fic: Records, Running and Redemption

[ninjapsammead]

Title: Records, Running, and Redemption
Author: Psammead
Summary: It would’ve been nice to assume they lived happily-ever-after in the land of bubblegum pop and skinny jeans, wouldn’t it? But no, relationships are hard, substance abuse is harder. Luckily, pop music heals all wounds.
Rating: NC-17
Notes/Warning: AU, Destiel, third and final installment in what I have now termed the Alliterative Bubblegum ‘verse. I was driving home and listening to See You Again by Miley Cyrus, and then Speak Now by Taylor Swift came on, and then The One That Got Away by Katy Perry, and that was the point at which I decided my iPod ships Destiel, too. Despite the depressing summary, I promise, more fluffy fluff-fluff.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, I just pee in it frequently.

Records, Running, and Redemption

Chapter One: Teenage Dream

Castiel Davids was rushing across the parking lot, trying to avoid the assholes from the football team who just couldn't seem to get enough of shoving him into walls and calling him a faggot.

"Dude, your shoelace is untied!" yelled a deep male voice, and Cas whipped around, angered that anyone thought he was stupid enough to fall for such an idiotic prank. He opened his mouth to unleash the wrath of heaven on Dean Winchester, the jerk-off in question, and abruptly tripped over his untied shoelace.

Cas lay a moment, stunned, feeling the asphalt hot against his face, and wishing he could just sink into it, and be done with all of the shit, forever. It was bad enough that he had had crush on Dean since grade school, and that Dean basically had no idea he existed, without embarrassing himself in front of Dean being their first real interaction.

"Dude, I'm so sorry, I didn't-" Dean was standing over him now, reaching out a hand.

Cas balefully pushed himself up, refusing the help, and growled, "Forget it."

"Hey, man, chill out. It was a mistake. What's your problem?" Dean grabbed his shoulder, halting his escape. Cas felt a shiver run though his body at the contact, and desperately wished he was anywhere else at all.

"I don't have a problem. Thanks for the warning." He yanked his shoulder out of Dean's grasp, and took a few steps away.

"Cas!" The nickname stopped him dead in his tracks. The way Dean said it went straight through Cas, affectionate and chiding at the same time, like he had been saying it for years, his voice sounding after-sex roughened. He said it like Cas was something special.

"Are you walking home?"

Cas heard the words, but it took him a moment to process them, utterly confused as to why Dean Winchester was still talking to him, and weirder yet, asking him a question.

"Yes, I am. Why?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

""Just… Uh… Do you want a ride home?" Dean looked extremely uncomfortable, fidgeting.

Why is he uncomfortable? What does he want? Does he feel guilty because I tripped? That must be it. Cas looked into Dean's beautiful, concerned, green eyes, and thought for a moment he could spend the rest of his life staring into them.

Finally, he said, "Yeah, all right."

Dean kept talking to him, after that. He wouldn't stop, actually, and eventually, Cas had no choice but to talk back. Dean found him, every lunch period, no matter where Cas went to eat, and always plopped down next to him, sticking his fingers into Cas's food, stealing his fries, flipping through his iPod, or punching him lightly in the arm.

"Cas, I know two things for sure. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, Taylor Swift sucks." Dean said, upon discovering that Cas had both of her albums.

"First off, Taylor Swift is a legitimate musician. She writes her own songs, manages her own staff, and plays an instrument. Her songs are catchy and capture the essence of high school romance beautifully. So go fuck yourself, you don't have to listen to her if you don't care for it," Cas shot an annoyed glance at Dean, and reclaimed his iPod, "Second, Bert and Ernie aren't gay, they're Muppets. Muppets have no genitalia."

"Muppets are junkless?" Dean snaked one of Cas's cookies, and took an enthusiastic bite.

"Yes. And don't ever mention Sesame Street to me again. That is what's wrong with America," Cas sniffed.

"Sesame Street is what's wrong with America?" Dean raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"Yes."

"Dude, explain yourself."

"Think about it. It brainwashes children to accept commercial programming. There's a 'plot' broken up by advertisements. It gives children short attention spans, and teaches them to be okay with commercials and destroys their ability to focus."

Dean laughed until he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

"Fuck, Cas, you're awesome. Insane, but awesome."

Cas smiled, feeling fuzzy inside.

Cas went into the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror after Dean left.

Wow, he thought to himself.

Dean had come up behind him in the kitchen, and gently wiped the eyeliner from Cas's face, and Cas had been so confused by the tenderness, and the odd look in Dean's eyes, and then Dean called him pretty, leaned down and kissed him.

That fucking kiss. Cas smiled, touching his lips at the memory. Dean's mouth was wide and kind, and covered Cas's perfectly, like it had been created just to fit against his. Cas had hesitantly reached his arms around Dean, moving closer, and let his lips part, allowing Dean's tongue in, feeling fireworks shoot down his spine. It had been so different than kissing Raphael, it was intense, intimate and earth shaking.

Cas had groaned, and Dean had pushed him back roughly, the kiss becoming hungry, like Dean was trying to swallow everything that Cas was and claim him as his own. Cas had felt Dean cup his ass, pulling him even closer, and when Cas moaned again, he'd felt the finger slide around to the front. It was suddenly too much, too fast, and Cas had freaked out a little, but Dean had said all the right things, and Cas couldn't believe that it been so perfect, that Dean was so good and patient with him.

