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Cas had been on the side furthest from the door, but his reflexes were faster and he got to it first. While Dean forced himself up and headed for the bathroom, he got the dog to quiet down, and a moment later Sam was walking in the room.

She had come to love the man. Plus I gave a series of guest lectures at the university yesterday, so I was up since 5am. We were really tired. Cas was hoping he would make it.

Cas returned after going through most of his morning routine, and pulled his clothes out of his bag. He knew his brother well enough to know the dog would be dressed up too.

He held up a tee shirt that had a rainbow tutu attached at the hem. There was a unicorn dancing over a rainbow on the shirt.

It was freaking cute. Poppy got excited when he held it up and jumped down to sit at his feet expectantly. I found another one though, for winter trips.

I need to take her to do her business. Dean made sure he had his wallet and room key before they headed out, Poppy taking the lead. They headed straight to the elevator, which was not a short walk.

Hearing his name, the pup poked his head out of the bedroom too. Dean grinned as he fielded excited kisses from Titus. One afternoon, when Dean was out there with his friends, pretending to do moves from one of his video games, Sampson got into our yard again.

Went right for my brother and bit him. Dean ended up needing stitches and Sampson got a dirt nap after my dad called the police and filed a report.

Turns out the dog had bitten like, six different kids from the neighborhood, but the fact that he got into our yard and bit my brother basically signed his death warrant.

They sort of helped me get over my fear. Then Sam had a shepherd for a few years after he talked our mom and stepdad into letting him adopt the dog from the shelter.

No one knew how old Sarge was when we got him, but he was a really good dog. We had him put to sleep. She wagged her tail at the mention of her name.

Sam snickered and bit down on his lips to keep from smiling. Cas was his boyfriend and well, it was sort of like Poppy was theirs. Was he pushing himself too much onto Cas?

Now he was worried. Dean started back towards their room while Gabe and Sam went down to walk the dogs. When he marched back into the room, Cas was standing in front of the bed, shirtless.

He looked up in surprise when Dean walked in alone. Can we talk for a minute? He wanted to take care of Cas, show him how much he loved the man, but Poppy and Riot were part of that.

But had he crossed the line between taking care of and controlling? Cas nudged his legs apart and moved closer until he was standing between them.

I also think Poppy and Riot both are happier for having you in their lives. You shower them with attention and love, and that means everything to me.

Almost as much as I love you. The big stuff is what I pay attention to. I feel blessed to have you in my life.

We are definitely on the same page. It was easier than trying to explain over and over that while he was, on occasion attracted to some women and had dated a few, he was not sexually attracted to them.

When they pushed for sex, he inevitably broke up with them. There were a whopping three in his past. Dean had ordered their shirts, and he was happy that his reflected his true orientation.

It was a tank top, chosen by Dean to show off his arms. Dean loved his body. He liked feeling desirable. He pulled out his cargo shorts instead.

His sandals were in the bottom of the bag and he pulled those out too. A knock at the door told them either Sam was back with Poppy or someone from their group had arrived.

He went and opened the door to find Sam and Gabe both standing there. I take him on regular car rides so I thought he might like coming up here with us.

Shorter ones, Sam watches her for us. I want to leave Baby here. There will be plenty of room for Titus then. Her daughter Jo grew up with us.

His phone started ringing so he pulled it out to check. Our parents split and both remarried. He picked up Wendy and her friend Natalie. Call down to the front desk and see if you can get them a room.

Dean grabbed the room phone and called down to the front desk. While he talked to them, Sam went to open the door. Adam and the girls were coming down the hall and Wendy raced to her brother, throwing herself in his arms.

Nat, this is my future brother in law, Cas. He looked over at Dean who was waiting patiently for the front desk to let him know if there was a room available.

Dean hung up and turned to the room. I requested them just in case. They can bunk with me. Titus can go in the back, then there are six seats.

Gilda and Benny were right on her heels. He grinned when he spotted Adam. As if on cue, there came another knock at the door. Gabe was still standing close and he opened it.

Half of us are going with Sam, half with Gabe. So are Benny, Charlie, and Gilda. So are Jo and Ash. The dog goes in the cargo hold.

Everyone fit, not that Dean had any doubts, and this time Poppy went in the cargo hold where she stretched out happily, pleased to have so much room to herself.

Something like that, right, Sammy? That was the year I turned We had a blast. Charlie and Jo came with us that year. Mom came a few times, Greg too.

I mostly date women. There was a girl she dated named Judy. After a while she said she just sort of pushed it out of her mind.

She was married, she loved her husband, and she had no reason to look at anyone else, male or female. Then after the divorce she met my dad, and she fully committed to him.

Dean found himself laughing too. He wrapped his arms around Cas who was standing in front of him and pulled him back against him. Wendy and Natalie wormed their way up to the front and started dancing to the music.

Adam chose to stay by his brothers. It caused a bunch of fights until we finally broke up. Once they could see the floats clearly, they stopped.

He pulled Cas around in front of him and wrapped his arms around his waist once more. That one has drag queens!

The next few floats to come through all had music blaring, and Cas started dancing along. Dean just held on and moved with him as he bounced his hips and bobbed his head.

With the rainbow suspenders? I went to high school with him. He acted so straight. Was on the football team, dated pretty much every cheerleader, was on the baseball team, played soccer, and then he joined the Army after graduation.

I knew he was gay back then, but he came from a super religious family and was scared to come out. I really liked him too, he was so sweet and thoughtful.

All the girls wanted him. He was the school heart throb. When he tried to pull back, Cas stole another one.

Dean smacked a loud, wet kiss on his cheek, making him laugh before they turned their attention back to the floats going by.

She definitely has your charm. When the parade ended, the crowds began to dissipate. They waited a bit until they could move without being crushed.

As they made their way back over to Adam, they saw him talking with a guy around his age decked out in a blue and purple tee shirt similar to the one Dean was wearing.

The man smiled back. You should wear an ally shirt next year. I mean, thanks for the compliments, but really, not interested!

Cas and Adam looked around too. Guess the mystery of Ash is over. She had come up from behind, with Charlie and Gilda not far behind her.

Then the parade ended and she was gone. When she waved back he dropped his hand. No way do I want to explain to my mom that my sister got kidnapped at Pride.

She rolled her eyes of course. Wendy had the same expectant look on her face as they both waited to hear his answer.

I was equally as lucky with you. Not everyone is clean though. Profess their undying love, something? Just you and me. You just get an extra key from Sam and come get her when you get back.

Unless Sam will be with you? From there we can all meet back up at the hotel and maybe hit one of the clubs. They located the rest of their group one by one, and started the walk back to the trucks.

He wants me to meet him at a club later tonight. I was really just going to wait til his shift was over and go back to his place.

And no comments from any of you on that! He just laughed and held his hands up in defeat. After that maybe we can meet up with you all somewhere.

I just wanted to see how bad my brother would freak. Did you get that on video, Nat? Natalie giggled as she showed the video to Wendy. Cas leaned in to see it too.

Not even a little taste. He even manages a wobbly smile when Charlie snaps a picture of him over his cake. There are fifteen candles, slim and striped white and green.

His eyes start to water again at the sight, and he has to take a second to breathe and collect himself before he leans over and makes to blow out the candles.

You have to think it and then blow out your candles. The other part of his brain, the section run ragged by emotion, by confusion and surprise and pleasure and fear all bundled into one, immediately thinks I wish I had a family.

Everybody claps and Missouri places the cake on the kitchen table. She retreats to the kitchen and returns with a knife, cutting the first slice and placing it on a paper plate.

She hands it to Castiel with a plastic fork. The high string of emotions in the air fades a little as cake is doled out and people give him well-wishes.

Dean turns on some of his music and people laugh and tease. After everyone finishes their cake, Dean steers Castiel into the Den, where an entire pile of presents sits in the center of the floor.

And then everyone sits and watches as he opens them. Mama Missouri knit him a scarf to match his hat, and he immediately wraps it around his neck.

