my cheek before straightening up and climbing off the bed.  He put his suit jacket and trenchcoat back on, giving me a little wave before disappearing.

I thought about the weight of him pinning me to the mattress.

Did I want to think about that?

Did I get to think about that?

I thought about Lisa, opening the door.

The very touch of you corrupts.

She always let me in.

In another life, I think we would have been made for each other.

The thing with heaven was, it wasn’t another life.  It wasn’t a chance to right all the wrongs and figure out the what ifs.  We had to face the life we lived and come to terms with it.

“He isn’t you, but Brent’s a good man,” she’d told me, smiling fondly as she spoke his name.

What kind of a name was Brent?

“Ben was off at college, and I was ready to share my life with someone.”

Ben off at college, all those years without a father…

“We were married almost 30 years.”

She looked happy when she said it.  Like things had worked out okay in the end.  Like I hadn’t actually ruined her life.  Or Ben’s.

“You, me, and Ben, we had a good run.”

I sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

Was I ready to close that chapter?  To stop regretting the family I lost?

There was a knock on my front door.

I made a face, rolling out of bed and grumbling my way to the door.  “Yeah?” I called.

“Mr. Dean Winchester?”

I threw the door open, squinting at the man standing there, some angel I’d never seen before.  “Who’s asking?”

“Um, I am, sir,” he said, shuffling nervously.  He had a large takeout bag in one hand and a cup in the other.

“And you are?”

“Steve, sir.”

“You’re an angel named Steve?” I asked incredulously.

“Um, yes, sir, um, our Father deemed to bestow that name on me,” he said, shifting from foot to foot.  “Steven Tyler, Steve for short.”

“I’m sorry, Jack named you Steven Tyler?” I asked, not sure if I should laugh or just feel really proud.

“Yessir.”

I considered telling him to stop calling me ‘sir’, but I kind of liked it.  All of the new angels were weirdly deferential to me.  “So what brings you here, Steven Tyler, Angel of the Lord?”

“Castiel sent me,” he explained, holding up the bag.  “He said that this is a hamburger of bacon and cheese from your favored earth shop, and this is coffee, black, from a… ‘grungy diner’.”  He handed them both to me.

“Awesome,” I said, accepting them.  “I’ll tell Cass you get a gold star.”

“Is that a…” Steve faltered, his brows scrunching together.  “Do you pluck a star from the sky…?”

“You did a good job, Steve, goodbye,” I said, closing the door.

“Good… bye…?”

I went into the living room, probably smiling like a dope, and set my little care package on the coffee table.  I decided I was in an Aerosmith mood, and quickly dug through my records, looking for Rocks.

“I’m back.  I’m back in the saddle again.”

I flopped back on the couch, burger in hand, and I really did feel okay despite the shitshow of the last few days.  I took a bite, my eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Hey, Cass?” I prayed.  “Thanks.”

- 23 -

I don’t know how long I stayed home.  I listened to records and I slept, my body trying to recover from the ridiculous outpouring of emotions that had happened in the Impala.

Sam came by to check on me, bringing a random loaf of bread because apparently he and Eileen were into baking now, and we listened to Styx while trying to determine what the best spread on bread was (Sam voted apricot jam, I voted jerky).

Jody was next with a pie, then Bobby and Rufus came over with beer, and Mom and Dad came over with Scrabble and Winchester Surprise.

“Cass, you can stop telling people to come keep an eye on me already,” I prayed.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said, popping into the kitchen next to me.

“I’ve been alone my whole life, man.”

“Well you don’t have to be anymore,” he said, frowning at me.  “You should enjoy spending time with your family.”

“I do,” I said.

“Then what are we even arguing about?” Cass asked, his nose all scrunched up.

“We’re not arguing,” I said, feeling my expression soften with affection.  “I’m just saying you don’t have to worry about me.”

He studied my face for a moment, too close, and then leaned back, more relaxed.  “You seem… more at peace,” he concluded.

“Yeah, so you don’t have to keep telling everyone I know that I’m falling apart.”

“I’m not… I just suggested that they come to see you and bring a baked good.”

“I appreciate that, but I think they can read between the lines.”

“Well as long as I cannot be by your side, I want you to be surrounded by people who love you,” Cass said with a shrug.  “Should I request fewer baked goods?”

“You never request fewer baked goods, Cass.”

“You are a very contradictory and frustrating person,” he said, squinting at me.

“Hurry up and finish your work,” I told him, giving him my most winsome smile.

“I…” he started to say, staring at my lips.

I let my tongue dart out to moisten them.

His stare intensified.

“Well?” I said.

“Huh?”

I felt my grin widen.

“I have to get back to work!” Cass declared suddenly, and then he was gone.

Claire and Kaia came over next, then Donna, then Garth, all with various assortments of pie.

I couldn’t be mad about pie.

I felt like maybe I was finally getting into this whole heaven thing.  Pie and the people I loved.

“Okay, but when are you and Castiel gonna bone?” Charlie asked with a mouth full of cherry pie.

I started choking on my own pie.

“Slow it down there, killer,” she said, patting my back until there was no longer pie stuck in my windpipe.  “So…?”

“So…?” I repeated.

“I mean you exchange romantic mixtapes and he goes around to all your friends forcing them to bring you pies because he’s too busy with work to babysit you himself…”

“So we should bone?” I asked, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Seems like the logical conclusion,” she said with a shrug.

“Really, Charlie?” I asked, continuing to look at her like she was crazy.  “You’re the one who said it was great if me and Cass are best friends.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you wanna bone him, right?”

“That’s not really the point.”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened with delight.  “You do want to bone him!”

“I didn’t say that,” I said, looking anywhere but at her.

“I kneeeeew it!” she said, pumping her fist victoriously.  “OMG, Dean, OMG!”

“There is nothing to OMG about here,” I groaned, pushing my pie away from me.

“Um, there totally is,” Charlie protested.  “You never want to bone someone!”

“I am a known manwhore…”

“Fine, okay, but you never want to bone someone special!”

“Can you stop using the word ‘bone’?!” I groaned dropping my head in my hands.

“Oh, right, sorry, should I be saying ‘make love’?” she asked, elbowing me.

“Jesus Christ.”

Charlie gave me a moment, happily shoveling the rest of the pie into her mouth.

I took a breath and dropped my hands from my face, giving her a tired look.

“Hey, come on, this is happy news,” she said, her smile bright and easy and pure Charlie.  “Right?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

She reached across the table, resting her hand on my forearm.  “Is it the gay thing?”

I shook my head.  “I mean, I’m not completely comfortable with it, but… it’s Cass, so…”

Charlie looked at me like her heart was melting.  “Awww…”

I recoiled.

“Come on, Winchester, nut up,” she said, holding fast to my arm.  “What’s the problem?  I mean, he’s clearly crazy about you, and you’re over here pining away for him…”

“I don’t pine,” I complained, wrinkling my nose.

“You’ve got it bad,” she persisted, shaking her head.

I looked at her.

She grinned at me.

“…how can you tell…?” I asked softly.

“Because I know you,” she said, looking at me fondly.

“But I don’t even know.”

“You know.”

“That’s just it, Charlie, I don’t.”

She studied my face.  “Do you love him?”

“Yes,” I said confidently.

Her smile brightened at that.  “Okay, so are you attracted to him?”

“I dunno,” I mumbled, thinking about the familiar feel of his hand, warm against the back of my neck, about the way his nose crinkled when he really smiled, about the weight of his body, pinning me to the mattress, and okay, “…there’s… something there…”

“So what’s stopping you?”

“Cass,” I said with a shrug.

“Wait, what?” Charlie asked, doing a double take.

“When I tried to kiss him, he rejected me,” I grumbled.

“You’ve tried to kiss him?!” Charlie marveled.  “Damn, okay, Dean-o, things are actually progressing here.”

“Did you hear the part about the rejection?”

“Well, I kinda get Castiel on that,” she said.  “We always have to tread carefully with the straights.”

“The ‘straights’?”

“You know, people like yourself who purport to be straight while flirting shamelessly with us gays.”

“I don’t… flirt… shamelessly…” I trailed off because I was obviously lying.

“Falling for a straight person sucks,” she sighed.  “Poor Cass.”

I pulled my pie back over to me and stabbed at it crankily.  “Poor Dean.”

Charlie straight-up laughed at me.

I scowled at her.

“I’m rooting for you two crazy kids, ya know?” she said with a grin, nudging my foot with hers under the table.

“Thanks?”

“Cool, so anyway, I have been talking to some friends about starting a Dungeons and Dragons party.”

“Nerdy.”

“So you’re gonna join…?”

“Uhhh…”

And somehow I ended up in Charlie’s Dungeons & Dragons group.

- 24 -

“Air Supply?” Cass said, appearing in front of me with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Air Supply,” I grumbled at him from where I was flopped on the couch, listening to records.

“I’m reaching for you, are you feeling it too?  Does the feeling seem oh so right?”

Cass squinted, like that could help him hear the lyrics better.  “Is this our song?”

“No!” I said a little too quickly, my hand fumbling around to pull the needle off of the record.

“I was making a joke,” he said, moving to take off his trenchcoat but then hesitating.

“Ha ha, so funny.”

He looked at me.

“So are you here?” I asked, gesturing at him.

“…yes…?” he said, looking down at himself to confirm that his body was present.

“I mean, are you here here?” I clarified, which still got me a blank look.  “You’re not just popping in to check on me, you’re done with your work?”

“Oh,” he said, nodding.  “Yes, I’m ‘here’ ‘here’.”

“Then take your damn coat off and stay awhile,” I said, finally sitting up.

He nodded, taking off his trench coat and suit jacket and placing them carefully over the back of the easy chair.  He loosened his tie, looking at the empty couch space next to me.

“Why are you being so awkward?” I complained.  “Act normal.”

“Then stop looking at me like that,” he complained back at me.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” he said, gesturing at me vaguely.

“Oh, okay,” I said.  “Good conversation, Cass.”

Cass pushed his lips together in what very much looked like a pout.

I found myself staring at his mouth, my tongue darting out subconsciously to lick my lips.

“I asked you to stop doing that,” he said, his frown intensifying.

“What am I doing?!”

“Being obtuse, apparently,” he said, his voice dripping with inappropriately placed sarcasm.

“Can we just start over?” I groaned.

Cass glared at me.  “Hello, Dean.”

“Hello, Cass,” I replied, gesturing towards the couch.  “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you for your kind invitation,” he said, sitting down stiffly next to me.

I smacked him on the arm.  “Hey, asshole, I missed you.”

His grumpiness ratcheted up.  “Your term of endearment makes that clear.”

“Cass,” I groaned, running a hand through my hair.  “Come on, are we really fighting right now?”

He actually looked abashed at that, shaking his head.  “No, I’m sorry.  I missed you, too.”

Something inside of me unclenched.  I knew that what had only felt like a few days to me had been weeks for Cass.  Maybe we were both just… nervous…

“So how are you?” he asked, finally looking me in the eye.

“I’m okay,” I said, meeting his gaze.

“You look okay,” he agreed.  “Have you… processed things?”

“As best I can,” I said with a shrug.

“Did the pie help?”

“It did,” I said, feeling myself grin.

“I’m glad,” he said, a soft smile echoing mine.

“Have you processed things?” I asked, keeping my gaze steady.

Cass scrunched up his face.  “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I…” he trailed off, eyes searching mine.

“There were a lot of… emotions,” I said, trying to stay neutral.  “And… spoons…”

He flushed at that.  “Did I… overstep…?”

“No,” I said firmly.  “Did I?”

“Of course not,” he said, his head lilting to the side.

“Cass, I didn’t invite you into my bed as a friend,” I tried to tell him as plainly as possible.

“…what?” he rasped out, sounding more human than usual.  Sounding like me when everyone was talking over my head.

“Friends don’t hold each other like that.”

“But… we did?” he said, still looking so confused.  “Dean, we’re friends.”

“Yeah, of course we are,” I said, feeling my smile tinge with exasperation.

“Then…” he started and stopped, shaking his head.  “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?”

He was still shaking his head.  “I value our friendship.”

“I value it, too?”

“So everything is fine, then.”

“No, not really.”

“Dean.”

I felt frustrated.  “Stop trying to tell me how I can feel.”

“I’m not-”

“I want more.”

Cass was quiet for a moment.  “More what?”

“More of you.”  I stared into his eyes, feeling completely exposed.

His brow creased as he squinted at me.  “You already have all of me.”

That was a lot.  I let out a shaky breath.  Why did he fluster me so much, why did he make it impossible to say it clearly?

Or was that still me holding myself back?

“Cass-”

He stood up abruptly.

“Where are you…”

He pulled his walkman out of his coat and ejected the tape.  He looked at it, then cast his eyes over to me.  “This is…” he trailed off.  He looked at the tape and then back to me.  “This is all I have left to give.”

“No, Cass, I wasn’t saying-”

“I want you to listen to it,” he said, pushing the tape into my hands.  “If this isn’t enough, then…”

I looked down on the tape.  It was simply labeled Dean, with no tracklist.  I looked back up at him, ready to explain, ready to tell him what I really felt.

“I’ll come back later.”

I opened my mouth to stop his retreat, but he was already gone.

[All the tracks from the mixtape can be found in the main playlist, or listen to the C90 mixtape 'Dean' separately on Spotify.]

- 25 -

I stared at the cassette in my hands for a while, feeling like a failure.  How had my botched attempt to tell him how I felt turned into him thinking that he owed me something?

My mind was already starting back down a dark path.

The very touch of you corrupts.

But I was tired of those old lines now.

I walked over to my stereo, pushing the tape in.  Cass had been listening to it, so I rewound it to the beginning.

It felt like I needed to start from the beginning.

I sat on the floor, pulling my knees up, and I closed my eyes as the story slowly enfolded from the day we met.

“Awake my soul.  How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes.  I struggle to find any truth in your lies.  And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know

My weakness I feel I must finally show.”

“That's me in the corner.  That's me in the spotlight.  Losing my religion.  Trying to keep up with you.”

“If I try to save him, my whole world could cave in.”

“I would die for you.”

“I feel unhappy.  I feel so sad.  I lost the best friend that I ever had.”

“Everything is my fault.  I’ll take all the blame.”

“If I should stay, well I would only be in your way.  And so I'll go, and yet I know I'll think of you each step of the way.”

“I don't care if it hurts.  I wanna have control.  I want a perfect body.  I want a perfect soul. I want you to notice when I'm not around.”

“I'll stand by you.  So if you're mad, get mad.  Don't hold it all inside.  Come on and talk to me now.”

“Lean on me when you're not strong, and I'll be your friend.  I'll help you carry on.”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Like a fool, I fell in love with you.  You turned my whole world upside down.”

“Wild horses couldn't drag me away.  I watched you suffer a dull aching pain.  Now you've decided to show me the same.”

“Sometimes I get you.  Sometimes I don't understand.  Sometimes I love you.  Sometimes it's you I can't stand.  Sometimes I wanna hug you.”

“You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

“You are so beautiful to me.”

“If you ran away, come back home.  Just come home.”

“It's been a long day without you, my friend, and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again.  We've come a long way from where we began.”

“If you ever, ever feel like you're nothing, you're fuckin' perfect to me.”

