Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home (1/2)
Title: Your Eyes Look Like Coming Home
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): None
Summary: Dean and Cas are two single men with pasts of heart ache and disappointment, neither believing that he is ready to enter a new relationship. But then Fate comes knocking, determined to prove them wrong, and creates a year of moments through which Dean and Cas meet and fall in love. In which there is a one-night stand that really isn’t a one-night stand, a field trip, baking, and a couple of guys who are just trying to figure it all out.
Notes: I am very excited to be sharing this with you, because I've been wanting to write a Dean/Cas kid fic for a while and it has finally happened. I hope you enjoy! The title is a lyric from the song "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran.
Cross-posted at my Ao3.
August
“Come on, Castiel, it’s just one date.”
Cas frowns and points to the colored pencils on the shelves, purposefully avoiding his sister’s doe eyes so he won’t cave. “No, I’m not interested.”
Anna huffs and grabs two boxes to place in the cart. “I don’t know why you’re so against-”
“Not those.”
“What?”
Cas hands the boxes back to her. “These have twelve colors. I need the ones with twenty-four.” He smiles when Anna huffs again but replaces the items like he asks.
“As I was saying,” she continues, ignoring Cas’ resigned sigh. “I think you’ll like this guy. Sure, he’s an attorney at a competing firm but Chuck assured me that-”
“Anna, I didn’t refuse the date because he works for a competing firm.” Cas steers the cart into the backpacks aisle, scanning the merchandise for Marvel characters. “I refused because he’s a lawyer.”
He turns his head just in time to see Anna blink. “But... you’re a lawyer,” she argues.
“Exactly.” Cas takes an Avengers backpack off its hook to inspect the design. Good, Iron Man is in the very front. He loops one arm through the strap and reaches for a Spider-Man backpack with the other. “The last thing I want is to go out with another attorney.”
“Do you always have to focus on the cons whenever I try to set you up?”
“Maybe you should stop trying to set me up then.”
“We’re not talking about marriage here, you know,” Anna teases, fiddling with the markers Cas put in the child seat. She gently swats at his hand when he goes to pry the box away from her and he rolls his eyes; some things never change. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself,” she finishes.
Cas sets the backpacks down neatly in the cart and looks up at his sister, expression a little pained. He knows that she means well, that she just wants him to be happy, but. “I can’t let new people into my life who aren’t going to stick around. It’s not only about me, remember? I don’t... Things are unstable for them as it is.”
His voice falters a bit on the last sentence and Anna rushes over, arm wrapping around his shoulder though she has to stand on her tiptoes to manage it. “Hey, that’s not true,” she murmurs, calm and quiet. “They love you so much, Cas. And you’re doing great, you really are.”
She pulls him into a hug and Cas sort of melts into the embrace, tension leeching out of his larger frame. “I appreciate that, Anna,” he mumbles into her shirt, smiling at the small hands patting his back. He’s slightly more concerned, though, when they move apart and he detects on her face a trace of mischief, a feature she shares to an uncanny degree with their brother Gabriel.
“Fine. No dates,” she declares up front like a disclaimer. “How ‘bout this. Be my plus-one for the cocktail party next week and I won’t bug you anymore about dating.”
Cas groans, running a hand over his mouth. He should’ve known there would be a catch. “What cocktail party,” he asks, reluctantly indulgent.
“I told you. The Globe hosts the event every year for young professionals in Boston. Ooh, there’ll be so many eligible bachelors that all I’ve gotta do is set you free among them.” Anna waves both of her arms like a ballerina about to curtsy. “Go. Go find your sweet gay love, Castiel.”
Cas makes a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “Why can’t Chuck go with you?”
“He’s going to that conference in New York.”
“Oh, right, the confer-” Cas pauses. Wait a second. That was the conference he would’ve gone to had Chuck not volunteered at the last minute- “Anna,” Cas narrows his eyes. “How long have you been scheming to take me to this party? Be honest.”
“Scheming is way too harsh of a word,” Anna grins, nudging him aside to push the cart herself.
“Anna.”
“Long enough to make sure that Gabe will be babysitting that night,” she confesses. She doesn’t sound guilty so much as proud of her foolproof plan. “And I mean, all night.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cas grimaces, unsure whether he should be in awe of the mastermind that is his sister or totally grossed out by his siblings’ joint determination to get him laid.
“So,” Anna wiggles her eyebrows, “are you coming with?”
Cas fixes her with a long, begrudging look that screams ‘I love you to death as a rule but hate you right now’ and shrugs, the fight having left him already. “It seems I have no choice. Let me make one thing clear though. You’re not going to play matchmaker at the party, alright? Just... I don’t know, leave me to roam free or whatever, like you said.”
“Free-range brother. Deal,” Anna replies breezily as she starts unloading the school supplies onto the conveyor belt. Cas holds back on another dramatic eye roll and joins her, utterly convinced that this was the worst and most unfruitful Office Depot run of his life.
-----
Dean rings the doorbell and paces the doorstep, glancing at the bottle in his hand. He’d never been to a wine shop before (his drink of choice is whiskey, Sam’s beer), but Jess prefers Pinot Grigio so he hopes the sommelier has recommended a good one with like, the right undertones.
Fortunately, the door opens before he can worry too much, and he’s greeted with Jess’ bright smile.
“Hey, Dean.” She steps aside to let him in and he bends down to kiss her cheek, handing over the wine as he pulls back.
“Hi, Jess. I’m, uh, not sure if you’ll like the wine, but I tried. I know jack squat about grapes so I put my faith in the expert at the store.”
Jess laughs fondly and gazes at the label. “No, this is perfect,” she says. “It’s even from Sonoma.”
“Yeah, I know how much you miss NorCal. Did you two have fun at the reunion?”
Jess is about to answer him when they’re interrupted by thumping footfalls on the hardwood, which, of course, belong to Sam, who bounds into the foyer and lights up at the sight of Dean.
“Sorry, had a call from a client,” he grins, tugging Dean into a bear hug. Dean grumbles that he can’t breathe but makes no real effort to let go, because it’s been a really shitty few months, hell, year so far, and there’s nothing like having his brother around again.
The townhouse smells wonderful, and Dean sees why once they’re in the kitchen: scrumptious pasta and a complex-looking chicken dish Jess takes out of the oven. There’s a salad too (for Sam because he’s a freak) but Jess counterbalances the travesty by hinting that she’s baked a pie, and Dean has no qualms about reminding Sam that his wife is so out of his league.
Their conversation centers mostly on Sam’s and Jess’ recent five-year college reunion, Jess regaling Dean with tales of drunken-dancing Sam and other misadventures. They do inevitably circle around to him, though, and Dean wishes he could change the topic but Sam is folding his hands on the table, which pretty much means that they won’t move on until the matter is discussed in full.
“Have you had a chance to visit the school?”
Dean scrapes his fork across his dessert plate, toying with the tiny puddle of melted ice cream and pie crumbs. “Yeah, went there yesterday to meet some of the other teachers... The principal was the only one I talked to at my interview so, you know, it was good to see who I’ll be working with.”
Sam nods, and Dean glimpses him and Jess exchanging a look, all telepathic and befitting a couple that’s been together for almost ten years.
Even so, they both fail hardcore at subtlety, because Jess’ intentions are painfully transparent when she asks, “Did, um... Were there any co-workers who seemed... particularly... nice?”
Dean kind of wants to face palm violently. “Jess. I’m not starting up a relationship at a brand new job. I intend to keep this one drama-free.”
“That’s not what I was...” the objection dwindles. “Yeah. Yeah, no, it was.”