His blue eyes looked back at him from the mirror, and Cas wondered what Dean saw in them, under the makeup and the marijuana reddened whites, that made Dean think he was pretty, and amazing.

"Just so you know, I'm not going to be messing around with anyone else," Dean had said on his way out the door.

Does that mean he's my boyfriend? Cas wondered, I think it does.

He was so fuckin' happy, he didn't need to drink himself to sleep that night.

It was the beginning of Christmas break, and Dean had stolen a bottle of Jack Daniels from his parents. They climbed up onto the roof, bundled in winter clothes, and sat on a blanket, looking up at the stars.

Dean had realized quickly that Cas could drink him under the table, but that he would eventually hit a magical point of way-the-fuck-too-drunk and get ridiculous, so he always placed himself in charge of doling out shots, no more than two for Cas to each one of his own.

"I made a playlist for you." Cas said.

"It better not have Taylor Swift on it." Dean winked.

"Oh, every hit single, and extra Katy Perry. The bonus track is Miley Cyrus." Cas grinned, and flipped it on the iPod, holding out an earbud to Dean. Dean took the iPod and scrolled through it, muttering running commentary, half to himself.

"Ballad of a Teenage Queen, nice. Johnny Cash is okay. I like that one too, Help Me Make It Through the Night. Ha, Radiohead. Fuck Thom Yorke. Oooh, I do like Karma Police, though, that's good stuff. Ok Computer was a great album. Nice Zep picks. Thank You and Rain Song are fuckin' pretty shit. Of course you put Waits on there- Okay, I do like Hold On and I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You. And Black Wings. Black Wings always makes me think of you, for some reason. Oh, more Zep. Fuck yeah, Tangerine… oh now, it's getting dirty. Black Dog and Lemon Song. I know what you're getting at." Dean put down the iPod on the blanket between them, and kissed Cas lightly. "If it weren't for all these damn layers."

"Eventually, we'll be too drunk to notice the cold." Cas observed, and they sat, listening as 'I Love You Because' played.

"The future is brighter, you know," Cas said as it ended.

"Yeah?"

"I never… before, I was just getting through each day, to get wasted at the end and stop hurting for a few hours."

"It's different now?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think about me in your future?"

"Well, yeah." Cas poked Dean in the ribs, "Of course. Do you?"

"Yeah. A lot, actually. After we graduate, I wanna go on a road trip to Vegas, and I was meaning to ask you, if you'd be down with that."

"Hell yes. I salivate at the thought of seeing Cirque du Soleil."

"And, after that, we could maybe get a place. You know, together. I wanna go to school, I dunno what for yet, but I know that I wanna do something with my life, something to help people."

'I'd like that." Cas said, and leaned his head on Dean's shoulder.

They were down to the last few inches of liquor, and Cas had smoked more than a few spliffs when the shenanigans turned sour.

'I'm the motherfucking king of the motherfucking world!" Cas shrieked, balancing on the peak of the roof as Dean watched nervously.

"Cas, I'd really be more comfortable if you'd slowly come back down here," Dean said in a calm voice, moving slowly towards his drunken boyfriend.

"Fuck that, bitch!" Cas turned suddenly, gave him the finger, and lost his balance, disappearing with a horrible thud over the other side of the roof.

Cas was in the hospital for a week with a mild concussion and a sprained wrist. Dean came to see him every day. On New Year's Eve, the day he came home, they had their first fight.

"I want you to cut back on the pot, man, and the alcohol. I think it shuts off parts of your brain that you need, and the roof-"

"I'm fine, Dean, the roof was a one time thing. I won't drink that high up again."

"I'm serious, Cas. You know that future we were talking about? That future vanishes if you keep that shit up."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, it's not something I want to be around for the rest of my life. If you're gonna always be stoned out of your gourd, or if I have to spend my time worrying that you're not coming home because you crashed your car, or jumped off a higher roof, I can't deal with that. Cut back, or one day, I'm gone. I want to be enough for you, I don't want you to need to be fucked up all the time."

"Well, fuck you. How the fuck would you know what my life is like? What the hell do you think got me through, kept me going? And you want me to just throw that shit away because we're high on hormones instead? Fuck you!"

Dean learned to play guitar over the month and a half that they were apart- he'd owned an acoustic for a long time, but never got past basic chords. His strategy rested on only learning 'Love Story' and practicing until he wanted to tear his own eardrums out just to remove the possibility of ever hearing Taylor Swift again.

It terrified him to be up on stage, in front of the school, because not only was he a terrible musician, he was coming out to everyone he knew and had no guarantee that Cas would forgive him.

None of that mattered, though, because he knew that if he didn't try, he would never forgive himself. He had to try, that was the Winchester Way.

It was over so much faster than he thought it would be, and he looked right at Cas as he said "Yeah, so… Dude, I'm really sorry. I fucked up. Please forgive me, and uh, be my valentine?"

He was elated when he saw Cas nod and rise, wobbling down the bleachers towards him, and he started towards him, too, a little voice in the back of his head pointing out, this is the king of all chick flick moments, you little bitch. He ignored it, because Cas was worth it, ignored whatever douche was yelling, "Gay!"

Then Cas was in his arms, and they were kissing, and Dean couldn't hear or think or feel anything that wasn't Cas's mouth pressed against his.

They drove straight to Cas's house after school, kissing every few steps, backing through the bedroom door, and collapsing onto the bed in a pile of wriggling, ecstatic male.

Dean pulled Cas on top of him, one hand massaging Cas's perfect ass, the other running up his back, pulling his torso down, refusing to stop kissing him until they were both breathless.

