Suburban War - Chapter 8
But you started a war that we can’t win
They keep erasing all the streets we grew up in
Now the music divides us into tribes
You choose your side, I’ll choose my side
~Arcade Fire, “Suburban War”
The first couple months of senior year fly by way too fast for Dean. It’s a happy time for both he and Castiel, though not as carefree or filled with lazy days wrapped around each other as their summer break was. Dean’s not sure how he could have survived the school days without spending time with Castiel at lunchbreak and their one class together.
He worries sometimes that he’s become too attached or dependent on Castiel, especially when Cas still seems to enjoy activities outside of his time spent with Dean. He tries not to be jealous of Castiel’s extracurricular activities or his friends outside of their own circle; he tries not to feel like maybe he’s not enough for Castiel, that maybe he really is just a phase, like Dr. Novak had said. It’s those days that he becomes morose, pushing himself away from everyone out of fear.
He tries to regain some interest in baseball, knowing how happy it would make his dad. He wonders if maybe baseball is the answer, his key to getting out of this town and finding something to focus on so that he won’t be so clingy and needy with Castiel. But he quickly finds that his heart just isn’t in it anymore. He dreads the day when he won’t be able to postpone the talk with his father any longer, will have to tell him that he’s quitting baseball. He’s already had the fight with Victor about it, and it was ugly. Victor said it was wrong for Dean to abandon him and the team after all this time and hard work, and Dean yelled for fifteen minutes trying to get it across to Victor that he was sorry, he hated letting everyone down, but he just didn’t have it in him to play anymore. Victor finally realized that if Dean kept playing when he was miserable, he’d just be bringing everyone else down, and he grudgingly forgave him, with a pat on the back and a promise to kick his ass if he didn’t at least come and watch the home games.
Dean neglected to inform Victor that another reason he decided not to play is because Castiel isn’t playing either, and he’d rather spend more time with him.
Sometimes, Dean feels like a coward for not being more open about their relationship. He tells himself that both he and Castiel are tough, they could handle any kind of teasing or bullying they’d get. Besides, it might do some good for a jock to come out as bisexual. But this is his life, not some afterschool special, and what’s going on between him and Castiel is personal and special and precious to them both. If Dean can avoid having everyone in school and town ripping it apart and turning it into a joke, he will. If it gets out, fine, he’ll face it all head on. But until then, he and Cas belong to themselves.
Dean still blocks out all thoughts and worries about his parents discovering their relationship, not able to deal with the pictures he gets in his mind, the looks of disappointment he’s sure he’d see on their faces if they ever find out.
The only time someone at school learns about them is completely Dean’s fault. He and Castiel are sitting together at lunch, and as usual Charlie, Alfie, Ed, Harry, and Corbett drift over as soon as they've filled their trays. The first week of school, Dean had protested sitting together with all of them, worrying about some of his jock friends seeing them and figuring out his double life. But after Charlie’s bitch, please face and Castiel refusing to speak to him because of it, he’d relented. He soon realized he kind of enjoyed hanging with them everyday, or at least with Charlie and Alfie; the others he tolerated, on his better days. He’s relieved to discover Victor and his other friends don’t seem fazed at all about who Dean chooses to sit with, and with this one simple move he’s able to feel more like himself at school than he ever has before.
Lunch period is immediately after woodworking class, so Dean happily gets two hours of Castiel right in the middle of his school day. They’d had an especially productive class this morning, with Castiel carving swirls in the spindles of a chair while Dean pretended to sand the seats as he watched Castiel’s fingers slide and wrap around the pieces.
Dean stares at Castiel across the lunch table after class, a lascivious grin on his face. “You sure know how to handle your wood, Cas,” he says with a wink. “Are you good with really hard wood?”
Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean, shifting imperceptibly in his seat. “Depends on what kind of wood you’re talking about, I guess. And how hard it is.”
“Oh, it’s pretty hard, I think. And it gets harder the more you-”
“Oh, for the love of Xena, will you two get a room already? Jeez, I’m trying to eat!” Charlie demands, popping open her soda can.
Castiel’s face turns beet red as Dean tries to hide a smile behind his hand. He can feel everyone’s eyes on them, and when he looks up, they’re all looking from him to Cas and back again with varying degrees of disbelief and shock on their faces. He hears Corbett whisper very loudly, “See, Ed, I told you it’s normal to-”
“Shut up, Corbett!” Ed hisses at him, eyes bugging out, before turning to Dean and Castiel. “This better not fuck up the battle next weekend, because if one of you sacrifices the team to save the other, there’s gonna be some ass kickage happening, Brokeback.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Dean counters. “Why would we need to sacrifice the team to save each other?”
“Like if one of you gets captured?” Ed snaps, with a stab of his finger towards Dean. “Our enemies will use the power of your gay love to pierce through our defenses. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“What the hell kind of books have you been reading?” Dean scoffs. “Okay, look, first off, it’s a game. Chill the fuck out. Two, if anybody around here is getting captured, it’ll be one of you jackasses, so don’t you go worrying your dorky little head about us sacrificing the team just for you. Three, don’t you ever fucking call me Brokeback again. And four, if any ass is getting kicked around here, it’s gonna be-”
“Alright, that’s enough, put the measuring sticks away, I’m sure everyone’s penises are nice and long, okay boys?” Charlie remarks, holding up her hands. She looks down the table at everyone. “And if anyone goes blabbing to anybody about Dean and Cas’s Love That Shall Not Be Named, they’re gonna have to answer to me. And trust me when I say that’s a can you never want opened.”
Two of the four guys audibly gulp as they stare at Charlie, wide-eyed and nodding in the affirmative. “Now, can we move on to more acceptable meal-time discussions, like the blood and entrails of our enemy?” she suggests, taking a swig of her diet Dr. Pepper.
Yep. She’s definitely the little sister Dean never knew he wanted.
********************
In October, Sam is able to convince their parents to take him and Jo to a Vampire Weekend concert in St. Louis. It’s a long drive - over four hours there and back - so they’ll have to spend the night in St. Louis, and it takes Sam the better part of a month to convince them, finally agreeing to make it his next Christmas and birthday present combined. The only reason they’re able to get tickets is because Ellen knows a guy who works backstage at the venue, and she’s able to pull some strings - and the only reason she agrees to do it is because she’s grateful Jo has decided to make Sam her boyfriend instead of some of the deadbeats who’d been skulking around her daughter the past year.
When Dean hears Sam and Jo are a couple he proceeds to tease both of them mercilessly for weeks, alternating between making fun of their relationship and making fun of their music tastes, because no self-respecting Winchester should ever listen to anything named Vampire Weekend. Every time Jo visits, he follows her up the stairs, calling her a high-school cougar, and telling Sam he’d had no idea he was on the lookout for a sugar mama. The only thing that finally gets Dean to let up on the both of them is Sam innocently asking one day what it is that he and Castiel get up to when they run off alone together all the time. Dean’s not sure if his little brother has figured them out yet, but he’s not going to give him reason to investigate any further for now.
The concert happens the Saturday before Halloween, and Dean doesn’t know who’s more excited for it, him or Sam. Because with his family out of town, it means he and Castiel will have the house all to themselves for an entire night. It’s not something he’d thought could happen until they’re graduated and on their own, and he has to work very hard to hide his excitement from his family.
John and Mary are wary at first about leaving Dean unchaperoned for an entire night, especially given some of the unsavory things he’s done in his past. But when they hear that Castiel will be spending the night, they both look relieved, believing that Castiel will keep him out of trouble. Dean has to bite back a grin at the thought of what kind of trouble he’s hoping he and Cas will get up to all on their own.
They stand on the front porch, waving goodbye as the Winchesters and Jo and Ellen drive away around lunchtime that Saturday. Dean laughs when he feels Castiel pinch his ass, turning around to pull him inside the house. They slam the door shut, fumbling with each other’s pants as they make out against the wall in the foyer, laughing and giddy at the thought of being alone for twenty-four hours with nothing to do but be lazy, watch movies, eat junk food, and make out constantly - hopefully with the making out turning into nonstop sex all night long, if Dean has anything to say about it.
Dean has really needed this time alone with his best friend. He’s missed him more than he’d like to admit these past several weeks. Castiel’s schedule seems to become more hectic with each passing week, his AP classes taking up quite a bit of his free time as he meets for study sessions. Dean wants to ask what he’s studying for, wants to know what Castiel’s plans are, but he’s too scared to find out the truth. He knows that some of Castiel’s time is spent drawing for his art class, but more and more is spent on science and math, the classes that have nothing to do with drawing and everything to do with getting the proper credits on his way to becoming a doctor.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Dean admits to himself that Castiel is preparing for college and then med school, and that means he’s preparing to leave Dean.
But this weekend isn’t about that, so Dean does his best not to think about it. He tries not to cling too tightly as he wraps his arms around Castiel, pulling him into the den so that they can lay on the couch and find something to watch on TV as they make out, taking their time with each other.
“Should we be going out and hanging out with other people for a while?” Castiel asks, sighing as Dean kisses his way across his jaw and down his neck.
“No,” Dean murmurs against his skin. “We should take full fuckin’ advantage of this weekend by being hermits and never leaving each other’s side.” He pauses a moment, smiling against the pulse point in Castiel’s neck. “Unless we gotta take a shit, of course. My codependence does have its limits.”
Castiel snorts, but doesn’t reply, his hands finding their way underneath Dean’s sweatshirt, fingertips playing with the knobs of Dean’s spine, just like they always did last summer when they were lazy by the pond. Dean hesitates for a moment, insecurity making him wonder if that wasn’t Castiel’s way to try to put distance between them. “Unless you want to go and hang out with the others, of course,” he adds hastily, dreading what Castiel’s answer might be.
“Dean, you know I always enjoy our time together, and our… talks,” Castiel whispers, before biting at an earlobe.
Dean laughs, doing his best to hide the relief from his voice, “This is the best definition of talking I’ve ever seen.”
Castiel pulls his head back to stare up into Dean’s eyes. “I intend to do a lot of talking for the next twenty-four hours, Dean. In fact, we may be hoarse from all of the talking we’ll be doing. Very hoarse, and very sore.”
“Why Cas, that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” Dean teases.
“Shut up and talk to me,” Castiel growls, thrusting his hips up.
A couple of fantastic handjobs later, they’re sprawled across each other on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on Dean’s stomach as they watch Raiders of the Lost Ark. Castiel had wanted to watch something newer that they’d not seen a thousand times before, but when Dean insists, pointing out that Indiana Jones increases his horniness to an alarming degree and therefore everybody wins, Castiel relents.
Once the sun has set, Dean orders a pizza, and they forego plates, choosing to set the box on the floor between them as they watch Kill Bill: Vol. 1. Dean grudgingly admits that it’s a pretty badass movie, even going so far as to agree to watching Volume 2, but not before pulling out the sweet potato pie his mom had made for them before she left. They nuke two enormous slices for themselves in the microwave, sling a generous dollop of whipped cream on each, and curl up on the sofa together to eat and watch the movie.