It smells like her perfume and is warm and soft and lovely. Meg stuck ten dollars in a card with a crude joke inside that makes Castiel turn pink and makes her laugh.

Even little Hester gives him a present, a crudely-drawn crayon depiction of himself in a party hat. She hugs him when he says thank you. Castiel peels back the newspaper that the gift is wrapped in.

His breath catches when the first part of the box is exposed. I wanted to get something nice for you.

The party guests linger for a little longer after Castiel finishes opening his gifts, but no one can stay for too long as it is Christmas Eve.

So he hugs his friends and says thank you to every one of them. It amazes him that they all came here on such a family-oriented day, taking time out of their holidays just to wish him a happy birthday.

It makes him feel dumb and emotional all over again. Dean laughs too, and pulls Cas in for another hug. Sam pries them apart so that he can hug Castiel, too, and complains about Cas getting too tall to be able to hug right anymore.

I left you a little something-something on your bed. I feel as though I should mention that there's a lot of Cas experimenting sexually with people that are not Dean in this chapter, so if you want to skip that, the beginning and the end are not included in this.

He snorts softly and sets the gift aside underneath his bed. The morning of the Holiday itself begins with a nightmare, of Jesus on the cross above him and stinging pain in his bare bottom as his mom smacks it over and over again.

Castiel sits up in bed and rubs the crust of sleep out of his eyes. Castiel Novak, son of religious zealots that fasted themselves to death.

But before he can loiter on thoughts of aloneness and his dead parents, he remembers the present from Dean sitting underneath his bunk.

He leans over the edge of the mattress and retrieves it. For a second, he just stares at the box in his lap and wonders what Dean means by saying that he has the other one.

He eases the lid off and folds back the tissue paper arranged carefully inside. A charm glints in the dim morning light of the bedroom, dangling in the center.

It smells masculine and feels soft against his skin. At the bottom of the box sits a card. Castiel removes it and gives a thoughtful hum when he reads the text — Anti-possession star: Clean with silver polish and soft-bristled toothbrush when necessary.

The Christmas festivities begin before Castiel can admire the way that the leather cord looks on his wrist, or how strong it is, or how masculine it smells.

They all drink wassail in Christmas mugs, ugly things purchased no doubt from Goodwill. All the kids do their own laundry, but Mama is a reputed psychic after all.

She rolls her eyes, but wraps one arm around his back and ruffles his hair. Just like a regular mom would, Castiel thinks.

His own gift feels lightweight when he picks it up from under the tree. The wrapping paper is crisp and perfectly creased, patterned in strings of Christmas lights and jingle bells.

A fat blue bow sits on top, beside it a gold tag that reads To: He glances at Mama at this, and she just smiles, motioning for him to go on. Inside is an iPod.

A package of brand new headphones rests alongside it in the box. After the presents are all open, they help pack the debris of ribbon, wrapping paper, boxes and packages into plastic garbage bags so they have room in the den to sit and watch movies while Gabriel and Mama prepare Christmas dinner.

He spends hours with his headphones hooked into the computer and listens to song after song, beginning with pop songs that he vaguely recognizes and winding through recommendations until he lands in tunes with heavy beats and furious vocals.

Dean probably would not like this music, but he does. Castiel acquiesces rather than argue, and takes his iPod with him. When he offers Castiel a soda, he accepts.

Dean takes a beer for himself. Dean takes a sip of his beer and leans back against the kitchen counter. Castiel swallows the knot in his throat and makes a point not to look at Dean.

But against his will and better judgment it does mean something to him. He and Crowley just like making out and not being alone.

Dean and Cassie genuinely like each other. They shuffle around in front of the movie and Dean folds a blanket in his arms before they collect their coats, slip their feet into shoes, and disappear outside.

The front door closes quietly behind them. Hang on, let me get the DVD set up. And for all his small, bony body, Sam Winchester is wise beyond his years, sometimes more than Dean is.

Castiel only knows this from soft, misspoken sentences and things that Sam never means to say, but he knows this nonetheless.

And he is glad, despite the troubles that the Winchester brothers may have with their father, they both have turned out the way that they have.

Castiel is so engrossed in the movie that the shift in the air does not immediately register. Only when Sam has been quiet for too long does he tear his gaze away.

There, in the cramped cranny between hallway and living room, stands John Winchester. The last time Castiel was up this close to him was months ago, when he first moved here.

Now, the shadows under his eyes are much deeper, carved into his face like a wrinkle into a marble statue. His hair is wild from sleep, and a frown weighs heavy on his face.

This appeases John, enough that he exhales and shakes his head. Castiel knows that trick well, learned it even before he was in the system. He grunts and scratches his lower back, and then disappears into the kitchen.

The pop of a can opening sounds from over the quiet roll of the movie. John reemerges with a can of beer in his hand, but only long enough to vanish back into his bedroom.

The room feels thick, hard to breathe in. Out of habit Castiel reaches for his inhaler from the pocket of his jeans and breathes in medicine. The walls of the tiny trailer seem to close in even more despite this.

She must have been nice. Castiel never tells Dean what Sam confessed to him, and Dean never indicates that Castiel is acting strange.

Instead of riding the bus to Sugar Lane, Castiel takes the few extra stops with Crowley to his house, where they toe off their shoes in the foyer and play video games on his expensive system until one of them gets horny or hungry.

Dean has a pretty girlfriend that changes her nail polish color every week and knows all the words to Carry On Wayward Son.

He pulls it down tooth by tooth. The material is silky and dark blue. He could definitely do worse, as far as penises go.

Castiel, too, is uncut. With the apology bitter on his tongue, he leans forward and dips his tongue out just to taste.

Crowley tastes salty and like skin, but the smell between his legs is nice and makes Cas want to go back for more.

But as soon as Crowley thrusts back against his throat, he gags, and has to pull away to breathe. Crowley comes on him with zero warning.

It fills up his mouth and Castiel pulls off coughing, kind of grossed out by the spunk all over his chin, but gratified that he could make somebody orgasm with his mouth, especially on his first try.

Castiel slides the straps of his backpack off of his shoulders and scoots it underneath the table. And I suppose if I want to get better at giving them I should figure out how to get a handle on my gag reflex.

Her long fingernails dig into the skin just above his hip bones as she bobs her head. Castiel comes after an embarrassingly short time, and Meg swallows it all without batting a lash.

Meg stands from her place on the carpet and slides up onto her mattress. Her bedroom is surprisingly feminine — the walls are eggshell blue, and the quilt laid out across her bed looks to be handmade.

Meg exhales and a lazy grin glides across her puffy lips, where lipgloss is smeared. She stretches out in front of him like a cat.

Tentative, Castiel reaches out and touches the tips of his fingers to the front of her panties. Definitely different than boys. He is not sure if this is good or bad.

When he removes them, he leaves her in nothing but her t-shirt, and reveals a thatch of dark curls between her legs. Objectively speaking, she looks very nice.

He hears women are more difficult to tease to that. Thankfully, Meg guides his hands and head where she wants them, and tells him what to do. It makes things easier, especially as she whispers things like more or harder that give him enough instruction to know what to do.

Castiel knows when she comes because her legs clamp tight around either side of his head, and her hands yank up on his hair. This would be exceptionally hot if she were male.

However, she is not. And for the record, I am very pleased that you like a good man. He surges up over the card game on the bedspread and kisses Crowley, hard, digging his nails into the meat of his shoulders, rubbing his palms down his spine, and settling at the soft outward curve above the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Will you fuck me? Crowley is much better at performing oral sex than he is, and when Castiel comes he swallows without blinking an eye, staring up at Castiel through his dark lashes the entire time.

God, Castiel needs to hear those words. Hear more of those words forever, how beautiful he looks, how good he is, how sweet his mouth is.

Crowley has lube, but even with the cool gel spread across his hand his thick fingers burn inside Cas. And when he slips a condom on over his cock and starts to press inside Castiel, it hurts.

They share a quiet meal together, and at the end of the night, she drives Castiel back to Sugar Lane in her shiny, expensive car.