“We just think it’d be wise to keep your options open,” Sam chimes in, bringing out the puppy dog eyes that are like an Achilles’ heel for Dean. God, he grew up to be such a sneaky little shit.
“Guys,” Dean groans, sinking into his chair. “I’m not ready to jump back in the dating pool, okay? I’m still messed up from what happened with-” His throat tightens on the name and he stares glumly at a random point on the wall, eyes prickling from the memory.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam says. He sounds so apologetic that it makes Dean feel worse.
“It’s alright, Sammy,” he musters a smile for everyone’s sake, which improves the mood enough for dinner to end on an agreeable note.
Dean insists on doing the dishes afterward, pushing his way toward the sink despite the protests, and it’s as he is drying the last of the glassware that Jess finds him.
“What’s up, Jess?”
“Dean, there’s...” she pauses, treading carefully for some reason. “My work is... throwing a party next week and I wanted to ask if you’d like to come? Sam has a conference so he can’t go but your company would be great. I’ll introduce you to some cool people. Nothing like a blind date, I promise. Just, you know, since you’re new to the city and summer’s nearly over and-”
“Jess, slow down,” Dean laughs. “That sounds nice.”
She beams. “Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, as long as it’s not one of those black tie things. You know I hate monkey suits.”
“Don’t worry.” Jess takes the towel from Dean to wipe the water splattered on the granite. “It’s just a cocktail party. No need for anything fancy.”
“Cool. Text me the details.”
Jess confirms that she will and Dean can tell she’s excited, bouncing a bit on her feet. The fact that she cares so much warms him down to his toes, and Dean considers himself lucky to have a sister-in-law who’s frankly all sister and no in-law.
Sam and Jess come out onto the doorstep to say goodbye when he leaves an hour later, standing with their arms around each other, natural and comfortable. Dean waves at them, who are lit up by the cozy glow of their home, and wonders when he, too, will have that kind of love.
-----
The party is less like pulling teeth than Castiel expected, save for the one cardiac surgeon who’s adamant about ordering him a cocktail. Anna comes to his aid, thankfully, and ushers Cas over to her friends, all of whom prove to be far more pleasant. He meets Uriel, an editor who appears supremely displeased at the world and follows it up with biting humor. There’s Balth, a sarcastic English correspondent who dispenses terms of endearment like they’re going out of style (Cas is called “sweetheart” at least five times). And, finally, he’s introduced to Anna’s fellow staff writer Jess Winchester, whose husband is also a lawyer and off attending the same conference as Chuck.
Jess informs Cas that she’s brought her brother-in-law along, pointing him out in the crowd. He’s at the bar with his back to them and Cas can’t see much from this distance, but it takes nearly every reflex for him to not drop his drink when the guy returns to their group.
Wow. He is gorgeous. Light brown hair, strong jaw, stunning green eyes. The attraction hits Cas like a ton of bricks and he finds himself listening very intently when Jess says, “This is Dean.” Everyone else has already met him so it’s just Cas shaking his hand.
“Hello, I’m Castiel.”
Dean quirks a smile and Cas actually feels his heart flip-flop in its cage. Oh god, this is dangerous, and wholly unbecoming of a man in his thirties. Well, barely thirty-one, but still. Meanwhile, Dean echoes “Castiel” - thoughtfully, like he’s remembering something - then adds, “Like the angel?”
“Yes.” His surprise must be obvious because Dean is chuckling softly and, boy, it’s a glorious sound.
“My mom used to, uh, tell me and my brother angel lore at night. Her version of bedtime stories.” Dean rubs the back of his neck a little sheepishly, completely charming Cas in the process. “Castiel was one of the angels she told us about but... I’ve never met anyone with that name before.”
“We- My siblings and I were all named after angels,” Cas explains, gesturing toward his sister. “Anna is a nickname that stuck for Anael, and our brother is Gabriel. I suppose it comes with the territory when your parents are theologians.”
“I guess so,” Dean smiles again, the curve of it so easy on his lush-looking mouth. “You guys live up to your names then? Innocent trio of angels?”
“Oh, definitely not. Gabe got in trouble endlessly for pranking anyone who dared to cross his path, and Anna, well, they became partners in crime. Active to this day.”
“And yourself?”
Cas can swear that Dean is standing closer now, but that might be the alcohol talking. “Pardon?”
“What about you?” Dean repeats like he knows Cas heard him the first time. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch a stray drop of whiskey and rum on his upper lip and multiple sirens go off in Cas’ brain, warning him against handsome strangers.
“I... People tend to describe me as the... square one... of us three.”
“Hmm.” Dean peers at him amusedly over another sip of his drink, and just as he opens his mouth to say something else a server ambles by with a platter of hors d’oeuvres.
“Canapé?” the server asks, gauging their interest. He looks about seventeen and pitifully defeated when they both shake their heads, which makes Cas feel bad enough to take one.
Dean scrunches his nose at the garnished puff pastry in Cas’ hand. “I get that this is a cocktail party but, man, am I the only one who’s famished from relying on the bird food?”
Cas laughs as he glances down at the appetizer that’s... yeah, ridiculously tiny. “No, I’m sure you’re not alone in that predicament.”
“Right.” Dean nods but the movement is somewhat abrupt, deliberate, like he’s nervous and trying to mask it. “You know, there’s actually this great bar not fifteen minutes away if you wanna get out of here, maybe grab a bite...”
Cas’ pulse speeds up in tandem with his widening eyes. “Oh?”
Dean’s shifting on his feet now. “My brother took me there a few times and, um, I can vouch that the food is fantastic. Human portions too.”
Cas can’t recall the last time he found another adult quite so endearing, and it’s flattering, really, to entertain the idea that Dean’s shyness is a reaction to him. And while that may not be true Cas still hears the words “Yes, alright” fall from his mouth, and all of it happens before reason can fully kick in to persuade him otherwise.
He texts Anna on their way out of the reception hall, picturing her needlessly triumphant expression as he types, ‘Leaving to get some food with Dean.’ His phone buzzes ten seconds later with a winky face, to which he responds, ‘It’s not like that.’
It isn’t, Cas thinks as Dean hails a cab. They're going to eat, perhaps talk some more, but there’s no promise of anything beyond that, and even if such an offer is made, Cas knows he shouldn’t accept, or indulge. The problem, then, is that Cas finds himself second-guessing all of this as he climbs into the taxi, Dean’s hand a polite yet searing touch on the small of his back.
-----
Dean must be losing his mind.
There’s no other explanation, honestly, because wasn’t it just a week ago that he whined to Sam and Jess that his social life’s on indefinite hiatus? And yet here he is, sitting in a taxi with Castiel - who is, holy shit, like otherworldly hot - and heading to the Roadhouse for... something.
He knows burgers are not the reason they’re in this cab, and he’s sure that Castiel, with the sexy five o’clock shadow and striking blue eyes, was a huge (read: the only) motivating factor behind his stammered invitation earlier. What eludes Dean, though, is why Castiel decided to leave the party with him, and his brain nearly blows a fuse trying to predict where this night is headed.
Castiel, who asks Dean to call him ‘Cas’ in a voice husky enough to pull a dog sled, seems to appreciate the change of scene, loosening his tie a bit and leaning against the counter as he nurses a beer. He occasionally reaches for a fry from the basket between them while Dean works admirably through a bacon cheeseburger, and somehow it isn’t awkward at all, this- Whatever this is.