Cas was flushed, and uninhibited. He'd never let things get past heated making out, but now, he wasn't stopping, thrusting against Dean, moaning his name, clutching Dean's shirt in his hands. He reached under the shirt, laying his hands flat against Dean's chest, and lifted his head.

"You're so warm," he breathed into Dean's neck, chasing the words with a light nip on his pulse point.

"You are, too." Dean felt Cas's hardness pressing against his through their jeans, and wanted so badly to unzip them, to take Cas's cock out and make him lose all fucking control, but he didn't, knew he couldn't be the one to push it.

It was like Cas read his mind, though, because he was unzipping Dean's pants, and Dean lifted his hips so Cas could pull them down, stroked Cas's back as Cas undid his own pants, and Dean grinned ear to ear when he realized Cas wasn't wearing underwear. Then he forgot to make any particular facial expression, because Cas was thrusting against him again, hot and hard, writhing and the friction was unlike anything Dean had ever known could happen to his dick. The orgasm was burning, uncontrolled, dragging both of them along, powerless to do anything but gasp and pray that it didn't destroy them.

After, they lay holding each other, indulging in absolutely girly cuddling and sweet talk.

"Dean, I have to tell you something."

"Is it bad? If it's bad, I don't wanna know."

"No, it's good. Really good. I quit smoking pot. A month ago. I decided it didn't matter if I was with you or not, you were right. It does make me numb, and if I want to be an adult, I need to know how to feel. I want to be able to feel, because if I felt that good when I was with you, I could only imagine how much better it would be if I wasn't turning off my brain."

"Is it better?"

"It's better than better. It's perfect."

Chapter Two: Sparks Fly

The Vegas trip had been postponed until their spring break, freshman year of college. It was totally worth it, though, to have saved up enough to go all out.

They went all, fucking, out. They got married. True, it was kinda an impulse decision on Dean's part, but really, he'd known for a while that he was gonna propose, so it seemed as good a time as any.

He didn't know what else he could do to prove to Cas that he wasn't going to leave him. The jealousy had seem justified, at first, because, after all, Dean had turned right to Lisa after they broke up, and Cas was the only guy Dean had ever been with. Dean knew he didn't want to be with anyone else, though, and that was pretty much all he needed to know. Dean really wasn't a complicated guy.

They were lying in a giant, pink, fluffy as all hell bed, in the Honeymoon Suite, flushed and panting from newlywed sex, and Dean had the next brilliant idea of the trip.

"Matching tattoos."

"Matching tattoos?"

"Matching tattoos." Dean nodded wisely, and that's how they found themselves walking into Angel Body Art.

They got pentacles with flames around them, which Cas said was a symbol to banish evil. Dean's went over his heart, and Cas's between his shoulder blades.

Six months later…

Dean was stressed right the fuck out. They'd made the colossal mistake of planning their second wedding the week after finals, and he was not cut out for statistics. Not even a little. Luckily, Jamie, the best student in class, had agreed to tutor him, and even brought over her famous flash cards, which she swore made her invulnerable to getting less than 100% on tests.

They were drinking beers as Jamie quizzed him, and suddenly Cas was in the room, slinging accusations and throwing a temper tantrum to end all tantrums. Before Dean could register what was going on, Jamie had left awkwardly, and Cas had slammed the door behind himself moments later.

Cas ran from Michael's house, completely unsure of what to do or where to go. Finally, he rented a room at a seedy motel, and spent a week crying, smoking pot, drinking until he lost consciousness, and then repeating the process.

He was on day seven of wallowing in self pity when he happened to flip to a Dr. Sexy rerun. He left it on, staring at the screen, but completely unaware of the noises issuing from the TV. Memories started flashing through Cas's brain like a montage on a shitty TV show that needed to fill time because the episode came in short.

"Dr. Sexy, MD. I watch it. Frequently. I might also, sort of, kinda, in a very manly way, have the tiniest crush on Dr. Sexy." Dean winked as he smiled at Cas.

Cas felt his jaw drop. Was Dean admitting he liked men?

"Are- um- are you-" Cas stammered at him.

"Gay? No, I don't think so. Sometimes. Lately. A little. For certain people." Dean was still smiling at him, expression unchanged.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Dean asked him with what might have been a hint of hopefulness, "So, uh, see you after school? By the Impala?"

"Yeah, okay." Cas said, and gathered up his things quickly. He didn't know how to respond to Dean's foray into his life. He didn't trust his motives, didn't know what this beautiful boy wanted with him.

After they left the beach, they went to the hotel, and sat awkwardly on the bed for a few minutes. They both knew what was coming, but not how to get there. Finally, Dean stood, and pulled Cas to his feet.

"We don't have to do anything you're not okay with, you know," he said reassuringly, and looped his arms loosely around Cas's shoulders.

"I know. I want to. I'm ready." Cas smiled nervously at him, feeling naked already under Dean's careful gaze.
Dean slid Cas's jacket off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, and unbuttoned his shirt for him, slowly, stopping to bush his fingertips over each bit of exposed skin. Cas watched him, uncomfortable with the reverence with which Dean was treating him.

Dean stopped when the shirt had joined the jacket, and kissed Cas softly, letting his thumb trace a sweet line on his cheek, his other hand on the small of Cas's back, pulling him close.