Castiel makes a gargantuan effort not to walk funny, but kind of does anyway — at least until he reaches his bedroom. Except, there are more people than just his foster brothers in the room.

And when Cas enters, he looks up sharply. His eyes are tired, and at first Castiel wonders if this has something to do with John.

After a few long, silent minutes sitting on the hood of the car, Dean pulls a crinkled Ziploc of weed out of the inside pocket of his coat.

When he passes it to Cas, he accepts. Smoking the second time around is much easier, though he still sputters a little on the first inhale. He feels warmer with the smoke in his system, feels his muscles relax and the tension fade from in between them.

Like I was trying, you know? He pushes that thought out of his head and gestures for the joint. The conversation dies there, and for a while, they just smoke.

It turns out that John Winchester keeps a well-stocked toolbox in the trunk of his car. Dean extracts a screwdriver from the mix and stands up on the hood of the car to reach the sign, unscrewing it from its perch one painful, rusted screw at a time.

They drive for a long while, pointing out signs for potential stealing. Castiel flips Dean off, but refuses to back out now.

Like Dean did, he stands on the hood of the Impala to reach the screws holding the sign in place. Dean has the foresight to catch it before they make a noise, and throws it into the backseat beside his own.

Adrenaline courses through him as they speed out of the neighborhood. Neither of them feels like returning to Sugar Lane, so instead they find an empty lot to park in and smoke another joint.

Cas tingles with the excitement and with his high. He loves being like this, so relaxed and free to be himself. He can do that with Dean.

Dean says this is nerdy, but Castiel finds it endearing. Dean and Castiel are allowed over for sleepovers because they are boys.

The whole room smells like fake butter and popcorn, and Dean is eating Bagel Bites on the couch. He knows his friends here support and love him, but this is the first place that that has happened.

Before Lawrence and Sugar Lane and Smoky Bluff, all he was told was sin, sin, sin and how kissing boys was something he should feel badly about.

Although he does get some pleasure out of the irony that is his biological parents: Instead, their homosexual son is saved and lives to see another day, albeit as a ward of the state.

Like, your other families? The next day I was back at a group home. I guess I just — yeah, wow. Yeah, he knows that tune well. He probably should follow that advice better than he has been.

And then she pantsed me in the locker room. I think sticking gum in her hair was better. Castiel laughs and Charlie looks down. She whacks Dean on the shoulder.

Of her collection, a dark, metallic green seems best. She chides him over and over for not staying still, and ends up having to redo her work on a few of his nails before she instructs him to sit still and blow on them.

Dean decides to build a blanket fort using the couch, loveseat, and a couple of chairs swiped from their place with the kitchen table.

Castiel cocks a brow. Drinks like a fish. Thing is, Dean loves his dad. And I think…I dunno. He has this thing, you know. But Dean needs to figure things out himself.

The next weeks pass quickly. Castiel drinks and smokes with Dean and sometimes comes with him when he takes the Impala to the drive-in.

Thus, after dinner one night, when Gabriel is on dish duty and Castiel has the evening free, he approaches Missouri where she reads beside her bookcase, wire-rimmed reading glasses perched on the end of her nose, and a serious look on her face as her eyes scan the page.

She marks her book and closes it, placing it in her lap with her reading glasses. If you got into trouble, we can fix it.

In this home, we do not judge you based upon who you love. Missouri opens her arms and without question, Castiel falls into them.

Her hug is tight, warm, and everything that he needed. Missouri stops humming and her hands still on his back.

But then Missouri pulls him back to make him look up into her eyes. After his conversation with Missouri, Castiel feels lighter. And then Mama gives a damn about me, and all I do is cry.

A handful of other boys sit at the study cubby adjacent to him, laughing about something one of them said. Annoying, but not out of character.

There are often students that come to the library to lounge and be loud, and typically he can work through the noise. Castiel tenses at that, especially as they all laugh.

You should be reported to the school, you assholes. He flies back into his own study cubby, knocking his science homework onto the carpet and striking his tailbone against the hard table.

A noise of pain rips out of his throat before he can stop it, and Al sneers. Think you can take me? Castiel gets a punch in upward and sends Alastair reeling onto his ass.

It gives him just enough time to leap on top of him, blood flying, and hold him down by his neck with both hands.

Only then does it occur to Castiel the weight of what he has done. Maybe all deans have hidden tattoos peeking out of the necklines of their blouses, and wear leather biker boots.

Which was a little gross, but okay. Then Al or whatever his name is says something about roofies. Then he punched me, so I fought back.

Barnes leans back in her rolling chair and purses her lips. Out of school, not in school. Your suspension will last three schooldays, since this is your first incident.

Do you know her last name? Bring it back to me on the first day after your suspension ends. Barnes escorts him from her office, Missouri is sitting in the waiting area just outside.

The expression on her face, however, is not nearly as whimsical as her state of dress. Castiel climbs into the front seat and buckles himself, holding his paperwork in his lap.

At home, Missouri fixes him an egg salad sandwich for a late lunch and instructs him to go to his bedroom and stay there. Missouri orders his foster brothers to clear out and closes the door behind them when they do.

Do you realize how badly this reflects on you, Castiel? Not even you, but Missouri, also. She takes good care of you, and I know that for a fact.

Castiel feels himself pale at that. This is where his friends are. This is his home. So what happened today? Castiel explains, and tries to be calm and rational about it all.

Instead of that, he shivers and his eyes fill up with tears that he refuses to allow to spill over in front of Victor. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and take it while he beat the crap out of me?

Castiel feels sick when Missouri and Victor leave the bedroom and his foster brothers file back in. He yanks his blanket up over his body, puts his pillow over his head, and curls into himself.

He falls in and out of sleep and once gets up to go to the bathroom, but Castiel skips dinner and ignores his foster brothers, set on letting himself feel miserable about what he did.

It felt like the right thing to do, to hit that Alastair kid and make him feel bad for the things that he said, and it still feels a little like it should have been the right thing to do.

He got it wrong, like he always gets things wrong, and could have screwed up everything he has. Andy sleeps on his stomach, and Zeke snores, much more loudly than Dean does.

Castiel jumps, sitting up. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark, but when they do he sees the clear outline of his bedroom window being opened, and a figure leaping through.

You game for the drive-in? Castiel hesitates, and spares a glance at his foster brothers on the bunk across the room.

Andy remains asleep, but on the bunk above his Gabriel stares at them with eyes wide open. He smiles when he sees Castiel looking, and gives him a thumbs-up.

Gabe will cover for him if need be. He goes in his pajamas again, pushing sneakers onto his feet and treading carefully across the park to the Winchester trailer.

Dean starts up the Impala and they roll off to the drive-in, where Chuck is working again and lets them in for free since Castiel has a broken nose.

Cas and Dean huddle up on the hood of the car again, six pack of beer nestled between them and an itchy wool blanket thrown over their shoulders to stave off the cold.

So get over here, stupid. Cas blinks down at his own bracelet and sighs. He inches over close to Dean, and Dean fills in the gap between them.

The words make his chest hurt so much that he thinks he might explode. How wonderful would it be to run away with Dean, to not worry about school or people with ugly insides, or being unloved?

Dean gives a damn about him, he said so. Missouri, as she is wont to do for his groundings, assigns him to dish duty and restricts his internet use, though she lets him keep his iPod.

He spends this time without internet listening to angry music with heavy beats and obscene lyrics that would make his biological parents ill.

The Gathering with Charlie or sneak out with Dean or get fucked by Crowley. Did you ask first, Hester? Hester frowns and glances from Anna to Cas.

Crowley would tease him for this. Andy snorts and Castiel laughs. The end result is a little comical but mostly flattering. This is what he imagines real siblings feel like.

It ends his imprisonment with a bang, and with it, the prospect of returning to school tomorrow does not seem as daunting.

At least it removes some of the attention to his nose, which no longer has the cardboard contraption on it, but remains swollen and red three to six weeks to heal, the doctor reported when Mama Missouri took him the day after the fight.