Dean ends up watching Castiel eat his pie more than the movie, becoming utterly distracted by the way Castiel licks the prongs of his fork, chasing the crumbs of the flaky crust. At one point, he gets a tiny dot of cream on his upper lip, and Dean is about to lean over to lick it away, but at the last second Castiel does it for himself. Not being able to forget the thought of Castiel plus whipped cream equals awesome, Dean dips a finger into the remaining cream on his plate, and leans over to wipe it onto Castiel’s mouth.
His friend looks at him, eyes squinty and confused, until Dean leans in and whispers, “You’ve uh, got something on your lip,” and licks the cream away.
Castiel smiles at him, a look full of fondness and affection and so much of something that it robs Dean of his breath. And when Castiel leans in, murmurs “Let’s go upstairs,” against the side of his mouth, all Dean can do is nod because, yeah, that’s the one thing he wants to do more than anything else in the world.
Dean doesn’t remember much about the trip from the couch to his bed, other than Castiel holding his hand. He doesn’t remember much about how they end up naked, other than Castiel whispering undecipherable words against the soft, downy skin behind his knees. He doesn’t remember much about how or why they decide that tonight is the night they will finally have intercourse, other than Castiel pleading as he kisses along the back of Dean’s shoulders, “Please, please, I need you inside me.”
But Dean does remember every moment after that. He will never forget the look of complete trust Castiel gives him as he lines his cock up with Castiel’s entrance, having worked for so long to open him up, with fingers sly and curved that Castiel is crying out for Dean to fuck him. He will never forget Castiel's words whispered wet against his ear, “You jump, I jump,” as the head of Dean's cock breaches Castiel, and how everything feels too impossibly tight, as if he will burn up on entry. He will never forget the way it feels when Castiel grips him tight, fingers bruising his shoulder as Dean pushes in further.
And Dean will never forget that first moment when he is fully sheathed inside of Castiel, frozen still, as if the entire world is holding its breath, and he looks down into his best friend’s eyes and realizes, with the clarity that one only feels maybe a few times in life, that this is home.
********************
Dean grins as he checks his latest text message from Castiel.
“Ugh, you guys are disgusting,” Charlie complains.
Dean throws a pencil across the table at her. “Hey, I can’t help it if Cas misses the big D.” Dean pauses as he catches Charlie raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, yeah, I’ll never refer to myself or my dick as the big D again.”
“So, why is he skipping out on us this time?”
Dean and Castiel both were supposed to meet up with Charlie at her house for gaming night, but Castiel had bailed at the last minute. It’s become an all-too-frequent habit of his lately, and Dean’s relieved to discover he’s not the only one annoyed by it. “He has a big chemistry final to study for.”
“You know, he’s not the only one around here having to cram for tests and stuff,” Charlie snipes. “But at least I schedule my study sessions so I don’t have to cancel on my friends all the time.”
Dean rolls his eyes and slams his notebook shut, tired of trying to read when everyone keeps distracting him. “Yeah well, unlike you, Cas has a few other priorities besides just school and friends.”
Charlie scoffs. “Yeah, like what? You?”
“Uh, yeah, me! And himself. Do you have any idea how exhausting the teenage male libido can be? I’m surprised either one of us has the energy to do anything else.”
Charlie pounds her forehead on the table. “Gross, Dean. Now that I'm scarred for life and will be investing in a lifetime supply of brain bleach, has Cas said anything about visiting any college campuses any time soon?”
Dean sits up straighter, the grin from before immediately leaving his face. “What? No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just wondering. He’d said something about flying to New England to visit a couple of campuses over Christmas break.” Charlie shrugs. “I was wondering if it’s any that I’ve applied to.”
Dean can feel his stomach dropping even further. “Wait…you’re going away to college, too?”
Charlie meets his eyes, a look of confusion on her face. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, University of Kansas is great and all, but it’s here. Last thing I wanna do is stay here longer than I have to.”
Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Charlie would want to leave, too. That she was already making plans to get as far away from here as possible. He wonders if she and Castiel talk to each other a lot about getting out of here. And away from Dean.
“So, Castiel is sure he’s going to med school? And that he doesn’t want to go to the med school here?” Dean hates the way his voice sounds right now. Reedy and desperate and everything he doesn’t want to be.
Charlie sighs. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked much about it. To be honest, I was kind of expecting him to go for something in art instead.” She watches Dean closely for several beats before continuing. “Have you guys really not talked about this?”
Dean shrugs her off, and pushes away from the table. “No. And I really don’t wanna start with it now.”
Charlie keeps after him. “But dude, haven’t you thought about what you wanna do? I mean, maybe take some writing classes, or hell, I dunno, go into carpentry or something?”
Dean grabs his coat and his keys, and stuffs his books into his bag. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay?” he reiterates shortly. “Besides, I need to go, I promised Sammy I’d hang with him more anyways.”
He runs out the door and up the stairs without looking back.
********************
A couple weeks pass, and Castiel still hasn’t mentioned his plans for Christmas break. A part of Dean doesn’t want him to bring it up, because then it will be real. Then they’ll have to discuss what will happen when they graduate, and he’s not ready to admit this is going to end.
But the agony of not talking about it, of knowing it’s there, looming on the horizon of their relationship, is weighing him down, making him miserable and unable to fully enjoy the time they do have together. As a result, he’s not sleeping well, his grades are beginning to show that he’s distracted, and he’s moody and snappy with everyone around him.
At the end of English class one day, his teacher pulls him aside. Dean’s afraid he knows what she’s going to say. His last couple of essays have sucked, and it was just a matter of time before she calls him out on it. What’s even more frustrating is he’s just too tired to care anymore.
“Dean, have you been okay?” Ms. Holmes asks.
Dean nods, pulling his backpack tighter across his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. Just haven’t been sleeping good lately.”
She smiles, shuffling through some papers on her desk. “You just haven’t seemed yourself, not in class or in your papers.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know. I’ll try harder.” He side-eyes the door, wondering if he can go ahead and say his goodbyes and try to sneak away.
“But that’s not why I stopped you,” she continues. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to take on some extra work.”
Dean’s attention snaps back to his teacher. “Uh, is that a trick question?”
Mrs. Holmes laughs. “Well, I guess in a way it is.” She smiles at him before continuing. “Dean, I see a lot of promise in you and your writing. I think with some encouragement and instruction, you have the potential to go far with it.” She pauses, watching him closely. “Have you ever given any thought to becoming a writer?”
Dean doesn’t know what to say. Ms. Pickens’s words from sophomore year come back to him; he’d pretty much forgotten about what she said because he’d assumed she was just blowing smoke up his ass to get him to try harder. But now, having a second teacher say almost the same thing to him, he starts to wonder. He’s always enjoyed writing, thinking up stories and adventures and putting them down on paper, but he never gave any thought to doing it for anything other than his own (and Sammy’s and Castiel’s) enjoyment. “No, ma’am, not really.”
She pulls a pamphlet from one of the smaller stacks of papers on her desk. “There’s a writing workshop on the university’s campus over the spring. It’s worth extra points for your class here, but can also be used as a credit in college, if you decide to enroll.”
Dean takes the pamphlet from her, opening it up to see happy-looking strangers, all sitting in a circle in front of a teacher in a blazer and a whiteboard. It looks almost exactly how he’s always pictured college, right down to being some place he most likely wouldn’t fit in. “I don’t know…” he murmurs doubtfully.
“Just think about it, okay? It’s for fantasy and sci-fi writers, if that does anything to tempt you,” she adds.
And that actually does sound tempting, much to Dean’s surprise. He wonders distractedly what everyone would say if he told them he was going to a writing workshop, all without being forced or coerced into it.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks, Ms. Holmes,” he replies, turning and walking out of the classroom.
********************
Castiel tells Dean about his trip to New England a couple weeks before Christmas break starts.
Dean had been hoping that maybe Castiel had changed his mind, but no such luck. The way he tells Dean about it suggests that Castiel doesn’t see it as such a big deal; he just mentions in passing one evening as they’re watching a Walking Dead marathon that he’ll be gone a few days before their Christmas break begins to check out a couple campuses in New England, and that he already cleared it with his teachers.
“It’s no big deal,” he says, with a handwave. “I’ll be back in time for Christmas.”
He says it like Dean’s heart isn’t breaking at the thought of Castiel leaving him behind, and Dean can't help blurting out, “So, that’s it? You’re just gonna go off to school somewhere, become a doctor and never look back?” He stares at the TV screen as he says this, not daring to meet Castiel’s eyes and letting him see how scared he is, but he can feel Castiel’s eyes boring into the side of his head.
“Is that what you think?” Cas asks after a minute.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Dean responds.
Castiel sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing, other than agreeing to do as my father asked.”
Dean finally pulls his gaze away from the TV to meet Castiel’s eyes. “So, what are you saying? That you don’t want to go to med school?”
“Dean, I don’t know.” Castiel runs a hand through his hair, and Dean notices for the first time that he looks more stressed than he has ever seen him. He’s used to Castiel always being the calm one, never being flustered, so it’s a shock to see his friend so tense. “But I don’t see what harm could come from me just visiting a couple of campuses.”
Dean snorts, returning his gaze to the TV to hide his frustration. “I thought we were a team,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t say it loud enough to be heard over the TV, and he’s beginning to think Castiel didn’t hear it at all. But after a few minutes, he sucks in a breath when he hears Castiel whisper, “I thought so, too,” before curling into a ball against the side of the couch and falling asleep.
********************
The day that Castiel flies to New York with his father, Dean doesn’t see him off. He knows he’s pouting like a child, but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Castiel texts him goodbye, suggests that maybe they could try to have a movie night at his house when he returns, since his dad will be staying behind in Massachusetts for a conference, but Dean doesn’t answer him.
Instead, he locks himself up in his bedroom for the rest of the day and night, sulking and ignoring the outside world. He doesn’t bother to come downstairs for supper, and falls asleep listening to some emo crap that Sam had downloaded on his computer one time to “broaden his horizons.” No one’s horizons should ever have to be that broad, Dean thinks to himself just before dozing off.
The following day, he forces himself to leave his bedroom, but only makes it as far as the treehouse before collapsing in a self-pitying pile of bones. It’s cold, but not freezing, and Dean is too lazy to turn on the space heater, so instead he just crawls under a stack of blankets, pretends the world doesn't exist, and tries to go back to sleep. Of course, that’s the moment when Sam decides to butt his giant forehead into Dean’s business.
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam mutters from the ladder, as he climbs up into the treehouse. Dean would make fun of his voice cracking, puberty playing havoc with his little brother, but he’s too busy pretending the world doesn’t exist.
“Leave me alone, Sammy,” he croaks from underneath the blankets.
“Dean, it’s either me coming up here and bugging you, or Dad,” Sam replies. “I figure I’m the lesser of two evils for you.”
Dean pokes his nose out from under the covers. “What about Mom? I’d rather have her.”
Sam snorts. “Mom is too busy making vats of tomato-rice soup and cherry pie for you, since she assumes you must be starving after not eating supper last night or breakfast this morning.”
Dean sniffs, and hides himself back under the blankets. “Seriously, Sammy. Just leave me alone.”
There’s silence for a couple minutes, but Dean knows Sam hasn’t left because the kid can’t move without sounding like a moose in a china shop, still not having gotten used to his suddenly freakishly long, gangly limbs.
Sam clears his throat. “Is it Cas?”