“I know that I miss you, but I don't know where I stand.”

“Just call my name and I’ll be there.”

“I will wait for you.”

The tape flipped over and started at the beginning again.

“Cass?” I called his name.  “Cass?” I called again, more urgently.

“I’m here,” he said, towering over me.

I rose up to my feet immediately, grasping his face between my hands.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, his brow crinkling up in confusion.

“For… not being clear,” I decided.

He waited.

“We’ve both put each other through a lot of shit,” I said.  “But somehow, we… we got through it.  And our relationship, it got stronger.  It changed.  It…”

He was still waiting.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a breath.  When I opened them again, I was ready.  “I feel the same way, Cass.  I love you, too.”

“Dean…”

“I love you,” I repeated urgently.  “I love you so much.  You… you’re my one.  You’re my apple pie.  It’s you.”

Cass swallowed, looking like he was about to fall apart.  “Dean, I’m not-”

“Can I please just kiss you?”

He looked like he was going to say no, but then he nodded his head abruptly.

It was the last line we had to cross, and I found myself surging into him.  Our lips finally met, and it felt… right.  I kissed him softly, because I felt soft, I felt warm, I felt hope, I felt home.

Cass stood there, taking it in.

I pulled back maybe an inch, and even that felt like too much distance.  “Kiss me back?” I requested.

“May I?” he asked, sounding a little dazed.

“Yes, you dumbass,” I complained, wondering why I was the only one who seemed to want this.

“Oh, okay,” he said, and I suddenly found myself slammed into the wall, being kissed to within an inch of my life.

I tried to keep up, and then just gave in, my hands dropping from his face to go around his back and hold on tight.

“Dean,” he whispered against my mouth.  “Dean… Dean…”

“I’m right here,” I whispered back when I could finally take a breath.

“Dean, I love you,” he whispered desperately.

“I love you, too,” I promised him, and then I couldn’t say anything else, because his mouth was back on mine, all-consuming.

We ended up sliding down the wall, slowing down into something easier as Cass straddled my lap, caressing my lips with his.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his hands everywhere, touching whatever he could find.

I stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to reorient myself.  “Huh?  Yes.  Very okay.”

“Okay,” he said, and he was smiling all the way to the crinkles in his eyes.  Then his lips were moving back to mine like a magnet and we were both lost.

- 26 -

It felt like we’d been going at it for hours.

“I haven’t had a make out session like this since I was in high school.”

Cass glanced up at me from where he was kissing my neck.  “Is that a complaint?”

I caught his face in my hands, lazily tracing over his swollen bottom lip.  “Definitely not.”

“Then don’t interrupt me,” he growled, going back in on my collarbone.

I wanted to laugh, but I was also weirdly turned on by Cass’s ridiculous aggressiveness, so I just lay back and enjoyed his ministrations.

At some point we had migrated to the couch and things had gotten a little more serious with tangled legs and the lightest press of hips, but we were still in PG-13 territory.  I wasn’t really the take-it-slow type of guy, but maybe that was because I’d never made it with an angel who was hellbent on discovering how many ways he could make me moan without taking my clothes off.

Speaking of which, “Cass, fuck,” I hissed out as he thoroughly swirled his tongue around the outer shell of my ear.

He paused, taking in my very flushed cheeks.  “Is the ear a sensitive area for you, Dean?”

“Clearly,” I said, subconsciously biting my lip.

“That is very good to know,” he said with a nod, and immediately went back in with his tongue.

“Cass,” I breathed, shuddering.

“Very interesting,” he concluded, finally letting up.

“This isn’t a freaking science experiment,” I complained, panting.

“No, it’s more like scientific… research,” Cass said thoughtfully as he started running his fingertips up and down my arm.

“You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, you know, not nerding it up,” I explained, tracing over the muscles of his back.

He squinted at me.  “I am enjoying myself.”

“Okay, nerd.”

Cass’s look turned uncertain.  “You’re teasing me?  I’m not doing an unsatisfactory job?”

“I’m teasing you,” I said gently.  I arched my neck a little to kiss his forehead, then slowly trailed down his nose until I found his lips again.  Cass had technique and enthusiasm, but I had experience, which I decided to put to good use.

Cass started making little whimpery noises against my mouth, his hands fisting into my shirt.

I kissed the corner of his mouth, then licked it, enjoying the resulting squirm.  “You wanna take this to the bedroom?”

He blinked at me slowly.  “You mean sex?”

“Could lead to that,” I said, languid and easy.

“You want that?” he asked, looking uncertain.

“Only if you do.”

“Oh, I very much want that.”

“Yeah?” I asked, trailing a finger along the back of his hand.

“Yes, please,” he said, sounding awestruck.

I kissed him again, feeling… right.

We held hands as we made our way out of the living room, Cass’s mixtape still playing softly in the background.  This was all corny as hell, but I found I didn’t care.  Maybe I liked corny.  I liked Cass, after all.

And then I was being crowded onto the bed, Cass pushing me on my back and climbing between my legs.

I think I wanted to lodge a protest, but he was kissing me with all his enthusiasm and technique again, and then there was nothing to complain about.

“Dean,” he whimpered into my mouth.  “Dean… Dean… Dean…” he chanted like a desperate prayer.

“What do you need, angel?” I asked.

“You,” he begged.

“I’m right here,” I told him, sliding my hands under his shirt and up the warmth of his back.

“Dean, please,” he pleaded, pushing his hips just so.

I gasped, eyelids fluttering.

“Please,” he repeated, doing it again.

“Tell me what you want,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I smoothed an errant curl from his forehead.

Cass whimpered, rolling his hips into mine again.  “I…” he panted, trying to put his thoughts in order.  “I wish to penetrate you with my erect penis.”

I wanted to laugh again, but also... anyway, “slow down there, tiger,” I said instead, touching a hand to his chest.  “I was thinking more along the lines of a mutual hand job.”

“‘Hand’ ‘job’,” he repeated slowly, like it was something foreign.

“Hand job,” I agreed, sliding my hand down his chest to his belly and resting it there flat.  “Start there, and then, you know, see what we want to be penetrating later on.”

“Dean,” he complained, pushing his hips into mine more insistently.

I groaned from the friction of it.  “We don’t have to rush,” I told him, rubbing firmly along his stomach.

“I’ve waited centuries,” he complained.

“Uh, you’re the one who was ready to be Mr. Celibate for the rest of his life…”

“Yes, because I didn’t have to think about it,” he explained, frustrated.  “I couldn’t have what I wanted, so I didn’t have to think about your mouth and your eyes and your freckles and your sexy noises!”

“Oh…” I said.  “Also, how long have I been dead?”

“Too damn long!” he snapped, and things escalated very quickly from there.

In my sleepy, sated state, I didn’t quite find the energy to object to being the little spoon.

Cass rubbed his nose against the back of my neck, humming softly.

“Really, Cass?” I mumbled.  “The Righteous Brothers?”

“It’s a classic,” he stated very seriously.  Then his off-key voice started to sing, “my love, my darling, I've hungered, hungered for your touch a long, lonely time.  And time goes by so slowly.  And time can do so much.  Are you still mine?  I need your love.  I need your love.  God speed your love to me.”

I laced our fingers together, bringing my lips to his wrist.

He inhaled sharply, then curled his body more tightly around mine.

“Don’t stop,” I murmured sleepily.

So he started another song.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 16-20

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 16-20/26 under the cut.  Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 16 -

“Is this not a good time?”

My eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, catching Cass’s gaze.  “S’fine, Cass.  We were just headed on a hunting trip.”

“A hunting trip?” Cass asked, his brow creasing in confusion as he looked to Sam next to him.

“Hi, Cass,” Sam said, giving him a warm smile.

“Hello, Sam,” he returned the greeting.  “Dean.  John Winchester.”

“Castiel,” Dad replied, not turning around from where he was sitting in the front next to me.

“We’re going into the mountains to see if we can catch ourselves a deer,” I explained.

“And this is something you will find enjoyable?” Cass asked, doing his head tilt thing.

“That remains to be seen,” Sam mumbled.

“Yes, we are all very on board for a Winchester Family Bonding Trip,” I said, shooting Sam a glare through the mirror.

He stuck his tongue out at me.

I made a face back at him.

“Your faces are going to stick like that,” Dad commented, sounding surprisingly good-humored.

“Well, I don’t want to intrude-” Cass started.

“Family doesn’t intrude,” Sam said before I could.

“I appreciate that,” Cass said, smiling at him.  “But I’ll come back another time.”  He reached forward, resting his hand on my shoulder.

I took one of my hands off of the wheel and rested it over his hand.  “Any time, Cass.”  I ignored all the eyes watching me and just squeezed his hand in mine.

Cass was slow to take his hand back.  “Goodbye, Sam.  John Winchester.”

This time my dad turned around and gave him an acknowledging nod.

I focused on the road.

“Does this mean you’re going to stop hiding your angel from me now?” Dad asked suddenly.

“No one is hiding anything,” I mumbled.

I could feel Sam’s judgemental stare from the backseat.

“You both call this Castiel family, and yet he and I haven’t even officially met.”

“Yeah, well,” I mumbled.

“I’d like to meet him,” Dad said, sounding frustrated.

“Okay then,” I said with a shrug.

“Okay then,” he agreed, not sounding like it was okay at all.

“This is actually hell, right?” Sam commented from the backseat.  “I mean, we’ve all been to literal hell, and it wasn’t this bad, right?”

“Shut up, Sammy,” I grumbled, but Dad actually laughed.

“Hell is other people,” he said.

And for some reason the mood lightened.

It wasn’t a bad trip.  I mean, as far as the Winchesters went, that wasn’t saying much, but we were all trying.  We were trying to re-learn how to be together as a family.  And we weren’t very good at it.  But we were trying.

As we were getting ready to head back, I stayed behind to clean up the campsite while Dad and Sam loaded the car.

They were both leaning against the hood as I approached, their backs to me and their voices low.  So naturally I snuck in silently to eavesdrop.

“It just takes time,” Sam was saying.

They were definitely talking about me.

“I guess all we’ve got is time,” Dad said with an easy shrug of his shoulders.

“I think Dean needs to be at peace with himself before he can be at peace with you.”

I fucking knew they were talking about me.

Dad sighed, not speaking first.  “And Castiel, are they…?”

“Don’t touch that one, Dad,” Sam said, shaking his head.  “They don’t know, either.”

What exactly was it that we didn’t know?

(I definitely didn’t know.)

“Dean doesn’t think that he deserves… love?  Anything, really,” Sam continued.

That wasn’t…

(It was exactly true.)

“So there’s not anything we can really do but wait for him to find himself worthy,” he concluded.  “’Cause no matter how much we tell him that he is, he’s not going to take our word for it.”

They were both quiet again.

“I really fucked that boy up,” Dad said, more to himself than to Sam.

So this is what everyone thought of me.

(They weren’t wrong.)

“Ready to go?” I asked, stomping over to them loudly.

They both stepped off from the hood smoothly, like they hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary.

“Let’s go home,” Dad said.

So I drove us home.

- 17 -

“Cass, I’m really starting to question your taste level,” I commented from the passenger seat, holding up The Very Best of Ricky Martin.

“Dean, if I put that on, you know very well that you would be joining me in a car dance party,” Cass said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“A car dance party?” I repeated, laughing, but okay, he wasn’t wrong.  It had happened before.

“Would you pick something already?” he grumbled at me.

“Hey, Dean picks the music, Cass shuts his cakehole,” I said, shuffling through some more of Cass’s tapes.  “What’s this one?  It doesn’t have a track listing, it just says, ‘Dean’.”

“That one’s not finished,” he said quickly.

“A work in progress?” I asked.  “Can we listen to what you have?”

“No,” he said with such a note of finality that I immediately put the tape back into the box.

Cass’s whole countenance changed, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched.

I pushed a cassette into the tape deck.

“What did you choo-” he started to ask, then his entire face lit up as María started to play.  “…car dance party…?”

“You will keep one hand on the wheel of my baby at all times,” I scolded him.

“One handed car dance party?” he asked, raising one hand over his head and wiggling awkwardly.

I had to look away, hiding my smile under my hand as I leaned against the window.

“Dean, a car dance party only works if all occupants of the vehicle participate.”

“Then I guess the car dance party will not be happening.”

“You cannot resist the intoxicating latin rhythms of Ricky Martin,” Cass said, wiggling his shoulders.

I looked up to the roof for guidance in how to deal with this nonsense, but nothing was forthcoming.

“Dean, do not leave me hanging.”

I looked over at my idiot angel driving one handed while shaking his hips and something inside of me broke.  I was laughing so hard that tears were coming out.  “Please stop,” I begged him, throwing an arm over him to try and stop those rhythm-less movements.

Cass was laughing now, too, short, happy bursts of sound.

I rested my face in his neck, catching my breath.  “I love you so much, you weird fucking man.”

“I love you, too,” he replied easily, pressing his cheek to the top of my head.

It was so easy for him.

I felt my fingers gripping into his shoulder a little tighter.

“Dean?”

“Why?” I breathed into his neck.

“Why what?”

“Why… do you love me…?” I asked slowly.

“Dean, I went into great detail on the matter during my initial love confession,” he informed me.

“Yeah, but that was all life-or-death, what-the-fuck-is-going-on,” I said.  My lips brushed against the warm skin of his neck as I spoke.  “Didn’t really stick.”

“So I have to go over it all again because you don’t pay attention?” he scolded me, sounding fond.

“Please?”

He sighed, running his fingers through my hair.  “I love you because… because you taught me what love is.  Your soul, your very being is overflowing with love.  You are the most loving person I will ever know, and you made me better for knowing you.”

The very touch of you corrupts.

“That’s not true, Cass,” I said quietly.

“You are also incredibly pigheaded and stubborn,” he sighed.

“Well, that’s true at least.”

“Dean, I am who I am because of you,” he said, fingers slipping through my hair to rub my neck.

When Castiel first laid a hand on you in hell, he was lost.

I glanced up at him.

His eyes were on the road, a soft expression on his face.

Maybe… Hester had been wrong.  I’d carried her words inside of me for so long, but looking at this Cass, my Cass, he was incredible.  This was the guy who was in charge of all of heaven.  The good soldier turned rebel, who’d saved the world more times than I could count.

Cass was good, and maybe I couldn’t take the credit for that, but I certainly hadn’t made him worse.  I hadn’t corrupted him.  He wasn’t lost.

He was found.

I sat up a little straighter, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

His eyes crinkled in a smile, a blush spreading across his cheeks.  “What was that for?”

I shook my head.  My eyes flicked to his lips.  “Just ’cause.”  I pulled away from him, sitting back in my seat.

Cass’s hand chased after me, resting on my knee.  “I’ll tell you however many times you want me to.”

I looked at him.

“I’ll tell you until you believe me.”

I took his hand from my knee, turning it over and lacing our fingers together.  I thought that said what I needed to say.

“Dean?”

“Mm?”

“Are we really not going to have a car dance party to Livin’ la Vida Loca?” he asked, his hips already starting to move.

“Dammit, Cass.”

“Upside, inside out!”

“I am not-”

He lifted our interlaced hands, swaying them to the beat.  “Her lips are devil red!”