Cas let his hand slide up to work on Dean's shirt, and once they were both shirtless, and their skin was hot on the others, he felt his worries fading away, the buzz of arousal taking over his brain. He didn't object when Dean began to unbutton his skinny jeans, and helped peel them off his body. Dean moved as if to go to his knees again, and this time, Cas couldn't take the worshipfulness, and instead, pushed Dean back onto the bed, tugging at his pants.

He joined Dean, then, and pulled the sheets up over them, so they were encased in a white room, making a world that consisted only of their naked bodies and hot mouths. Cas worked his mouth over Dean's cock until Dean was twitching, bucking against him, and when he felt Dean's balls start to tighten up, he eased off slowly, kissing the hair-roughened thigh.

"I want you to fuck me," he said quietly, and felt Dean go absolutely still.

"Yeah, okay," Dean said, and until then, Cas had always thought Dean's voice sounded like it was post coital, but now he understood exactly how wrecked Dean's tone could get.

Dean pulled him up, and kissed him again, before pulling the sheets off their head.

"I, uh, I brought stuff. Condoms, lube."

"Lube is good."

"Condom?"

"Do you want to use it?"

"It's up to you."

"I've never… I mean, as long as you-"

"I've been safe. If you don't want- I mean, if you trust-"

"I trust you."

Dean smiled again, that worshipful smile that made Cas feel oh-so-inadequate, and rubbed his thumb over his hip.

"Okay, then."

Dean oiled his fingers, and pumped one hand slowly up and down Cas's shaft, and ran the tip of his finger over Cas's hole. It sent tingles up Cas's spine, tingles that shot right back down to his cock, and when Dean pushed the first finger in, Cas tensed, expecting it to hurt, but it felt good, such slight entry, teasing the nerves, making him tingle in a new, different way.

By the time Dean had worked his way up to three, Cas was crazy with need, trying to take as much of Dean into himself as possible, bucking down into the pressure, trying to form coherent words to beg Dean to just fuck him already, but unable to make any noises that weren't moans and whimpers.

"Are you ready?" Dean asked him, and Cas was almost shocked into laughter, because he was so fucking ready he might kill Dean if he didn't get the fuck inside him.

Dean pushed in, just the tip, and Cas felt like he was finally a whole person, like this was the missing part of himself he'd been waiting to find his whole life.

"More…" he pleaded, and Dean pushed further in, his hands rubbing against Cas's hips, still trying to reassure. Cas didn't need the tenderness, felt Dean hit a spot inside him that caused everything to explode, everything to go black and white at the same time behind his eyelids, and he grabbed Dean's hips and pulled him inside, taking everything that Dean was and could be inside of himself.

He felt Dean's hand wrap around his dick again, and it was too much, too amazingly, perfectly erotic, and as Cas came, feeling the warm wetness between their bodies, he felt the same wetness filling him, and he felt tears prickling at his eyelids, because it was so intense, so beautiful, so fucking perfect.

"Fuck, dude, I've had it." Dean was standing to leave now, he'd finally had it with Cas's whining, his jealousy and insecurity, and fuck if Cas hadn't known all a long that someday Dean would wake the fuck up and realize what a fucked up little boy he really was.

"See?" Cas sneered, pissed that this had to happen in Vegas, and now he'd have to get a fucking plane home. Dean dropped to his knee in front of him, and Cas couldn't do anything but stare in drunken shock.

"Shut up, and put your money where your mouth is, Davids," Dean smiled up at Cas, green eyes crinkled with love, "You should know better. I might look, but I don't want. I flirt, that's me, but you're always who I'm gonna go home with. It's not a phase or experimenting, it's hard, deep, true, rest of my life, in fucking love with you."

Dean pulled off the wide silver band that was his class ring, and held it out to Cas.

"Castiel Davids, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Until that moment, sitting in the nasty motel room, Dr. Sexy saving someone's life on the TV, Cas had never been able to remember Dean proposing to him. He'd been black-out drunk, and while details from the night flashed through his brain sometimes, never the proposal, no matter how hard he tried to recall it.
He had to go make things right with Dean. He knew Dean was in class, but Cas couldn't sit in the room another minute, couldn't do anything but grab his coat and run out into the rainstorm.

Chapter Three: Communication Breakdown

"Dean. What are these?"

"Divorce papers."

"What the fuck."

"I'm sorry, Cas, I tried. I really, really did, but that shit you pulled with the school was the last straw. You can't do shit like that. You're not God, you don't decide for me."

"You're so close to graduating! You can't just drop everything because you suddenly want to run into burning houses so you feel like you're 'doing some good'! Why can't-"

"You don't get it, Cas, it's my decision. MINE. My life. You don't know what's best for people. I let you do whatever the hell you want, come get you out of god knows how many bars, put up with your horrible Irish friend, forgive you every time you go crazy and accuse me of cheating on you, but this is too much. This isn't working."

"Fuck you! You fucking ass, after everything-"

"Screaming isn't going to help your case, you're like a fucking child. Cas, I love you, I'm so sorry, but I can't do this anymore. We're done."

Dean had already moved his things out, and after giving Cas the papers, he just left.

Cas was about to slit his wrists when Crowley showed up. He had no idea what he'd interrupted, and never knew that he stopped Cas from killing himself, but he did know where to score some excellent coke.

One year later…

Cas woke up, suddenly, shockingly sober, in what could only be described as a crack den.

"Hello, love." Crowley grinned, naked on the other side of the mattress.

"What… Did we…"

"You don't recall? I'm offended."

"Yes, then?"