“Sam-”
“Look, I know, okay? I know.”
Dean pulls the blankets down off of his face to blink owlishly at his brother. “You know what?”
Sam shoots a bitchface at him. “Oh come on, Dean. It’s not like the two of you are all that good at hiding it. The way you look at each other, and the way you are around each other…it’s obvious. And even if it wasn’t, I would have figured it out after seeing the two of you trying to suck each other’s faces off.”
“WHAT?!”
Sam laughs. “Uh yeah, one night I came out here to hang with ya’ll, and I guess I wasn’t loud enough coming up the ladder, because I got an eyeful, and-”
“Oh god, Sammy, shut up!”
“-and I just want you to know that I, uh, I’m cool with it, okay? Not that you needed it, but you have my blessing.”
They both remain silent for a few minutes, Dean in utter mortification, and Sam most likely in amusement, though Dean doesn’t dare look at him to find out. There’s so many things that Dean wants to say to his little brother, so many things that he realizes suddenly he should be apologizing for, not least of which would be possibly scarring Sam for life with the show he and Castiel most likely gave him.
But as is usual with Sam, he seems to know what’s on Dean’s mind before just about anyone else. “I used to kind of resent Cas, y’know.”
Dean holds his breath for a second, waiting to hear if Sam is continuing before pushing the blankets off of him and sitting up. “Look, Sam, I know-”
“But I get it now. What the two of you have…he doesn’t replace me.”
Dean shakes his head. “Of course he doesn’t replace you, Sam. No one could ever take your place.”
Sam smiles across the treehouse at Dean. “Yeah, I know that now. I think nowadays I’m just kind of jealous sometimes that you guys found each other so young. Not many people can say that.”
Dean stares down at his hands. “I don’t know if what we have is all that special. I think Cas might be ready to move on once we graduate.”
“Is that what this is about?”
Shrugging, Dean shoots Sam a sad smile. “He’s gonna go off and be some big-shot surgeon, while I’m stuck back here, probably trying to get engine grease out from under my nails for the rest of my life.”
“You don’t know that’s gonna happen, Dean.”
“It’s what Dr. Novak thinks. Cas is too good for me, and he’ll grow out of me sooner or later.”
“Dr. Novak is a snobby prick who knows nothing about his own son,” Sam insists. “Dean, you can’t believe what that asshole says.”
Dean wipes a hand across his eyes. “I’m just dragging Cas down to my level. I’m not good for him.”
“You’re an idiot if you really believe that,” Sam says. He watches Dean for a minute. “If that’s what you really believe, then why don’t you go to college and prove him wrong?”
“What, like get a baseball scholarship like Dad keeps bugging me to do?”
“Sure, or just go to school on your own without baseball. It’s what I’m gonna do,” Sam adds.
“Oh yeah? Are you still wanting to be a lawyer?” Dean’s missed talking to his little brother; it’s the one thing he’s always able to count on to calm him down and make him feel better.
Sam smiles. “Yep. I even know where I want to go to school now, too.”
Dean can feel the smile fading from his face even before he asks. “And where’s that?”
“Stanford,” Sam replies, practically bouncing from giddiness.
“The one in California?” Dean knows the answer, but he has to ask anyways.
“Uh, yeah. Where else?” Sam laughs. “I think Jo is planning on applying there too, but we’re not being all crazy and expecting to still be together by then. If we are, great, but if not, hopefully we’ll still at least be friends. I mean, the Harvelles are practically family anyways, so we’d be assholes if we didn’t stay friends when we broke up, right?”
Normally, Dean finds Sam’s excitement infectious, and he’s usually always happy to live vicariously through his brother when good things happen to him. But this time, it just feels like the final straw that broke his weak, pathetic back, and it’s all he can do to smile and pretend he’s happy for his brother.
Sam’s leaving him, too. And not only that, he’s ecstatic to do it.
Dean knows he shouldn’t be taking this personally. He knows that the world does not, in fact, revolve around him. But at this moment in time, all it feels like is that everyone he loves is running away from him, and he has nowhere to go. He’s going to be left here, staying the same while everyone else moves on and finds better lives without him.
He does what he can to convince Sam that their talk has made him feel better. He goes inside, takes a shower, and announces that he’s going to Charlie’s for a while.
But he doesn’t go to Charlie’s. For the first time in a long time, Dean just needs to forget his life for a while. So he goes to visit an old friend, and welcomes a sweet taste of oblivion.
********************
Dean learns a very important life lesson that evening: never take a joint from a guy named Don.
There are more lessons to be learned from this experience, but that’s the one that sticks out in his mind as he’s sitting in the jail cell, waiting for his Dad to come bail him out. Knowing his dad, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he’s left to sit on his ass and wait in his cell for a while, thinking about what he’s done. And what he’s done is pretty bad, by most people’s standards. The aforementioned Don just so happened to unknowingly be friends with an undercover cop, who decides that tonight is the night to make his big drug bust.
If Dean had left five minutes prior, like he’d been considering, he would have missed all the excitement. If he had just stayed home sulking instead of looking for an escape, he would have been fine. Then again, if he’d been about a hundred yards closer to the school, he would have been facing a minimum two-year jail sentence, so he supposes that as bad as his luck is, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
But it’s not so easy to convince himself how lucky he is when he gets a glimpse of his father’s face.
They don’t speak to each other until they’re in the Impala and on the way home. Dean considers asking if they can go by Andy’s house to pick up his motorcycle, but he thinks better of it. The silence between them is oppressive, and Dean has to stop himself from fidgeting because he knows the movement will make his dad blow his lid.
“Is this what’s been going on with you lately?” John finally asks, his voice quiet.
Dean finds himself to be more creeped out by how calm his dad seems than he would be if he was screaming and yelling. He takes a deep breath, says, “No, Dad.” And it’s the truth. He hopes his dad can tell he’s being honest, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his dad never trusts him again. “I just - I’ve just been trying to figure some things out lately.”
“And smoking pot helps with that?” John replies testily.
Dean stares out the window. “I just needed to get away from everything for a little while.”
“And smoking pot helps with that?” John reiterates.
Dean doesn’t reply. There’s no answer he can give that will explain why his choices last night felt like the best possible solution for the moment. He knows it was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’s ever done, in a long line of stupid things he’s done, and he already regrets it, will always regret it, but there’s nothing he can do about it now except face the music.
“You know they might not let you try out for the team now,” John says.
Dean knows he should let it go. There’s no point in opening up that can of worms when they already have about ten thousand cans of worms opened all up in the car right now, but something in him says fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound. “I wasn’t planning on trying out anyways.”
And that’s what finally blows the top off his dad’s head.
“What?!” John has the presence of mind to pull over onto the side of the road before he starts letting loose. “What did you just say to me?”
Dean takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to try out this year.”
“And why the hell not?” John fumes. “Enlighten me, Dean, because last I heard you were all gung-ho about baseball. You were going to use it to try to get a scholarship, for god’s sake!”
“No, dad, those were your ideas, not mine!” Dean can feel his gut twist with nerves, because as much as he’s wanted to say these words to his dad for years, doing so makes him feel like he’s destroying his dad’s dreams and stomping on them with his boots.
“What are you even talking about, Dean?”
“I never wanted to go on with playing baseball, and I sure as hell didn’t want to use it to get into college,” Dean bites out, voice rising in pitch. “You pushed me into it, just like you always push and bully me into doing everything, and I’m fucking sick of it!”
“You watch your language with me, boy,” John warns.
Dean turns to stare at his dad, and what he sees is a stranger looking back at him. He feels like there’s so much he doesn’t know about his dad, and he wonders if he has ever really known him at all. “You know what? I can walk home.” He reaches for the door handle and pushes himself up and out of the car before John even has time to stop him.
“Dean, get your ass in this car right now!” John yells.
“I can walk home!” Dean yells back over his shoulder, pulling his jacket tight against the frigid winter air.
“Fine, you wanna be a stubborn jackass, then go for it.” John rolls up his window and starts the car, tailspinning back onto the pavement and kicking up gravel and dust in Dean’s face.
Left behind on the verge, Dean shivers and hopes he doesn’t regret getting out of the car, especially since he doesn’t have his gloves.
********************
Two days of constant fighting in the Winchester house, and they’re still nowhere close to resolving things.
Dean stays in his room most of the time, because seeing the faces of his family makes him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He will never forget the look his mom gave him when he first arrived after his long walk back home; the disappointment in her face will haunt him for many years, he knows.
He will be suspended from school for two weeks, effective once school starts back after break. And, as John feared, he’s been banned from trying out for baseball - but Dean couldn’t care less about that. The one relief out of everything is that the charges against him have been dropped, considering his lack of a previous record, and that they’d not found any drugs actually on him at the time.
What hurts the most, at this point, is how his family looks at him. What their wary expressions tell Dean is that they see a stranger in his shoes. He’d come so far in gaining back their trust after the stupid stunts he’d pulled before, but now all that had healed between them has been crushed, possibly irrevocably. As far as his mom and dad are concerned, every word that comes out of Dean’s mouth could be a lie, and it’s killing him that his own family acts as if he can’t be trusted to tell them the time of day, let alone be believed when he swears that nothing like this will ever happen again.
The shit really hits the fan when John decides the only answer is to send Dean off to military school for the rest of his senior year. And at that point, what was a battle between Dean and everyone else becomes a war waged between John and Mary.
When John drops the military school bomb over dinner, Mary sends both Dean and Sam to their rooms, and their parents proceed to fight like nothing Dean has heard before. They had fights close to this when John was still in the Marines, Dean recalls, and he remembers hearing his mom cry herself to sleep after John stormed out of the house, more times than he could count. He’d actually forgotten a large bit of those days, and he wonders if his subconscious forgot it on purpose.
Dean never really understood what his parents’ fights were about back then. All he knew was his mom was hurting, and he hated his dad for making her cry. But listening to his parents fight now, he’s finally getting some clues about why their family was almost torn apart, and how they ended up in Lawrence.
He sneaks out of his room, and sits down at the top of the stairs, listening to their heated words.
“How could you ever think this was a good idea? That I would ever agree to send my child off to have him groomed into that kind of life?” Mary yells.
John slams his hand down on the table. “Mary, he needs more discipline than we can give him right now. We’ve coddled him too much, and now look what he’s turning into!”
“We came here to get away from that! I grew up in that life, and I was miserable, and I always swore that my kids would never live that kind of life.”
John scoffs. “Yeah, and then you went and married a Marine, so we see how much you stuck to that plan.”
Dean can feel the hurt of those words even from where he is, and the room below is silent for several beats before Mary continues, voice icy and quiet. “More than once, I wish I’d never met you. But I did. And we can’t help who we love.”
“Mary, I-”
“But when you agreed to leave the Marines, I thought you’d finally realized how much it was tearing us apart. How much it was hurting our kids to not know if their father would return home after every mission. How much I didn’t want my babies to believe it was their duty to serve and give their lives over to a thankless job. Yet here we are.”
Her words are resigned and cold, and Dean hates himself because his mother’s voice should never sound like that. Her voice is supposed to be soft and warm and teasing and caring, not hopeless and broken.