He and Crowley seldom talk on the bus. He likes their comfortable quiet, and he likes that when the bus pulls up to Smoky Bluff, they part ways without question and drift to their respective groups of friends.

Charlie ropes him into a hug and musses his hair when he sits down at their table before the bell rings. Meg gives him a fist pound, and Dean is nowhere to be seen.

Dean trudges off in the direction of his locker and leaves Cas standing bewildered in the crowded hallway. Somebody bumps into him, and then a few aggravated students later, an intimidatingly large guy in a KU t-shirt shoves Castiel aside, slamming him back into the row of lockers to his right, and knocking him into a petite girl wearing some sort of crown of flowers.

She glares at him and he apologizes profusely. A combination of being manhandled in the hallway and Dean snapping at him causes Castiel to be late to class, though only by a few seconds after the final bell rings.

But his mind drifts to tired, angry Dean. Castiel thinks on this through the rest of his classes until lunchtime, when he sits down with his bagged lunch that Missouri made for him that morning, in between Meg and Dean.

Meticulously, he splits the rest of the lunch — an apple for him, his granola bar for Dean, each of them allotted sixteen and a half Cheez-its from the mini pack, and three Chips Ahoy.

They chat for a few minutes, and Lisa ends up exchanging numbers with him, promising to text him. Though, he can admit to a certain reserve of jealousy when she and Dean exchange phone numbers too, and he floors the flirting gas pedal.

It helps, but not by much. You wanna come with? Castiel nods and tosses the remains of his lunch into one of the tub-sized trashcans before he slings his backpack over his shoulders and follows Dean out the double side-doors at the end of the hallway that sits against the cafeteria.

The weather is still cool, though much warmer than it has been, enough that a handful of people in cross country t-shirts are tossing a frisbee back and forth near the flagpole.

He and Dean trek past and across the parking lot, all the way to the area that the student body refers to as The Shed, a dip in the land where a shack-like structure houses water and electric consoles.

Beside it sits a ring of large rocks, arranged that way by students long forgotten by Smoky Bluff.

The stones are graffitied with tags and drawings, or simpler phrases, like ashley c sucks cock or jc was here. Dean plops down on one of the rocks beside a punky-looking girl with a generous chest.

She and a boy with a short mohawk smoke cigarettes and laugh about inside jokes. What would you do?

Dean runs aggravated hands through his hair and grabs at the back of his neck. An ugly feeling follows Cas around like a thick, black cloud for the remainder of the day, even as school gets out and he and Dean board the bus.

He tries not to worry, but he does anyway. It was a weird day, is all. Do we have any Poptarts left? He sits at the kitchen table with his snack and his homework.

Zeke has to come help him with his math work, which kind of sucks. But when his homework is over and done with, tucked into his backpack, his conversation with Dean at The Shed resurfaces, and his stomach starts to hurt.

No one ever gave him a reason to worry. No people did, at least. No, these feelings are because Dean is his friend. He shoves his hands in the pockets of the hoodie and treads through the park.

The sun barely peeks out from between trailers and mobile homes, and no kids remain outside to play.

Technically, he supposes, it is a break-in. But it is a break-in born of friendship, not of greed. He heaves himself up onto the sill with all the strength in his skinny arms, huffing with the effort and feeling abrupt regret for skipping gym class with Meg a few too many times.

Dean is not in his bedroom, and nor is Sam. The light is off. The footfalls belong to John Winchester.

You a thief, too? You help him pull this off? Sammy, go to your room. Castiel hears Sam huff, and a moment later, the door to the bedroom opens.

Dad works nights at the police station, so he forgets to do stuff like that sometimes. A lot of times.

You should show some goddamn respect. How about you act like a fucking father, then! You know what, dad? Go to your goddamn room.

He was just worried about you. Never in my life. He takes a step forward, and Dean shies back. His eyes fill with wet and spill over silently, two single tears sliding from each eye.

Dean allows him to wrap his arms around him, lets him hold his head against his chest. So Castiel does what people have been doing for him when he cries.

Take the car, take you and Sam, get the hell out of this shithole. I just wanna get out. Let a guy dream, will you?

Castiel opens the bedroom door and slips out, just long enough to slip into the bathroom across the narrow hallway and wrap toilet paper around his arm.

The door slams behind him. Castiel creeps out and pads through the stained carpet. He hovers just outside the closed door, just long enough to confirm what he thinks he hears.

Dean parks himself on the edge of the mattress on the lower bunk. Castiel sits beside him, kneeling in the sheets, faded Mickey Mouse sheets that have seen much better days.

He throws the wad of toilet paper, now pink with blood, into the overflowing wastebasket across the tiny bedroom. He watches Dean climb up onto the top bunk.

His gut is a mixture of worry-sick and relief, because Dean is okay, Dean is here, he is safe…but Dean cried, Dean bled, and Dean was furious. He scoots onto his stomach and peers over the edge of the top bunk, green eyes serious under knit brows.

He just climbs up the rickety metal frame of the bunk bed and lands beside Dean. Darkness floods the room, and a quiet broken by Sam rustling around, tripping over litter on the bedroom floor, and the squeak of the mattress as he lands on it.

Sam shifts, trying to get comfortable, but Dean and Castiel remain glued together in the same position. And with Dean in his arms, he knows that Dean is safe.

See the end of the chapter for more notes. Dean makes a soft noise in his sleep and shifts, but instead of moving away from Castiel, he rolls into him.

That does the trick. Dean flies back away from Cas, as far as he can. His cheeks color and he scrapes a hand through his bedhead.

My junk was like. All up on you. Cas was sitting on the couch. Balthazar was gone, thank God. Dean shrank away out of surprise, and Cas moved back, barely concealing the hurt on his face.

Now the words came easy to him. But I want to be with you. As a roommate, as a friend, as a lover. Cas started to laugh.

Dean was caught by surprise, unsure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Huh, Dean decided as Cas kissed him as if he was the most precious thing in the world, definitely not homophobic.

Dean grumbled half-heartedly about annoying little brothers acting as best men before he drew his new husband into a kiss. AU Dean had met a fair share of assholes in his life.

And a fair share of that fair share had been homophobic assholes. Cas just rolled his eyes. One evening, Dean moaned as he bit in a burger Cas had cooked.

There was a strange tension in the air. Cas broke eye contact and suggested they watch a movie. Dean shrugged it off. Because one day Cas texted him to let him know that he had company and Dean felt… angry.

So why was he suddenly… He quickly put the phone away when he heard Charlie return with her coke. And he felt worse and worse the more he thought about it.

Suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach. Making out with a guy. The last thing he wanted to do was the shake the hand of this dirty creepy — What was he doing?

Why was he repulsed? He quickly took the offered hand, although he let it fall almost immediately.

On the morning of his birthday, Castiel showers and contemplates how it feels to be fifteen. Adam made a noise of agreement. His mother slapped the backs of his prognose deutschland frankreich when he stumbled over his Bible verses at night. I promise that is not necessary. Cric 365 tail swished across the carpet. Dean and Castiel, brothers in arms. He had Beste Spielothek in Chevroux finden, he had his friends, he could get a girl whenever he wanted, he would soon be an engineer. For the most part this spiele mit verantwortung out consists of sloppy touches and ending up in strange, uncomfortable positions of tangled, gangly limbs and rucked-up clothing. Castiel glances out the window, to the area where the bus drops them off in the morning, and shrugs. While his boyfriend got dressed, Cas shaved and ran a comb through his hair. Unless Sam will be with you? CO ;HE reparto caballo?.

We can do playdates. Poppy loved meeting other dogs and playing. Poppy appeared, jumping up to sit between him and Charlie, and then proceeded to try and lick the woman to death.

Do you guys really have no doubts? Cas looked back at Dean who shrugged. The men I dated before Dean? But I see that with Dean.

I love him more than anything in the world. People that rush into things, they end up with their relationships failing. Do you see yourself spending the rest of your life with her?

Charlie considered the question. I need to want to spend my life with that person before I would uproot my life like that. It takes a lot of talking and compromising to bring two lives together and blend them in a way that makes both people happy.