"Oh, yes. Multiple times. I'm amazing, or so you told me."

Cas didn't remember any of it. Not that he was a stranger to blacked out sex with strangers, but Crowley wasn't a stranger, Crowley was the weird little friend that sold him drugs and flirted shamelessly with him, but never pushed it when Cas turned him down. Cas wasn't attracted to Crowley, never wanted him like that.

It was the final straw. Cas left, and walking home, he decided he was done. He was done feeling guilty and awful, done hoping that the high might start feeling like it had at the beginning, done going to harder and harder drugs to recapture the sweet numbness he wanted so much. Done waking up next to strangers, done fucking up everything he touched.

It was time to redeem himself.

Five years after one year later…

He heard rumors about Dean's reappearance long before he encountered him.

The first was from Gabriel, when Cas went to Loki Studios to have his tattoo altered. As Gabriel added giant wings and a halo to the pentacle on his back, he remarked, "You know, this is the second one of these I've seen this week."

"Yeah? It's popular with the goth kids," Cas smiled, remembering his love affair with black eyeliner fondly.

"I removed it, actually, from a guy about your age. Bright green eyes, smokin' hot," Gabriel remarked casually, and Cas stiffened.

"Where was it?"

"Over his heart. Said it was an ex-boyfriend thing."

Cas felt all the air go out of his lungs. It can't be Dean, he thought, I'd know if he moved back.

The second rumor came from his co-worker Balthazar as they opened up shop in the early morning. Castiel was elbow deep in dough when Balthazar bounced in, chattering far too excitedly for five in the morning.

"Cassy! Great open mic last night! Blues guitarist, incredibly mediocre. Full of can-do attitude, though. You should be sorry you missed it. He played all these raspy, sappy, sentimental songs about lost love and whatnot, and then, bam, at the end, shocks us all with fucking Taylor Swift. Crazy. You'dve loved it," Balthazar said.

Cas froze, feeling his lungs give up again. He still didn't want to believe that it could be Dean. Dean didn't even really like playing the guitar, he told himself sternly.

As he drove home that afternoon, he was so distracted by the idea that Dean might be around, that he almost missed the evidence that he was, in fact, around. Outside the fire station, there was the familiar black shape of the Impala, unmistakably THE IMPALA. Cas nearly ran a read light in shock, and then froze, staring at it.
Dean's name sung through his brain, and as he drove home, his mind raced, thinking of what he could possibly do to find him, speak to him, and then stopped abruptly as he realized he had no idea if he could even face him after what he'd done.

He was working a counter shift at the bakery the next day, and turned around as the bell rang under the door.
Familiar green eyes regarded him, and Cas couldn't do anything other than stare, and gulp for breath.

"Hey," Dean said, and gave Cas the beautiful half-smile that made his heart twist painfully in his chest.

"D-d-d-d…" Cas tried to speak, but all that came out was a painful, awkward stutter.

"Whatcha thinkin', Cas?" The half smile bloomed into a full smile, and Cas could feel his body shaking. He dropped his gaze, unable to meet Dean's eyes.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, his face now quizzical.

"Oh, he's just being Cassy, which is to say, a big, nerdy spaz. What can we get you?" Balthazar appeared from nowhere, and stepped up to the till.

"Uh, apple pie, to go," Dean said, still looking at Cas.

"You played at Singer's a few nights back, right?" Balthazar asked as he dished up pie, "I caught your set, it was surprisingly good, for being blues and Taylor Swift."

Cas wished he could sink into the floor, wished he could find words, and finally, as Dean paid, still looking at Cas in confusion, he mustered every reserve of courage he had.

"Dean."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to get together? For coffee? Or something?"

"Yeah. That was kinda the idea. I heard you were working here from Jo."

"Oh. Well. I get done at three today."

"Cool. I'll swing by at three then." Dean smiled, and as he left, Cas couldn't do anything but stare after him.

I will redeem myself, he silently promised.

"So I checked myself into treatment, and that sucked, but it worked, you know, and got a job here, and that's pretty much the last five years."

"That's great, Cas, I'm glad you figured your shit out."

"I'm really, really sorry about all the crazy shit I put you through. I was insane. I was jealous, and insane, and I thought I knew what was best for everyone around me, and I didn't even know what was best for myself. I get now, why you had to leave. I… It was all my fault. I can't say I'm sorry enough times."

"You really can. You changed, that's what matters. You asked for help, finally. I'm really happy for you, man."

"….Thanks… So… Good talk."

"Good talk."

"Is… Do you… Can I see you again?"

"Well, yeah. I'm kinda busy for the next few weeks, but after that, yeah."

"Big plans?"

"I'm getting married in three days, so yeah, kinda big."

Chapter Four: Speak Now

Cas's palms were disturbingly sweaty as he snuck into the church. He could hear a man's voice, snapping sharply at someone, and quietly peaked into the room.

His heart plummeted into his stomach. There, yelling at a scared black man dressed in a pale blue tux, was Michael, the man who had tried to rape him seven years prior, in the middle of a fight with a groomsman.

That cannot be who Dean is marrying, Cas thought wildly, checking the sign by the door. It read "Dean Winchester and Michael Gideon, wedding at six pm" and he had to pinch himself painfully to prove that it wasn't a horrible nightmare.

Before he had time to formulate a plan, he heard the band start to play the wedding march, resonating in his ears like a death march. He slipped into the back of the main room, sliding his body as close to the curtains as possible without making it obvious he wanted to be hiding in them.