“It will be the best thing for him, Mary. He just needs to be shaken up a bit, shown how hard life can be sometimes. It’ll give him character.”
“Character?” Mary spits back. “It will strip everything about him that I love away. It will brainwash him and convince him that he’s only good for the military and nothing else. You’re pushing him into doing the exact thing I wanted to keep my children from.”
Dean returns to his room before he can hear anymore. He feels as if he’s going to vomit, so he holds his head between his knees until the sickness passes. How could he have screwed everything up so monumentally? Not only is his life fucked, but he’s broken his mom’s heart, opened old wounds, and quite possibly will be the cause for his parents’ divorce, if things continue like this.
He is the most worthless, pathetic piece of shit that’s ever existed.
Across his room, the text notification on his cell phone beeps. He grabs it and sees a text from Castiel.
Am back home. Wanna meet up?
“God, I missed you,” Dean chokes out. He feels like he hasn't seen Cas in years, after everything that’s happened. He’s grounded, obviously, but at this point, he figures how much harm can it do if they realize he’s snuck out.
Yeah, I’ll come to you, he taps back. Be there in a bit
********************
It takes longer than Castiel was probably expecting, since Dean has to steal Sam’s bike to get there. They’d collected Dean’s motorcycle from Andy’s house, but John promptly took Dean’s keys and hid them, saying it’ll be a long time before he’s allowed to drive it again, if ever. Dean knows where John stashed them, because he’d figured out all of his parents’ hiding places within six months of moving here, but he’s too tired to sneak around and try to get them without his parents seeing him.
When Castiel opens his front door, he opens his mouth to speak but stops himself once he gets a good look at Dean’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve really fucked things up, Cas,” Dean croaks, his voice breaking. Castiel pulls him inside the house, grabbing onto his hand and leading him up the stairs. Once they’ve reached his room, he shuts and locks the door behind him and pulls Dean into his arms, where Dean proceeds to lose his shit. He sobs, wrapping his arms tight around Castiel, clinging to the back of his sweatshirt. He buries his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, and he knows he’s getting tears and snot all over him, but he can’t stop. He’s been holding everything in for so long, and now Castiel is here, and he can let it go.
Castiel holds onto him, rocking him slowly and rubbing circles along his spine. He keeps whispering soothingly into his hair, “Sssshhh, sshhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” and Dean wants to cling tighter and never let him go.
Once his tears and hiccups start to subside, Dean pulls away and reaches for the box of tissues on the nightstand to blow his nose and clean himself up a bit. Castiel watches him closely but doesn’t say anything until Dean seems to have collected himself.
“What’s happened?” he finally asks, after Dean shoots him a watery smile.
And Dean proceeds to tell him everything, leaving out the part where he was freaking about everyone leaving him because he doesn’t want to look like even more of a baby than he already does. Castiel listens patiently, not interrupting to tell Dean he’s an idiot, or that he should know better or anything else Dean thinks he deserves. Once he’s done, Castiel just stares at him for several moments, concern etched across his face.
“Why did you go hang out with those people, anyways?” he finally asks.
Dean shrugs. “I dunno. I was bored, I guess.”
It’s a lie, and Dean can see Castiel knows it, but he doesn’t call Dean out on it. “If your parents do get divorced - and I don’t think they will - it won’t be your fault, Dean. Any problems with their marriage are their own, you aren’t responsible for them.”
Dean shakes his head. “That’s real easy for you to say, Cas, but if I hadn’t done this, they wouldn’t be having this fight to begin with.”
“Even so-”
“Yeah, even so, I think I know how to fix this.” It’s something Dean has thought about off and on for a while, but never with any seriousness until now. He’s never had good reason to consider it seriously, other than just a general itch to escape.
Castiel stares at him, a wary look on his face. “What are you thinking?”
Dean wipes the remaining tears off his face with the back of his hand. He sits up straighter, and takes a deep breath. “If I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t have this problem anymore.”
Castiel tilts his head, eyes narrowed. “Dean, what are you saying?”
“I could go away. Not to military school, because fuck that, I’m not my dad, and I’m not going to do follow orders. But I could go off on my own.”
“And do what?” Castiel asks.
“I dunno, find a job somewhere. Get a place of my own.” Dean shrugs. “I’ve got some money saved up from my job with Rufus, so I’ve got enough to get away, I think.”
Castiel stares at him, a look of concern on his face. “But Dean, you haven’t even graduated high school yet.”
“So? I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. That’s a legal adult. I can find a way to get by.” The more Dean says the words, the more he knows he has to do this. It’s the only solution to this clusterfuck he’s gotten himself into. But maybe he can make the situation better. “You could come with me.”
“What?!”
Dean grabs Castiel’s hands, leaning forward to catch his gaze with his eyes. “Cas, this is it. We could finally get away. We won’t have to do anything we don’t want to do, won’t be guilted into doing what our dads want us to do, and-”
“Dean, I can’t just up and run away,” Castiel throws Dean’s hands down, and pushes off the bed, turning his back on him. “I have responsibilities here, and school, and-”
Dean grabs Castiel’s arm, twisting him so that he can look at him face to face. “But you don’t have to do those things! Cas, we could leave everything behind here and start fresh. We won’t have anybody forcing us to do what they want! We’re a team, right?”
“But I want to go to college, Dean! I want to graduate high school!”
Dean stares at his friend, eyes searching Castiel's face for a lie that’s not there. “So, you do want to go to med school then?” His chest feels tight, like there’s a fucking semi sitting on it.
Castiel stares at Dean, mouth opening and closing, before he finally shakes his head and stares down at the floor. “I don’t know what I want. But I do know that I want to go to college, get a degree in something.”
Dean can feel the tears start to well up in his eyes again, but fuck it if he’s going to let Castiel see how much his words hurt. He turns his back on his friend, wiping away the tears as discreetly as he can. “So you figured all this out on your own? Were you ever planning on telling me, or was I just going to wake up one day after graduation, and find a Dear John letter in the treehouse?”
He can hear Castiel sigh behind him and move closer, but when fingers grab the sleeve of his shirt, Dean yanks his arm away.
“Dean, I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want you to worry, but I was factoring you in my decision,” Castiel says, and then his voice drops to a whisper as he adds, “I always think of you first.”
Dean clears his throat and turns around to meet Castiel’s eyes with a cold gaze. “Yeah, well, you coulda fooled me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dean laughs bitterly. “What the hell does it sound like? I feel like most of the time I never know where I stand with you.” Dean watches Castiel’s face as he spews his words, feeling like the lid on all his insecurities has busted open, finally. “You always keep yourself so closed off. For all I know, you’re just biding your time with me, looking for some cheap thrills until you can move on to bigger and better things at college.”
Castiel’s face drains of all color as Dean’s words slice into him. “How could you ever think that?” he protests. “I gave up almost everything for you, to be near you.”
“Yeah, like what? Your virginity?” Dean snarls. “Newsflash, Cas, I gave mine up to you, too. And look where it’s got us.”
Castiel shakes his head, narrowing his eyes as he stares back at Dean. “You’re the reason I changed schools. The only reason I did it was because I missed you.”
Dean can feel his stomach clenching at Castiel’s words. A part of him has always hoped he was the reason for Castiel’s transfer, but at the same time that much devotion terrifies him. He doesn’t deserve that. So he lashes out, tries to push Castiel away because as much as he wants him, Dean knows Castiel deserves better. “Oh, how selfless of you, to lower yourself to the level of us blue-collar heathens. Hope you haven’t gotten your hands too dirty during your fall.”
Castiel’s face scrunches up with confusion. “It wasn’t selfless, Dean. It was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. I did it because I needed you.” He pauses for a moment. “I still need you.”
Dean can’t stand to hear the words because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up anymore. Castiel has made his choice, and it’s obviously not Dean. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that’ll once you’re off and having fun at college.”
Castiel turns his back on Dean, staring at the wall for several beats before huffing. “So, are you suddenly not ashamed of our relationship anymore?”
It’s a one-eighty that has Dean on his back foot. “What the hell are you talking about?”
When Castiel turns around to face Dean again, the hurt on his face has been replaced with anger. “I’m not stupid, Dean. I’ve known all along that you were ashamed of what was happening between us, and were too afraid for anyone else to find out.”
His anger suddenly deflating, Dean bites his lip. “I’m not ashamed, Cas,” he replies, quietly.
“Then what is it? Because the way we sneak around sure as hell feels like shame to me.”
Dean runs his fingers through his hair, gritting his teeth. “Cas…you know how my dad is. He’s ex-military. Even worse, he’s ex-Marines. He has this idea of what being a man is supposed to be like, and…I know if he found out about me, he’d never be able to accept it.”
Castiel stares at Dean, face stony. “And what about everybody at school?”
“Dude, you’re not blind, you know how high school is! I mean, if people found out, then fine, I’d deal with it, but it’s just easier if they don’t know.” Dean watches Castiel’s face, trying to figure out what his friend is thinking. “Cas, have I ever made you feel like a dirty little secret? Like I’m ashamed of you?”
Castiel wraps his arms around his chest, shaking his head. “No, you haven’t.” He steps closer, moving into Dean’s space. “But you wanting to run away like this? That makes me feel like you’re ashamed.”
Dean had felt that familiar pull to move closer to Castiel, but when he hears these last words he pulls back. “I’m not running away!”
Castiel lets loose an irritated breath. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. You don't want to deal with everything that’s going on, so you think the best option for everyone is you running away.”
Dean stares at him, clenching his fists at his sides to keep from swinging a punch. “You know what? Screw this. I’m out of here.”
He grabs his jacket and turns to go, but Castiel steps in front of him, blocking his way.
Dean, wait, please, don’t go yet,” Castiel pleads, fingers clinging to Dean’s jacket and pulling him back.
“Cas, I can’t…I can’t look at you now, okay?” Dean moves around him and opens the door to go, but Castiel pushes him away and slams the door shut.
“Dean, please, let’s just - look, I don’t want you to leave here mad. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been vocal enough with how I feel about you, and I should have told you about me visiting college campuses a long time ago, I should have included you in on what I was thinking. I get that now, okay? Please?” Castiel grabs Dean’s face between his hands, thumb running across his cheek, and forces Dean to look at him.
They stare at each other, tears streaming down their faces, until Dean forces himself to relax, grabbing onto Castiel’s waist and pulling him close. “Yeah, okay, Cas. I get it.” He closes the distance between them, placing a sweet, soft kiss on Castiel’s lips. He chokes back the sob deep in his chest, kisses each of Castiel’s closed lids, and wipes the tears off his cheeks. “We're good, but I gotta go, okay? Don’t want my parents finding out I’m gone.”
Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, hugging him tightly before nodding and letting him go. “Okay,” he whispers, giving Dean a small smile before kissing him one last time. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow, right? I’ll come over to your house and we can see each other tomorrow, okay?”
Dean forces himself to smile. “Sure, Cas. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Castiel follows him downstairs to the front door, and watches as Dean climbs onto Sam’s bike.
The image of Castiel standing on his front porch, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the chill, is what Dean keeps remembering as he packs up his things that night, sneaks out of the house, and drives away without looking back.
********************
Next...