He was rather spontaneous and after three months of dating, he suggested that we get a place together. The dorms sucked and an apartment would afford us more privacy, even if it was expensive.

We found a studio apartment, signed the lease, moved in. Did I mention it was a studio apartment? It led to fights and long before the lease was up, we split.

I let him keep the place, took my name off the lease, and I went to stay with my brother. The following year I got back into the dorms with a little financial encouragement to the school from my father.

Dean and I, we truly want this to work. I love him too much to lose him. We want to reach the point where we can live together, and then take the next step from there.

Lisa said I snored, would kick me out of bed for it. Well, turns out it was her bed that was doing it to me.

I think that at this point, our biggest points of contention are that I sort the laundry by color but he sorts it by color and fabric, and that I pamper the dog too much.

And parenthood is different anyway. Think about your own parents. Seriously, Cas, no one Dean ever dated before you was as good of a fit for him as you are.

When are we all leaving, and how long are you two staying up there? Poppy can stay in her kennel ok for up to 10 hours, not that we do that to her.

But three or four so we can go have some fun should be ok. She gave him a toothy grin. The drive to Chicago was even more pleasant in the warmer weather, and once they got off the highway, Dean rolled the windows down.

Poppy, securely seat belted behind Cas lifted her head to let the wind blow through her fur. They had come in during the night to avoid the worst of the traffic and they were tired by the time they got to their hotel.

Dean got them checked in while Cas made sure Poppy used the bathroom one last time before morning.

We got here about three hours ago. The bed is rock hard. I like the last hotel better. Cas hefted his bag higher on his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator.

Text one of us and let us know if your bed is good or not. They may just hand her the pillows to get her to go away.

At night, I go down too, to talk to the clerk. They started for their room. Dean set his stuff down. Cas set his bags down and sighed with relief. Poppy was sitting at his feet, looking up curiously.

Her tail swished across the carpet. It took a few minutes but then he was stepping off the elevator, pushing a huge luggage rack in front of him.

Once they were all on there, he started pushing it towards their room which ended up being at the complete end of the hall, around a corner, and at the end of that hall.

Before we unpack, test it. Cas sat down on the edge of the bed. It felt ok so he laid down on it. He messaged Gilda who messaged back that they were moving rooms.

Apparently now they were right across the hall from Dean and Cas. He went and opened the door to see Charlie and Gilda dragging their stuff into the room.

We just want to get to sleep already. Not too early though. Cas closed the door and went back to collapse across the bed.

Dean smacked him on the butt as he passed by on the way to the bathroom. After that he moved the luggage cart into the hall and when he came back, dressed down to just his boxer briefs and tee shirt, he found his boyfriend snoring softly, not moving at all.

After setting his dirty clothes on the desk, he started undressing Cas. He started with his shoes and socks, but when he rolled him over to undo his belt, Cas woke up suddenly.

He took a moment to enjoy the view before he started trying to work the comforter out from under his boyfriend. Cas woke up just enough to move further up the bed and then Dean was tucking the blankets up around him.

Poppy was laying in her crate, as dead to the world as her owner. He just slept better when Cas was in his arms.

Cas woke to sunlight streaming through the window, and a warm body pressed tight against his back. There was another warm body laying over his legs that he assumed was Poppy.

Just as he was considering dozing off again, someone knocked at the door. That set Poppy off and she started barking.

Cas had been on the side furthest from the door, but his reflexes were faster and he got to it first. While Dean forced himself up and headed for the bathroom, he got the dog to quiet down, and a moment later Sam was walking in the room.

She had come to love the man. Plus I gave a series of guest lectures at the university yesterday, so I was up since 5am.

We were really tired. Cas was hoping he would make it. Cas returned after going through most of his morning routine, and pulled his clothes out of his bag.

He knew his brother well enough to know the dog would be dressed up too. He held up a tee shirt that had a rainbow tutu attached at the hem.

There was a unicorn dancing over a rainbow on the shirt. It was freaking cute. Poppy got excited when he held it up and jumped down to sit at his feet expectantly.

I found another one though, for winter trips. I need to take her to do her business. Dean made sure he had his wallet and room key before they headed out, Poppy taking the lead.

They headed straight to the elevator, which was not a short walk. Hearing his name, the pup poked his head out of the bedroom too.

Dean grinned as he fielded excited kisses from Titus. One afternoon, when Dean was out there with his friends, pretending to do moves from one of his video games, Sampson got into our yard again.

Went right for my brother and bit him. Dean ended up needing stitches and Sampson got a dirt nap after my dad called the police and filed a report.

Turns out the dog had bitten like, six different kids from the neighborhood, but the fact that he got into our yard and bit my brother basically signed his death warrant.

They sort of helped me get over my fear. Then Sam had a shepherd for a few years after he talked our mom and stepdad into letting him adopt the dog from the shelter.

No one knew how old Sarge was when we got him, but he was a really good dog. We had him put to sleep. She wagged her tail at the mention of her name.

Sam snickered and bit down on his lips to keep from smiling. Cas was his boyfriend and well, it was sort of like Poppy was theirs.

Was he pushing himself too much onto Cas? Now he was worried. Dean started back towards their room while Gabe and Sam went down to walk the dogs.

When he marched back into the room, Cas was standing in front of the bed, shirtless. He looked up in surprise when Dean walked in alone.

Can we talk for a minute? He wanted to take care of Cas, show him how much he loved the man, but Poppy and Riot were part of that.

But had he crossed the line between taking care of and controlling? Cas nudged his legs apart and moved closer until he was standing between them.

I also think Poppy and Riot both are happier for having you in their lives. You shower them with attention and love, and that means everything to me.

Almost as much as I love you. The big stuff is what I pay attention to. I feel blessed to have you in my life.

We are definitely on the same page. It was easier than trying to explain over and over that while he was, on occasion attracted to some women and had dated a few, he was not sexually attracted to them.

When they pushed for sex, he inevitably broke up with them. There were a whopping three in his past. Dean had ordered their shirts, and he was happy that his reflected his true orientation.

It was a tank top, chosen by Dean to show off his arms. Dean loved his body. He liked feeling desirable.

He pulled out his cargo shorts instead. His sandals were in the bottom of the bag and he pulled those out too. A knock at the door told them either Sam was back with Poppy or someone from their group had arrived.

He went and opened the door to find Sam and Gabe both standing there. I take him on regular car rides so I thought he might like coming up here with us.

Shorter ones, Sam watches her for us. I want to leave Baby here. There will be plenty of room for Titus then.

Her daughter Jo grew up with us. His phone started ringing so he pulled it out to check. Our parents split and both remarried. He picked up Wendy and her friend Natalie.

Call down to the front desk and see if you can get them a room. Dean grabbed the room phone and called down to the front desk. While he talked to them, Sam went to open the door.

Adam and the girls were coming down the hall and Wendy raced to her brother, throwing herself in his arms.

Nat, this is my future brother in law, Cas. He looked over at Dean who was waiting patiently for the front desk to let him know if there was a room available.

Dean hung up and turned to the room. I requested them just in case. They can bunk with me. Titus can go in the back, then there are six seats.

She waves to him and points to the empty plastic chair to her left. He manages a smile and takes it. Obviously you live in his park, but I smell a good Dean Winchester story in you.

He shakes his computer mouse to get the computer to come to life. It requires a name and password, so he sits back and assumes their teacher will give them the information when class starts.

It was a water pistol. Before he can answer to her, a harried teacher rushes into the classroom with arms full of folders and the bell rings.

So far he likes this place best, though he refuses to acknowledge that out loud. While Castiel swaps out his books in his locker for the ones he needs for homework, Charlie continues to enthuse.

We meet on Thursdays starting next week. Anyway, we do all sorts of cool stuff. Like cupcake sales and protests. Ohmygod, last year we did this really cool thing and got the school to make an anti-bullying policy that specified that discrimination based on sexual orientation is a hate crime.

Because, as far as he recalls, he never told Charlie that he liked boys. Sorry for bugging you about it, then.