I finally gave in to the dork driving my car, rolling my eyes and moving my shoulders.

His smile was everything as we both yelled, “Livin’ la vida loca!  Livin’ la vida loca!” and danced like two white dudes with no rhythm.

- 18 -

“Cass!” I called, stumbling drunkenly into my house.  “Cass, come over!”

There was no answer.

I’d been drinking with Sam and Bobby all night, and now I was flying high.  I wanted Cass to fly with me.

I kicked off my boots as I went, tripping once, and somehow making it to the couch in one piece.  I sighed, flopping back onto it.  “Castiel, stop playing your harp and get your cute ass over here.”

Cass appeared in front of me, looking very perplexed.  “You know I do not have a harp, Dean.  In fact, I am a very unskilled musician.”

“You’re shit at singing, too,” I said, and then I laughed a little too long.

“Dean, you are very drunk.”

“I feel good,” I said, reaching out and tugging on his arm.

He stood there, immovable.

“Sit,” I requested.

“Dean, I think you should sleep this off.”

“Sit,” I repeated.  It was an order now.

Cass rolled his eyes and sat next to me.

I wanted to crawl inside of him and share a skin.  And I was so drunk, that didn’t sound creepy or weird to me at all.

“Cass,” I said, petting his arm.

“Yes?”

“Cass,” I repeated more urgently.

“I’m right here.”

“Good,” I said.  “Don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

I gripped his forearm.  He was still wearing his trenchcoat.  I wished he wasn’t.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” he asked.

“No.”

“Did you want to listen to records?”

“No.”

“What is it that you want to do, then?”

“You.”

“How does one do me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Hard and fast?” I suggested, offering him a flirty wink.

“You are much too drunk to be flirting,” he said, having the audacity to look amused.

“I’m a great flirt,” I informed him.

“Oh, I know,” he said, smiling fondly at me.

“I’m flirting with you,” I explained, because he didn’t seem to be getting that.

“Yes, I… well, no, you are not doing a very good job of it, but-”

“Cass, can I kiss you?” I asked, sliding my hand up his arm and settling on his shoulder.

“What?  No,” he said, looking at me like I was crazy.

“Do you not want me to kiss you?” I asked, giving him my best bedroom stare.

“That is a complicated question, Dean.”

“I’m pretty sure it just requires a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

He looked at me, really looked at me, and there was pain in his eyes.

“Cass.”

“Dean, I have to go back to work,” he said.  “Can I get you some water?”

“Cass,” I repeated.

“I’m right here.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay,” he said, touching my cheek briefly, before moving to stand up.

“No,” I said, tugging on his arm.

He looked down at me.

I stood up, which took more effort than expected, but then I could look down at him.  I put both of my hands on his shoulders.  “I’m not trying to… I’m not… playing with you.”

“I understand, Dean,” he said, gazing up at me.

“You don’t understand anything,” I said, frustrated.  “Cass, I want-”

“You’re drunk,” he said gently, pushing me to sit back down.  “I don’t want to have this conversation when you’re drunk.”

“Then when do you want to have it?”

“Tomorrow?” he suggested.  “The day after?  Whenever you want, Dean.”

“I want to have it now,” I insisted.

“Why do you want to have this conversation when you are not in full control of yourself?” he asked, but it wasn’t really a question and more of an accusation.

“Wow, Cass, you figured it out,” I grumbled at him.  “I’m a gigantic pussy who can’t talk about my feelings when I’m sober.”

“Dean, I do not believe that having difficulty expressing yourself makes you a large cat.”

My addled mind was still struggling to work its way through that one as Cass sat next to me again.  “Cass.”

“I’m here, Dean,” he said, softly and sadly.

“This isn’t supposed to hurt you,” I complained.  “It’s supposed to make you happy.”

“No, Dean,” he said, shaking his head.  “This isn’t about me, it’s about you and how you feel.  But you’ve never…  You don’t know how to exist for yourself.  Everything you do is always for other people.”  He leaned in, catching my face in his hands and cradling it like it was precious.

My breath caught in my throat.

“If you kissed me right now, I wouldn’t be happy,” he said.  “I wouldn’t be happy, because I wouldn’t know if you were doing it because you wanted to, or if you were doing it because you wanted to make me happy.  Because you felt like you owed me something.  Which, to be clear, you do not.”

“I owe you the world, Cass,” I whispered.

He shook his head.  “You do not owe me anything.  You are worthy of being loved.”

“I’m not,” I protested.  “I’m really not.  Not the way you love me.”

There was so much pain in his eyes, and I’d put it there.  “No,” he insisted.  “No, Dean, you love me just as much as I love you.  You return everything I give you in full.  It’s… just because the way we love each other is different doesn’t make it unequal.  Dean, your love… it made me who I am.  Please understand that.  Please.  Your love is good and pure and it changed me.”

“Cass,” I said helplessly.

He pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.  “You are worthy of being loved, Dean, and I will continue to love you until the end of my days.”

“How can you say that shit with a straight face?” I complained, wanting to look away, but he was still holding my face and staring into my eyes like I was the most precious human being in all of existence.

“Because I mean it.”

“I don’t know how to be worth all that.”

“I know,” he sighed, pulling back a little and kissing me on the forehead.  “But you are.”

“You’re worth it, too,” I whispered, staring at his lips.

Was it what I wanted?  Or was it what I thought he wanted?

“Thank you,” he said softly.  “That means a lot to me.”

I opened my mouth to speak again, but he was already pulling away.

“I’ll get you some water,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen.  He moved around with the familiarity of someone who had been in my home many times, pulling a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water before coming back into the living room.  “Drink,” he said, so I took the glass and drank.  “Would you like me to take you to bed?”

I thought I might like that very much.  “Nah, I’ll just hang out here and watch TV or somethin’.”

“Okay, I have to get back to work,” he said.  “We will talk tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I agreed.

But by tomorrow, I would be sober.

- 19 -

Cass was sitting in the passenger seat, both coats off and his sleeves rolled up as he gazed out the window.

“Hey,” I said, sliding into the driver’s seat.  “You been out here long?”

“No, I just arrived a few minutes ago,” he said, smiling warmly at me.

“Awesome,” I said, turning the engine over.  “Can you put in Aqualung?”

“Jethro Tull?” he asked, straightening up and pulling out my box of tapes.

“Yep.”

Cass located the tape and pushed it in.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem.”

We hadn’t talked much our last few rides.  Cass seemed to be treading lightly, and I seemed to be in full avoidance mode.

It didn’t stop Cass from showing up.

It didn’t stop me from wanting him to show up.

“This album is confusing,” he decided.

“Confusing?” I asked.  “I figured you’d like it with all the god and angel shit.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he replied.  “I just… am still trying to understand it.”

“I don’t think you have to understand it to feel it.”

“Oh, yes, I agree,” he said.  “I like to feel music.  But I like to understand it, too, and I do not understand what I am supposed to think of this Aqualung character.  Am I supposed to feel sympathy or disgust for him?”

“How do you feel?” I asked with a shrug.

“I… don’t know,” he said, squinting.  “I feel pity for all human beings, especially those cast out by society.  But I wish to smite all pedophiles, and I think Aqualung might be a pedophile.”

“Then I guess you better smite him,” I said, feeling amused.  I loved listening to Cass talk about music in his weird way.

“Dean?”

“Mm?”

“May I ask you a question of a sensitive nature?”

“Depends,” I said, trying to keep my smile easy even when I felt my heart start to hammer in my chest.

“It’s… about your past paramours,” he said delicately.

I snorted.  “You want some sex tips, Cass?”

“No,” he said, making a face at me.

“Whatever, just ask,” I said, trying not to put too much thought into it.

“Would you like to visit Lisa Braeden?” he asked.

“I… what…?”

“She’s here.  In heaven.  Obviously,” he said, trying to smile.  “I can take you to her.”

His words hit me like a punch in the face.

“Dean?” he asked cautiously when I didn’t say anything.

“She doesn’t remember me,” I pointed out.

“No, she does,” he said.  “All memories can be retrieved in heaven.”

“Wait, so Lisa… and Ben… they can, they can just remember it all now?” I asked incredulously.  “All the shit I put them through?  They come to heaven, where they’re supposed to find eternal peace, and they can just remember…?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“People don’t find their peace by hiding from the life they lived,” Cass said with a shrug.

I pulled the car over.

“Dean…”

I shut off the engine.

Cass reached for me.

I shrugged him away and got out of the car.  We were surrounded by forest, so I just started walking.

I don’t know how long I walked, but I finally couldn’t walk anymore and I sat on the ground, dropping my face into my hands.

Cass stood over me silently, waiting.

“Why did you have to bring this up?” I finally mumbled into my hands.

“I thought you were ready.”

“Ha,” I scoffed, my shoulders shaking a little.

He sighed, crouching down next to me.

Neither of us spoke.

I breathed in deeply and let it out slowly, then stood up and headed back to the car.

Cass trailed behind.

I sat behind the wheel for a while before starting up the engine.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly.

I glanced at him, then shook my head.  “Nah.”

A crease formed between his brows.

“I’m still processing, okay?” I said.  “But as long as you don’t try to make me talk about it, we can sit here and sing Jethro Tull together.”

“You need to talk about it eventually.”

I glared at him.

“Okay, fine,” he said, holding his hands up in an awkward gesture of surrender.  “I will allow you to run away as you always do.”

“Gee, thanks, man.”

“No problem… dude,” he said slowly, sounding the word out in his mouth like it was something foreign.

I rolled my eyes and turned the volume on the stereo up.

Cass didn’t bring it up again.

It took a while, days or months (I never really understood how time worked in heaven), but when I was ready, I said, “I want to see Lisa.”

And Cass said, “okay.”

- 20 -

I didn’t say anything on the way back, letting Cass drive while I stared out the passenger side window.

He put Metallica’s Ride the Lightning into the tape deck, his way of offering comfort without saying anything.

Lisa and I had talked for hours.  Some of it was nice.  Some of it was not-so-nice.  Some of it was plain shit.

I was tired.

We made it to Fade to Black for a second time, and I felt my hand going over to Cass, taking his hand off of the wheel to hold it.

He flashed me a confused look, but I kept staring out the window.

We went through the album again.

“I wasn’t a person when I knocked on her door,” I said quietly.

I felt his grip tighten on my hand.

“After hell, I…” I trailed off.

“I was me, but now he's gone.”

I closed my eyes.  “You should have left me in hell.”

“Dean,” he said, his tone worried as he stretched out the syllables.

“I stopped being a person,” I said.  “No matter how hard Lisa and I tried, it was never going to work, because there was nothing to work with.  That’s why I chose Sam, why I chose hunting.  Because that was all I was capable of”

Cass let that settle before saying, “I thought she was your one.”

“She was,” I agreed.  “If I hadn’t- if we could go back to the day we met… when I was still…”

Cass had stopped driving.

I opened my eyes, looking at him.

There were tears pooling in his eyes.

The last time I’d seen him cry…

“Dude, stop getting yourself so worked up,” I said, thumbing away his tears with my free hand, “and drive the damn car.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t speak.

“Cass.”

There were new tears to replace the ones I’d wiped away.

I sighed and ejected Metallica.

The car was suddenly very quiet.

“I’m sorry, this is inappropriate,” Cass said, sniffing and taking his hand away.

“Why?” I asked, chasing his hand down and taking it back.

“This is supposed to be about you and Lisa,” he said, shaking his head.

“And?”

“I’m making it about my feelings.”

“Nah, man,” I said, shaking my head.  “I know how you get when I talk about this.  About me dying.”

“But you weren’t…”

“Cass, do you want me to say it?”

His eyes widened a little.

“I can say it now,” I said, meeting his gaze.  “The last 10 years of my life…  I didn’t want them.  I hung on for Sammy, but when it was over I gave up.  I killed myself because I was already dead.”

Cass’s bottom lip trembled.

“Hey,” I said, cupping his jaw and thumbing over his lip.  “Come on, this isn’t news to you.”

His head tilted to the side uncertainly as his tears spilled out.

“I was being held together with friggin’ super glue from battle to battle, until I finally came undone,” I said with a shrug.  “You of all people should know.  You touched my soul when you pulled me outta hell.  You saw what was left of it.  You knew…”

“No,” he said, shaking his head while he cried.

“I wasn’t meant to live in this world,” I pushed.  “I wasn’t meant to have a wife and a kid and a yard.  That was never in the cards for me.  I served my purpose, and then-”

“No,” Cass repeated more forcefully, one hand bunching up in my shirt as he yanked me forward.  “Stop talking about yourself like that.  You… stop.  You don’t get to turn yourself off and say all these fucked up things to me.”

I blinked at the f-word coming out of Cass’s mouth.

“You say that you can say it now, but that’s because you’re not feeling it,” he growled through his tears, giving me another yank.  “Stop running away from it.”

“I’m not running away from anything,” I said with a frown.  “I just admitted to you that I killed myself.  Pretty sure that’s my big breakthrough.  The reason I can’t find peace even though I’m here in friggin’ heaven.  Just another way your daddy fucked me over.”

Cass was openly weeping now, one hand clinging to mine, the other clinging to my shirt.

It was one of the saddest, most beautiful things I had ever seen, but he was right.

I didn’t feel anything.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he whispered through shaking breaths.  “You have the right to be happy.  You deserve to be happy.  You deserve everything, Dean, I want to give you everything, I want to… I want to go back and…”

“You can’t go back, Cass,” I said, shaking my head at him with rueful smile.

“Dammit, Dean,” he growled, letting go of my shirt and grabbing my shoulder.

I gasped as his touch burned through me, jolting through my shoulder with a physical heat like lightning crackling on my skin.  “Cass, what the-”

“Feel it!” he snapped at me.  “Feel what was taken from you, Dean Winchester!”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the touch of him shook me right back to hell, to the feeling of him gripping me tight and pulling me into the light.  I gasped.

“You didn’t deserve this, Dean!” he snapped at me.  “You broke in hell after thirty years!  Thirty years of torture, Dean!  That doesn’t erase all the good that you did before and after!  It doesn’t take away from the purity and goodness of your soul!  I touched that soul, Dean, I touched it when you were in hell, when you were tearing apart a soul on the rack, when you were at your utter lowest, and it was still beautiful!  Never before and never again will I see a soul as beautiful as yours, because no matter what Alastair, what Chuck, what anyone puts you through, the very essence of your being is pure love!”

“Shut up, Cass,” I whispered.

“I will not shut up!” he shouted at me.  “How many times do I have to say it?  How many times do I have to tell you?  Your soul is not tainted!” he roared at me, his touch becoming hotter, burning through me, seeing through me, exposing my very essence to him.  “You are not a perfect man.  In fact, sometimes you are damn near insufferable.  But you are a righteous man.”

I scoffed at that, but the sound came out as a strangled sob.

The car started to fill with a soft hum, the shadow of wings spreading out behind Cass as his skin glowed with a golden light.

“You didn’t have to die, Dean!” he roared at me, his voice sounding like a thousand different voices echoing over each other.  “That wasn’t your only path!  We all loved you, despite what you did, despite how you tried to hide your pain, despite how you tried to push us away!  We loved you!  You didn’t have to hide!  You didn’t have to do it all on your own!  We would have shared the burden with you!”