They keep erasing all the streets we grew up in
Now the music divides us into tribes
You choose your side, I’ll choose my side
~Arcade Fire, “Suburban War”
The first couple months of senior year fly by way too fast for Dean. It’s a happy time for both he and Castiel, though not as carefree or filled with lazy days wrapped around each other as their summer break was. Dean’s not sure how he could have survived the school days without spending time with Castiel at lunchbreak and their one class together.
He worries sometimes that he’s become too attached or dependent on Castiel, especially when Cas still seems to enjoy activities outside of his time spent with Dean. He tries not to be jealous of Castiel’s extracurricular activities or his friends outside of their own circle; he tries not to feel like maybe he’s not enough for Castiel, that maybe he really is just a phase, like Dr. Novak had said. It’s those days that he becomes morose, pushing himself away from everyone out of fear.
He tries to regain some interest in baseball, knowing how happy it would make his dad. He wonders if maybe baseball is the answer, his key to getting out of this town and finding something to focus on so that he won’t be so clingy and needy with Castiel. But he quickly finds that his heart just isn’t in it anymore. He dreads the day when he won’t be able to postpone the talk with his father any longer, will have to tell him that he’s quitting baseball. He’s already had the fight with Victor about it, and it was ugly. Victor said it was wrong for Dean to abandon him and the team after all this time and hard work, and Dean yelled for fifteen minutes trying to get it across to Victor that he was sorry, he hated letting everyone down, but he just didn’t have it in him to play anymore. Victor finally realized that if Dean kept playing when he was miserable, he’d just be bringing everyone else down, and he grudgingly forgave him, with a pat on the back and a promise to kick his ass if he didn’t at least come and watch the home games.
Dean neglected to inform Victor that another reason he decided not to play is because Castiel isn’t playing either, and he’d rather spend more time with him.
Sometimes, Dean feels like a coward for not being more open about their relationship. He tells himself that both he and Castiel are tough, they could handle any kind of teasing or bullying they’d get. Besides, it might do some good for a jock to come out as bisexual. But this is his life, not some afterschool special, and what’s going on between him and Castiel is personal and special and precious to them both. If Dean can avoid having everyone in school and town ripping it apart and turning it into a joke, he will. If it gets out, fine, he’ll face it all head on. But until then, he and Cas belong to themselves.
Dean still blocks out all thoughts and worries about his parents discovering their relationship, not able to deal with the pictures he gets in his mind, the looks of disappointment he’s sure he’d see on their faces if they ever find out.
The only time someone at school learns about them is completely Dean’s fault. He and Castiel are sitting together at lunch, and as usual Charlie, Alfie, Ed, Harry, and Corbett drift over as soon as they've filled their trays. The first week of school, Dean had protested sitting together with all of them, worrying about some of his jock friends seeing them and figuring out his double life. But after Charlie’s bitch, please face and Castiel refusing to speak to him because of it, he’d relented. He soon realized he kind of enjoyed hanging with them everyday, or at least with Charlie and Alfie; the others he tolerated, on his better days. He’s relieved to discover Victor and his other friends don’t seem fazed at all about who Dean chooses to sit with, and with this one simple move he’s able to feel more like himself at school than he ever has before.
Lunch period is immediately after woodworking class, so Dean happily gets two hours of Castiel right in the middle of his school day. They’d had an especially productive class this morning, with Castiel carving swirls in the spindles of a chair while Dean pretended to sand the seats as he watched Castiel’s fingers slide and wrap around the pieces.
Dean stares at Castiel across the lunch table after class, a lascivious grin on his face. “You sure know how to handle your wood, Cas,” he says with a wink. “Are you good with really hard wood?”
Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean, shifting imperceptibly in his seat. “Depends on what kind of wood you’re talking about, I guess. And how hard it is.”
“Oh, it’s pretty hard, I think. And it gets harder the more you-”
“Oh, for the love of Xena, will you two get a room already? Jeez, I’m trying to eat!” Charlie demands, popping open her soda can.
Castiel’s face turns beet red as Dean tries to hide a smile behind his hand. He can feel everyone’s eyes on them, and when he looks up, they’re all looking from him to Cas and back again with varying degrees of disbelief and shock on their faces. He hears Corbett whisper very loudly, “See, Ed, I told you it’s normal to-”
“Shut up, Corbett!” Ed hisses at him, eyes bugging out, before turning to Dean and Castiel. “This better not fuck up the battle next weekend, because if one of you sacrifices the team to save the other, there’s gonna be some ass kickage happening, Brokeback.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” Dean counters. “Why would we need to sacrifice the team to save each other?”
“Like if one of you gets captured?” Ed snaps, with a stab of his finger towards Dean. “Our enemies will use the power of your gay love to pierce through our defenses. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“What the hell kind of books have you been reading?” Dean scoffs. “Okay, look, first off, it’s a game. Chill the fuck out. Two, if anybody around here is getting captured, it’ll be one of you jackasses, so don’t you go worrying your dorky little head about us sacrificing the team just for you. Three, don’t you ever fucking call me Brokeback again. And four, if any ass is getting kicked around here, it’s gonna be-”
“Alright, that’s enough, put the measuring sticks away, I’m sure everyone’s penises are nice and long, okay boys?” Charlie remarks, holding up her hands. She looks down the table at everyone. “And if anyone goes blabbing to anybody about Dean and Cas’s Love That Shall Not Be Named, they’re gonna have to answer to me. And trust me when I say that’s a can you never want opened.”
Two of the four guys audibly gulp as they stare at Charlie, wide-eyed and nodding in the affirmative. “Now, can we move on to more acceptable meal-time discussions, like the blood and entrails of our enemy?” she suggests, taking a swig of her diet Dr. Pepper.
Yep. She’s definitely the little sister Dean never knew he wanted.
********************
In October, Sam is able to convince their parents to take him and Jo to a Vampire Weekend concert in St. Louis. It’s a long drive - over four hours there and back - so they’ll have to spend the night in St. Louis, and it takes Sam the better part of a month to convince them, finally agreeing to make it his next Christmas and birthday present combined. The only reason they’re able to get tickets is because Ellen knows a guy who works backstage at the venue, and she’s able to pull some strings - and the only reason she agrees to do it is because she’s grateful Jo has decided to make Sam her boyfriend instead of some of the deadbeats who’d been skulking around her daughter the past year.
When Dean hears Sam and Jo are a couple he proceeds to tease both of them mercilessly for weeks, alternating between making fun of their relationship and making fun of their music tastes, because no self-respecting Winchester should ever listen to anything named Vampire Weekend. Every time Jo visits, he follows her up the stairs, calling her a high-school cougar, and telling Sam he’d had no idea he was on the lookout for a sugar mama. The only thing that finally gets Dean to let up on the both of them is Sam innocently asking one day what it is that he and Castiel get up to when they run off alone together all the time. Dean’s not sure if his little brother has figured them out yet, but he’s not going to give him reason to investigate any further for now.
The concert happens the Saturday before Halloween, and Dean doesn’t know who’s more excited for it, him or Sam. Because with his family out of town, it means he and Castiel will have the house all to themselves for an entire night. It’s not something he’d thought could happen until they’re graduated and on their own, and he has to work very hard to hide his excitement from his family.
John and Mary are wary at first about leaving Dean unchaperoned for an entire night, especially given some of the unsavory things he’s done in his past. But when they hear that Castiel will be spending the night, they both look relieved, believing that Castiel will keep him out of trouble. Dean has to bite back a grin at the thought of what kind of trouble he’s hoping he and Cas will get up to all on their own.
They stand on the front porch, waving goodbye as the Winchesters and Jo and Ellen drive away around lunchtime that Saturday. Dean laughs when he feels Castiel pinch his ass, turning around to pull him inside the house. They slam the door shut, fumbling with each other’s pants as they make out against the wall in the foyer, laughing and giddy at the thought of being alone for twenty-four hours with nothing to do but be lazy, watch movies, eat junk food, and make out constantly - hopefully with the making out turning into nonstop sex all night long, if Dean has anything to say about it.
Dean has really needed this time alone with his best friend. He’s missed him more than he’d like to admit these past several weeks. Castiel’s schedule seems to become more hectic with each passing week, his AP classes taking up quite a bit of his free time as he meets for study sessions. Dean wants to ask what he’s studying for, wants to know what Castiel’s plans are, but he’s too scared to find out the truth. He knows that some of Castiel’s time is spent drawing for his art class, but more and more is spent on science and math, the classes that have nothing to do with drawing and everything to do with getting the proper credits on his way to becoming a doctor.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Dean admits to himself that Castiel is preparing for college and then med school, and that means he’s preparing to leave Dean.
But this weekend isn’t about that, so Dean does his best not to think about it. He tries not to cling too tightly as he wraps his arms around Castiel, pulling him into the den so that they can lay on the couch and find something to watch on TV as they make out, taking their time with each other.
“Should we be going out and hanging out with other people for a while?” Castiel asks, sighing as Dean kisses his way across his jaw and down his neck.
“No,” Dean murmurs against his skin. “We should take full fuckin’ advantage of this weekend by being hermits and never leaving each other’s side.” He pauses a moment, smiling against the pulse point in Castiel’s neck. “Unless we gotta take a shit, of course. My codependence does have its limits.”
Castiel snorts, but doesn’t reply, his hands finding their way underneath Dean’s sweatshirt, fingertips playing with the knobs of Dean’s spine, just like they always did last summer when they were lazy by the pond. Dean hesitates for a moment, insecurity making him wonder if that wasn’t Castiel’s way to try to put distance between them. “Unless you want to go and hang out with the others, of course,” he adds hastily, dreading what Castiel’s answer might be.
“Dean, you know I always enjoy our time together, and our… talks,” Castiel whispers, before biting at an earlobe.
Dean laughs, doing his best to hide the relief from his voice, “This is the best definition of talking I’ve ever seen.”
Castiel pulls his head back to stare up into Dean’s eyes. “I intend to do a lot of talking for the next twenty-four hours, Dean. In fact, we may be hoarse from all of the talking we’ll be doing. Very hoarse, and very sore.”
“Why Cas, that might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” Dean teases.
“Shut up and talk to me,” Castiel growls, thrusting his hips up.
A couple of fantastic handjobs later, they’re sprawled across each other on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on Dean’s stomach as they watch Raiders of the Lost Ark. Castiel had wanted to watch something newer that they’d not seen a thousand times before, but when Dean insists, pointing out that Indiana Jones increases his horniness to an alarming degree and therefore everybody wins, Castiel relents.
Once the sun has set, Dean orders a pizza, and they forego plates, choosing to set the box on the floor between them as they watch Kill Bill: Vol. 1. Dean grudgingly admits that it’s a pretty badass movie, even going so far as to agree to watching Volume 2, but not before pulling out the sweet potato pie his mom had made for them before she left. They nuke two enormous slices for themselves in the microwave, sling a generous dollop of whipped cream on each, and curl up on the sofa together to eat and watch the movie.
Dean ends up watching Castiel eat his pie more than the movie, becoming utterly distracted by the way Castiel licks the prongs of his fork, chasing the crumbs of the flaky crust. At one point, he gets a tiny dot of cream on his upper lip, and Dean is about to lean over to lick it away, but at the last second Castiel does it for himself. Not being able to forget the thought of Castiel plus whipped cream equals awesome, Dean dips a finger into the remaining cream on his plate, and leans over to wipe it onto Castiel’s mouth.