You were worried about it? Let me guess, she recruited you into the GSA? Lured me in with promises of snacks.

If you come to the meetings and stuff, we can ride back on the late bus together. At supper that night, Mama Missouri asks them all how their first days at school went.

Gabriel squawks that he already skipped two if his classes, which earns him a smack on the back of the hand with a wooden spoon and a tongue-lashing Castiel would rather never be on the receiving end of.

Anna, who is also a freshman, talks about her art classes. Castiel eats his pasta without speaking and listens to his foster siblings squabble and talk about their school days.

Alone, he walks the short distance to his trailer. He showers before the rest of the boys arrive and redresses in a fresh set of pajamas. Mama should really look into getting that screen replaced.

These are really good, dude, did you do these all yourself? You like old stuff? With a heave of his body, Dean hurls his body over the window sill and out of the home.

Castiel watches him land neatly on his feet without so much as a bounce. This is a terrible idea, but it is a terrible idea that Castiel is more than happy to indulge.

In spite of being dressed only in pajamas, he slips his feet into his new Goodwill tennis shoes, throws his sweatshirt over his shoulders and zips it up over his t-shirt, and leaps up onto the window ledge.

He jumps down and lands without more than a soft thump of noise as evidence. Before they leave, Dean carefully closes the window from the outside, nudging it quietly closed as far as it will shut.

There, Dean guides them to a huge, sleek black vehicle, a classic, and certainly not the type of car that Castiel would deem it wise to joyride in to the drive-in movie theatre without a license.

The interior smells like old leather and more faintly of liquor. When Dean starts the engine, it roars to life with a purr, loud enough that Castiel is certain the entire community has heard and now knows that Dean Winchester is up to something.

The drive-in is about a fifteen minute drive from Sugar Lane. Most times I go alone though. Kinda nice to have company. You wanna go get snacks? As promised, the first movie of the night is Attack of the Puppet People.

They stretch out with the bucket of popcorn placed strategically between them. Even with popcorn between them and the scent of cigarette smoke on the air, the aroma comes through.

Why are they private? Like, really fucking good. How come you never told me you draw like that? Dean makes a face at this.

He takes a handful of popcorn from the container between them and chews thoughtfully on these. Dean spits half-chewed popcorn across the drive-in lot and sputters out laughter.

Castiel fidgets, and thinks of what Charlie said, that Dean is open and accepting of her sexuality. He is also a member of the GSA — though he says that was for the snacks.

Bet you could find some dudes at the mall, though. He watches the movie in silence, sucking on Skittles. He daydreams about that a lot.

Castiel would be overjoyed to have a tiny, shitty studio apartment, as long as it was his. Maybe he could even find a place to rent that allows pets, and adopt a dog — a dog from a shelter, preferably one just as misfit and used to impermanence as Castiel is.

When the movie ends, Castiel and Dean drive silently back to Sugar Lane. Dean drops Cas off at the edge of the park so that he can sneak back into his bedroom without a loud car beside him.

He keeps the hood of his dark red sweatshirt up over his head and his hands tucked into the front pockets.

He opens the window to his bedroom the same way that Dean closed it and wriggles up, landing inside. None of his foster brothers are asleep.

Another yell responds, a familiar sounding yell. They ring around the open window like an argument between Winchesters is a spectator sport.

He knows, rather, from the lack of information. Castiel has only ever seen the man once, right after he moved in here — and that was with Mama Missouri at one of her sessions, not in the Winchester trailer.

The shouts are too far away to decipher the content, but they grow in volume as they continue. A bigger silhouette follows — and then a final snap:.

Castiel turns back and keeps leaning out the window, even as his foster brothers shuffle to their beds and ready themselves for sleep. John Winchester lingers in the front doorway of his trailer, watching the way that his son left.

Castiel gets caught up in the flurry of starting school, and the eternal debate over whether or not he should actually do his homework or let it rot, no matter how simple the assignment may be.

Mainly he finds that he ignores his assignments, and instead opts to read. He also sketches when he can get away with it, only drawing in the rare moments of privacy he can be afforded with living in a bedroom that he shares with three others.

His black eye has mostly faded, although bare, yellowish remnants linger just along his cheekbone. In one of the clearings by the creek, they find an old, mud-caked shopping cart.

Sam asks if they can make a fort out of it. Most of the legwork is completed by Dean. He drags the defunct shopping cart to a different spot in the clearing and uses some of the surrounding, swampy brush to make a little cove.

Sam suggests paving the way to their fort with flattened cans, and so he and Castiel go hunting for materials.

They return with some broken boards as well as dirty cans to crush into makeshift paving stones. The end result is a lean-to-like structure made of broken pieces of wood, sticks and the shopping cart.

And when Dean looks at Sam so happy and pleased with their work, he smiles too. It stops him from saying something stupid — like I wish I had a brother.

Mostly he just wishes that he had somebody to love him as much as Sam loves Dean and Dean loves Sam. His aloneness is for the better. They spend the better part of an hour cramped inside the little fort, talking about nothing in particular.

Castiel walks the Winchester back to their trailer, but when Sam runs inside, Dean lingers. Just you and me. We can meet up at the fort.

See you tonight, dude. After supper and the sunset, Castiel loiters in his bedroom. Gabriel turns his head and arches a brow.

I may be many things, but a snitch is not among them. And use a condom. He makes for the window, but at the last moment hesitates and draws back.

Instead of just going with nothing but the clothes on his back, he reaches for his sketchbook and decides to take that, too. He brandishes his middle finger in response to this, and then drops down outside the home, a perfect landing.

At the fort, Castiel finds Dean already waiting. When he hears Castiel crunching through the brush behind him, he turns and grins.

Dean pulls a can of beer from the plastic confinement and cracks it open, chugging back a long, thirsty drink. He used to steal beers from one of his foster fathers when he was angry at him — at first he only hid the cans, but they started to gather, and so Castiel started to drink them.

And once he went with his older foster sibling to a high school party when he was thirteen. He drank too much beer that night, and threw up on a girl in a blue tank top.

The sound of the guitar case being unzipped fills the quiet between them as Castiel nurses his beer.

Dean extracts the guitar. He feels around the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a pick. When Dean finishes singing, the look on his face is open and raw.

After a few beats of silence, they both reach for their beer cans and sip. I bought it off my tattoo guy.

Thick, calloused fingers roll paper into a little twist that Dean lights at the end with a fancy zippo. It has a woman in a red bikini emblazoned across it.

He exhales through his nostrils and passes the joint to Castiel, who inhales. It burns his throat worse that whiskey, makes it feel dry and scratchy, and he ends up having a coughing fit that he tries to douse with crappy beer.

Castiel nods again, and folds back the cover to the first drawing — a horned demon, intricately detailed with blood and jewelry, gored in places, and hung on a cross.

Dean takes the spiral-bound book and sets in his lap. He stares for a long, long time. Dean flips through the pages, over equally gory and gross drawings — ripped out wings, blown-out churches, sharp-toothed creatures with yellow eyes.

Is it — a lot of it looks kinda like. Sometimes I think about it, but then I just think of my parents. Dean sits up straighter.

Guess it would suck pretty hard if you never moved in. And you set a dude on fire to save a dog. Castiel wakes puddled in sweat, back aching, and surrounded by the smells of earth, beer, and masculine body wash.

He hums and wriggles in closer to the warmth around him. He has his arms octopussed around one Dean Winchester, whose green eyes are open and a boyish smile on his face.

He snuck out and fell asleep. And someplace within the duration of that sleep, he managed to wrap himself around Dean like a hungry boa constrictor.

Slept like a rock. Ugh, my ass hurts, though. Dean finally heaves himself up and rubs both his hands through his hair. I once had some hippie hack therapist that said something about a lack of affection blah blah blah need for human contact blah blah blah.

He has to return home or Mama will kill him — which is a funny thing to think. At least until now. They trek back into Sugar Lane together, side by side and close enough that their shoulders bump.

Castiel has only before met Bobby in passing. You get back to Missouri and you do it now. You worried her sick, you idjit. And wipe your feet, you hooligan.