Dean learns that Cas is a lawyer like Sam and that he’s been living in Boston since graduate school. His tone goes distant for a moment when he alludes to a divorce (three years ago) but brightens as he mentions his two children, and Dean sort of wants to hug Cas and smack himself because the situation has now morphed into one involving, god, a DILF.
He tells Cas that he’s a teacher, a recent transplant from Lawrence, and evades bringing up the messy break-up that impelled him to start over someplace new. Cas, for his part, appears to understand that Dean doesn’t want to disclose anything further, and simply nods at the appropriate points with soft, empathetic eyes. They move onto lighter topics after that, primarily baseball (Cas is a Red Sox fan by default, Dean a much more avid supporter of the Kansas City Royals) and the general woes of growing up with siblings. Their conversation begins to slur and meander, however, after the beer is replaced with bourbon, and it’s when Cas cracks up uncontrollably at something Dean said (something not even that funny) that the owner, Ellen, rolls her eyes and phones the cab company.
There’s a slight chill in the air as they wait outside on the curb, standing close, arms brushing. Cas is warm and Dean instinctively curls toward him, only to smile a second later when he looks up and sees Cas steadily gazing back.
“You’re warm,” Dean says, like it explains everything. Cas huffs a laugh but keeps staring, and rather than being uncomfortable, the attention stirs something within Dean, heated and yearning and impulsive.
So before he can over-think it, Dean steps forward and leans in until his and Cas’ lips are pressed together.
Cas makes this noise, a muffled “mmph” of surprise, but then it melts into a quiet moan that Dean swallows hungrily, greed flaring in his senses. He can’t help a gratified grin at Cas fisting both hands in his jacket, like he wants to keep Dean from going anywhere, and Dean clutches Cas tight in return, wishing there were no layers separating his palms from Cas’ skin.
They hesitantly pull apart just as their ride shows up, which, good because Let’s Traumatize The Driver isn’t a very kind game to play. That doesn’t stop them from trailing their hands over each other’s thighs in the backseat, and Dean’s so distracted that he can’t even remember giving his address to the driver, although he must have since the car is, well, moving. They arrive at Dean’s building after a short while, and he swiftly hands the fare to the driver. He’s also pretty sure that they stumble into his apartment, pawing and impatient, and it’s a split second between the door closing and Cas shoving him against it.
He tastes the liquor on Cas’ tongue, its bitter flavor insistently pervading his mouth as they kiss, harsh and filthy. Dean groans at it all, their tongues rocking together, Cas’ wandering hands, and he shucks his jacket before maneuvering them toward the bedroom, making quick work of the excessive layers keeping him from touching Cas.
“Mm, Dean,” Cas murmurs when Dean’s mouth finds the hollow of his throat, arching his back to give Dean better access. Dean feels his arousal start to spike because Cas sounds so fucking gorgeous, gravelly and broken, shooting right to his erection. He manages to get rid of the tie and unclasp the buttons after fumbling a bit, pulling the shirt off of Cas, which, fuck, reveals toned muscles and abs and tanned skin that cause his brain to short-circuit. He wants to touch every inch of Cas’ body and starts by tracking the collarbone and chest with his tongue, licking and searching for the sensitive spots to make Cas quake and shudder. He doesn’t have to wait too long because Cas bucks and moans when Dean’s tongue sucks around a nipple, and a thrill runs through him at the effect he’s having, driving this beautiful man crazy with need.
By the time Dean sinks to his knees, Cas is writhing, hands already in Dean’s hair. Dean teases him a little, though, and lets his fingers brush feather-light across Cas’ hipbones before unzipping the fly at a painfully slow pace. He slides the pants down just enough to mouth at Cas’ dick through his boxers, moaning at how damp it is from precome, and it’s Cas panting out “Dean, come on, please” that cues Dean to finally pull the shorts down too, leaving nothing between his lips and Cas’ cock. He uses one hand to grip Cas’ hip, the other to wrap around the base of Cas’ thick length, and the room fills with dirty-hot noises when Dean moves to take Cas’ dick into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head.
“God, Dean,” Cas keens, fingers tightening in Dean’s hair and every syllable like a labored punch from his lungs. Dean just keeps going, taking him in gradually, and pulls off only when Cas starts to tremble, not wanting this to end with a mere blow job. He stands back up, gasping at Cas’ lust-blown eyes, and proceeds to grab his wrists and manhandle the guy in the direction of the bed, his own control wearing dangerously thin.
He pushes Cas onto the mattress and climbs over him, pinning him with his weight, then bends down to capture his mouth in a messy kiss, both groaning at their bodies seaming together. “What do you want, Cas?” Dean whispers, straightening up to divest himself of his shirt. He tosses it aside and glides his palms over Cas’ skin, prompting again, “What do you want?”
“I need- Dean, I...” God, Cas' voice is wrecked, chest heaving with every ragged breath, and his long fingers curl desperately into the sheets as he tells Dean, “I need you to fuck me.”
-----
“Shit,” Dean growls at the request, bowing down to mash his mouth against Cas’, kissing him deep. Cas is breathless, suffering a moment of confusion when Dean tears his lips and body away, but he soon realizes it was to fetch supplies and waits for Dean to settle back on the bed to pull him close. “You’re so fucking hot, Cas,” Dean groans into the crook of his neck, and Cas’ eyes screw shut on a whimper at that.
His heart pounds as Dean spreads his legs wider and then a dozen things seem to happen at once, the click of a bottle cap, gel trickling lewdly over Dean’s fingers, the ringing in his ears all the while. Dean is also pressing kisses into his skin, which burns in their wake, and Cas feels an overwhelming buzz in his nerves at the lips and tongue tracing patterns on his torso. “I’ve got you,” he hears Dean say, the assurance muffled by another kiss, and he has no chance at a response because Dean’s lubed fingers are now paused at his entrance.
Cas gasps loudly and Dean is careful, one finger then two, pumping in and out slowly, alternating with licks across his skin. When Dean is up to three fingers, Cas starts to groan incoherently, the pressure brushing his prostate on every stroke already too intense. His hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders, urging him to get on with it, and there’s a low chuckle as the fingers disappear, followed by sounds of a condom being opened and lube dripping onto latex. Dean re-enters his field of view after, green eyes locking onto Cas’ for an impassioned moment where neither looks away, and he finally pushes forward when Cas squeezes his arm in permission, the initial burn quickly giving way to pleasure as Dean bottoms out.
They’re totally still and Dean continues to watch him, checking to see that he's okay. Cas eventually cradles Dean’s face in both hands and draws him in for a soft kiss, murmuring a simple command of “Move” because the anticipation just might kill him otherwise.
Dean laughs quietly but obliges him, thrusting shallowly at first then deeper, faster. Cas bucks his hips upward to meet Dean’s movement, moaning when Dean’s cock hits his prostrate, and then he’s panting “There, Dean. Oh god, right there” as he fists the sheets, knuckles white.
And Dean. Dean is ruthless, snapping his hips and rutting into Cas like his life depends on it. He has clearly made a mission out of grinding on Cas’ sweet spot and, oh, he’s succeeding, making Cas ache with desire as his pleasure knots into a tight, volatile coil. Cas hitches his legs around Dean’s waist and fucking takes it, whimpering from the unrelenting rhythm, the sultry roll of Dean’s body. He and Dean are practically shifting up the bed with how hard they’re moving, and if that weren’t enough Cas nearly blacks out when Dean’s fingers land on his throbbing erection, slipping on precome as they jack him off.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean grunts, his gaze poring over Cas’ body like he’s drinking in the sight of him. “God, you feel so-”
“Dean, Dean,” the name streams from his mouth and Cas doesn't try to stop it, because the rough chant seems to only ignite the other man further.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Dean grits out as he thrusts. “Wanna see you come, Cas, see you fall apart.”