I couldn’t stop the tears that were streaming down my cheeks.  “I could never ask you to carry that burden,” I choked out.

“You could, Dean, you always could!”

“I could never,” I said shaking my head.  “I couldn’t put that on any of you, I just couldn’t.”  The tears started to come harder and faster, no matter how hard I tried to swallow them down.

There was a rustling sound, and I felt like I was being enveloped.

“You could,” Cass said, his tone finally softening.  “You can.”

He was cocooning me in his wings.  It felt like the touch of his hand, sparks of electricity surrounding my entire body.

I choked down another sob, but another followed, and another and another, and then I couldn’t stop it anymore.  “Someone like me doesn’t deserve to go to heaven!”

Cass was holding me, surrounding me, his cheek pressed to mine as he murmured soothingly.  I could only catch what he was saying in bits and pieces between the aching sobs that were heaving out of my very being.

“Your father was wrong.”

“You weren’t supposed to be a soldier.”

“You were more than Chuck’s plaything.”

“We loved you.”

“We grieved you.”

“You belong in heaven.”

I cried until there was nothing left.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 11-15

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 11-15/26 under the cut.  Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 11 -

Me, Sam, and Eileen were very drunk.

We were very drunk, and we were playing Operation while listening to Ringo Starr sing about yellow submarines.

“You suck at this,” Sam said, laughing hysterically at me as I hit the edge of the board and got buzzed.

“You suck just as bad,” Eileen said, also laughing hysterically.

“I’m sorry we can’t all be geniuses at removing tiny bones from angry clowns,” I grumbled.

“Who is an angry clown?” Sam asked, looking confused.

“Him,” I said, gesturing to the board.  “Cavity Sam.”

“He’s not a clown,” he replied, aghast.

Eileen snuck out the funny bone with nary a buzz, dropping it in front of her with the rest of her plastic body parts.

“He’s got a big red nose that lights up, he’s clearly not human,” I pointed out.

Sam stared at the game for a very long while, then pulled back in horror.  “He is a clown!”

“Sam, honey,” Eileen said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Sam looked to her, biting his lip.

“He is definitely a clown,” she told him.

Sam looked stricken, and I started howling.

“What’s so funny?” Cass asked, looming behind me.

Sam jumped from his chair with a shriek.

Eileen and I both stared at him, then burst out laughing again.

“I thought you were the clown,” Sam gasped out, taking his seat again.

“I am no clown, Sam,” Cass said, perplexed.

“Sit your ass down,” I said, tugging on the sleeve of his trenchcoat and directing him to the kitchen chair next to me.

He did so, eyes taking in the scattered beer bottles, the mess of plastic innards, and the naked clown on the middle of the table.  “I seem to be late to the party.”

“Nah, you’re just on time,” I said, handing him a beer and slinging my arm around the back of his chair.

We started a new game of Operation, but Cass was the slowest Operation player known to man, so we ended up throwing chips at him and shaking his chair until he accidentally touched the side and got very angry at us for ‘not following the rules’.

Sam decided we should play Hungry, Hungry Hippos instead, which seemed more suited to our drunken motor skills.

“Eat it, bitches!” Eileen declared as we finished counting marbles and she was yet again the winner.

“This game has no skill or technique,” Cass murmured, mystified.

“Oh, Cass,” she said, shaking her head.

“There’s a secret?” he asked, intrigued.

Eileen just winked at him.

“We must play another round,” he said, pushing up his sleeves.

“You need another shot,” I told him, filling up two shot glasses of whiskey.

“Dean, I do not think further intoxication will improve my gameplay,” he protested.

“Eileen’s drunk as shit, and it’s working for her,” I pointed out, passing one of the glasses to him.  “Come on, man, don’t make me drink alone.”

He picked up his shot glass when I did, and downed it.  He wrinkled his nose at the burn and set the glass back down.

“See, now that is the face of a Hungry, Hungry Hippos champion,” I encouraged him, our fingers brushing as I reclaimed the glass and refilled it.

“In your dreams,” Eileen scoffed.

“Put your marbles where your mouth is,” I retorted.

Her eyebrows scrunched together at that.

“I said what I said,” I declared defiantly.

“Get ready to eat hippo shit, Winchester,” she replied.

“Babe, maybe we’ve played enough…” Sam said, looking between us all with a weird look on his face.

“Spoken like a true loser,” I said, downing another shot.  “Okay, let’s do this.”

Eileen fucking won again.

“I just don’t understand,” Cass said, hitting the lever on the back of his hippo aimlessly.  “There’s no technique.”

Eileen smirked at him.

Cass frowned.

“Have another shot, Cass,” I said, pushing it over to him.

“It’s not helping,” he growled at me.

“Yeah, but you’re a little drunk, and that’s always hilarious.”

“I am not here for your amusement, Dean,” he told me angrily.  “I am here to push this hippopotamus’s rear and make it consume vast quantities of marbles.”

“You can do both,” I encouraged him.

He snatched the shot glass from the table and downed it.  “Okay, Leahy, we are doing this for real.”

“Big words, Castiel,” she said, looking unimpressed.

The game that followed was vicious, and Sam and I just hit our levers absently while our eyes went between Eileen and Cass, then back to each other to exchange bemused but slightly frightened looks.

The marble counting was closer this time, but Eileen still emerged triumphant.

“This is bullshit!” Cass declared, slamming his fist on the table.

I cracked up.

Eileen just shrugged, like winning Hungry, Hungry Hippos was some kind of great accomplishment that only she was talented enough to achieve.

“She’s cheating,” Cass decided.  “Or she’s a witch.”

“Maybe you’re just a bitch,” Eileen suggested.

“I am no such thing,” Cass said, frowning hard.

“Okay, I think we’ve all had enough of game night,” Sam declared, standing up abruptly and then almost tripping.

Cass continued to glare at Eileen.

“Cass,” I said, and he ignored me.  “Cass, look at me,” I tried again, and he still ignored me.  I reached out and caught his chin, directing his face towards me.

“Dean, I have to find out the secret of the marbles,” he whispered to me.

“Why don’t we practice together to get ready for next time?” I suggested, thumbing over the rough stubble on his cheek.

“It will not matter how much we practice if she is cheating,” he said with a frown.

“Cass, you are drunk as shit,” I informed him.

“Am I?” he asked, confused.

“Yes, so let’s drink some water and chill, yeah?”

“If you think that’s best.”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

Sam cleared his throat.

I glanced over at him and Eileen who were both standing now.

“Well, this has been great, but it’s time we headed home,” Sam said.  He was looking at me and Cass with this weird, soft expression.

Eileen had the same damn look on her face, but then she locked eyes with Cass and started making throat-slashing gestures with her finger.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go,” Sam said, putting an arm around her shoulder and guiding her towards the door.

“Night,” I called to them.

“Night,” Sam echoed.

And then they were gone and it was just me and Cass.

Drunk me and drunk Cass.  Sitting in my kitchen, with our knees touching and my arm across his chair, absorbing the heat of his back.

“Let’s practice,” I decided, tearing myself away from him and putting the marbles back on the board.

“Yes, we may have to practice all night,” Cass declared.  “I will not stop until I understand the secret.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me feel nervous.

Fortunately, Cass gave up after about twenty minutes of endless hippo smashing, closing his eyes and looking tired as he leaned back in his chair.

He looked weirdly defenseless, and I want to reach over and flick him on the nose or mess up his hair or…

His eyes opened, meeting mine.

We stared at each other for an uncomfortably long period of time, and yet I couldn’t be the first one to look away.

He gave me a soft smile.  “I should go.”

I opened my mouth.

“You should rest and recover from all those shots,” he said warmly.  “Maybe we can go for a drive next time.”

“Maybe,” I said, instead of, ‘you don’t have to go yet’.

“Good night, Dean.”

“Night.”

And that was that.

- 12 -

“This is not your car.”

“You need some new lines, Cass.”

Cass took me in, sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.  “Are we watching a movie?”

“If you want,” I said.

“What movie?” he asked.

“I was thinking The Shining,” I suggested.

“That is not a cowboy movie,” Cass observed with an approving nod.

“…what’s that supposed to mean?”

He grinned at me, taking off his trenchcoat and then his suit jacket, neatly hanging them over the back of the armchair.

“So yes to Nicholson?” I asked.

“Yes to Nicholson,” he agreed, taking a seat next to me on the couch.  He sighed a little, loosening his tie.  He looked tired.

“Hard day at work, dear?” I teased him.

He turned his head a little to squint at me.  “Are you parodying the words of sitcom housewives upon the return of their husbands?”

“Yes, Cass.”

“Oh,” he said, pausing.  “Yes, honey.  Is my hot dinner waiting on the table as expected?”

“Yeah, I got your hot dinner right here,” I said, shoving the popcorn at him.

He grinned at me, pleased to be in on the joke.

I couldn’t stop my affectionate smile in return.  “Did you really have a rough day?” I asked.

He breathed out through his nose.  “It was certainly annoying.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, the new angels are very… impetuous,” he said, his mouth drawing into a frown.  “They have not forged the deep bonds that we who came before have, and they always seem to believe that they know better…”

“Is that your way of saying that kids these days don’t respect their elders?” I asked.

“They do not,” he agreed.

“You gettin’ them in line?”

“I try,” he sighed.

“Hey, who better to get those angels in line than the number one rule-breaking rebel of heaven?” I teased him.

“I am considered a bit of a bad boy at work,” he agreed.

“A bad boy?” I repeated with a snort.

“Do you not think so?” he asked, scrunching his nose up at me.

“Nah, Cass,” I said.  “Rebel, sure, but bad boy, no way.”

“What is the difference?”

“You’re too good to be bad.”

“I have done some rather bad things.”

“You’re still a good boy.”

“…are you calling me a dog…?”

“Possibly.”

“Of the two of us, you demonstrate more dog-like traits than I do.”

“…are you calling me a dog…?”

“It was merely an observation.”

“Cass,” I complained, shaking my head as my eyes were inevitably drawn to his lips.

“Dean,” he replied, his head tilting slightly.

“Let’s watch the movie, Fido,” I said, reaching for the remote.

“Okay… Cujo,” he said, taking a handful of popcorn and munching on it.

“The only dog name you could think of for me was a rabid killer Saint Bernard?” I muttered with a snort.

“My first choice was Beethoven, but I thought you might think I was referencing the German composer,” he explained.

“You know, there are other kinds of dogs besides Saint Bernards,” I pointed out.

“Oh, I do know that, Dean,” Cass said.  “Would you like me to name all the breeds in alphabetical order?”

“No thanks.”

“Because I could.”

“I know.”

“In case you did not think I could.”

“I definitely think that you can.”

“Good.”

“Good,” I agreed.  “Now shut up and watch the damn movie.”

“The previews are still playing.”

“The previews are very important.”

“This film was made in 1980, so I don’t see how they are ‘previewing’ anything.”

“Oh my god, I forgot how annoying you are to watch a movie with.”

“You invited me,” he pointed out, sounding a little sour.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m a masochist,” I said.

He turned to look at me fully, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“What?” I asked

“I didn’t know that you were into that,” he said with a shrug, then turned back to the TV.

I tried to speak but failed to come up with any words.

The movie started.

Cass was a terrible person to watch a horror movie with.  His face would always screw up as he prepared to ask constant questions about what was happening.

“Why would he write one ‘R’ correctly and the other one backwards?” he mused, watching Danny write ‘murder’ backwards on the door while holding a knife and chanting ‘red rum’ over and over.

“That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“It’s a very peculiar detail.”

“Shouldn’t you be crying for your mommy or something right about now?”

“I do not have a ‘mommy’, Dean, so why would I be calling for her nonexistent self?”

“You don’t find this the least bit scary?”

“Mental illness is certainly alarming.”

“A normal person would be scared, Cass.”

“You’re not scared.”

“I’ve seen this movie fifty bajillion times.”

“That is not a real number.”

“Can you at least pretend to be into this?”

“I am into it,” he protested.  “Just because I enjoy things in a different way from you…”

I flicked a piece of popcorn at his nose.

He picked it up from where it bounced onto his lap and ate it.

I rolled my eyes, shifting closer to him so I could better access the popcorn bowl.

When Jack Nicholson declared, “here’s Johnny!”, Cass straightened up, turning to me in delight.  “He said the line.”

“Yeah, Cass,” I said, wondering when it was that we’d ended up sitting so close to each other that I could feel his breath on my face when he spoke.

“It’s very famous,” he said, turning back to the screen.

I could also feel the warmth radiating off of his body where our arms and legs touched.

I didn’t move.

As the final credits rolled, Cass continued on his tirade of questions about ‘why this?’ and ‘why that?’, to which I finally concluded, “because movies, Cass.”

“Because movies…” he repeated, blinking slowly, then letting his head drop back against the couch tiredly.  “Because movies.”

“Still thinking about heaven crap?” I asked.

“A little bit,” he confessed.  “It was nice to think about something else for a while, though, Dean.  Thank you.”

“Of course, man,” I said, trying not to notice how his head was starting to lilt to the side, getting dangerously close to my shoulder.  “Hey, Cass?”

“Yes?”

“Where… do you live…?” I asked slowly, not sure quite how to phrase the question.

“I… ‘live’ where my ‘body’ is present,” he said, casting his eyes up to me.

“Yeah, but I mean like, where is your home?”

“Well,” he said, and I could see the little gears in his head turning, “my home is where you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to be philosophical,” I said, turning away, because his head was definitely resting on my shoulder now and he was staring up at me with the most sincere expression on his face.  “Where do you go after work?  Where do you keep all your stuff?  Where do you… I don’t know, live?”

“I usually come here,” he said.  “I keep my things in various places, but I do not have many private possessions.  I wear my clothing, I carry my angel blade, and my walkman is in my pocket,” he listed off.  “My books and cassettes are in a storage closet in the bunker with my extra clothing, and I have a few storage lockers around the world with various artifacts.”

I tried to put that all together.  “So, where do you go to just… relax?  Reset?”

“The Impala,” he said with a shrug.  “Sometimes Sam and Eileen’s.  Earth bars with some of my siblings.”

“Wait, you and the other angels have been going to earth to get shit-faced?” I asked, turning back to look at him.

“No one said we were getting ‘shit-faced’,” Cass said, rolling his eyes at me.  “We all have an extremely high tolerance for alcohol.”

“Cass, do you remember game night?”

“We do not speak about game night.”

I grinned at him.

His return smile was soft, and then he closed his eyes.  “I know I can always rest here.”

“Yeah, you can,” I said, swallowing something down.  “Rest all you like, Cass.”

He was still smiling, but his head started to feel heavier, like he was going to sleep.

The credits ended, so I hit ‘play’ again and let Cass rest.

- 13 -

Eileen had decided to play hostess for the night, setting up a bonfire outside of their house.

“This is like the opposite of a sausage fest,” I observed to Sam from the porch where we were drinking beers.

“Are you complaining?” he asked with a snort.

“Just making an observation,” I said, gesturing around us.

Eileen was near the fire, talking to Jody, while Claire, Kaia, Alex, and Patience were playing badminton on the lawn, with Missouri as the scorekeeper.  Then there was Donna, Stevie, Charlie, and Apocalypse World Charlie, trying to make s’mores.