Dean stood at the front of the room, obviously uncomfortable in formal-wear, looking up the aisle as Michael sauntered down towards him.

Michael reached the front of the room, and the preacher started to speak. As he droned on, Cas moved forward, sinking down onto a pew because his trembling knees wouldn't support him.

Then, in a voice that seemed to Cas directed entirely to him, he heard, "Into this holy union Dean and Michael now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace."

Cas rose to his feet, hands shaking, nausea rising in his stomach, before he even knew he was doing it.
Well, come on, Cas, why else did you come? his brain said sharply, and he cleared his throat.

At the sound, every eye in the room turned to stare at Cas with horror. Dean turned around, eyes flaring with something unreadable, Michael's eyes flashing in rage, and Cas took a deep breath, focusing only at the green eyes, the ones he thought might contain a spark of joy.

"Dean," he said, and then realized, suddenly, how horrible what he was doing was, how selfish and awful he was to crash Dean's wedding after everything else he'd put Dean through. The next word was already half formed, leaking out of his lips as he tried to cut it off, "Don't…" and then he was gone, running away, terrified, shocked at his audacity in disrupting Dean's wedding.

He stopped at a liquor store on the way home, and sat in his kitchen, facing down the bottle of whiskey.
A knock on the door interrupted his stand off.

"Cassy! Cassy. Open the fucking door. I saw your mustang outside Discount Bottles. Don't be a bitch, Cassy, open the fucking-"

Cas opened the door and let Balthazar in.

"Hey."

"Where is it?"

"I didn't drink it, yet."

"What the hell happened?"

"Dean got married today."

"That guy from the other day?"

"He's my ex husband. High school sweetheart. I didn't… I went to the wedding."

"He invited you?"

"No. I stood up-"

"You what?"

"You know the part of the wedding where the preacher says speak now-"

"Or forever hold your bit and pieces, yeah, Cassy, you didn't."

"I did."

"That's awful."

"I know. But the man he married, I met him before. He's an awful person, and I still love Dean, and I just, I couldn't."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. I didn't say much, just stammered out his name and then ran. It was awful."

"Well, fuck. I'm sorry, Cassy, I am, but you know drinking isn't gonna fix it. Bottle, sink."

Balthazar watched him pour the bottle down the sink. Cas was grateful for that, grateful that he had a friend, at least who would kick his ass if he fucked up.

"All right, now, come on. We're going to go drown your sorrows in a healthy way- we're gonna go get seven cartons of Ben and Jerry's, and rent the holy triumvirate of anti-love movies."

"Which is?"

"Fatal Attraction, Dangerous Liaisons, and Reversal of Fortune."

"That sounds perfect. Balthazar, thanks. Really." Cas looked at Balthazar, trying to convey the depth of his gratitude with his eyes.

"It's really not a big deal, Cas. I just don't wanna have to cover your shifts if you fall off the wagon," Balthazar winked as he opened the door.

Dean stood outside, hand raised to knock.

Dean had moved to New York after the divorce was finalized. He hated the city, but he learned to be a fire fighter from the best, and he did his job with pride. He did little things, life things, started playing the guitar again, dated, read dystopian science fiction novels, all the things that people do when they've just gotten out of a codependent, obsessive relationship.

He met Michael in a gay bar three years after he moved to the city, and was shocked to discover he was from Dean's hometown. They laughed about what a small world it was.

Michael valued his independence, which Dean liked, was manly and entirely different from Cas. Dean had never been sure if he was gay or straight, but dating Michael helped him realize that there were a million different reasons one person could want another, regardless of genitalia.

Dean was a trusting person, so he never thought anything of the business trips Michael took, the late nights he worked. Dean had his own life to attend to, and the relationship was comfortable. It wasn't love, but it was quiet affection, and Dean appreciated it more than any of the casual encounters he'd had since Cas.

It was because of that comfortableness that he said yes when Michael proposed. They agreed to move back home, that if they wanted to adopt, that it would be better to raise a child out of the city.

The wedding planning was the exact opposite of their relationship. The mellow vibrations of lazy Sundays watching the game and camping trips consisting of fishing and fucking were replaced by Michael screaming at his groomsmen, Uriel and Raphael, demanding that they bend over backwards to create a perfect day.
Dean had never been particularly religious, but Michael turned out to be confrontationally so, a side of himself he'd never shown to Dean until then. He jammed the idea of a church wedding down the throats of his obviously uncomfortable parents.

Despite all of this, Dean maintained the fantasy that their relationship would return to its previous comfort after the big day, after things had settled down. The night of his bachelor party, however, Sam took him aside.

"Dean, I love you, and I'll support whatever you do, but I gotta say something, man, before tomorrow." Sam picked at the label on his beer awkwardly.

"Yeah?" Dean didn't know much, but he knew conversations that started with "I'll support whatever you do but-" would never be pleasant.

"Are you sure about Michael? Like, one hundred percent, you want to spend the rest of your life with him, trust him absolutely?" Sam looked at him intently.

"Yeah, why? Did he say something to you?" Dean felt tense suddenly, moreso than the nature of the conversation warranted.

"No, it's just… You remember when I was dating Ruby, and I thought she was just the greatest girl ever, and you didn't trust her?"

"She was a coke head, dude!" Dean said vehemently. He'd fucking hated Ruby.

"Yeah, but you didn't know that. You just told me you didn't trust her, that she gave you a bad feeling. And I ignored you, and she stole my TV and gave me gonorrhea."