With that, Dean pushes in again, pressing firmly on his prostate, and all of it plus the hand wrapped greedily around his cock are suddenly too much. Cas doesn’t tumble over the edge, he’s flung, propelled, and stars burst behind his eyelids as he comes, painting his stomach and Dean’s chest in hot, wet stripes. His veins feel like they’re fizzing, and he closes his eyes to relish the high while Dean works him through the orgasm.
“Cas,” Dean calls, and when Cas' eyes open, he leans in for a kiss, tongue and teeth and visceral and unbelievably amazing.
Cas runs his hands up Dean’s sides, the skin like fire beneath his fingertips, and as their lips separate with a slick, obscene little noise he whispers, “Come for me.” And, shit, Dean does, his hips stuttering, whole body tensing at the release overtaking him, and Cas can feel Dean’s cock pulsing inside him, which is insanely hot and almost enough to make him hard again.
When the climax subsides, Dean inelegantly slumps onto him and they lie there, sticky and blissed out, entangled in each other.
“Wow, that...” Dean chuckles breathily.
“Yeah,” Cas agrees. His previously grayed vision is at last restoring itself to full-color and he lifts his head to look at Dean, who props his chin on Cas’ chest to do the same in return.
“This isn’t how I thought the night would pan out,” Dean mumbles, and the grin that accompanies his sated sigh is lazy and beautiful and Cas panics because they’re cuddling, aren’t they.
“Same,” he replies quietly, trying to quell the emotion as Dean laughs and presses a small kiss to his mouth. He shivers when Dean pulls out and begins to drift off when Dean comes back with a warm towel, though he's conscious of an arm looping solidly around him and Dean’s chest against his back, the soft kisses to his nape, a sleepy “Good night, Cas.”
-----
Dean wakes up to sun streaming in through the blinds like an intruder, groaning at the immediate, dull ache in his temples that seem to yell, ‘Good morning! Fuck you.’ He attempts to rub the pain out using his fingers, which helps a little, and as the headache fades, memories take its place, flooding his brain with images of the party, the Roadhouse, Cas- Cas.
Dean jerks his head to the left, half-expecting (entirely hoping) to find Cas still asleep, burrowed in the covers. But the other side of his bed is flat, cold, disappointing, and Dean even listens for noises beyond the bedroom before sinking into the mattress, hating himself for feeling so upset.
His crestfallen thoughts are interrupted by an all-too-chirpy sound from his iPhone and he glacially reaches over to grab it, which is when he spots the folded paper on the nightstand. He stretches his arm to retrieve both items and flips open the note first.
Dean,
I had to go pick up my kids and didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for letting me stay over. I enjoyed my time with you last night.
Cas
There’s no number or any indication of wanting to see Dean again, just three bland sentences in a neat script that pretty much ruin Dean’s day. He tosses the paper aside (but not too hard because it’s pathetically his only tangible connection to Cas) and dejectedly checks his phone, sighing at the multitude of texts from Jess.
‘Anna says you left with Cas?!’ the earliest one reads, followed by a ‘Good luck!’ with six smiley faces. There are a few more exuding a similar enthusiasm and then the message sent a few minutes ago: ‘How did everything go last night?’
A part of him wants to call Jess and cry, rant, do something to let out this frustration, but Dean pushes the temptation away, chalking it up to his emotional state not being as strong as it should lately. Instead, his mouth tightens as he types, ‘Hey, Jess. Nothing happened. We actually split after grabbing food and drinks at the Roadhouse.’
He sends off the text and clambers out of bed, cursing the annoyingly clear sky outside as he trudges to the bathroom to shower.
-----
Cas parks in Gabe’s driveway and pulls down the sun visor, hoping he doesn’t appear too exhausted; he had to leave Dean’s place early in order to go home and shower before coming here. But he has about ten seconds to come to terms with the dark circles under his eyes, because one glimpse out the window reveals his daughter running up to the car. She giggles delightedly when he steps out and gathers her in his arms.
“Hi, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, the same shade of brown as his. She buries her face in his shirt, her words dampened by the fabric, among them a quieter “I missed you, Daddy” that clenches at his heart.
“Me too,” Cas replies as a another blur of brown and blue dashes toward them. It’s his son, who wraps both arms around Cas when he’s close enough, and suddenly they’re a bundle of limbs standing on the pavement. “Did you guys have fun with Uncle Gabe?”
“You bet they did,” comes the answer from a couple of feet away. Cas glances up. “I gave them so much candy that they passed out at eight.”
Both of his children start yelling “No, he didn’t, Dad!” and “Uncle Gabe’s lying again, Daddy!” and Cas just rolls his eyes at his brother, who laughs at the chaos he’s created.
“Alright, calm down.” Cas sets his daughter carefully onto the ground next to her brother. “Why don’t you head inside and grab your things. We’ll go get breakfast.” This, of course, leads to pleads of “Can Uncle Gabe come?” that both men have no choice but to agree to.
Gabriel waits for his niece and nephew to disappear past the front door to fix Cas with a curious grin. “So, how was your night?”
“Ugh, Gabe,” Cas says indignantly and, god, he sounds like his own children.
Gabe ignores Cas’ whine like the practiced older brother that he is. “Anna called. Said you left with her co-worker slash friend’s brother-in-law? Very classy. Was he hot?”
Cas almost blurts out ‘yes’ but reels himself in. “We just went for drinks. And burgers. Well, he ate a burger. I got fri-” He stops there because he’s starting to sound like a seventh grader. Minus the alcohol.
“Aw, you didn’t even hold hands?” Gabe teases, not unkindly.
“No, we talked and then... went our separate ways.” Cas can’t comprehend why it physically pains him a little to say this.
Gabe seems skeptical, understandable since Cas looks really tired for someone who supposedly got enough sleep. There are unspoken questions hanging in the air between them and Cas is grateful that his brother doesn’t push, especially when the kids come prancing back out and Gabe just goes to scoop one up while Cas takes the other, all four Novaks heading to the car in a cloud of laughs and anticipation of waffles and pancakes.
September
The school year starts out smoothly for Dean, who really loved teaching back in Lawrence and didn’t think Boston would top that experience so soon. But to his own surprise, settling into the new post was as effortless as it could be, and he’s already made some good friends on the staff, namely Charlie who also teaches first grade and Benny, who teaches fifth.
He’s bonded with his class too, a group of twenty rambunctious six and seven-year-olds. It’s an age where most kids adore their teachers but Dean works hard regardless to deserve that adulation, the pay-off being the way his students excitedly dart up to him every morning.
Still, teaching is exhausting even on the best of days, and today more so because it is six pm and Dean’s back at the school for parent-teacher conferences. He’ll be lucky if he’s home before ten but the upside is that first grade-related topics are mostly light-hearted, and Dean is in a fairly pleasant mood eleven meetings into the evening.
That is, until the twelfth parent walks into the classroom and Dean chokes on his water.
“Cas?” Dean’s eyes are bugging out of his head, and the confusion only grows when Castiel remains maddeningly calm, approaching the desk in slow, graceful strides.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies as he sits down, the welcome packet from the opening assembly placed neatly in his lap.
“Yeah, uh...” Shit, this is awkward. “It’s... nice to see you.”
Cas' probing blue gaze meets his nervous one and Dean feels a flush creep up his neck, because the last time he thought (vividly) about those brilliant eyes was this morning. In the shower.