Dean smiles at Castiel and salutes before they part ways. Missouri hugs him so hard he can feel the embrace in his spine. But Dean is his friend.

And Castiel is not going to let go of a friend. I was with Dean. What if something happened to you, Castiel? They was always poor, and soon as the economy went straight to hell his mama and his daddy both lost their jobs.

Soon as I did realize, though, I registered myself for all them classes you need for this job and I started taking in kids. Family means no one gets left behind, or forgotten.

He passes by Crowley, who is dressed in an orange detention vest, on the way there. When he says hello the guy looks up briefly.

When Castiel arrives Charlie has already set up some mini cans of soda and knock-off organic Oreos, the latter of which Dean already has his hands full of.

And Mama put me on dish duty for the whole week. He vastly prefers vacuuming or dusting, but Missouri knows that and intentionally assigned him the chore that would annoy him most.

And gives you black eyes? Castiel cannot blame him for that. As soon as the few other members of their little unit arrive at the classroom, Charlie gets down to business.

Mainly they begin their meetings by going person by person and discussing how their weeks have gone, and then they cover business items.

The following day when Castiel boards the bus, Crowley pats the space beside him instead of putting his headphones in and ignoring him like he usually does.

Castiel glances out the window, to the area where the bus drops them off in the morning, and shrugs. She returns his Biology homework a few minutes later, but Castiel is occupied by Dean babbling on about Cassie.

Most of that time is spent making out, Dean reports. Castiel thinks on this all the way up until their lunch break. He dumps his books in his locker and removes the sack lunch that he made for himself, and when he enters the cafeteria he sits by Dean, who seems to always arrive for the food before any other student, and has a Styrofoam tray laden with suspect-looking pizza and an even more suspect-looking fruit cup.

When Charlie sets her food alongside theirs, Cas excuses himself to use the restroom. He looks back to Crowley and stares for a long, long moment. He takes one large, awkward step forward and leans in.

His lips are soft and he tastes like peppermint chapstick and cinnamon gum. When Crowley pulls back, he has another smile on his face.

See you around, darling. The spell is however broken when a round-faced football player and a couple of his friends saunter in — time to make himself scarce.

Crowley lives with his mostly-absent business woman mother, whom Castiel has seen a grand total of once across the span of three or four weekends.

She is beautiful but also terrifying, so he does his best to avoid her when he can manage it. For the most part this making out consists of sloppy touches and ending up in strange, uncomfortable positions of tangled, gangly limbs and rucked-up clothing.

Although on one embarrassing occasion, Castiel gets so worked up by what they were doing that he comes in his underwear. He has been here for almost six months.

She places a hand in between his shoulder blades and rubs his back, and then kisses his cheek. He tenses up but still feels a rush of that stupid fucking need to be loved, of affection he feels in return and has desperately been trying to tamp down for fear of when Mama Missouri gets tired of him.

Castiel has never experienced a Christmas that was about family. But when December first had rolled around and Missouri asked all the kids to help decorate, he did, and so did everybody else, Gabriel and Anna and Zeke and Hester and even Raph and Uriel.

Every time Castiel sees his own stocking, a green one patterned in holly, and the name Castiel cross-stitched beside a snowman, something inside him lurches and he feels like throwing up and hugging Missouri all at once.

If she ever catches at him staring at the damn stocking, she never says a word. He snorts and swats her away, and when she exits the kitchen, he returns to scrubbing plates as though nothing happened at all.

When Castiel finishes the dishes he dries his hands on a festive, snowflake-patterned towel and joins the rest of the kids and Missouri in the den.

They watch the cartoon version of The Grinch That Stole Christmas first, and then Rudolph, which Castiel finds himself drifting off to right in the beginning.

He falls asleep with his head against the back of the couch and his knees tucked up to his chest. He wraps the blanket tighter around his shoulders and slides further down on the couch.

On the morning of his birthday, Castiel showers and contemplates how it feels to be fifteen. Mostly it feels exactly like fourteen, although in his opinion he sounds vastly older than he did yesterday.

Missouri writes a list in her pretty script and tucks a twenty dollar bill into the palm of his hand with a smile and thanks.

Forgoing gloves and shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat, he shuffles through the tangle of mobile homes and trailers to the outside street.

An annoyed looking employee in an ugly vest greets him and he mumbles something back just to be polite before he finds the things that Missouri asked him to.

The flat-lipped cashier places the items in a plastic bag, which Castiel loops around his wrist so that he can keep his hands in his pockets as he walks back.

He wonders what Christmas is going to be like here. Do you want me to take the shampoo to the girls? Not only does Dean leap out at him from behind the furniture, but the rest of the foster kids, Missouri, Charlie and Meg, Ellen and Bobby and Jo, Sam, and even Crowley.

Mama Missouri has a cake in her hands. Castiel stares at them. Oh Jesus, I am so sorry. I can try again.

He even manages a wobbly smile when Charlie snaps a picture of him over his cake. There are fifteen candles, slim and striped white and green.

His eyes start to water again at the sight, and he has to take a second to breathe and collect himself before he leans over and makes to blow out the candles.

You have to think it and then blow out your candles. The other part of his brain, the section run ragged by emotion, by confusion and surprise and pleasure and fear all bundled into one, immediately thinks I wish I had a family.

Everybody claps and Missouri places the cake on the kitchen table. She retreats to the kitchen and returns with a knife, cutting the first slice and placing it on a paper plate.

She hands it to Castiel with a plastic fork. The high string of emotions in the air fades a little as cake is doled out and people give him well-wishes.

Dean turns on some of his music and people laugh and tease. After everyone finishes their cake, Dean steers Castiel into the Den, where an entire pile of presents sits in the center of the floor.

And then everyone sits and watches as he opens them. Mama Missouri knit him a scarf to match his hat, and he immediately wraps it around his neck.

It smells like her perfume and is warm and soft and lovely. Meg stuck ten dollars in a card with a crude joke inside that makes Castiel turn pink and makes her laugh.

Even little Hester gives him a present, a crudely-drawn crayon depiction of himself in a party hat. She hugs him when he says thank you.

Castiel peels back the newspaper that the gift is wrapped in. His breath catches when the first part of the box is exposed. I wanted to get something nice for you.

The party guests linger for a little longer after Castiel finishes opening his gifts, but no one can stay for too long as it is Christmas Eve.

So he hugs his friends and says thank you to every one of them. It amazes him that they all came here on such a family-oriented day, taking time out of their holidays just to wish him a happy birthday.

It makes him feel dumb and emotional all over again. Dean laughs too, and pulls Cas in for another hug. Sam pries them apart so that he can hug Castiel, too, and complains about Cas getting too tall to be able to hug right anymore.

I left you a little something-something on your bed. I feel as though I should mention that there's a lot of Cas experimenting sexually with people that are not Dean in this chapter, so if you want to skip that, the beginning and the end are not included in this.

He snorts softly and sets the gift aside underneath his bed. The morning of the Holiday itself begins with a nightmare, of Jesus on the cross above him and stinging pain in his bare bottom as his mom smacks it over and over again.

Castiel sits up in bed and rubs the crust of sleep out of his eyes. Castiel Novak, son of religious zealots that fasted themselves to death.

But before he can loiter on thoughts of aloneness and his dead parents, he remembers the present from Dean sitting underneath his bunk.

He leans over the edge of the mattress and retrieves it. For a second, he just stares at the box in his lap and wonders what Dean means by saying that he has the other one.

He eases the lid off and folds back the tissue paper arranged carefully inside. A charm glints in the dim morning light of the bedroom, dangling in the center.

It smells masculine and feels soft against his skin. At the bottom of the box sits a card. Castiel removes it and gives a thoughtful hum when he reads the text — Anti-possession star: Clean with silver polish and soft-bristled toothbrush when necessary.

The Christmas festivities begin before Castiel can admire the way that the leather cord looks on his wrist, or how strong it is, or how masculine it smells.