His friend looks at him, eyes squinty and confused, until Dean leans in and whispers, “You’ve uh, got something on your lip,” and licks the cream away.
Castiel smiles at him, a look full of fondness and affection and so much of something that it robs Dean of his breath. And when Castiel leans in, murmurs “Let’s go upstairs,” against the side of his mouth, all Dean can do is nod because, yeah, that’s the one thing he wants to do more than anything else in the world.
Dean doesn’t remember much about the trip from the couch to his bed, other than Castiel holding his hand. He doesn’t remember much about how they end up naked, other than Castiel whispering undecipherable words against the soft, downy skin behind his knees. He doesn’t remember much about how or why they decide that tonight is the night they will finally have intercourse, other than Castiel pleading as he kisses along the back of Dean’s shoulders, “Please, please, I need you inside me.”
But Dean does remember every moment after that. He will never forget the look of complete trust Castiel gives him as he lines his cock up with Castiel’s entrance, having worked for so long to open him up, with fingers sly and curved that Castiel is crying out for Dean to fuck him. He will never forget Castiel's words whispered wet against his ear, “You jump, I jump,” as the head of Dean's cock breaches Castiel, and how everything feels too impossibly tight, as if he will burn up on entry. He will never forget the way it feels when Castiel grips him tight, fingers bruising his shoulder as Dean pushes in further.
And Dean will never forget that first moment when he is fully sheathed inside of Castiel, frozen still, as if the entire world is holding its breath, and he looks down into his best friend’s eyes and realizes, with the clarity that one only feels maybe a few times in life, that this is home.
********************
Dean grins as he checks his latest text message from Castiel.
“Ugh, you guys are disgusting,” Charlie complains.
Dean throws a pencil across the table at her. “Hey, I can’t help it if Cas misses the big D.” Dean pauses as he catches Charlie raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, yeah, I’ll never refer to myself or my dick as the big D again.”
“So, why is he skipping out on us this time?”
Dean and Castiel both were supposed to meet up with Charlie at her house for gaming night, but Castiel had bailed at the last minute. It’s become an all-too-frequent habit of his lately, and Dean’s relieved to discover he’s not the only one annoyed by it. “He has a big chemistry final to study for.”
“You know, he’s not the only one around here having to cram for tests and stuff,” Charlie snipes. “But at least I schedule my study sessions so I don’t have to cancel on my friends all the time.”
Dean rolls his eyes and slams his notebook shut, tired of trying to read when everyone keeps distracting him. “Yeah well, unlike you, Cas has a few other priorities besides just school and friends.”
Charlie scoffs. “Yeah, like what? You?”
“Uh, yeah, me! And himself. Do you have any idea how exhausting the teenage male libido can be? I’m surprised either one of us has the energy to do anything else.”
Charlie pounds her forehead on the table. “Gross, Dean. Now that I'm scarred for life and will be investing in a lifetime supply of brain bleach, has Cas said anything about visiting any college campuses any time soon?”
Dean sits up straighter, the grin from before immediately leaving his face. “What? No. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, just wondering. He’d said something about flying to New England to visit a couple of campuses over Christmas break.” Charlie shrugs. “I was wondering if it’s any that I’ve applied to.”
Dean can feel his stomach dropping even further. “Wait…you’re going away to college, too?”
Charlie meets his eyes, a look of confusion on her face. “Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I? I mean, University of Kansas is great and all, but it’s here. Last thing I wanna do is stay here longer than I have to.”
Dean doesn’t say anything for a long time. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that Charlie would want to leave, too. That she was already making plans to get as far away from here as possible. He wonders if she and Castiel talk to each other a lot about getting out of here. And away from Dean.
“So, Castiel is sure he’s going to med school? And that he doesn’t want to go to the med school here?” Dean hates the way his voice sounds right now. Reedy and desperate and everything he doesn’t want to be.
Charlie sighs. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked much about it. To be honest, I was kind of expecting him to go for something in art instead.” She watches Dean closely for several beats before continuing. “Have you guys really not talked about this?”
Dean shrugs her off, and pushes away from the table. “No. And I really don’t wanna start with it now.”
Charlie keeps after him. “But dude, haven’t you thought about what you wanna do? I mean, maybe take some writing classes, or hell, I dunno, go into carpentry or something?”
Dean grabs his coat and his keys, and stuffs his books into his bag. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay?” he reiterates shortly. “Besides, I need to go, I promised Sammy I’d hang with him more anyways.”
He runs out the door and up the stairs without looking back.
********************
A couple weeks pass, and Castiel still hasn’t mentioned his plans for Christmas break. A part of Dean doesn’t want him to bring it up, because then it will be real. Then they’ll have to discuss what will happen when they graduate, and he’s not ready to admit this is going to end.
But the agony of not talking about it, of knowing it’s there, looming on the horizon of their relationship, is weighing him down, making him miserable and unable to fully enjoy the time they do have together. As a result, he’s not sleeping well, his grades are beginning to show that he’s distracted, and he’s moody and snappy with everyone around him.
At the end of English class one day, his teacher pulls him aside. Dean’s afraid he knows what she’s going to say. His last couple of essays have sucked, and it was just a matter of time before she calls him out on it. What’s even more frustrating is he’s just too tired to care anymore.
“Dean, have you been okay?” Ms. Holmes asks.
Dean nods, pulling his backpack tighter across his shoulder. “Yes, ma’am. Just haven’t been sleeping good lately.”
She smiles, shuffling through some papers on her desk. “You just haven’t seemed yourself, not in class or in your papers.”
“Yes, ma’am, I know. I’ll try harder.” He side-eyes the door, wondering if he can go ahead and say his goodbyes and try to sneak away.
“But that’s not why I stopped you,” she continues. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to take on some extra work.”
Dean’s attention snaps back to his teacher. “Uh, is that a trick question?”
Mrs. Holmes laughs. “Well, I guess in a way it is.” She smiles at him before continuing. “Dean, I see a lot of promise in you and your writing. I think with some encouragement and instruction, you have the potential to go far with it.” She pauses, watching him closely. “Have you ever given any thought to becoming a writer?”
Dean doesn’t know what to say. Ms. Pickens’s words from sophomore year come back to him; he’d pretty much forgotten about what she said because he’d assumed she was just blowing smoke up his ass to get him to try harder. But now, having a second teacher say almost the same thing to him, he starts to wonder. He’s always enjoyed writing, thinking up stories and adventures and putting them down on paper, but he never gave any thought to doing it for anything other than his own (and Sammy’s and Castiel’s) enjoyment. “No, ma’am, not really.”
She pulls a pamphlet from one of the smaller stacks of papers on her desk. “There’s a writing workshop on the university’s campus over the spring. It’s worth extra points for your class here, but can also be used as a credit in college, if you decide to enroll.”
Dean takes the pamphlet from her, opening it up to see happy-looking strangers, all sitting in a circle in front of a teacher in a blazer and a whiteboard. It looks almost exactly how he’s always pictured college, right down to being some place he most likely wouldn’t fit in. “I don’t know…” he murmurs doubtfully.
“Just think about it, okay? It’s for fantasy and sci-fi writers, if that does anything to tempt you,” she adds.
And that actually does sound tempting, much to Dean’s surprise. He wonders distractedly what everyone would say if he told them he was going to a writing workshop, all without being forced or coerced into it.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll think about it. Thanks, Ms. Holmes,” he replies, turning and walking out of the classroom.
********************
Castiel tells Dean about his trip to New England a couple weeks before Christmas break starts.
Dean had been hoping that maybe Castiel had changed his mind, but no such luck. The way he tells Dean about it suggests that Castiel doesn’t see it as such a big deal; he just mentions in passing one evening as they’re watching a Walking Dead marathon that he’ll be gone a few days before their Christmas break begins to check out a couple campuses in New England, and that he already cleared it with his teachers.
“It’s no big deal,” he says, with a handwave. “I’ll be back in time for Christmas.”
He says it like Dean’s heart isn’t breaking at the thought of Castiel leaving him behind, and Dean can't help blurting out, “So, that’s it? You’re just gonna go off to school somewhere, become a doctor and never look back?” He stares at the TV screen as he says this, not daring to meet Castiel’s eyes and letting him see how scared he is, but he can feel Castiel’s eyes boring into the side of his head.
“Is that what you think?” Cas asks after a minute.
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” Dean responds.
Castiel sighs. “I don’t know what I’m doing, other than agreeing to do as my father asked.”
Dean finally pulls his gaze away from the TV to meet Castiel’s eyes. “So, what are you saying? That you don’t want to go to med school?”
“Dean, I don’t know.” Castiel runs a hand through his hair, and Dean notices for the first time that he looks more stressed than he has ever seen him. He’s used to Castiel always being the calm one, never being flustered, so it’s a shock to see his friend so tense. “But I don’t see what harm could come from me just visiting a couple of campuses.”
Dean snorts, returning his gaze to the TV to hide his frustration. “I thought we were a team,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t say it loud enough to be heard over the TV, and he’s beginning to think Castiel didn’t hear it at all. But after a few minutes, he sucks in a breath when he hears Castiel whisper, “I thought so, too,” before curling into a ball against the side of the couch and falling asleep.
********************
The day that Castiel flies to New York with his father, Dean doesn’t see him off. He knows he’s pouting like a child, but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Castiel texts him goodbye, suggests that maybe they could try to have a movie night at his house when he returns, since his dad will be staying behind in Massachusetts for a conference, but Dean doesn’t answer him.
Instead, he locks himself up in his bedroom for the rest of the day and night, sulking and ignoring the outside world. He doesn’t bother to come downstairs for supper, and falls asleep listening to some emo crap that Sam had downloaded on his computer one time to “broaden his horizons.” No one’s horizons should ever have to be that broad, Dean thinks to himself just before dozing off.
The following day, he forces himself to leave his bedroom, but only makes it as far as the treehouse before collapsing in a self-pitying pile of bones. It’s cold, but not freezing, and Dean is too lazy to turn on the space heater, so instead he just crawls under a stack of blankets, pretends the world doesn't exist, and tries to go back to sleep. Of course, that’s the moment when Sam decides to butt his giant forehead into Dean’s business.
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?” Sam mutters from the ladder, as he climbs up into the treehouse. Dean would make fun of his voice cracking, puberty playing havoc with his little brother, but he’s too busy pretending the world doesn’t exist.
“Leave me alone, Sammy,” he croaks from underneath the blankets.
“Dean, it’s either me coming up here and bugging you, or Dad,” Sam replies. “I figure I’m the lesser of two evils for you.”
Dean pokes his nose out from under the covers. “What about Mom? I’d rather have her.”
Sam snorts. “Mom is too busy making vats of tomato-rice soup and cherry pie for you, since she assumes you must be starving after not eating supper last night or breakfast this morning.”
Dean sniffs, and hides himself back under the blankets. “Seriously, Sammy. Just leave me alone.”
There’s silence for a couple minutes, but Dean knows Sam hasn’t left because the kid can’t move without sounding like a moose in a china shop, still not having gotten used to his suddenly freakishly long, gangly limbs.