"Yeah she did." Dean grinned, tension broken by the memory of Sam admitting that particular mistake to him.

"Well, it's like that. I just get bad vibes from him. Why do you wanna marry him?"

"He's a good guy, Sammy. He lets me be who I am, doesn't get in my space. He listens to good music and drives a Porsche 550. He likes Star Trek."

"You just listed a bunch of things, Dean. You didn't say you loved him."

"So, how's Jess?" Dean said abruptly.

"She's good, her plane gets in tomorrow. I'm thinking of looking for a ring myself, soon. She's the best thing that ever happened to me, really. I was really messed up, after Ruby, you know, and then Madison… I thought I just had this talent for picking out the wrong women, you know? And then there's this bubbly little blonde thing in my life, just cheerful and sarcastic and everything I'm not. She sees so much good in me that I wasn't able to see in myself. It's great, man, Jess is great." Sam had a soft look in his eyes that Dean hadn't seen in anyone's eyes but one particular pair of blue ones, a very long time ago.

"And there's very little chance that she'll expose you to anything that results in a rectal swab," he joked.

"I really thought you'd stop making ass jokes once you started taking it up the ass, but alas…"

"Dude, ass jokes are part of the Dean Winchester charm." Sam didn't bring up his opinions on Michael again. Dean tried not to think about it.

I'm standing at the altar, I'm marrying a great guy, Dean tugged at his collar, his tie constricting. So why can't I stop thinking about smeared mascara and wedding dresses?

He watched Michael walk towards him, and despite the traditional wedding march pleasantly drifting through the room, all Dean could hear was Thank You playing in his ears. He smiled at Sam, standing next to him, scanned the room, and then his eyes fell on the slender figure in the very back.

Cas? No, no way. Now I'm hallucinating, fucking great. Michael reached the front of the room, and Dean tried to focus on the preacher's words, but he kept drifting away to memories of blue eyes and ridiculously skinny pants.

Focus, Winchester, he sternly told himself, and heard the preacher say, "Into this holy union Dean and Michael now come to be joined. If any of you can show just cause why they may not lawfully be married, speak now; or else for ever hold your peace."

The sound of a throat being cleared echoed thought the church, Dean turned around and it was Cas, and he stammered, "Dean, don't…" and then looked so horrified Dean wanted to run to him, and gather him up in his arms like a lost puppy, but before he could react, Cas was running away, and gone.

He turned back to Michael, who was glaring after Cas. Dean reached out, touched his arm.

"Mike…" he said quietly, and Michael turned the angry eyes onto Dean.

"No."

"I'm sorry." Dean pulled off his tie, let it fall to the floor of the church. He looked at the crowd of people, staring at the drama unfolding before them with horror- and disturbingly rapt interest in some cases, Dean noticed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated to the church, "Really sorry. I just- I can't."

The fact that Sam was grinning ear to ear did not escape Dean's notice.

Dean looked at Michael again, who was turning an ugly shade of purple and gasping like a fish, lost for words.
Finally, he sputtered, "How- how- dare-"

"I don't love you. I'm a dick, I know, but it's god's honest. I have to go." Dean turned away from Michael, rested his hand on Sam's shoulder for a moment, felt fingers reach up and squeeze his quickly, and then he was running, too.

It took him almost a full hour to convince the woman at the bakery to give him Cas's home address, and another ten to work up his nerve to go knock, but finally, he told himself, stop being a little bitch and sack the fuck up.

He raised his hand, and before he could make contact with the door, it opened, revealing the sassy British man from the bakery, Cas close behind.

"I didn't say yes," he said, in a rush, before anyone else could speak.

Three Months Later…

The door to the bedroom slammed open from their combined weight, and Dean thought for a moment how fucking cool it was that those romantic movie cuts actually happened in his love life. Some people were doomed to live out normal relationships- but never him, never with Castiel. It was always pop-song-intense, right out of a fucking Taylor Swift hit single.

It had been too long, they'd taken it so slow, waited to be sure it was right again, and honestly, they could have waited longer, played it safer, but fuck, Dean had been lost the moment he'd seen those fucking skinny jeans, and he couldn't wait any longer.

Cas moaned against his lips, and started pulling at his shirt.

"Wait," he murmured, "Let me." Dean lifted up Cas's shirt, pulled it over his head, smiling at the way it tousled his hair, so it was sticking out in even more directions than one would think possible.

He pushed him back then, onto the bed, and Cas reached to open his jeans, and Dean stopped him again, holding his fingers up, splayed between his own.

"Slow down, babe. I want to relearn every little part of your body, every freckle, every inch, every fucking pore."
Cas groaned, and Dean took the slender pointer finger into his mouth, running his tongue across the very tip, where the whorls hardened into a line under his attentions. He made his way across the palm, pressing soft kisses into the center, up the naked underside of his forearm, stopping to observe and understand each scar. Cas noticed his scrutiny, and fidgeted nervously.

"I fell apart, for a while. I did things… I did a lot of horrible things, Dean, and I'm sorry-"

"No, stop. We're past that. I know who you are, I know what you did. I understand why you did it. You got through it, Cas, you asked for help, and you kicked it in the ass, and that's what's important." Dean lowered his head again, and kissed each track mark tenderly, licking up Cas's arm, and stopping to blow into his armpit.
Cas laughed, and squirmed at the raspberry, "Fuck, Dean. You're the only person past the age of twelve who's still amused by that."