They all drink wassail in Christmas mugs, ugly things purchased no doubt from Goodwill. All the kids do their own laundry, but Mama is a reputed psychic after all.

She rolls her eyes, but wraps one arm around his back and ruffles his hair. Just like a regular mom would, Castiel thinks.

His own gift feels lightweight when he picks it up from under the tree. The wrapping paper is crisp and perfectly creased, patterned in strings of Christmas lights and jingle bells.

A fat blue bow sits on top, beside it a gold tag that reads To: He glances at Mama at this, and she just smiles, motioning for him to go on.

Inside is an iPod. A package of brand new headphones rests alongside it in the box. After the presents are all open, they help pack the debris of ribbon, wrapping paper, boxes and packages into plastic garbage bags so they have room in the den to sit and watch movies while Gabriel and Mama prepare Christmas dinner.

He spends hours with his headphones hooked into the computer and listens to song after song, beginning with pop songs that he vaguely recognizes and winding through recommendations until he lands in tunes with heavy beats and furious vocals.

Dean probably would not like this music, but he does. Castiel acquiesces rather than argue, and takes his iPod with him. When he offers Castiel a soda, he accepts.

Dean takes a beer for himself. Dean takes a sip of his beer and leans back against the kitchen counter. Castiel swallows the knot in his throat and makes a point not to look at Dean.

But against his will and better judgment it does mean something to him. He and Crowley just like making out and not being alone.

Dean and Cassie genuinely like each other. They shuffle around in front of the movie and Dean folds a blanket in his arms before they collect their coats, slip their feet into shoes, and disappear outside.

The front door closes quietly behind them. Hang on, let me get the DVD set up. And for all his small, bony body, Sam Winchester is wise beyond his years, sometimes more than Dean is.

Castiel only knows this from soft, misspoken sentences and things that Sam never means to say, but he knows this nonetheless. And he is glad, despite the troubles that the Winchester brothers may have with their father, they both have turned out the way that they have.

Castiel is so engrossed in the movie that the shift in the air does not immediately register. Only when Sam has been quiet for too long does he tear his gaze away.

There, in the cramped cranny between hallway and living room, stands John Winchester. The last time Castiel was up this close to him was months ago, when he first moved here.

Now, the shadows under his eyes are much deeper, carved into his face like a wrinkle into a marble statue. His hair is wild from sleep, and a frown weighs heavy on his face.

This appeases John, enough that he exhales and shakes his head. Castiel knows that trick well, learned it even before he was in the system.

He grunts and scratches his lower back, and then disappears into the kitchen. The pop of a can opening sounds from over the quiet roll of the movie.

John reemerges with a can of beer in his hand, but only long enough to vanish back into his bedroom. The room feels thick, hard to breathe in.

Out of habit Castiel reaches for his inhaler from the pocket of his jeans and breathes in medicine. The walls of the tiny trailer seem to close in even more despite this.

She must have been nice. Castiel never tells Dean what Sam confessed to him, and Dean never indicates that Castiel is acting strange.

Instead of riding the bus to Sugar Lane, Castiel takes the few extra stops with Crowley to his house, where they toe off their shoes in the foyer and play video games on his expensive system until one of them gets horny or hungry.

Dean has a pretty girlfriend that changes her nail polish color every week and knows all the words to Carry On Wayward Son. He pulls it down tooth by tooth.

The material is silky and dark blue. He could definitely do worse, as far as penises go. Castiel, too, is uncut. With the apology bitter on his tongue, he leans forward and dips his tongue out just to taste.

Crowley tastes salty and like skin, but the smell between his legs is nice and makes Cas want to go back for more. But as soon as Crowley thrusts back against his throat, he gags, and has to pull away to breathe.

Crowley comes on him with zero warning. It fills up his mouth and Castiel pulls off coughing, kind of grossed out by the spunk all over his chin, but gratified that he could make somebody orgasm with his mouth, especially on his first try.

Castiel slides the straps of his backpack off of his shoulders and scoots it underneath the table. And I suppose if I want to get better at giving them I should figure out how to get a handle on my gag reflex.

Her long fingernails dig into the skin just above his hip bones as she bobs her head. Castiel comes after an embarrassingly short time, and Meg swallows it all without batting a lash.

Meg stands from her place on the carpet and slides up onto her mattress. Her bedroom is surprisingly feminine — the walls are eggshell blue, and the quilt laid out across her bed looks to be handmade.

Meg exhales and a lazy grin glides across her puffy lips, where lipgloss is smeared. She stretches out in front of him like a cat.

Tentative, Castiel reaches out and touches the tips of his fingers to the front of her panties. Definitely different than boys.

He is not sure if this is good or bad. When he removes them, he leaves her in nothing but her t-shirt, and reveals a thatch of dark curls between her legs.

Objectively speaking, she looks very nice. He hears women are more difficult to tease to that. Thankfully, Meg guides his hands and head where she wants them, and tells him what to do.

It makes things easier, especially as she whispers things like more or harder that give him enough instruction to know what to do.

Castiel knows when she comes because her legs clamp tight around either side of his head, and her hands yank up on his hair. This would be exceptionally hot if she were male.

However, she is not. And for the record, I am very pleased that you like a good man. He surges up over the card game on the bedspread and kisses Crowley, hard, digging his nails into the meat of his shoulders, rubbing his palms down his spine, and settling at the soft outward curve above the elastic waistband of his boxers.

Will you fuck me? Crowley is much better at performing oral sex than he is, and when Castiel comes he swallows without blinking an eye, staring up at Castiel through his dark lashes the entire time.

God, Castiel needs to hear those words. Hear more of those words forever, how beautiful he looks, how good he is, how sweet his mouth is. Crowley has lube, but even with the cool gel spread across his hand his thick fingers burn inside Cas.

And when he slips a condom on over his cock and starts to press inside Castiel, it hurts. They share a quiet meal together, and at the end of the night, she drives Castiel back to Sugar Lane in her shiny, expensive car.

Castiel makes a gargantuan effort not to walk funny, but kind of does anyway — at least until he reaches his bedroom.

Except, there are more people than just his foster brothers in the room. And when Cas enters, he looks up sharply. His eyes are tired, and at first Castiel wonders if this has something to do with John.

After a few long, silent minutes sitting on the hood of the car, Dean pulls a crinkled Ziploc of weed out of the inside pocket of his coat. When he passes it to Cas, he accepts.

Smoking the second time around is much easier, though he still sputters a little on the first inhale. He feels warmer with the smoke in his system, feels his muscles relax and the tension fade from in between them.

Like I was trying, you know? He pushes that thought out of his head and gestures for the joint. The conversation dies there, and for a while, they just smoke.

True, when he first turned around to look at C. Novak, according to the sign on their door, he thought he looked a little weird, with the intense stare he was giving Dean man, that were some baby blues ; and for some reason he was wearing a suit, backwards tie and trench coat.

Man, he must have had some weird parents. So he just smiled and nodded. They spent the first day unpacking and getting to know it each other.

Dean already had a good feeling about this. Neither of them wanted to date around since they had enough to do at college, and it was good sex.

Cas was actually nice enough to not only treat Pamela well, but morning Dean woke up to find the gossiping in the kitchen over a cup of coffee.

That had started almost as soon as they had moved in, and Dean had no problem with that. He loved to flirt. It was fine by Dean really, since he and Cas had started spending more and more time together and had indeed become best friends in the last two months.

Somehow, that came out sounding far more serious than Dean intended, and for a moment, they just stared at one another.

Everything was going great, as far as Dean was concerned. He had Cas, he had his friends, he could get a girl whenever he wanted, he would soon be an engineer.

So of course something had to go wrong. Just — yeah, something. Along the way, something must have gone wrong. What was wrong with him?

So Cas was finally getting some. Your Queen needs you over here! He realized he had been lying to himself when he opened the door and saw Cas making out with someone on the couch.

He retreated until his back was pressed against the door, revulsion coursing through his veins. He walked up to Dean and held out his hand.

The last thing he wanted to do was the shake the hand of this dirty creepy —. No one reacts this way to their friend making out.

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