“Yes, likewise,” Cas says. “I imagine you’re quite shocked that I’m here.”
Dean almost snorts. Talk about understatement of the century. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Cas ducks his head like this is entirely his fault and Dean tries not to be distracted by how adorable he looks, all mussed hair and wonky tie. “I saw your name on the syllabus,” he murmurs like it's a confession. “I remembered you mentioning that you’re a teacher when we...” he trails off, blushing, and Dean really wants to call someone, anyone, for help. “I figured it was you but I... didn’t think it’d be appropriate to say anything.”
“No, I understand.” Dean fidgets with the stack of Post-Its by his computer. “I, um... We didn’t cover your- I didn’t catch your last name that... night... I had no idea...” The color on Cas’ cheeks deepens to a crimson at that, and Dean changes the subject to give the poor guy a break. “So, your children are Rose and Max?”
His instinct was on point and Cas’ fluster evolves into a broad smile. “That’s right. The twins.”
“Yeah,” Dean mirrors the smile. Rose and Max Novak are two of his favorite students. “They’re really great. Max is way ahead of the curve in math, so that’s an area to definitely pay attention to. And Rose, she shows a lot of strength in writing already. I think it’s because she reads so much and constantly absorbs new words. Both of them are always engaged in whatever we do and I love having them in class.” Dean pauses here and grins. “I’ve also never met six-year-olds more obsessed with Marvel than they are. You’ve cultivated good taste.”
Cas’ laugh is at once fond and exasperated. “I am learning far more than I ever wanted to know about the Marvel universe. I’m getting concerned about the paraphernalia piling up in our home as well.”
“Well, the silver lining is that you have a large selection of movies,” Dean teases. “I had a parent in here earlier who told me she’s seen Frozen every Saturday and Sunday since the DVD was released. She can recite the whole script.”
“Oh no,” Cas cringes in solidarity, eyes crinkling in a way that’s too cute for words. “At least the Avengers don’t sing, though they inspire my kids to jump off of furniture on a regular basis.”
“Between a rock and a hard place.”
“Exactly.”
His conference with Cas is twice as long as normal (ten minutes per kid and Cas has two, so). They discuss Rose and Max for the most part but some side conversations slip in there too, like Cas asking how Dean’s adjusting to Boston and Dean asking about Cas’ field of law (corporate mergers and acquisitions, yikes). It all flows so easily that the meeting nearly runs over, but Dean glances at the wall clock just in time.
He stands up when Cas rises from his chair, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, unsure if he should go for a handshake or- Cas makes the decision for him by extending a hand, which Dean takes. It’s warm and Dean doesn’t let go right away.
“Cas,” he begins instead. Their hands are still clasped together and the other man waits for him to continue, expression slightly bemused. “Would you want to, um, maybe have coffee sometime?”
“Dean, I...” Cas tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and Dean’s stomach sinks at the sight. God, he could kick himself. This was a monumentally bad move. “I really like you.” But. “But I am- I’m not in a place to pursue anything serious.”
Dean’s heart both aches and flutters at the thought that dating Cas is a possibility yet not an option, but what hurts more is the guilt and frustration crossing Cas’ face, like he’s self-blaming for being a single dad. “You have your hands full with Rose and Max,” Dean supplies. “I get it, Cas. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”
“No, it’s- Please, Dean, don’t apologize,” Cas sighs. “Believe me, I’m very flattered that you asked at all.”
“What-” Dean’s incredulous because, okay, how could someone so thoroughly attractive not know that they’re so thoroughly attractive. That makes him even more attractive. Fuck. “Seriously? I mean, have you-” Dean almost utters something hopelessly cheesy like ‘Have you seen you?’ but he apparently doesn’t have to since Cas is blushing again. He clears his throat. “Right. Well, just, keep the offer in mind... you know, for the future.”
“I will.” Cas smiles shyly when they finally release each other’s hand, and the promise is enough to have Dean grinning like an idiot as he waits for his next parent. Man, is he screwed or what.
October
Castiel curses whoever thought this event was a good idea. It’s technically called Family Pumpkin-Carving Night on paper, but it might as well be Parents vs. Gourds: Death Match because every father and mother gathered in the gym, including Cas, is sweating buckets as they battle pumpkins that refuse to be carved, and he can see the profanity bubbles floating above the adults’ heads.
The children, meanwhile, are growing restless, disappointed that the fruits bear no resemblance to the jack-o’-lanterns they’ve seen on television. Rose is pouting a little too, because the cat in her pumpkin is looking more and more like a gaping hole, and Cas is about to lose a bit of patience himself when he hears “Mr. Winchester!” and glances up to find Max clinging to Dean’s leg.
Dean looks really, really amazing in a black Henley and jeans, and Cas stills his hand so he doesn’t nick any skin on what’s already an uncooperative blade. Max rapturously tugs Dean by the hand to their corner, inviting him to sit, and Rose scrambles over to join them, leaving Dean’s sympathetic gaze to meet Cas’ across two pumpkins and gleeful squeals.
“You okay there, Cas?”
Cas waits until both kids are looking away to roll his eyes, and Dean laughs as he hauls Max’s untouched pumpkin toward himself. “What do you want on here, buddy?” he asks Max, whose whole face lights up like a lantern as he yells, “A spider!”
“Hmm.” Dean makes a show of inspecting the fruit from every angle, drawing giggles out of the twins. “Let’s see what we can do.” He produces a Sharpie and a utility knife from his pocket, and Cas wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to help (this is blatant favoritism or something). But Rose and Max are watching their teacher so intently that Cas ultimately relents and returns to salvaging the cat, gritting his teeth as he saws through a rind that’s like a wall in fucking Alcatraz.
Dean, though. Wow, Dean is an expert at this. He cuts the top and digs into the center with his large hand, pulling out the flesh and seeds onto the newspapers covering the floor. He then elicits a reverent “Whoa” from Max by drawing a perfect, creepy spider on the waxy surface, and Cas is just watching too at this point because Dean is so focused and careful as he carves, forearm muscles flexing from the effort, and, god, is it ever hot.
Rose claps enthusiastically when Dean puts the finishing touches on Max’s spider, which honestly belongs in the Halloween edition of a Martha Stewart magazine. “Can you do mine, Mr. Winchester?”
“No, Rose, don’t-”
“It’s alright,” Dean assures him. He actually shrugs apologetically like he’d hate to steal Cas’ ‘dad thunder’ or something, but Cas’ arms and hands are aching and he did enjoy seeing Dean go to town on Max’s jack-o’-lantern so he nods, selfishly, letting Rose push her pumpkin closer to her teacher. Dean quickly draws an outline around Cas’ poor excuse for a feline and gets to work while Rose peers at him like he’s Tony Stark himself.
Since they’re left with two hefty pumpkins at the end of the night, Cas and Dean each carry one out to the car, and a strange feeling swells in Cas’ chest at Dean leaning down to fasten the twins’ seat belts, making sure the jack-o’-lanterns are settled snugly between them.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says as he shuts the rear door. “I would’ve run into a lot of trouble with my children if it weren’t for you.”
“Nah, it was my pleasure, Cas.” His green eyes appear warm even in the moonlight, and it’s a long moment before Cas manages to bid Dean good night, to tear his own eyes away.
Rose’s cat and Max’s spider glow beautifully for the next two weeks, and they’re all more than a little sad when the time comes for them to remove the pumpkins - mementos of that evening spent with Dean - from their porch.
November
Dean has sort of a love-hate relationship with field trips; he imagines his colleagues do too. Sure, they get kids out of the classroom, are interactive, et cetera, but they can also be nightmarish for the person in charge, i.e. the teacher.