“Also, two Charlies in the same place is just friggin’ weird,” I added, watching as the two Charlies started laughing in the exact same way, looking like a mirror of each other.

“Hey, Grandpa, think you can sub in for Alex without breaking a hip?” Claire called, gesturing with her badminton racket at me.

“I’m sorry, who are you calling ‘Grandpa’?” I asked, giving her an incredulous look.

“You, old man.”

“You’re gonna eat those words,” I declared, putting my beer down and leaping to my feet.

She did not, but Patience and I were a more dominant team than she was expecting.

“Nice one, Winchester!” Patience declared, giving me a fist bump after I spiked the shuttlecock between Kaia and Claire, causing them to stumble and miss.

I smirked.

“You’re still losing, losers,” Claire informed us.

It came down to match point with us trailing by two, but we were ready to make a stunning come-from-behind victory.

Kaia got in a nice hit that popped cleanly over the net and came straight back down, but I was already on the move, ready to send it back over.

“Hello, Dean.”

I fell on my face.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh, no, you’re just on time,” Claire said, wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard.

“Dean, is lying on the ground some kind of meaningful ritual that I do not understand?”

“Cass, shut up,” I groaned, sitting up and glaring daggers at him.

“Now, honey, you do not speak to Castiel that way,” Missouri said, shaking her head at me.

Cass gave me puppy dog eyes worthy of Sam, holding his hand out to help me up.

I sighed and took it, standing back on my feet.

“Dean, I’m truly sorry-”

“It’s fine,” I said, slinging my arm around his shoulder and noting the way his expression lit up.  “I’m tired of playing kiddie games, anyway,” I said, leading him towards the fire.

“Sore loser,” Claire scoffed at me.

“You only won due to interference,” I said, waving it off.

“Then play the rematch like a man!”

I froze for a moment, then turned around slowly to face her.  “You wanna go?”

“Bring it, Grandpa.”

What followed was the most vicious game of badminton ever played in heaven.

Kaia and Patience decided at some point that they were just going to go and sit with Castiel and Missouri to heckle us.

“It is too dark to even see the shuttlecock, so what is the purpose of this?” Cass mused.

“Ha, shuttlecock,” I said, serving the birdie over the net.

“Why are you simultaneously 12-years-old and a hundred?” Kaia asked, shaking her head.

“Come on, guys, shuttlecock is always going to be funny,” I said, squinting my eyes at the flash of white sailing over the net and hitting it back.

No one else laughed.

“Chicks have no sense of humor,” I complained.

They actually started booing me.

“I always tell Dean that he needs feminism,” Cass said, shaking his head.

“I do not need-” and then I got hit in the head with a shuttlecock.

They lost it.

I was pretty sure that hadn’t so much been a miraculous shot by Claire as it had been helped along by the Angel of the Lord Castiel.

His smirk in my direction affirmed that.

“Whose side are you on?” I growled at him.

“Feminism’s,” he said, which got him cheers and pats on the back.

“Okay, well as fun as fighting the patriarchy has been, can we go eat some of those s’mores?” Kaia requested, looking at Claire.

Claire turned to me.  “Ya had enough, old man?”

“No,” I said sullenly.

“Dean,” Cass said in that exasperated whine of his.

“Let me finish.”

“Deaaaaaaaan,” he repeated, making my name just about twenty syllables long.

I sighed in defeat.  “Fine.  Girls rule and boys drool.  Everyone happy now?”

“Incredibly, let’s go get s’mores,” Claire said, dropping her racket and slapping me on the back on her way towards the bonfire.

Cass drew up beside me, and I gave him a Look before sliding my arm around his shoulder again and moving to join the others.

Missouri was looking over her shoulder, tracking the movement.  She smiled.

I didn’t know why everyone had to act like it was a big deal that I liked to be close to my best friend lately.  They could think whatever they wanted, though.  I ducked in a little closer so he could hear me over all the noise.  “How was work?”

“Exhausting,” he replied, giving me a tired smile.  “But I feel vastly improved now that I am here with you.”

“Dork,” I said, ruffling his hair affectionately.

“Rude,” he replied, but there was no bite to it.  “Oh, I have a new mixtape for you,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket and handing it to me.

I took it, scanning the tracklist as we sat down by the fire.

“I think the folk movement of the 2000s is very reminiscent of classic rock,” he informed me.  It was so funny to listen to him talk about music now, like he was some historian doing scholarly research.  He always came up with a few good tracks that I’d never heard of, though.  “Little Lion Man and Killing For Love are interesting,” he said, which was usually code for ‘these songs make me think of you for some reason’.

“Awesome, thanks, man,” I said.  “Oh, hey, I’ve got one for you, too.”  I turned back to the porch, where Sam was now sitting with Donna.  “Hey, Sammy, toss me my stuff!”

Sam had to make a big production of it, finally tossing my bag over the railing.

“Thanks,” I said, catching it and fishing through the pocket for the tape I’d made for Cass.  “The Stones,” I said, handing it to him.

“The stones that roll?” he asked.

“The very ones.”

Cass smiled, looking over the tracklist.  “Oh, it’s your theme song.”

“Hm?” I asked, opening two beers and passing him one.  “What, Laugh I Nearly Died?  Paint It Black?”

“I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

Charlie straight-up guffawed at that.

“Cass, man, really?” I asked irritably.

“Well, we were just discussing your recent lack of sexual contact-”

“No, no we weren’t,” I interrupted him.  “Please stop phrasing things in ways that make me sound crazy, thanks.”

“I do not see how that makes you sound crazy.”

“Yeah, it mostly makes you sound desperate,” Charlie said, grinning at me.

“What is this, Mock Dean Day?” I grumbled.

“That’s every day!” Claire called from the other side of the fire as she crammed her face with s’mores.

“You don’t like when people are kind to you,” Cass pointed out, rubbing my neck absently, his fingers pushing lightly into my hair.  It was soothing and familiar.  “You are more comfortable fighting.”

I made a face at him, but he just smiled fondly.

Eileen took the seat next to Cass, signing something to him.

He signed something back with his free hand, but eventually their conversation became so involved that he needed both.

I really was going to learn how to sign one day.

“So you and Castiel are at the mixtape exchanging stage of your relationship,” Charlie commented, elbowing me.

I looked at her.

“1987 called, it wants its courting rituals back.”

I looked at her harder.

“You two are sweet,” she said.  “That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Really, that’s all?”

“Mm-hm.”

“We’re best friends,” I felt the need to say.

“Totally.”

I stared at her.

“Dean, I’m not trying to…” she trailed off, struggling for the right words.  “I think it’s great that you’re best friends.”

“…thanks?”

“It’s okay to be happy, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You just always look really happy when you’re with Castiel,” she said, her expression soft.

“Yeah,” I said, deciding I wasn’t bothered by that assessment.  “I am.”

Her smile brightened.

I found myself sliding my arm around the back of Cass’s chair.  “So what’s new with you, Charlie?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she started, and I had the feeling I was about to be regaled with a very long, very nerdy story.

- 14 -

Dad was quiet.

I felt my jaw clench.  “That’s all you have to say?”

He sighed, world-weary, as his eyes met mine.  “Dean, I think we’ve both said all there is to say.  I can’t undo your childhood, son.  We don’t get a do-over.”

I didn’t even know what I was looking for from him, but the ache in my chest just wouldn’t go away.

“I would do it over,” he said softly.  “I would do it differently.  But that’s not how life works.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said with a shrug.  “It’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not fine.”

“Well, you said it yourself, didn’t you?” I said, frowning at him.  “There’s nothing we can do to fix this.”

“Dean,” he said, his mouth forming into that smile that wasn’t a smile, because he didn’t know what to say to me or how to deal with me.

Fuck, even Sam had reached some sort of reconciliation with Dad, but here I was, never able to move forward.  I looked at my father, who I loved and respected more than anything, who I resented more than anything, and I just didn’t see how that was ever going to change.  No matter how many times we tried to talk things out, we always ended up back in the same place.

I wasn’t enough.  I wasn’t enough to do this on my own.

My hand twitched, reaching out for something.

Cass.

“This isn’t your car.”

Dad’s and my heads both shot in the direction of the interloper who had suddenly appeared in the kitchen with us.

“What the hell are you doing here, Cass?” I asked, switching on the anger to dull the ache.

“You called me?” he said, slow and confused.

“I definitely did not.”

“I heard you…”

I breathed out a long sigh.

“You must be Castiel.”

Now my head was shooting back to my dad.

“John Winchester,” Cass said, his tone clipped and abrupt.

I suddenly realized that not only had my pansy-ass longing feelings accidentally called Cass here, but that this had somehow facilitated the first ever meeting between my father and my angel.

Sure, this wasn’t awkward at all.

“So this has been great, but I’m gonna go now,” I said, standing up from the table abruptly and moving towards the door.

“Dean, wait,” Dad said, standing up as well and following me.

“Look, we’re fine,” I said, shrugging away the hand he reached out towards my shoulder.  “I was just… I don’t know.  We’re fine.  I’ll talk to you later.”  I was on the move again.

“He’s like this because of you,” I heard Cass saying, and then he was beside me.

“Let’s go for a ride,” I said, my arm sliding around him naturally.  Then I remembered that my dad was still watching, and I prickled with self-consciousness, my fingers biting into Cass’s shoulder.

Fight or flight.

“I’d like that,” Cass said, pushing open the front door and moving confidently towards the Impala.

I slid into the front seat and Cass took the passenger seat, and then we were on the road.

He didn’t ask.

I tried to unclench my jaw.

Cass reached into his pocket, pulling out his walkman.  He ejected the cassette and held it up.  “Do you mind?”

I gestured for him to put the tape in.

I of course hadn’t realized that the tape he had selected was The Singles Collection by Britney Spears.

“Cass, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dean, this is definitely your song,” he informed me, and proceeded to sing Womanizer at me.  “Boy don’t try to front, I-I know just-just what you a-a-are.  Womanizer, woman-womanizer, you’re a womanizer.”

And fine, listening to Cass gravel through that off-key was the funniest thing I had ever heard in my life.  I was crying I was laughing so hard (which didn’t have anything to do with anything else).

“Sometimes music is just for fun,” he informed me, nudging me in the side.

“Yeah, okay, point taken,” I said, knocking his arm affectionately.

Cass smiled at me, his gaze lingering.

He didn’t say anything, though, so I wasn’t going to say anything either.  Talking about things didn’t fix them.

“Oh, this song reminds me of you, too,” he said enthusiastically, turning the volume up.

“Why do so many Britney Spears songs remind you of me…?” I complained, shaking my head.  “Also, who the fuck is Amy?”

“No, see, you have to say it slowly,” he explained.

“A…my…?”

“No, no, the whole phrase!”

“Begging.  To.  If.  You.  Seek.  Amy.”

Cass was giving my a grin that reminded me of myself telling a dirty joke.

“I don’t get it,” I said, not really sure what sort of depth I should be getting from Britney.

“If.  You.  See.  Kay.  Me,” Cass said slow and precisely.

I started choking.

“Are you okay, Dean?” he asked, worried.  “Do you need some water?”

“I’m sorry, did you just say…” I trailed off, listening intently to the words of the song.  “All of the boys and all of the girls are begging to F.U.C.K. me?!”

“It’s very you, isn’t it?”

“Why the hell is it me?!”

“You’re quite popular.”

“Cass,” I groaned, and then just gave in to laughing again.  “Okay, Britney has some balls.”

“No, she is definitely a biological female-”

“Cass.”

“Metaphorical balls.”

“Yes.”

Cass grinned.

Something inside me relaxed.

And maybe when …Baby One More Time came on, I joined Cass on the chorus.

So what if I would pause in my channel surfing when that video used to come on?  I was a man of very specific fetishes in my young adult years, including uniforms of any kind.  That’s all.

- 15 -

“How many friggin’ tapes do you have?” I marveled as Cass and I sat in my living room, going through his ridiculous collection.

“About thirty years’ worth,” he said.  “Then Sam gave me his old iPod so I stopped adding to the collection, besides your mixtapes.”

“You listen to a douchey ass iPod?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Is it really douchier than listening to old cassette tapes?” Cass asked.

“Shut up, smartass.”

“Telling me to shut up doesn’t really win the argument.”

“Oh, are we having an argument?”

“Yes, and I won.”

I snorted at that.  “Yeah, sure you did.”

“Thank you for confirming that,” Cass said.  “You really don’t mind keeping them in the Impala?”

“Well, it’s not like I need all the hunting shit in the trunk anymore,” I said with a shrug.  “My car is your car.”

“So I can drive?”

“Ha.”

“Not really my car, then.”

“Do you want to drive?” I asked, squinting at him.  I had the feeling that Cass was just trying to see how much he could get away with.

“It might be nice sometimes,” he said with an innocent shrug.

I rolled my eyes.  “Fine.”

“Fine?” he asked incredulously.

I smiled at him slow and easy.  It was the smile I used to get women into bed.

Cass swallowed.

“You put a scratch on my baby and there’ll be hell to pay,” I said, letting my smile go crooked as I rested my hand on his knee.

“I know,” he said, looking away sharply.

I felt like I was winning now, which was maybe a little… something.  Because I was shamelessly flirting with him, and I knew deep down that it just wasn’t right if I didn’t mean it.  Cass’s feelings were real, and I…

If I didn’t mean it.

I pulled my hand back slowly, almost like I didn’t want to.  “I mean it,” I said more sincerely.  “Everything that’s mine is yours, okay?”

“That is very kind of you,” he said, still not meeting my gaze as he shuffled through the tapes.  He was sorting them by genre and putting them into separate boxes.

“Cass,” I said, catching his wrist.

Blue eyes finally met mine.

I felt my thumb sliding unconsciously along his skin.

“Dean,” he said quietly, a single, warning syllable.

I didn’t know what this was.  But I felt okay not putting a label on it.  I just wanted to feel it.  “I like being near you.”

“I… like being near you as well,” he faltered back at me.

“So let’s be near each other,” I said, still rubbing along his skin.

“Deaaan,” he said, and this time it was three syllables, slightly pained.

“I’m not trying to… well, I don’t know what I’m doing,” I decided.  “But if I’m making you uncomfortable…”

“You are,” he said quietly.

“Oh,” I said, taking my hand back.

“No, Dean, I…” he trailed off.  “I’m sorry, sometimes I just think about things too much.  I see more than is there.”

“Maybe you’re not,” I said, shaking my head.  “Seeing more than is there,” I clarified.

He swallowed again.  “Dean, I thought we made things clear.”

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug.  “They just… get a little less clear with time.”

“I need you to be clear, then.”

“I don’t think I can be.”

He breathed in through his nose and breathed out heavily.  “I am happy with how things are now.”

“I am, too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Cass’s gaze was wary.

I thought about closing the distance between us.  About how easy it had been to throw my arm around his shoulder under my father’s penetrating stare.  How the feel of him anchored me.

“I just wanna make you happy,” I mumbled, getting up and going over to my record collection.

Cass was quiet for a while, before finally saying a soft, “thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” I said, settling on Kansas.  I set the needle, and It Takes a Woman's Love (To Make a Man) started playing.