"You love it," Dean smirked, and moved across Cas's shoulder, burying his face in the crook of Cas's neck, licking along his gently pulsing jugular. He nipped softly at the notch below his earlobe, and Cas squirmed in a different way, his breath catching before puffing out hot against Dean's shoulder.

Dean pulled away then, tugging off his own shirt and pants, before returning to press the length of his body against Cas's, enjoying the skin on skin of their chests and the feel of his bare legs pressed against Cas's jeans. He could feel the hardness under the zipper, and thrust against it for a moment, before moving his mouth back down Cas's neck, this time playing a teasing dance across his clavicle, pushing his nose into the dip at the base of his throat for a second before moving on and down.

Cas's chest was smooth, and Dean would never fall out of love with the tiny freckle above his nipple, perfectly placed. It was his favorite spot to stop and lave, and Cas's nipples were so sensitive to his ministrations, that focusing his attention on the skin around them produced a much more heated response than the traditional nipple play. He worried the area gently until Cas's nipples were dark red points against his pale skin.

Then it was on down, along the silky skin, velvety smooth over his tiny waist, and then Dean set about the exceedingly pleasant task of reacquainting himself with Cas's hipbones, sharp points above the line of denim still wrapped around his hips. Dean nosed each one, huffing against them like a dog, poking a questing finger into Cas's navel just to produced more ticklish wiggling, enjoying the soft laughs and sighs issuing from Cas's lips. He kissed down the trail of fine hairs, and finally, he was ready to start undoing the button, ready to help Cas lift his hips and slide off the skinny jeans.

Dean kissed his way along the line of those beautiful fucking hips, teasing his tongue along the crease of leg meeting pelvis, and then, winking up at Cas who stared down at him, mesmerized, eyes black and glassy with desire, and moved down the bed to his feet.

"Hey," Cas protested, as Dean ran a fingertip along the arch of his foot, jerking it away, but Dean made a shushing noise, kissing the top of his foot, up his ankle and along his calf.

"You started running again," he observed with a half smile, grasping the muscle with his hand to hold the leg in place as he licked behind Cas's knee. Cas shuddered, and Dean moved up his thigh, fingers tracing a path followed by soft kisses and brushes of tongue, until he was back at the crease abandoned in favor of feet.

"Please…" Cas's voice was strained now, impossibly deep, "Please, Dean…"

Dean acquiesced, laying an angel-soft kiss against the head of Cas's cock, then repeating the touch with a flicker of tongue. Cas let out a strangled noise, and thrust his hips forward, and Dean met him happily, catching the tip up between his tips, sucking it down while running his tongue along the smooth edges and making pleased noises as he felt Cas shiver beneath him.

"Dean, I'm gonna-"

"Not yet." Dean pulled off, and reached into the bedside table. Once ready, he returned, licking lightly along the shaft and sliding a finger slowly into Cas. As he inserted the second, he tongued Cas's balls, tasting skin-salt and grinning internally as he felt Cas twitch around him, the desperate noises increasing as the speed of his fingers did.

"Dean, I need-" he gasped, and Dean couldn't hold out any longer either. He knelt between Cas's legs, and kissed him softly once more on the lips, then pulling back, placing a finger under Cas's chin. Cas opened his eyes, and Dean lost himself in splinters of blue as he slid inch by inch into Cas.

It was amazing, it was everything he hadn't know he'd missed for the last five years. It surprised Dean that it wasn't the physicality that pushed him over the edge- not that the physical wasn't fucking hot. Cas clenched around him, muscles echoing the strength with which he gripped Dean's shoulders, so tight there'd be bruises the next day, the flutters and the heat surrounding his cock sublime, the way Cas surged against him. He stared into those eyes, refusing to look away, seeing every moment they'd ever shared inside the blown pupils, seeing the man Cas had become falling apart beneath him, watching Cas's eyes roll up as he threw his head back, pale column of throat vibrating with the moans he made, as Dean stroked him and hit exactly the right spot. When Cas came, Dean knew exactly what he felt, could almost feel it as Cas felt it, and that finally made Dean come, pressing into Cas as deep as he could, gripping him back and letting out a hoarse cry that sounded very much like, "Cas!"

Dean knew that he was finally home.

"So, what made you change your mind?"

"The way your ass looks in skinny jeans."

"Wow, you didn't hesitate at all. Really? My ass is why you came back to me?"

"Yup."

"That's not very romantic."

"Babe, it really is. I was just going along in life, being all super cool me, you know, and then one day, I see these fucking awesome shoes, and I follow the shoes up these ridiculous black, skin tight pants, and I see the most perfect ass I've ever seen, and that was it for me. I mean, I didn't realize it was love until you turned around, and I saw these blue fucking eyes, all covered in self righteous anger and eyeliner, but yeah. And then I saw those eyes in the church, and they were you, again, you know, for a while there, it wasn't you, it was like, this crazy, jealous version of you that didn't know how to be, and when I saw you in the church, it wasn't fake you anymore, it was those fuckin' eyes from the parking lot. I couldn't fuckin' move, I just gaped, and then you were gone, and you were still wearing the skinny jeans. I realized I couldn't imagine building a life with anyone but you. It's always been you, Cas. I don't know how to not be in love with you."

"….Okay, that was romantic as fuck."

"I'm a romantic motherfucker, what can I say."

"Let's live happily ever after now, okay, Dean. Keep all our promises, us against the world?"

"Deal."