There’s the counting, for one. Endless, panicked counting, because if there’s an easy place to lose a kid, well, that place is everywhere. So, yeah, his anxiety reaches a high this morning during the migration from the bus into the science museum (open spaces are the worst), but nobody wanders off thanks to the chaperones who are staying alert.
Oh, speaking of chaperones. Dean is extra, extra preoccupied today for an entirely unprofessional reason, and that reason is Cas, who volunteered to help out. He’s now efficiently rounding up the students in his group, appearing delectably windswept. The blue half-zip pullover he’s wearing also makes his eyes look absolutely ridiculous and everything is twice as terrible.
“Earth to Dean,” Charlie whispers beside him. She quirks an amused eyebrow when Dean jumps.
“Sorry, Charlie,” he mumbles, still glancing furtively at Cas because, shit, he is such a goner.
Charlie follows his eye line and smiles knowingly, her elbow nudging Dean’s side. “Got a crush on Smoking-Hot Dad, huh?” There’s a bright peal of laughter when Dean spins around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “He is dreamy. Think the other moms have caught on too.”
She nods toward Cas and Dean turns and, lo and behold, several female chaperones have moved the students in their charges closer to Cas’, totally counterproductive to the goal of keeping the two classes in smaller, manageable groups.
“I’m gonna put a stop to this,” Charlie declares, solemnly marching into the mass like some kind of superhero. It’s a daunting task but Dean silently cheers her on, and in the end everyone is relieved except for the hungering moms who sulk under Charlie's sweet-smiled dictatorship.
It takes about fifteen more minutes of loitering in the lobby to hand out the tickets, which the kids all clutch fiercely, and form mini, single-file lines. Rose keeps sneaking into Cas’ group to join Max so Dean lets her trade places with another student to maintain the numbers, and she beams at him while her hand reaches up to grasp her dad’s, stealing Dean’s heart yet again.
“Are you ready?” Charlie asks, as they herd forty bouncing children down to the lower level. Her tone is theatrical in the way of a suspenseful movie trailer and Dean laughs, though he secretly prays to every deity he knows of for the day to proceed without any hiccups.
The kids practically vibrate with excitement upon seeing the full-sized, model capsules in the moon exhibit; it's as if they can instantly picture themselves as astronauts. Charlie and Dean have to handle some fussiness - generally whines of “We can’t climb on the Apollo?” - but besides that the tour goes surprisingly smoothly, and they both relax a tiny bit by the time lunch rolls around.
Dean scans the café after grabbing his sandwich and bottled water, and it’s not difficult to find Cas among the mostly three-and-half-feet-tall crowd. He checks to make sure that Charlie’s eating before heading to Cas’ table, slipping into an empty seat near him as casually as possible.
“Hey, Cas.”
Cas is in the middle of wiping a smear of mayonnaise from little Kevin Tran’s cheek, which is adorable. He then gives Dean an apologetic smile as he takes the sandwich Max presents to him, going on to meticulously cut the crusts off with a plastic knife. Rose comes next and Cas hauls her onto his lap, bending his head down to ask if she wants apple or grape juice, and Dean's just sort of left gaping like a fish because he cannot handle the level of cute he’s witnessing.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas finally says once all eight students in his group are digging into their lunches.
Dean notices the unopened sandwich in the middle of the table and slides the box over until it’s at Cas’ fingertips. “You have to eat.”
“Yes... Thank you.” Cas sounds dazed like he completely forgot about putting food in his own stomach, and Dean can relate; it’s easy to slip out of it when you’re swamped with kids.
“I really appreciate the help, by the way. You sure it’s okay that we interrupted your scary M&A work?”
Cas shakes his head with a laugh. “This is a very nice break from my usual routine, and the other partners were good sports. Of course, one of them is my brother-in-law so I had that going for me.”
He must be referring to Anna’s husband (Charles? Chase?). Chuck, Cas answers for him, and Dean would’ve been happy to listen to Cas speak more about his family except one of the girls spills juice on her pants and any chance at a conversation flies out the window.
The rest of their trip is spent in the planetarium, where the kids are unanimously captivated by the lights and visual effects, and when everyone is settled in for the showing of Magic Tree House: Space Mission, Dean takes a quick breather, walking toward the back wall.
“I don’t know how you do this every day,” Cas whispers to him. It’s dim inside the planetarium save for the distant glow of the constellations, but Cas’ eyes nonetheless shine somehow and Dean is utterly mesmerized.
“It’s easier in a classroom.”
“Well, I’m in awe.” Cas shifts his gaze to Dean, a charming tilt to his head, and suddenly Dean can’t breathe. “They love you, you know. Rose and Max... Neither can stop talking about you.”
“Yeah?” There’s a warm burst of affection in Dean’s chest, as well as a distinct flutter of butterflies in his stomach, because call him crazy but he swears that Cas’ words seem to hold a second meaning, something more private for just the two of them.
Cas nods and they are stupidly close, enough for Dean to discern a flash of nervousness and hopeful shyness in his eyes. “And I also...” Cas continues, and Dean thinks he has to be hearing wrong so he tries to clarify.
“You...?” he tapers off too soon, though, Cas’ soft smile rendering him incapable of much else.
“Yes.”
It’s the quiet, simple confirmation that Dean’s wished to receive for months, and the only way he can respond is by gently pulling Cas in for a kiss. Their lips seam together and the moment is brief, chaste (because, well, children, field trip, other chaperones), but it’s also perfect and unbelievable and Dean could pinch himself.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Cas?”
“Would you like to have coffee with me?”
Dean grins as his hand seeks out Cas’ in the dark, their fingers entwining comfortably. “Yes, I would love to.”
Part 2
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): None
Summary: Dean and Cas are two single men with pasts of heart ache and disappointment, neither believing that he is ready to enter a new relationship. But then Fate comes knocking, determined to prove them wrong, and creates a year of moments through which Dean and Cas meet and fall in love. In which there is a one-night stand that really isn’t a one-night stand, a field trip, baking, and a couple of guys who are just trying to figure it all out.
Notes: I am very excited to be sharing this with you, because I've been wanting to write a Dean/Cas kid fic for a while and it has finally happened. I hope you enjoy! The title is a lyric from the song "Everything Has Changed" by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran.
Cross-posted at my Ao3.
August
“Come on, Castiel, it’s just one date.”
Cas frowns and points to the colored pencils on the shelves, purposefully avoiding his sister’s doe eyes so he won’t cave. “No, I’m not interested.”
Anna huffs and grabs two boxes to place in the cart. “I don’t know why you’re so against-”
“Not those.”
“What?”
Cas hands the boxes back to her. “These have twelve colors. I need the ones with twenty-four.” He smiles when Anna huffs again but replaces the items like he asks.
“As I was saying,” she continues, ignoring Cas’ resigned sigh. “I think you’ll like this guy. Sure, he’s an attorney at a competing firm but Chuck assured me that-”
“Anna, I didn’t refuse the date because he works for a competing firm.” Cas steers the cart into the backpacks aisle, scanning the merchandise for Marvel characters. “I refused because he’s a lawyer.”
He turns his head just in time to see Anna blink. “But... you’re a lawyer,” she argues.
“Exactly.” Cas takes an Avengers backpack off its hook to inspect the design. Good, Iron Man is in the very front. He loops one arm through the strap and reaches for a Spider-Man backpack with the other. “The last thing I want is to go out with another attorney.”
“Do you always have to focus on the cons whenever I try to set you up?”