“No one has ever wanted to make me happy before.”

I looked up, taking in his sad smile.  “Cass, I’d give you the fucking world if I could.”

“I don’t need the world,” he said, his smile going rueful.

“What do you need, then?”

He looked confused, his head tilting to the side.  “I do not need anything,” he said.  “Is there something that you need, Dean?”

I didn’t know what kind of look I was giving him, but he went all tongue-tied again.

How long were we going to play this game?

But really, it was just me playing games.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean's Infinite Playlist 6-10

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 6-10/26 under the cut.  Previous parts here. Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 6 -

“Hey, Cass, you wanna go for a drive-”

“Yes,” he said agreeably, appearing out of thin air.  Then his nose wrinkled.  “Motörhead?”

“What’s wrong with Motörhead?”

“Nothing, it’s just… loud,” Cass said, loosening his tie.

“You say that a lot,” I said, “but you know that we could just turn down the volume?”

“No, not loud like that,” he said, shaking his head.  “It is… difficult-to-have-a-conversation loud.”

“I don’t really see the difference, but okay, what do you want to listen to?” I asked.

Cass seemed to freeze.  “…me…?”

“Yes, Castiel, Angel of the Lord, what do you want to listen to?” I asked, nodding my head towards the cassette collection.

“I can… choose?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug.

“But I am… the passenger,” he said, baffled.

“So you want to listen to Iggy Pop?”

“No, I… I mean, the passenger is to shut his cakehole, is he not?”

“Generally, yes,” I agreed.  “But just this once.”

Cass seemed flustered.

I had just said it offhandedly.  It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

The way Cass was reverently flipping through the tapes seemed like A Big Deal.

“I get final veto power,” I mumbled, trying to regain some semblance of my authority.

Cass hummed his assent, then pulled out a tape.

I held my hand out to him and he placed it into my waiting hand.  I felt the warmth of his fingertips, then held up the tape for inspection.  “You really like Bowie, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” I said, ejecting Motörhead and putting in The Man Who Sold the World.

Cass rolled down his window, letting the wind blow against his face as he watched the passing scenery.

Our conversations always meandered, about Cass’s work, about what was going on in my little patch heaven, about the past.  I felt relaxed, listening to Cass’s low voice talk about organizing angel tree planters floating over heavy guitar and a cacophony of drums.

He paused when the title track came on, his mouth tilting into a little smile.  “I like this song.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, it’s hard to put my finger on it, but… it makes me think of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.

“Did I sell the world?”

“You might have.”

“Huh.”

“I like the Nirvana cover, too.”

“Really, Cass?  Grunge?” I scoffed.

“Kurt Cobain was an exceptional poet,” he informed me.

“Oh, man, are you trying to recommend music to me now?” I asked, amused.

“You know Dean, they did not stop making music after the 1980s.”

“Might as well have.”

Cass exhaled a little laugh, turning to look out the window again.  He started singing quietly to the chorus, “who knows?  Not me.  We never lost control.  You’re face to face with the man who sold the world.”

I liked listening to my tone-deaf angel sing, joining him in the final lines.

When the tape finished, I ejected it, then nodded my head to the cassettes again.  “What’s next?”

“I can choose again?” Cass asked, surprised.

“Pick something good.”

He grinned happily as he started going through all the tapes.

- 7 -

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, rocking out to Van Halen.

Cass held out the bag of donuts he’d brought for our drive and I took one, taking a bite and continuing to mouth the words.

“I like sprinkles,” he decided, staring very hard at the strawberry donut he was eating.  “They do not seem like they add anything of value, and yet without them, the donut is lesser.”

“Rainbow sprinkles for Cass, check,” I said, going back to singing.  “I can barely see the road from the heat comin' off of it.  Ah, I reach down between my legs.  Ease the seat back.”

“Apparently there are many people who think this song is called Animal,” Cass put in.

“But it is actually called…?”

“Panama,” he said, beaming at me.

“Look at our little Cassie, all grown up,” I said, reaching over and patting him on the shoulder.

“The younger angels all come to me to learn about the ancient music of the 1970s and 80s,” he said proudly.

“Ancient?” I repeated.

“Quite,” he agreed.

“Anciently awesome,” I muttered.

“Are songs about strippers… anciently awesome?” Cass asked, his tone implying that they might not be.

“Strippers are awesome,” I declared.

Cass snorted at that.  “Dean, your performative masculinity is unnecessary.”

“Performative… what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I growled at him.

He shrugged, a bizarrely human gesture on him.  “If your idea of a good time is watching scantily clad women struggling to pay their bills while dealing with issues of paternal abandonment-”

“-which I do-”

“-then you should spend your time in heaven doing that instead of driving around in your Impala with me.”

“I can do both,” I protested.

“When have you…” Cass trailed off, squinting at me.  “Dean, I think you need feminism.”

“You sound like Sam,” I groaned.

“No, our tones are significantly different.”

I just rolled my eyes.

“I am going to make you a mixtape,” Cass decided.

“Oh?”

“Yes.  Of only female artists.”

Something inside of me rebelled against the idea of it.  But another part of me thought about that catchy Taylor Swift song that I couldn’t quite get out of my head.  “I don’t need weepy chick music,” I said dismissively.

“Deaaaaan,” he sighed heavily, like my name was ten syllables long.

“Do you even know how to make a mixtape?”

“I am very good at figuring things out.”

We all knew that wasn’t true, but I didn’t say anything more, and the next time Cass appeared in my car, he was proudly waving a cassette at me that read in very tiny lettering, ‘A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification'.

I shook my head at him.

He just grinned.

“You gonna put it in?” I asked.

“No,” he said, adding the tape to my collection.  “You should listen to it alone.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said with a snort.

“I just mean that your reaction will be more authentic.”

“Okay,” I said, squinting at him.  Like I was performative.

“Can we listen to Led Zeppelin today?” he asked.

“Um, we can always listen to Led Zeppelin,” I said.  “Whaddya wanna hear?”

“We could start at Led Zeppelin and proceed chronologically?” he suggested.

“I like the way you think,” I said, feeling around for the tape and then pushing it into the deck.

After Cass had left, I could feel his mixtape sitting there, staring at me.

I glared at it.

What had Cass said?  That I needed feminism?

This was going to be so annoying.

I pulled the tape out and pushed it into the deck.

The guitar that greeted my ears was familiar.

“Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train.  When I was feeling nearly faded as my jeans.  Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained.”

I felt a little smile tugging at my lips.  I could respect some Janis Joplin, and the fact that Cass had chosen to open up his mixtape with Me and Bobby McGee actually had me a little impressed with his mixtape-making skills.

Then the song ended, and I could hear Cass’s faraway-sounding voice in the back of the recording.  “Did it record the song?”

I cracked up, listening to him struggle to figure out how to stop the recording before putting on the next song.  I had no idea what kind of equipment he’d decided to use for this, but the sound quality was a little scratchy, suggesting he might have just been holding up a microphone to a tape player.

Then the twangy guitar of Fleetwood Mac suddenly filled the speakers.

I listened to the tape from start to finish.  There were some random moments of Cass mumbling to himself, trying to figure out what he was doing.  There was also a very loud crash in the middle of Patti Smith, followed by some cursing that had me laughing so hard I had tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

And at the end of it all, I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell Cass had known enough to pick out each of those songs.  Sure, Metatron had braindumped him with a bunch of pop culture references, but there was a depth to his choices.  It was obvious he was mostly trying to choose songs he thought that I would like, with rockers like Suzi Quatro and Heart.  But then there was Joni Mitchell, which was just so Cass to me.

“I am on a lonely road and I am traveling, traveling, traveling, traveling.  Looking for something, what can it be?”

It was kind of beautiful, and I found myself rewinding it and listening again.

[Listen to Castiel's full C46 mixtape 'A Mixtape of Various Female Artists Made by Castiel for Dean as a Means of Edification' on Spotify.]

- 8 -

Me and Cass sat on the hood of the Impala, drinking beers while Black Sabbath blasted through the speakers.

Cass suddenly leaned back, staring up at the sky.  “The stars are beautiful here,” he observed.

“Yeah, no ambient light in heaven,” I said, laying back beside him.

“Shooting star,” Cass pointed out happily.

I was looking at him instead of the sky.  I looked back up, but it was already gone.  “Haven’t you seen a million of them?”

“And I hope to see a million more.”

“How can you be like that?” I asked, shaking my head.  I sat up again and took a pull from my beer.

“Like what?” he asked.

“I dunno,” I said.  “Hopeful?”

“Is it hopeful to enjoy the beauty of my father’s creation?”

“I got no idea.”

“What’s on your mind, Dean?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“You just seem like you want to talk about something,” he said, sitting up next to me.

“Not really,” I said with a shrug.

He stared at me for a long moment, then looked away with his own shrug.  “Don’t tell me, then.”

“Don’t be like that,” I complained, nudging him with my elbow.

“Then talk to me,” he said with a scowl.

“Hey, Cass,” I said.  “How you doin’?”

“Crappy,” he responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t be like that,” I repeated, nudging him harder.  That of course did nothing because he was an immovable lump of celestial intent.

“I am just being myself.”

“A grumpy-ass angel?”

“A grumpy-ass angel,” he agreed sarcastically.

“I like when you’re a happy, non-grumpy-ass angel,” I said, looking him in the eye.

“I am very happy, Dean,” he said, staring back unbothered.

“Why?” I asked before I could help it.

His expression took on a more thoughtful countenance.  “Well, to be happy is to be ‘characterized by well-being and contentment’,” he said, like he was reading from the dictionary.  “Heaven is still a work in progress, but it has been greatly transformed by Jack, and I am able to be a part of that.  I derive great satisfaction from my work.”

“And that’s enough?” I asked.

“No, it’s not enough,” he said, shaking his head.  “Work is just one part of life.”

I found myself chewing on my bottom lip.

“I have my friends and my family,” he continued, leaning in a little closer and trying to maintain eye contact.  “When my work is finished, I can visit with them, go for drives with my best friend.”

“And that’s… good enough?” I asked.

Cass gave me a scrutinizing look.  “Are we talking about me…?”

“Yes, we’re talking about you, who else would we be talking about?” I grumbled, feeling annoyed for some reason.

“Dean.”

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

I looked away.

“I find great satisfaction in my personal life,” he finally said.  “And I am enjoying my new hobby immensely.”

“Hobby?”

“Earth music,” he explained, his expression softening into a smile.  “I want to listen to it all.”

“Yeah?” I said.  “That’s a lotta music, Cass.”

He nodded happily.

“So me makin’ you mixtapes… that makes you happy?” I asked, weighing the words out before I spoke.

“Yes, Dean, so very much,” he said sincerely.  “It’s like you’re giving me a piece of your soul with every song.”

“Um, I don’t think it’s quite that deep.”

“Music is truly powerful.”

“Not that powerful.”

“And yet…”

I let him have the last word, shaking my head and taking a drink.

“Dean, are you happy?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a shrug.  “Ya know, for a dead guy.”

Cass sighed very loudly.

I gave him my most charming grin.

“You are in heaven,” he said to me.  “You are supposed to be experiencing the ultimate form of contentment.”

“I am,” I said, knocking our shoulders together.  I realized he was starting to get upset, and I didn’t want that.  I liked Happy Cass, as unsettling and foreign as he was.  “I am experiencing many forms of contentment right now.”

He looked at me.

I let my hand drop to his knee, resting there.  “I’ve got my baby, I’ve got my beer, I’ve got my tunes, and I’ve got my angel.”

That got him to half-smile.

I squeezed his knee.  “I’m okay, Cass.”

“I wish that you were more than okay,” he told me.

“How much more okay do I need to be?” I asked, rolling my eyes and reclaiming my hand as I took a drink.

He just looked at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Can we listen to something else?” he asked abruptly.

“Too loud?”

“Yes.”

“Put in whatever you want,” I said, nodding my head back towards the car.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape, smiling at me hopefully.

“What’s that?” I asked, holding out my hand.

He passed it to me.

“Joni Mitchell?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Blue is a masterpiece,” he informed me.

I looked at him.

“You said whatever I want.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, handing it back to him.

Cass looked pleased as he slid down off the hood and headed back into the car.

Ozzy Osbourne’s voice cut out, and suddenly the night was quiet.  It was only a moment, and then Joni Mitchell’s acoustic guitar kicked in.

“I really like this song,” he told me as he climbed back up on the hood.

“It’s alright,” I said.  “For chick music,” I couldn’t help but add.

“Dean, there is no such thing as chick music.”

“Uh, it’s music made by chicks.”

“So music made by men is dick music?”

I spit out my beer.

Cass shrugged, playing it off like he was just making an observation.  Like he didn’t know exactly what to say to make me laugh.  “I might like chick better than dick,” he decided.

I was dying.

Cass smiled a happy, pleased smile.

I slung my arm around his shoulder and drank my beer, contentedly listening to the haunting sound of Joni Mitchell’s voice.

- 9 -

“This album is a revelation,” Cass informed me.

“Really, Cass?” I asked incredulously.  “Beyoncé?”

“Queen Bey, yes,” he said with a sincere nod.

“Oh, is this a monarchy?” I asked.

Cass sighed loudly.  “Be quiet and listen.”

I was quiet, but I couldn’t guarantee that I was listening.  “What is the point of sampling?” I grumbled.  “Come up with your own music.”

“Sampling is like a storyteller passing down the oral history of one generation down to the next,” Cass explained, using that voice that sounded like he was talking to a child but usually meant he was talking to me.  “It is actually incredibly intricate and beautiful when done well.”

“I don’t know, Cass, I don’t think Andy Williams reggae is for me.”

“Listen to the words,” he growled at me.

I tried.  “I’m just not into jilted lover chick music.”

Cass straight up scowled at me.

I groaned.  This was going to be a long ride.

Then something caught my ear.

“…is that Zepp?!”

Cass gave me a haughty look.  “Funny how excited you get at hearing a lowly ‘sample’.”

“Zepp rules,” I said with a shrug.

“You should try being more open-minded, Dean.”

“I’m very open-minded,” I said incredulously.

“Because you like that one Taylor Swift song?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Cass ignored me and started singing along.

I decided to ignore him, too.

We got through a few more tracks that had me really thinking this wasn’t an album for a middle-aged white guy, but then out of nowhere there was a country song blasting through the speakers and Cass had gone quiet, touching my arm.  “Listen,” was all he said.

“Came into this world daddy's little girl.”

“So relatable,” I mumbled, and Cass pinched me.  “Ow!”

“And daddy made a soldier out of me.”

That gave me pause.

“Daddy made me dance and daddy held my hand.”

Losing me again…

“And daddy liked his whisky with his tea and we rode motorcycles.  Blackjack, classic vinyl.  Tough girl is what I had to be.”

I swallowed.

“He said take care of your mother, watch out for your sister.”

‘Watch out for Sammy,’ Dad’s voice echoed in my ears.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

‘All right, if somethin' tries to bust in?’ Dad asked.

‘Shoot first, ask questions later,’ I found myself answering.

Cass didn’t say anything for the rest of the song.

I hit the ‘stop’ button.

His head tilted as he gazed at me, waiting.

“The fuck was that?” I finally ground out.

He blinked at me.