Sam clears his throat. “Is it Cas?”
“Sam-”
“Look, I know, okay? I know.”
Dean pulls the blankets down off of his face to blink owlishly at his brother. “You know what?”
Sam shoots a bitchface at him. “Oh come on, Dean. It’s not like the two of you are all that good at hiding it. The way you look at each other, and the way you are around each other…it’s obvious. And even if it wasn’t, I would have figured it out after seeing the two of you trying to suck each other’s faces off.”
“WHAT?!”
Sam laughs. “Uh yeah, one night I came out here to hang with ya’ll, and I guess I wasn’t loud enough coming up the ladder, because I got an eyeful, and-”
“Oh god, Sammy, shut up!”
“-and I just want you to know that I, uh, I’m cool with it, okay? Not that you needed it, but you have my blessing.”
They both remain silent for a few minutes, Dean in utter mortification, and Sam most likely in amusement, though Dean doesn’t dare look at him to find out. There’s so many things that Dean wants to say to his little brother, so many things that he realizes suddenly he should be apologizing for, not least of which would be possibly scarring Sam for life with the show he and Castiel most likely gave him.
But as is usual with Sam, he seems to know what’s on Dean’s mind before just about anyone else. “I used to kind of resent Cas, y’know.”
Dean holds his breath for a second, waiting to hear if Sam is continuing before pushing the blankets off of him and sitting up. “Look, Sam, I know-”
“But I get it now. What the two of you have…he doesn’t replace me.”
Dean shakes his head. “Of course he doesn’t replace you, Sam. No one could ever take your place.”
Sam smiles across the treehouse at Dean. “Yeah, I know that now. I think nowadays I’m just kind of jealous sometimes that you guys found each other so young. Not many people can say that.”
Dean stares down at his hands. “I don’t know if what we have is all that special. I think Cas might be ready to move on once we graduate.”
“Is that what this is about?”
Shrugging, Dean shoots Sam a sad smile. “He’s gonna go off and be some big-shot surgeon, while I’m stuck back here, probably trying to get engine grease out from under my nails for the rest of my life.”
“You don’t know that’s gonna happen, Dean.”
“It’s what Dr. Novak thinks. Cas is too good for me, and he’ll grow out of me sooner or later.”
“Dr. Novak is a snobby prick who knows nothing about his own son,” Sam insists. “Dean, you can’t believe what that asshole says.”
Dean wipes a hand across his eyes. “I’m just dragging Cas down to my level. I’m not good for him.”
“You’re an idiot if you really believe that,” Sam says. He watches Dean for a minute. “If that’s what you really believe, then why don’t you go to college and prove him wrong?”
“What, like get a baseball scholarship like Dad keeps bugging me to do?”
“Sure, or just go to school on your own without baseball. It’s what I’m gonna do,” Sam adds.
“Oh yeah? Are you still wanting to be a lawyer?” Dean’s missed talking to his little brother; it’s the one thing he’s always able to count on to calm him down and make him feel better.
Sam smiles. “Yep. I even know where I want to go to school now, too.”
Dean can feel the smile fading from his face even before he asks. “And where’s that?”
“Stanford,” Sam replies, practically bouncing from giddiness.
“The one in California?” Dean knows the answer, but he has to ask anyways.
“Uh, yeah. Where else?” Sam laughs. “I think Jo is planning on applying there too, but we’re not being all crazy and expecting to still be together by then. If we are, great, but if not, hopefully we’ll still at least be friends. I mean, the Harvelles are practically family anyways, so we’d be assholes if we didn’t stay friends when we broke up, right?”
Normally, Dean finds Sam’s excitement infectious, and he’s usually always happy to live vicariously through his brother when good things happen to him. But this time, it just feels like the final straw that broke his weak, pathetic back, and it’s all he can do to smile and pretend he’s happy for his brother.
Sam’s leaving him, too. And not only that, he’s ecstatic to do it.
Dean knows he shouldn’t be taking this personally. He knows that the world does not, in fact, revolve around him. But at this moment in time, all it feels like is that everyone he loves is running away from him, and he has nowhere to go. He’s going to be left here, staying the same while everyone else moves on and finds better lives without him.
He does what he can to convince Sam that their talk has made him feel better. He goes inside, takes a shower, and announces that he’s going to Charlie’s for a while.
But he doesn’t go to Charlie’s. For the first time in a long time, Dean just needs to forget his life for a while. So he goes to visit an old friend, and welcomes a sweet taste of oblivion.
********************
Dean learns a very important life lesson that evening: never take a joint from a guy named Don.
There are more lessons to be learned from this experience, but that’s the one that sticks out in his mind as he’s sitting in the jail cell, waiting for his Dad to come bail him out. Knowing his dad, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if he’s left to sit on his ass and wait in his cell for a while, thinking about what he’s done. And what he’s done is pretty bad, by most people’s standards. The aforementioned Don just so happened to unknowingly be friends with an undercover cop, who decides that tonight is the night to make his big drug bust.
If Dean had left five minutes prior, like he’d been considering, he would have missed all the excitement. If he had just stayed home sulking instead of looking for an escape, he would have been fine. Then again, if he’d been about a hundred yards closer to the school, he would have been facing a minimum two-year jail sentence, so he supposes that as bad as his luck is, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.
But it’s not so easy to convince himself how lucky he is when he gets a glimpse of his father’s face.
They don’t speak to each other until they’re in the Impala and on the way home. Dean considers asking if they can go by Andy’s house to pick up his motorcycle, but he thinks better of it. The silence between them is oppressive, and Dean has to stop himself from fidgeting because he knows the movement will make his dad blow his lid.
“Is this what’s been going on with you lately?” John finally asks, his voice quiet.
Dean finds himself to be more creeped out by how calm his dad seems than he would be if he was screaming and yelling. He takes a deep breath, says, “No, Dad.” And it’s the truth. He hopes his dad can tell he’s being honest, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his dad never trusts him again. “I just - I’ve just been trying to figure some things out lately.”
“And smoking pot helps with that?” John replies testily.
Dean stares out the window. “I just needed to get away from everything for a little while.”
“And smoking pot helps with that?” John reiterates.
Dean doesn’t reply. There’s no answer he can give that will explain why his choices last night felt like the best possible solution for the moment. He knows it was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’s ever done, in a long line of stupid things he’s done, and he already regrets it, will always regret it, but there’s nothing he can do about it now except face the music.
“You know they might not let you try out for the team now,” John says.
Dean knows he should let it go. There’s no point in opening up that can of worms when they already have about ten thousand cans of worms opened all up in the car right now, but something in him says fuck it, in for a penny, in for a pound. “I wasn’t planning on trying out anyways.”
And that’s what finally blows the top off his dad’s head.
“What?!” John has the presence of mind to pull over onto the side of the road before he starts letting loose. “What did you just say to me?”
Dean takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to try out this year.”
“And why the hell not?” John fumes. “Enlighten me, Dean, because last I heard you were all gung-ho about baseball. You were going to use it to try to get a scholarship, for god’s sake!”
“No, dad, those were your ideas, not mine!” Dean can feel his gut twist with nerves, because as much as he’s wanted to say these words to his dad for years, doing so makes him feel like he’s destroying his dad’s dreams and stomping on them with his boots.
“What are you even talking about, Dean?”
“I never wanted to go on with playing baseball, and I sure as hell didn’t want to use it to get into college,” Dean bites out, voice rising in pitch. “You pushed me into it, just like you always push and bully me into doing everything, and I’m fucking sick of it!”
“You watch your language with me, boy,” John warns.
Dean turns to stare at his dad, and what he sees is a stranger looking back at him. He feels like there’s so much he doesn’t know about his dad, and he wonders if he has ever really known him at all. “You know what? I can walk home.” He reaches for the door handle and pushes himself up and out of the car before John even has time to stop him.
“Dean, get your ass in this car right now!” John yells.
“I can walk home!” Dean yells back over his shoulder, pulling his jacket tight against the frigid winter air.
“Fine, you wanna be a stubborn jackass, then go for it.” John rolls up his window and starts the car, tailspinning back onto the pavement and kicking up gravel and dust in Dean’s face.
Left behind on the verge, Dean shivers and hopes he doesn’t regret getting out of the car, especially since he doesn’t have his gloves.
********************
Two days of constant fighting in the Winchester house, and they’re still nowhere close to resolving things.
Dean stays in his room most of the time, because seeing the faces of his family makes him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He will never forget the look his mom gave him when he first arrived after his long walk back home; the disappointment in her face will haunt him for many years, he knows.
He will be suspended from school for two weeks, effective once school starts back after break. And, as John feared, he’s been banned from trying out for baseball - but Dean couldn’t care less about that. The one relief out of everything is that the charges against him have been dropped, considering his lack of a previous record, and that they’d not found any drugs actually on him at the time.
What hurts the most, at this point, is how his family looks at him. What their wary expressions tell Dean is that they see a stranger in his shoes. He’d come so far in gaining back their trust after the stupid stunts he’d pulled before, but now all that had healed between them has been crushed, possibly irrevocably. As far as his mom and dad are concerned, every word that comes out of Dean’s mouth could be a lie, and it’s killing him that his own family acts as if he can’t be trusted to tell them the time of day, let alone be believed when he swears that nothing like this will ever happen again.
The shit really hits the fan when John decides the only answer is to send Dean off to military school for the rest of his senior year. And at that point, what was a battle between Dean and everyone else becomes a war waged between John and Mary.
When John drops the military school bomb over dinner, Mary sends both Dean and Sam to their rooms, and their parents proceed to fight like nothing Dean has heard before. They had fights close to this when John was still in the Marines, Dean recalls, and he remembers hearing his mom cry herself to sleep after John stormed out of the house, more times than he could count. He’d actually forgotten a large bit of those days, and he wonders if his subconscious forgot it on purpose.
Dean never really understood what his parents’ fights were about back then. All he knew was his mom was hurting, and he hated his dad for making her cry. But listening to his parents fight now, he’s finally getting some clues about why their family was almost torn apart, and how they ended up in Lawrence.
He sneaks out of his room, and sits down at the top of the stairs, listening to their heated words.
“How could you ever think this was a good idea? That I would ever agree to send my child off to have him groomed into that kind of life?” Mary yells.
John slams his hand down on the table. “Mary, he needs more discipline than we can give him right now. We’ve coddled him too much, and now look what he’s turning into!”
“We came here to get away from that! I grew up in that life, and I was miserable, and I always swore that my kids would never live that kind of life.”
John scoffs. “Yeah, and then you went and married a Marine, so we see how much you stuck to that plan.”
Dean can feel the hurt of those words even from where he is, and the room below is silent for several beats before Mary continues, voice icy and quiet. “More than once, I wish I’d never met you. But I did. And we can’t help who we love.”
“Mary, I-”
“But when you agreed to leave the Marines, I thought you’d finally realized how much it was tearing us apart. How much it was hurting our kids to not know if their father would return home after every mission. How much I didn’t want my babies to believe it was their duty to serve and give their lives over to a thankless job. Yet here we are.”
Her words are resigned and cold, and Dean hates himself because his mother’s voice should never sound like that. Her voice is supposed to be soft and warm and teasing and caring, not hopeless and broken.