“Maybe you should stop trying to set me up then.”
“We’re not talking about marriage here, you know,” Anna teases, fiddling with the markers Cas put in the child seat. She gently swats at his hand when he goes to pry the box away from her and he rolls his eyes; some things never change. “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself,” she finishes.
Cas sets the backpacks down neatly in the cart and looks up at his sister, expression a little pained. He knows that she means well, that she just wants him to be happy, but. “I can’t let new people into my life who aren’t going to stick around. It’s not only about me, remember? I don’t... Things are unstable for them as it is.”
His voice falters a bit on the last sentence and Anna rushes over, arm wrapping around his shoulder though she has to stand on her tiptoes to manage it. “Hey, that’s not true,” she murmurs, calm and quiet. “They love you so much, Cas. And you’re doing great, you really are.”
She pulls him into a hug and Cas sort of melts into the embrace, tension leeching out of his larger frame. “I appreciate that, Anna,” he mumbles into her shirt, smiling at the small hands patting his back. He’s slightly more concerned, though, when they move apart and he detects on her face a trace of mischief, a feature she shares to an uncanny degree with their brother Gabriel.
“Fine. No dates,” she declares up front like a disclaimer. “How ‘bout this. Be my plus-one for the cocktail party next week and I won’t bug you anymore about dating.”
Cas groans, running a hand over his mouth. He should’ve known there would be a catch. “What cocktail party,” he asks, reluctantly indulgent.
“I told you. The Globe hosts the event every year for young professionals in Boston. Ooh, there’ll be so many eligible bachelors that all I’ve gotta do is set you free among them.” Anna waves both of her arms like a ballerina about to curtsy. “Go. Go find your sweet gay love, Castiel.”
Cas makes a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh. “Why can’t Chuck go with you?”
“He’s going to that conference in New York.”
“Oh, right, the confer-” Cas pauses. Wait a second. That was the conference he would’ve gone to had Chuck not volunteered at the last minute- “Anna,” Cas narrows his eyes. “How long have you been scheming to take me to this party? Be honest.”
“Scheming is way too harsh of a word,” Anna grins, nudging him aside to push the cart herself.
“Anna.”
“Long enough to make sure that Gabe will be babysitting that night,” she confesses. She doesn’t sound guilty so much as proud of her foolproof plan. “And I mean, all night.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cas grimaces, unsure whether he should be in awe of the mastermind that is his sister or totally grossed out by his siblings’ joint determination to get him laid.
“So,” Anna wiggles her eyebrows, “are you coming with?”
Cas fixes her with a long, begrudging look that screams ‘I love you to death as a rule but hate you right now’ and shrugs, the fight having left him already. “It seems I have no choice. Let me make one thing clear though. You’re not going to play matchmaker at the party, alright? Just... I don’t know, leave me to roam free or whatever, like you said.”
“Free-range brother. Deal,” Anna replies breezily as she starts unloading the school supplies onto the conveyor belt. Cas holds back on another dramatic eye roll and joins her, utterly convinced that this was the worst and most unfruitful Office Depot run of his life.
-----
Dean rings the doorbell and paces the doorstep, glancing at the bottle in his hand. He’d never been to a wine shop before (his drink of choice is whiskey, Sam’s beer), but Jess prefers Pinot Grigio so he hopes the sommelier has recommended a good one with like, the right undertones.
Fortunately, the door opens before he can worry too much, and he’s greeted with Jess’ bright smile.
“Hey, Dean.” She steps aside to let him in and he bends down to kiss her cheek, handing over the wine as he pulls back.
“Hi, Jess. I’m, uh, not sure if you’ll like the wine, but I tried. I know jack squat about grapes so I put my faith in the expert at the store.”
Jess laughs fondly and gazes at the label. “No, this is perfect,” she says. “It’s even from Sonoma.”
“Yeah, I know how much you miss NorCal. Did you two have fun at the reunion?”
Jess is about to answer him when they’re interrupted by thumping footfalls on the hardwood, which, of course, belong to Sam, who bounds into the foyer and lights up at the sight of Dean.
“Sorry, had a call from a client,” he grins, tugging Dean into a bear hug. Dean grumbles that he can’t breathe but makes no real effort to let go, because it’s been a really shitty few months, hell, year so far, and there’s nothing like having his brother around again.
The townhouse smells wonderful, and Dean sees why once they’re in the kitchen: scrumptious pasta and a complex-looking chicken dish Jess takes out of the oven. There’s a salad too (for Sam because he’s a freak) but Jess counterbalances the travesty by hinting that she’s baked a pie, and Dean has no qualms about reminding Sam that his wife is so out of his league.
Their conversation centers mostly on Sam’s and Jess’ recent five-year college reunion, Jess regaling Dean with tales of drunken-dancing Sam and other misadventures. They do inevitably circle around to him, though, and Dean wishes he could change the topic but Sam is folding his hands on the table, which pretty much means that they won’t move on until the matter is discussed in full.
“Have you had a chance to visit the school?”
Dean scrapes his fork across his dessert plate, toying with the tiny puddle of melted ice cream and pie crumbs. “Yeah, went there yesterday to meet some of the other teachers... The principal was the only one I talked to at my interview so, you know, it was good to see who I’ll be working with.”
Sam nods, and Dean glimpses him and Jess exchanging a look, all telepathic and befitting a couple that’s been together for almost ten years.
Even so, they both fail hardcore at subtlety, because Jess’ intentions are painfully transparent when she asks, “Did, um... Were there any co-workers who seemed... particularly... nice?”
Dean kind of wants to face palm violently. “Jess. I’m not starting up a relationship at a brand new job. I intend to keep this one drama-free.”
“That’s not what I was...” the objection dwindles. “Yeah. Yeah, no, it was.”
“We just think it’d be wise to keep your options open,” Sam chimes in, bringing out the puppy dog eyes that are like an Achilles’ heel for Dean. God, he grew up to be such a sneaky little shit.
“Guys,” Dean groans, sinking into his chair. “I’m not ready to jump back in the dating pool, okay? I’m still messed up from what happened with-” His throat tightens on the name and he stares glumly at a random point on the wall, eyes prickling from the memory.
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam says. He sounds so apologetic that it makes Dean feel worse.
“It’s alright, Sammy,” he musters a smile for everyone’s sake, which improves the mood enough for dinner to end on an agreeable note.
Dean insists on doing the dishes afterward, pushing his way toward the sink despite the protests, and it’s as he is drying the last of the glassware that Jess finds him.
“What’s up, Jess?”
“Dean, there’s...” she pauses, treading carefully for some reason. “My work is... throwing a party next week and I wanted to ask if you’d like to come? Sam has a conference so he can’t go but your company would be great. I’ll introduce you to some cool people. Nothing like a blind date, I promise. Just, you know, since you’re new to the city and summer’s nearly over and-”
“Jess, slow down,” Dean laughs. “That sounds nice.”
She beams. “Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, as long as it’s not one of those black tie things. You know I hate monkey suits.”
“Don’t worry.” Jess takes the towel from Dean to wipe the water splattered on the granite. “It’s just a cocktail party. No need for anything fancy.”
“Cool. Text me the details.”
Jess confirms that she will and Dean can tell she’s excited, bouncing a bit on her feet. The fact that she cares so much warms him down to his toes, and Dean considers himself lucky to have a sister-in-law who’s frankly all sister and no in-law.
Sam and Jess come out onto the doorstep to say goodbye when he leaves an hour later, standing with their arms around each other, natural and comfortable. Dean waves at them, who are lit up by the cozy glow of their home, and wonders when he, too, will have that kind of love.