“I didn’t like it,” I said abruptly.

A frown tugged at Cass’s mouth.  “I’m sorry, Dean.  I did not mean to upset you.”

“Who’s upset?” I growled, speeding up.

“You are,” he said, like he was pointing out the obvious.

“Whatever.”

I almost jumped out of my skin when Cass put his hand on my arm again.

“Sorry,” he said softly.  “I didn’t know that things between you and John were still so… unresolved.”

“Dad and I are fine,” I lied, and no one believed me.

Cass left his hand on my arm, and after a while he reclaimed his Beyoncé tape and put in some Metallica.

- 10 -

Cass left the damn tape mixed in with my collection.

I kept rewinding it, listening again and again.

“Oh, my daddy said shoot.  Oh, my daddy said shoot.”

Cass caught me, appearing in my passenger seat out of nowhere without the customary invitation.

I hit ‘eject’, and neither of us said anything about it.  “What do you want to listen to?” I asked.

“Driver picks the music,” Cass said.

I shrugged.  “Fish out some Lynyrd Skynyrd.”

He did so, pushing in their debut album.

I started singing along to I Ain’t the One.

This was what we did.  Except, usually I called Cass.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked.

“Hm?” he said, looking away from the window to face me.  “Oh, I just wanted to see you.  I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course,” I said.  “You don’t need an invitation.”

“You have said that before, so I thought… I thought I might take you up on it.”

“Good.”

Cass leaned back more comfortably in his seat, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows.  He’d been taking off the trench coat and the suit jacket more and more often lately.  “Sam said the same thing, but I didn’t know that kitchens were a place for sexual intercourse.”

I slow blinked.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“Sam told me to stop by any time,” he said.  “Then he told me to knock first.”

“Wait, wait, so Sammy was hitting it on the kitchen table?”

“He wasn’t hitting anything,” Cass said, squinting at me.

“Cass, come on, you mean to tell me that you still haven’t figured out the art of the sexual innuendo?”

“Sam and Eileen were… in a compromising situation on the kitchen counter,” he explained.

“Nice,” I said agreeably.  “Good for Sammy.”

“Sam was not quite as enthusiastic about the situation,” Cass said, shaking his head.  “At least Eileen thought it was funny.”

I leaned back against my headrest, chuckling.  “Eileen is so cool, how did she ever end up with my dorky brother?”

“Opposites attract?” Cass suggested.

“Apparently,” I said.  “So you got a real eyeful?”

“I saw more of Sam than I ever wanted to, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.

I cracked up.  “Gross, man.”

“Indeed.”

“Pick up any new techniques?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him.  “Knowing Sammy, probably not…”

“Sex techniques?” he asked, making a face at me.

“Yeah, man,” I said.  “Never know when some lovely lady- or uh… dude, uh… might, ya know, walk into your life.”

“I am not interested in having sex.”

“Dude, come on,” I said.  “You don’t ever get the urge…?”

“No.”

“Cass, you’re killing me here.”

“I don’t know why it bothers you so much,” he said with a shrug.  “Your sexual activity decreased significantly after the whole Mark of Cain skulduggery.”

I was scandalized.  “I did not-” and then I thought about it.  “How would you know?” I blustered, deciding to take a different tack.

“It is very obvious when you’ve had sex, Dean,” he said, like he was talking about the weather.  “Elevation in mood, increased winking and eyebrow waggling, excessive cockiness…”

“How is that-”

“Also, the smell.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The pheromone smell,” Cass said, nodding his head.  “Very distinct.”

I sniffed the air around me self-consciously.

“There’s also the ritual,” he said, gazing ahead thoughtfully.  “Primping yourself-”

“Hey, now, I do not primp-”

“Fixing your hair, making sure your clothing lies just right…” he explained.  “Then it is off to the bar, a few drinks, a few well-placed aw-shucks country boy smiles-”

“I do not-”

“Find a willing partner and take her to where it is convenient to fornicate-”

“Dude, really?”

“All I am saying is that you stopped having a strong interest in such superficial acts, so I do not know why I should have to be interested in them.”

“I am still very interested in those superficial acts,” I grumbled.  “I just… there was always so much going on, ya know?  And I just… well, okay, maybe I didn’t just want to pick up some random girl at a bar and take her home.  I…” I trailed off, at a loss to explain.

“I understand,” Cass said.  “I wonder if I would be more interested if sex with the person I love was possible, but since it is not, it all seems rather frivolous.”

“You can’t just dismiss it like that when you’ve barely even tried,” I said, shaking my head.  “Look-” I started and froze, the synapses in my brain finally firing.  “Wait, I’m the person you love.”

“Yes,” Cass agreed.

“Wait, wait, wait.”

He waited.

“So… you would want to have sex if it was with… me?” I asked slowly.

“Yes, I think so,” he said, nodding.

“And I’m not… interested… so, you’re just gonna be celibate…?”

“Correct,” he agreed.

“Cass, man, I can’t be the reason for you not getting laid.”

“You’re not,” he said, giving me an amused look.

“You just said…”

“Dean, I have experimented with human sexuality, and I do not find it fulfilling without a ‘connection’,” he said, making air quotes.  “Maybe someday I will make a ‘connection’ with another being who returns my feelings, but for now I am content without sexual contact.”

“But-”

“Perhaps you should worry more about your own sex life than mine,” he said.

I glared at him.

He held his hands up.  “I just mean that if sex makes you happy, then why aren’t you having it?”

“Oh, you watch,” I muttered.

“Are you inviting me for some sort of voyeuristic experience?” he asked, looking perplexed.

“No!” I cried, but then I couldn’t help but laugh.

Cass was quiet, but he had a little smile on his face.

“Is this really enough for you?” I asked softly.

“What?” he asked, eyes flicking to mine as he studied my expression.  “You and I?”

I nodded.

His smile went soft.  “Of course it is, Dean.”

“Okay,” I said, because when he looked at me like that I had to believe him, as improbable as it seemed.  “Cass, I…”

“Yes?”

I struggled for the words and finally gave up.  “You can drop by whenever you like.  You don’t even have to knock.”

“Thank you, Dean,” he said, looking pleased.

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug.  And that was all there was to say.

[isolavirtuosa]

Cass & Dean’s Infinite Playlist 1-5

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

The one where Dean makes a lot of mixtapes.

Parts 1-5/26 under the cut.  Referenced songs playlist on Spotify.

- 1 -

  As the last strains of High Voltage faded out, I reached over to the cassette player and hit ‘eject’, ready for something different.  I eased Baby into the shoulder out of habit, and started rifling through my cassette collection.  Something out of place caught my eye, and I pulled the tape out, squinting at it.

Deans top 13 Zepp TRAXX

I ran my thumb over the lettering, the prayer escaping my lips before I was even aware of what I was doing.  “Cass…”

He was just suddenly there beside me.  “Hello, Dean,” he said, his expression… soft?  Was he actually… smiling?

“Cass?” I repeated, completely thrown off.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“You’re… here.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

He stared back, still smiling.

“Where the hell have you been?” I finally mumbled, looking away.  The last time I’d seen him was in the storage room of the bunker after he pushed me away and disappeared into the Empty.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I was waiting for your prayer.  I didn’t want to intrude.”

There was a lot to unpack in that.  “It’s not an intrusion,” I grumbled, elbowing him.  “And I prayed to you every night on earth after you…  I prayed every night.”

“I know,” he said, his tone taking on a regretful tinge.  “I would have come to you if I could have.”

I shrugged, fingers still running over the mixtape.

“I couldn’t hear your prayers in the Empty,” he explained, head tilted as he tried to peer up at me.

“Kinda figured that,” I said, avoiding his gaze.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” I asked, letting my gaze flick to him.

Blue eyes sucked me in.  “You’re being avoidant,” he said.  “Anyway, when Jack pulled me out of the Empty, my vessel was destroyed-”

“Uhh,” I said, looking his trench-coated frame up and down.

“It was a whole thing, Dean.”

“A whole thing?” I repeated with a snort.

“Yes, the entire universe almost ceased to exist, but anyway, Jack was finally able to recreate my vessel,” he explained without actually explaining anything.  “Unfortunately, you were already gone by that time.”

“Gone, right,” I said, huffing out a laugh.

The light seemed to go out of Cass’s eyes, and he reached his hand out, resting it heavily on my shoulder.  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” he said quietly.  “I reached out to you when I could, and I thought you felt me, but…”

I thought of all those nights I stumbled into my bed, not quite drunk so I wouldn’t worry Sammy, hugging Miracle to my chest and mumbling stupid prayers into his fur, saying things like, “Cass, if you’re out there, please…?”

And sometimes I would hear a sound that made me think of the fluttering of wings, and I would feel a warmth like the hand currently pressed to my shoulder.  Those nights I would fall right to sleep, no tossing and turning, no nightmares, and I would wake up feeling… okay.

“Yeah, I…” I trailed off, then shrugged his hand away as I moved to press the tape I’d been holding into the cassette deck.  The familiar sound of Jimmy Page’s guitar filled the car.

Cass seemed like he wanted to say something.

“I wanna drive,” I told him, moving to put the car back in gear.

“We are in a car,” he said slowly, like he was puzzling out a riddle.

“Perfect,” I said, pulling back onto the road.

What was it Cass had said before?

You’re being avoidant.

I fixed my eyes on the road, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

We were usually good at comfortable silence, but there was something lying between us unspoken, straining the silence into something awkward.

So I started singing.

The tension seemed to drain, and I could feel Cass smiling again.  Then he shocked the hell out of me and started to sing along with me.

Anyone who had ever talked about someone having the ‘voice of an angel’ had clearly never heard an actual angel sing.  Cass was mostly tone deaf, though he could occasionally find the melody.

That didn’t really matter to me, though.  We sang as loudly as we wanted, smiling and laughing, and I knew I had my best friend back, like nothing had changed.

Like I wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t the leader of heaven, and he hadn’t said all those things that he said before he went away.

Nothing had changed.

It was my car, and I could be as avoidant as I wanted to.

We were on our second rendition of Immigrant Song when Cass’s voice faded out and he tilted his head, eyes squinted in concentration.

“Dean, I have to go,” he finally said.

“Duty calls,” I said with a shrug.

“Yes,” he agreed.  “But if you find yourself in need of a passenger again, you know how to reach me.”

And then he was gone, before I could get a word out, much less give him his tape back.  So I left it in the deck and sang by myself.

 - 2 -

  Cass didn’t always come immediately when I called.  Sometimes he would appear hours later, looking disheveled.

“Work,” he would explain.

“Tough bein’ the boss,” I’d agree, then I’d go back to driving.

Today we were listening to Metallica.

“It’s a little… loud…” Cass decided.

“Yeah, man, that’s what metal is,” I said, nodding my head to the music.

“But I can’t really hear the words…”

“You a lyrics guy, Cass?”

“Yes, definitely,” he said with a nod.  “I’ve always appreciated the work of poets.”

“Well James Hetfield is a hell of a poet,” I informed him.

Cass squinted, like that would help him hear the music better.

“You wanna borrow a tape?” I offered.  “Listen to it with your headphones?”

“Will that make it less loud?” he asked.

I laughed, shaking my head.  “You sound like an old grandpa.”

“Well, Jack has created many angels, so I would say technically-”

“Uh-uh, no way, that doesn’t count,” I protested, mostly because I didn’t want to be a grandpa, either.

“Could you…?” he started to say, then hesitated.

“What?” I asked, smacking his arm.  “Speak up.”

“Could you… maybe… make me another mixed tape?” he asked, almost shyly.

“Sure,” I said agreeably.

“It’s not too much trouble?”

“Oh, well, you know, I’ll try and fit it into my busy schedule of doing nothing all day.”

“I am being serious, you don’t have to go out of your way-”

“I want to, Cass,” I interrupted him.

“Oh,” he said.  “Thank you.”

“You like mixtapes that much?”

“Well I only have the one,” he said.  “But I treasure it.”

“Is that why you left it in my car?” I teased him.

“Dean, you know why I left it in your car.”

“Do I?” I hummed.

“Dean,” he said, in that way of his that somehow imbued deep yet unfathomable meaning into a single syllable as he stared right inside of me like I was made of glass.

“Yeah, yeah, you wanted me to call,” I said, waving it off.  “You know, you could have just come here yourself directly instead of playing phone tag.”

“I didn’t want to-”

“-intrude, yeah, you said that,” I interrupted him, rolling my eyes.  “Cass, you’re not an intrusion, you’re family.”

His head tilted and his lips parted.  He hesitated.  “I wasn’t sure if that was still true?”

I took my eyes off the road and looked him fully in the eye.  “Don’t be stupid,” I said, then fixed my eyes forward again.

Cass breathed out a little huff of a laugh.  “Okay, Dean, I will try not to be.”

“Family’s family,” I grumbled at him.

“I know,” he said softly.  “It was just… a very long time before you called.”

We were both quiet, the sound of Cliff Burton’s Orion bass line filling the Impala.

“How long have I been dead?” I asked suddenly.

“Years,” Cass replied, a slight catch to his voice.

“Just feels like a few weeks to me,” I said.  “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t realize…”

“I know,” he said again, and he did know.  “I just got… impatient.”

I grinned at that, taking a hand off the wheel to squeeze his shoulder.  “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”

Cass breathed in sharply at the touch, and it was like a jolt of electricity passed between us.

I patted his arm as a means to quickly reclaim my hand without seeming like I was quickly reclaiming my hand.  I placed it firmly back on the wheel.  “So, what do you want on your mixtape?”

He looked at me for a long while.  You’re being avoidant, his eyes informed me.

“Your favorite Metallica songs,” he finally said.  “Like on the Zepp Traxx mixed tape.  I can feel your soul clearly through each song.”

“My soul?” I snorted.

“Music is very powerful,” he stated seriously.

“Really, Cass, my soul?”

“Yes, really,” he said, his nose scrunching up like I was offending him with my disbelief.  “Every song told a story about you and your history, about your parents, about Sam…”

“Uh, they’re just songs,” I said, wondering how it was that dead guys could blush.  “Really friggin’ awesome songs, but just songs.”

“No, a mixed tape is definitely the sacred sharing of your soul,” he said with a shake of his head.

“I’m sorry, do you keep saying ‘mixed tape’?” I asked, desperate for a subject change.

“Yes.”

“Okay, but it’s just mix, Cass,” I informed him.  “Mixtape.”

“That’s what I said.  Mixed tape.”

“Mixtape.”

“Dean,” he growled at me, and I didn’t know if he was annoyed at me for pointing out his mistake, his inability to understand his mistake, his understanding that I was trying to distract him so we didn’t have to talk about real things, or a combination of all three.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.  “One soulful mixtape coming up.”

It took a while to curate the right songs.  A mixtape couldn’t be rushed.

Okay, so maybe Cass wasn’t so completely off with his chick flick mumbo jumbo.

I tried to have a new tape for him every time he appeared in my passenger seat.

His smile always took over his face as he reached out to accept the latest one, teeth flashing and eyes crinkling in a way that just made it seem like all was right with the world.

 - 3 -

  “This is not your car.”

“Correct,” I said, glancing up from the TV and grinning at Cass.  “You’re just in time.”