“It will be the best thing for him, Mary. He just needs to be shaken up a bit, shown how hard life can be sometimes. It’ll give him character.”
“Character?” Mary spits back. “It will strip everything about him that I love away. It will brainwash him and convince him that he’s only good for the military and nothing else. You’re pushing him into doing the exact thing I wanted to keep my children from.”
Dean returns to his room before he can hear anymore. He feels as if he’s going to vomit, so he holds his head between his knees until the sickness passes. How could he have screwed everything up so monumentally? Not only is his life fucked, but he’s broken his mom’s heart, opened old wounds, and quite possibly will be the cause for his parents’ divorce, if things continue like this.
He is the most worthless, pathetic piece of shit that’s ever existed.
Across his room, the text notification on his cell phone beeps. He grabs it and sees a text from Castiel.
Am back home. Wanna meet up?
“God, I missed you,” Dean chokes out. He feels like he hasn't seen Cas in years, after everything that’s happened. He’s grounded, obviously, but at this point, he figures how much harm can it do if they realize he’s snuck out.
Yeah, I’ll come to you, he taps back. Be there in a bit
********************
It takes longer than Castiel was probably expecting, since Dean has to steal Sam’s bike to get there. They’d collected Dean’s motorcycle from Andy’s house, but John promptly took Dean’s keys and hid them, saying it’ll be a long time before he’s allowed to drive it again, if ever. Dean knows where John stashed them, because he’d figured out all of his parents’ hiding places within six months of moving here, but he’s too tired to sneak around and try to get them without his parents seeing him.
When Castiel opens his front door, he opens his mouth to speak but stops himself once he gets a good look at Dean’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve really fucked things up, Cas,” Dean croaks, his voice breaking. Castiel pulls him inside the house, grabbing onto his hand and leading him up the stairs. Once they’ve reached his room, he shuts and locks the door behind him and pulls Dean into his arms, where Dean proceeds to lose his shit. He sobs, wrapping his arms tight around Castiel, clinging to the back of his sweatshirt. He buries his face into the crook of his friend’s neck, and he knows he’s getting tears and snot all over him, but he can’t stop. He’s been holding everything in for so long, and now Castiel is here, and he can let it go.
Castiel holds onto him, rocking him slowly and rubbing circles along his spine. He keeps whispering soothingly into his hair, “Sssshhh, sshhh, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” and Dean wants to cling tighter and never let him go.
Once his tears and hiccups start to subside, Dean pulls away and reaches for the box of tissues on the nightstand to blow his nose and clean himself up a bit. Castiel watches him closely but doesn’t say anything until Dean seems to have collected himself.
“What’s happened?” he finally asks, after Dean shoots him a watery smile.
And Dean proceeds to tell him everything, leaving out the part where he was freaking about everyone leaving him because he doesn’t want to look like even more of a baby than he already does. Castiel listens patiently, not interrupting to tell Dean he’s an idiot, or that he should know better or anything else Dean thinks he deserves. Once he’s done, Castiel just stares at him for several moments, concern etched across his face.
“Why did you go hang out with those people, anyways?” he finally asks.
Dean shrugs. “I dunno. I was bored, I guess.”
It’s a lie, and Dean can see Castiel knows it, but he doesn’t call Dean out on it. “If your parents do get divorced - and I don’t think they will - it won’t be your fault, Dean. Any problems with their marriage are their own, you aren’t responsible for them.”
Dean shakes his head. “That’s real easy for you to say, Cas, but if I hadn’t done this, they wouldn’t be having this fight to begin with.”
“Even so-”
“Yeah, even so, I think I know how to fix this.” It’s something Dean has thought about off and on for a while, but never with any seriousness until now. He’s never had good reason to consider it seriously, other than just a general itch to escape.
Castiel stares at him, a wary look on his face. “What are you thinking?”
Dean wipes the remaining tears off his face with the back of his hand. He sits up straighter, and takes a deep breath. “If I wasn’t here, they wouldn’t have this problem anymore.”
Castiel tilts his head, eyes narrowed. “Dean, what are you saying?”
“I could go away. Not to military school, because fuck that, I’m not my dad, and I’m not going to do follow orders. But I could go off on my own.”
“And do what?” Castiel asks.
“I dunno, find a job somewhere. Get a place of my own.” Dean shrugs. “I’ve got some money saved up from my job with Rufus, so I’ve got enough to get away, I think.”
Castiel stares at him, a look of concern on his face. “But Dean, you haven’t even graduated high school yet.”
“So? I’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. That’s a legal adult. I can find a way to get by.” The more Dean says the words, the more he knows he has to do this. It’s the only solution to this clusterfuck he’s gotten himself into. But maybe he can make the situation better. “You could come with me.”
“What?!”
Dean grabs Castiel’s hands, leaning forward to catch his gaze with his eyes. “Cas, this is it. We could finally get away. We won’t have to do anything we don’t want to do, won’t be guilted into doing what our dads want us to do, and-”
“Dean, I can’t just up and run away,” Castiel throws Dean’s hands down, and pushes off the bed, turning his back on him. “I have responsibilities here, and school, and-”
Dean grabs Castiel’s arm, twisting him so that he can look at him face to face. “But you don’t have to do those things! Cas, we could leave everything behind here and start fresh. We won’t have anybody forcing us to do what they want! We’re a team, right?”
“But I want to go to college, Dean! I want to graduate high school!”
Dean stares at his friend, eyes searching Castiel's face for a lie that’s not there. “So, you do want to go to med school then?” His chest feels tight, like there’s a fucking semi sitting on it.
Castiel stares at Dean, mouth opening and closing, before he finally shakes his head and stares down at the floor. “I don’t know what I want. But I do know that I want to go to college, get a degree in something.”
Dean can feel the tears start to well up in his eyes again, but fuck it if he’s going to let Castiel see how much his words hurt. He turns his back on his friend, wiping away the tears as discreetly as he can. “So you figured all this out on your own? Were you ever planning on telling me, or was I just going to wake up one day after graduation, and find a Dear John letter in the treehouse?”
He can hear Castiel sigh behind him and move closer, but when fingers grab the sleeve of his shirt, Dean yanks his arm away.
“Dean, I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want you to worry, but I was factoring you in my decision,” Castiel says, and then his voice drops to a whisper as he adds, “I always think of you first.”
Dean clears his throat and turns around to meet Castiel’s eyes with a cold gaze. “Yeah, well, you coulda fooled me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dean laughs bitterly. “What the hell does it sound like? I feel like most of the time I never know where I stand with you.” Dean watches Castiel’s face as he spews his words, feeling like the lid on all his insecurities has busted open, finally. “You always keep yourself so closed off. For all I know, you’re just biding your time with me, looking for some cheap thrills until you can move on to bigger and better things at college.”
Castiel’s face drains of all color as Dean’s words slice into him. “How could you ever think that?” he protests. “I gave up almost everything for you, to be near you.”
“Yeah, like what? Your virginity?” Dean snarls. “Newsflash, Cas, I gave mine up to you, too. And look where it’s got us.”
Castiel shakes his head, narrowing his eyes as he stares back at Dean. “You’re the reason I changed schools. The only reason I did it was because I missed you.”
Dean can feel his stomach clenching at Castiel’s words. A part of him has always hoped he was the reason for Castiel’s transfer, but at the same time that much devotion terrifies him. He doesn’t deserve that. So he lashes out, tries to push Castiel away because as much as he wants him, Dean knows Castiel deserves better. “Oh, how selfless of you, to lower yourself to the level of us blue-collar heathens. Hope you haven’t gotten your hands too dirty during your fall.”
Castiel’s face scrunches up with confusion. “It wasn’t selfless, Dean. It was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. I did it because I needed you.” He pauses for a moment. “I still need you.”
Dean can’t stand to hear the words because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up anymore. Castiel has made his choice, and it’s obviously not Dean. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that’ll once you’re off and having fun at college.”
Castiel turns his back on Dean, staring at the wall for several beats before huffing. “So, are you suddenly not ashamed of our relationship anymore?”
It’s a one-eighty that has Dean on his back foot. “What the hell are you talking about?”
When Castiel turns around to face Dean again, the hurt on his face has been replaced with anger. “I’m not stupid, Dean. I’ve known all along that you were ashamed of what was happening between us, and were too afraid for anyone else to find out.”
His anger suddenly deflating, Dean bites his lip. “I’m not ashamed, Cas,” he replies, quietly.
“Then what is it? Because the way we sneak around sure as hell feels like shame to me.”
Dean runs his fingers through his hair, gritting his teeth. “Cas…you know how my dad is. He’s ex-military. Even worse, he’s ex-Marines. He has this idea of what being a man is supposed to be like, and…I know if he found out about me, he’d never be able to accept it.”
Castiel stares at Dean, face stony. “And what about everybody at school?”
“Dude, you’re not blind, you know how high school is! I mean, if people found out, then fine, I’d deal with it, but it’s just easier if they don’t know.” Dean watches Castiel’s face, trying to figure out what his friend is thinking. “Cas, have I ever made you feel like a dirty little secret? Like I’m ashamed of you?”
Castiel wraps his arms around his chest, shaking his head. “No, you haven’t.” He steps closer, moving into Dean’s space. “But you wanting to run away like this? That makes me feel like you’re ashamed.”
Dean had felt that familiar pull to move closer to Castiel, but when he hears these last words he pulls back. “I’m not running away!”
Castiel lets loose an irritated breath. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. You don't want to deal with everything that’s going on, so you think the best option for everyone is you running away.”
Dean stares at him, clenching his fists at his sides to keep from swinging a punch. “You know what? Screw this. I’m out of here.”
He grabs his jacket and turns to go, but Castiel steps in front of him, blocking his way.
Dean, wait, please, don’t go yet,” Castiel pleads, fingers clinging to Dean’s jacket and pulling him back.
“Cas, I can’t…I can’t look at you now, okay?” Dean moves around him and opens the door to go, but Castiel pushes him away and slams the door shut.
“Dean, please, let’s just - look, I don’t want you to leave here mad. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been vocal enough with how I feel about you, and I should have told you about me visiting college campuses a long time ago, I should have included you in on what I was thinking. I get that now, okay? Please?” Castiel grabs Dean’s face between his hands, thumb running across his cheek, and forces Dean to look at him.
They stare at each other, tears streaming down their faces, until Dean forces himself to relax, grabbing onto Castiel’s waist and pulling him close. “Yeah, okay, Cas. I get it.” He closes the distance between them, placing a sweet, soft kiss on Castiel’s lips. He chokes back the sob deep in his chest, kisses each of Castiel’s closed lids, and wipes the tears off his cheeks. “We're good, but I gotta go, okay? Don’t want my parents finding out I’m gone.”
Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, hugging him tightly before nodding and letting him go. “Okay,” he whispers, giving Dean a small smile before kissing him one last time. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow, right? I’ll come over to your house and we can see each other tomorrow, okay?”
Dean forces himself to smile. “Sure, Cas. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Castiel follows him downstairs to the front door, and watches as Dean climbs onto Sam’s bike.
The image of Castiel standing on his front porch, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the chill, is what Dean keeps remembering as he packs up his things that night, sneaks out of the house, and drives away without looking back.
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