“Hey, Cass,” Sam said, giving him a pained look.

“Sam,” he said, smiling warmly at my brother.

“Get out while you can,” Sam whispered.

Cass’s head tilted to the side.

“Come on, Sammy, you love Clint Eastwood.”

“No, Dean, that’s you.”

“Everyone loves Clint Eastwood.”

“Is some kind of romantic entanglement happening?” Cass asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“We’re watching a movie,” I explained, patting the empty couch cushion between me and Sam.

Cass sat down gingerly, like he thought the couch might explode.

“We’ve already watched two,” Sam said, making a face.

“And now Cass is here, so we’re all gonna watch another one.”

“Oh my god, you are so uncool with your old ass cowboy movies,” Sam groaned.

“Uh, that’s not true,” I said, looking at him incredulously.  “I am extremely cool, I have excellent taste, and you like Titanic.”

“Who ever said that I like Titanic?!” Sam demanded.

I just stared at him knowingly.

“Dude, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grumbled, looking away and fixing his eyes back on the TV.  “You’re the one who likes Winslet’s rack.”

“I don’t know what either of you are talking about,” Cass offered in a weirdly upbeat voice.

“Have some popcorn,” I suggested, taking the bowl off the side table and passing it to him.

“I do not mind if I do,” he said, accepting it.

“Okay, everyone ready?” I asked, getting excited.

Sam groaned like a drama queen, and Cass started stuffing his mouth with popcorn, so I took that for a ‘yes’ and started up The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

I immediately got lost in the story, mouthing along with the words.

Sometimes I would catch Cass watching me instead of the screen, an amused look on his face.  I would elbow him sharply and redirect him to the very important action happening on the screen.

Sam fell asleep.

As the credits started to roll, I gave Cass a devious smile and nodded my head towards my sleeping brother.

He squinted at me.

I got up and snuck over to the fridge, pulling out some whipped cream.  Sam had his right arm sprawled out at his side, his hand palm up in such an inviting and welcoming gesture.

Cass tilted his head to the side.

I flashed him a grin, then sprayed the whipped cream into Sam’s open palm.

“What are you-?” he tried to ask, but I silenced him with a finger to my lips.

“Tickle his nose,” I whispered.

“…what?”

“Tickle.  His.  Nose.”

“Dean, I-”

“Do it,” I coaxed him.

So he did.

Sam immediately reached up to scratch his nose, smearing whipped cream all over his face and waking up with a start.

I doubled over laughing.

“What…?” Sam mumbled confused.

I laughed harder.

“Dean, that was very childish,” Cass said, shaking his head but with a fond smile.

“Did you…?” Sam groaned, starting to come fully awake.

I grinned at him, waving the can of whipped cream.

There was no hesitation as Sam suddenly leapt up from the couch and tackled me to the ground.

The air knocked out of me momentarily before I remembered that I didn’t actually have lungs, and then I was struggling to keep my face away from his whipped cream-covered hand, holding his forearm desperately with both hands.

“Come on, Dean, you know you want some,” Sam taunted me as he hulked over me.

“Nah, Sammy, that’s all for you,” I grunted, watching as his hand got closer and closer.

It was a futile effort, and Sam gleefully smeared my face with whipped cream.

I groaned, flopping back on the ground in defeat.  There was whipped cream in my eyelashes.

Sam sat up, laughing triumphantly.

“You know, Cass is the one who scratched your nose,” I pointed out, glaring at the whipped cream-free angel hovering over us.

“I’m sure he didn’t know what you were up to,” Sam said, but he glanced towards Cass.

“Actually, Sam, I did have an inkling of what Dean was up to,” Cass answered honestly.

Sam looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

Sam glanced at Cass again, but this time his sight line was lower.

I nodded.

We both moved at the same instant, Sam grabbing Cass’s legs, and me scooping up the can of whipped cream from the floor and spraying it all over his face.

Cass looked incredulous.

I reached over and scooped some whipped cream from his nose with my finger, taking a taste.  “We got ourselves some angel pie.”

Sam snorted, letting go of Cass’s legs and standing up beside me.

Slowly Cass’s incredulous look melted away, his nose scrunching up and his eyes crinkling in a full-out laugh.

I found myself staring.

“You both are children,” Cass decided, still smiling happily.

And suddenly I was a teenager, and Sam was a pre-teen, and that was weird.

Cass snapped his fingers, clean and put together again.  “I have to get back to work, but this has been mildly amusing,” he said.  “Stay out of trouble, you two,” he said, laughing like that was a funny joke.

Sam and I exchanged baffled looks.  I had to admit, though, that I liked looking down on my shrimpy brother.

Then Cass was gone, and I found myself shifting back to my usual form of 30-something Dean, with Sam towering over me.

“He is such a weird little man,” I said, spraying some whipped cream in my mouth.

“Says the biggest weirdo of them all,” Sam muttered, wiping his face off on his shirt.

“How am I weird?!” I cried.

Sam just gave me one of his Sam Looks, and I rolled my eyes.

I started cleaning up the living room, occasionally taking another hit from the whipped cream.

“So was there a special reason for this movie marathon torture session?” Sam asked, straightening up the throw pillows.

“Uh, does there need to be a special reason to watch the greatest movie trilogy of all time?”

“Dean, you’ve made me watch them a million times.”

“So what’s a million times more?” I asked with a shrug.  “Besides, I wanted Cass to watch The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.”

“Okay, so why did I have to be here for that?”

“No reason,” I said, making a big deal of picking up the spilled popcorn from the floor.

“Oh, no, Dean, you’re not being cagey at all.”

“‘Cagey’?” I repeated, throwing my hands up at the ridiculousness of the accusation.  “Who’s being cagey?”

He gave me another Sam Look.  “Do you not want to be alone with Cass for some reason?”

“What?” I said, like that was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard.  “We’re alone in my car all the time.”

Sam shrugged, but he was still giving me that fucking look.

I decided to ignore him and finished cleaning up.

 - 4 -

  “Ah, we’re back to your car.”

“Just wanted to hit the road,” I said, eyes fixed forward.  “Figured you might not mind co-piloting.”

“Yes, that supposition was correct,” Cass said, leaning back more comfortably into the passenger seat and loosening his tie.  He’d been doing weird things like that lately; acting more human.

I cleared my throat.

Those warm eyes flicked to me.  “How are you, Dean?  It’s been a while.”

“Same old, same old,” I said.  “Hey, I’ve got something for you in the glove box,” I continued, already reaching over and pulling it open.  My fingers settled around the tape, and I passed it to Cass.

“Thank you,” he said, his touch lingering as he took the tape from me.  “I’ve been enjoying the Creedence Clearwater Revival Ultimate Mixx very much.  Fortunate Son, it’s very… interesting.”

“Yeah, I noticed you liked that one,” I said, remembering the way his brow furrowed with confusion as he asked, ‘who exactly is this ‘fortunate’ ‘son’?’, misusing air quotes like usual.

“Bowie?” Cass asked, squinting at the tape.

“David Bowie,” I explained.

“Oh, yes, the star man,” he mused, still looking at the tape.

I reached over again to close the glove box, only to have a couple of tapes come flying out.

Cass leaned over to pick them up.  “Dean and Sam’s Awesome Road Trip?” he read.  “Wayward Son, Ocean Daughter…”

“Yeah, uh, I kinda… those are for Sam and my mom,” I said.

“You made them mixtapes?”

“Mm, you… inspired me, you know?” I said, keeping my eyes fixed forward.  “I mean, I know mixtapes are kinda our thing, but…”

“I think that’s lovely,” Cass said, carefully returning the tapes to the glove box.  His hand hesitated for a moment.  “So they’re not just one band…?”

“Nah, it’s more… songs that make me think of them?  Or like songs we have memories about?”

Cass was still hesitating.  “Could we… could we listen to the Sam tape?  If it’s not too intrusive, I mean.”

“What is with you and worrying about being intrusive?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“It just seems like a very personal thing, Dean, and I don’t want to overstep,” he said, already taking his hand away from the tape.

“It’s fine, Cass,” I said, reaching over and pulling out the tape.  This time I shut the glove box properly.

“You don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” I said, pushing the tape into the cassette deck.  “You’re family, Cass.”  I was glad he didn’t ask to listen to my mom’s tape, though.  Mom and I had gotten thirty seconds into Simple Man and both done this very awkward ‘crying but not crying’ thing with tears streaming down our faces.  By the time we got to Hey, Jude I had to pull the car over.

Sam’s mix was not that kind of tape.

“I never meant to be so bad to you.  One thing I said that I would never do.  A look from you and I would fall from grace.  And it would wipe the smile right from my face,” came the opening lines from Asia.

“It was the heaaaaat of the mooomeeent!” I sang along cheerfully.

“This song reminds you of Sam?” Cass asked, genuinely confused.

I turned to him, grinning.  “He gets so angry every time he hears it.”

“So you thought you would include it on tape that you listen to together?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“That does sound like you.”

I laughed.  “I guess this is the song that played every morning when Gabe trapped us in the Mystery Spot where I kept dying and Sam had to keep reliving the day over and over.”

“Dean, that sounds very traumatic for Sam.”

“Nah, it’s hilarious.”

“Okay, well, please do not put songs that make me think of you dying on my mixtapes.”

“Do you even have songs like that?” I asked.  I didn’t really know what he listened to when I wasn’t around that would take him in that direction.

“I… I don’t know,” he said, sounding thoughtful.  “I guess sometimes the poets’ lyrics make me think of you, and I… I don’t like those kinds of songs.”

“You don’t like songs that make you think of me?”

“I don’t like songs that make me think of you dying.”

“Well I am dead, Cass.”

His unhappiness was radiating off of him in waves.

I kept my eyes on the road, but I reached over my hand, letting it rest at the back of his neck.  “Hey, man, come on.  You know we all need a little gallows humor sometimes.”

“We most certainly do not.”

I let him sulk for a while, rubbing the back of his neck until he finally started to relax.

“I thought you did not like these kinds of hair bands,” he finally commented.

“I like them occasionally,” I said, taking my hand back and turning the volume up.  “On a steeeeel horse I riiiide,” I sang along to Bon Jovi.

“…Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Are there songs that make you think of me?” he asked.

I thought about it.  “I dunno, I mean, we just started this whole carpool karaoke thing in heaven, so most of the songs I associate with you are from that.”

“What about the lyrics?”

“You mean like a song that has lyrics that make me think of you?”

“Yes.”

I thought about it, and without thinking enough to put a filter between my brain and my mouth, I said, “I’ll Be There.”

“I’ll Be There?” Cass repeated.

I wondered if I just didn’t answer if we could drop the whole subject.

“Who sings it?”

“No one.”

“Oh, is it an instrumental song?”

I didn’t answer.

“Dean, you are making this very mysterious,” he said.  “Do you have it on one of your tapes?  Maybe we could listen-”

“No.”

I was pretty sure Cass was pouting, but I definitely wasn’t going to look to check.

“Then I’ll pop down to Earth-”

“No.”

“Am I not allowed to listen to it?”

“Correct.”

“But-”

“Forget I said anything.”

“How am I supposed to forget something so important?”

“It’s not important at all!”

“It’s important to me.”

“No.”

“You are being infuriating.”

“Good.”

“It is certainly not good, Dean.”

I shrugged, slouching more comfortably in my seat and returning to my mixtape.  “I was a little too tall, could've used a few pounds.  Tight pants, points hardly renowned…”

“Your singing has lost its charm,” Cass told me moodily.

“She was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes,” I continued to sing.  “And points all her own, sitting way up high.”

He frowned at me, but by the time I hit the chorus he was rolling his eyes and letting a little half-smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

 - 5 -

  I thought I made it out of that one, but the next time Cass appeared in my passenger seat, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“You get laid or something?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, his nose scrunching up.  “No, of course not.”

I shrugged.  “What did you think of Bowie?”

“Oh, Dean, I really enjoyed him,” he said, nodding enthusiastically.  “The one with the space explorer, it was just… I didn’t really understand it, but I could feel it.”

Space explorer… astronaut… Major Tom?  I always had to do mental gymnastics to figure out what the hell Cass was talking about.  “Space Oddity?” I asked.

“Yes, yes, that was the name,” he said.  “It really told a story, didn’t it?”

“It’s a classic,” I agreed.

“Speaking of classics,” he said, going back to that dopily happy smile of his.  “The Jackson 5.”

I took my eyes off of the road to glare at him.

“Pretty classic, right?” he said, and he looked so fucking happy that I couldn’t even continue being a dick to him.

“Yep,” I said, pointedly looking away.

“I really connected with the words the prepubescent boy was singing,” he said, practically glowing as he spoke.  “You… Dean, you know me so well.  That song.  It’s exactly how I feel.”

“Come on, man, it wasn’t that deep,” I said, shifting uncomfortably.  “It’s just a cheesy bubblegum kiddie song.”

“Not to me,” Cass said, shaking his head.  “Not to us.”

“Cass, don’t get all sappy on me,” I grumbled.  “I thought you were starting to develop pretty good taste in music.”

“You’re the one who recommended the song.”

“I didn’t recommend it!  I just said it…” I trailed off and mumbled, “…makes me think of you.”

“You know if you call my name, I will be there,” he pointed out to me.

“Well, you are an angel, so it’s kind of your job to answer prayers and all that,” I muttered, wishing he would just drop the subject.

“I do not personally answer most prayers addressed to me,” he said.  “Unless they are yours.”

“You answer Sam sometimes.”

“Yes, well, he’s family, so sometimes I feel obligated,” Cass agreed, “but if you both prayed to me at the same time, I would definitely ignore him and answer you.”

I turned to look at him, and he gave me a surprisingly shit-eating grin.

“Don’t ignore my brother,” I told him, trying not to smile back.

“But I don’t like him as much as I like you,” he said, giving me a nose-crinkling smile.

“You’re an angel, Cass, you’re not supposed to play favorites,” I scolded him, looking away quickly.

“Too late for that,” he said cheerfully.  “Unless you think I should confess my love to Sam next?”

I swallowed.

“Dean.”

My mouth felt dry.

“I was joking.”

I still didn’t know what to say.

“Dean, are we still not talking about it?” Cass asked, and he sounded weary.

“…talking about what…?” I finally spoke.

I could feel him glaring at me.  “It is insulting when you do that, you know.”

“Do what?” I complained.

“You know exactly what we are talking about Dean, and pretending that you do not belittles my feelings.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.  “I’m not trying to… I mean it’s not like…” I trailed off uncertainly.

“I love you, Dean,” he said, soft but assured.

“I know,” I answered quietly.

“Good.  That’s all I ask.”

“…you don’t mind that you just got Han Solo’d?” I asked, trying to make things light again.

“It’s kind of nice, actually.”

“You are so weird…”

“You realize this is the first time you’ve directly acknowledged my feelings?” he pointed out.

“It’s… not…” I tried to protest, but of course he was right.

We didn’t talk about feelings.

“Do not make me hide how I feel, Dean,” he said quietly.  “That is all I am asking.”

“You don’t have to hide, Cass,” I said.  “That’s my M.O.”

“I wish you would not hide, either.”

“Can’t get everything you want.”

“No, you cannot,” he agreed.

I turned up the volume and kept driving.