-----
The party is less like pulling teeth than Castiel expected, save for the one cardiac surgeon who’s adamant about ordering him a cocktail. Anna comes to his aid, thankfully, and ushers Cas over to her friends, all of whom prove to be far more pleasant. He meets Uriel, an editor who appears supremely displeased at the world and follows it up with biting humor. There’s Balth, a sarcastic English correspondent who dispenses terms of endearment like they’re going out of style (Cas is called “sweetheart” at least five times). And, finally, he’s introduced to Anna’s fellow staff writer Jess Winchester, whose husband is also a lawyer and off attending the same conference as Chuck.
Jess informs Cas that she’s brought her brother-in-law along, pointing him out in the crowd. He’s at the bar with his back to them and Cas can’t see much from this distance, but it takes nearly every reflex for him to not drop his drink when the guy returns to their group.
Wow. He is gorgeous. Light brown hair, strong jaw, stunning green eyes. The attraction hits Cas like a ton of bricks and he finds himself listening very intently when Jess says, “This is Dean.” Everyone else has already met him so it’s just Cas shaking his hand.
“Hello, I’m Castiel.”
Dean quirks a smile and Cas actually feels his heart flip-flop in its cage. Oh god, this is dangerous, and wholly unbecoming of a man in his thirties. Well, barely thirty-one, but still. Meanwhile, Dean echoes “Castiel” - thoughtfully, like he’s remembering something - then adds, “Like the angel?”
“Yes.” His surprise must be obvious because Dean is chuckling softly and, boy, it’s a glorious sound.
“My mom used to, uh, tell me and my brother angel lore at night. Her version of bedtime stories.” Dean rubs the back of his neck a little sheepishly, completely charming Cas in the process. “Castiel was one of the angels she told us about but... I’ve never met anyone with that name before.”
“We- My siblings and I were all named after angels,” Cas explains, gesturing toward his sister. “Anna is a nickname that stuck for Anael, and our brother is Gabriel. I suppose it comes with the territory when your parents are theologians.”
“I guess so,” Dean smiles again, the curve of it so easy on his lush-looking mouth. “You guys live up to your names then? Innocent trio of angels?”
“Oh, definitely not. Gabe got in trouble endlessly for pranking anyone who dared to cross his path, and Anna, well, they became partners in crime. Active to this day.”
“And yourself?”
Cas can swear that Dean is standing closer now, but that might be the alcohol talking. “Pardon?”
“What about you?” Dean repeats like he knows Cas heard him the first time. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch a stray drop of whiskey and rum on his upper lip and multiple sirens go off in Cas’ brain, warning him against handsome strangers.
“I... People tend to describe me as the... square one... of us three.”
“Hmm.” Dean peers at him amusedly over another sip of his drink, and just as he opens his mouth to say something else a server ambles by with a platter of hors d’oeuvres.
“Canapé?” the server asks, gauging their interest. He looks about seventeen and pitifully defeated when they both shake their heads, which makes Cas feel bad enough to take one.
Dean scrunches his nose at the garnished puff pastry in Cas’ hand. “I get that this is a cocktail party but, man, am I the only one who’s famished from relying on the bird food?”
Cas laughs as he glances down at the appetizer that’s... yeah, ridiculously tiny. “No, I’m sure you’re not alone in that predicament.”
“Right.” Dean nods but the movement is somewhat abrupt, deliberate, like he’s nervous and trying to mask it. “You know, there’s actually this great bar not fifteen minutes away if you wanna get out of here, maybe grab a bite...”
Cas’ pulse speeds up in tandem with his widening eyes. “Oh?”
Dean’s shifting on his feet now. “My brother took me there a few times and, um, I can vouch that the food is fantastic. Human portions too.”
Cas can’t recall the last time he found another adult quite so endearing, and it’s flattering, really, to entertain the idea that Dean’s shyness is a reaction to him. And while that may not be true Cas still hears the words “Yes, alright” fall from his mouth, and all of it happens before reason can fully kick in to persuade him otherwise.
He texts Anna on their way out of the reception hall, picturing her needlessly triumphant expression as he types, ‘Leaving to get some food with Dean.’ His phone buzzes ten seconds later with a winky face, to which he responds, ‘It’s not like that.’
It isn’t, Cas thinks as Dean hails a cab. They're going to eat, perhaps talk some more, but there’s no promise of anything beyond that, and even if such an offer is made, Cas knows he shouldn’t accept, or indulge. The problem, then, is that Cas finds himself second-guessing all of this as he climbs into the taxi, Dean’s hand a polite yet searing touch on the small of his back.
-----
Dean must be losing his mind.
There’s no other explanation, honestly, because wasn’t it just a week ago that he whined to Sam and Jess that his social life’s on indefinite hiatus? And yet here he is, sitting in a taxi with Castiel - who is, holy shit, like otherworldly hot - and heading to the Roadhouse for... something.
He knows burgers are not the reason they’re in this cab, and he’s sure that Castiel, with the sexy five o’clock shadow and striking blue eyes, was a huge (read: the only) motivating factor behind his stammered invitation earlier. What eludes Dean, though, is why Castiel decided to leave the party with him, and his brain nearly blows a fuse trying to predict where this night is headed.
Castiel, who asks Dean to call him ‘Cas’ in a voice husky enough to pull a dog sled, seems to appreciate the change of scene, loosening his tie a bit and leaning against the counter as he nurses a beer. He occasionally reaches for a fry from the basket between them while Dean works admirably through a bacon cheeseburger, and somehow it isn’t awkward at all, this- Whatever this is.
Dean learns that Cas is a lawyer like Sam and that he’s been living in Boston since graduate school. His tone goes distant for a moment when he alludes to a divorce (three years ago) but brightens as he mentions his two children, and Dean sort of wants to hug Cas and smack himself because the situation has now morphed into one involving, god, a DILF.
He tells Cas that he’s a teacher, a recent transplant from Lawrence, and evades bringing up the messy break-up that impelled him to start over someplace new. Cas, for his part, appears to understand that Dean doesn’t want to disclose anything further, and simply nods at the appropriate points with soft, empathetic eyes. They move onto lighter topics after that, primarily baseball (Cas is a Red Sox fan by default, Dean a much more avid supporter of the Kansas City Royals) and the general woes of growing up with siblings. Their conversation begins to slur and meander, however, after the beer is replaced with bourbon, and it’s when Cas cracks up uncontrollably at something Dean said (something not even that funny) that the owner, Ellen, rolls her eyes and phones the cab company.
There’s a slight chill in the air as they wait outside on the curb, standing close, arms brushing. Cas is warm and Dean instinctively curls toward him, only to smile a second later when he looks up and sees Cas steadily gazing back.
“You’re warm,” Dean says, like it explains everything. Cas huffs a laugh but keeps staring, and rather than being uncomfortable, the attention stirs something within Dean, heated and yearning and impulsive.
So before he can over-think it, Dean steps forward and leans in until his and Cas’ lips are pressed together.
Cas makes this noise, a muffled “mmph” of surprise, but then it melts into a quiet moan that Dean swallows hungrily, greed flaring in his senses. He can’t help a gratified grin at Cas fisting both hands in his jacket, like he wants to keep Dean from going anywhere, and Dean clutches Cas tight in return, wishing there were no layers separating his palms from Cas’ skin.
They hesitantly pull apart just as their ride shows up, which, good because Let’s Traumatize The Driver isn’t a very kind game to play. That doesn’t stop them from trailing their hands over each other’s thighs in the backseat, and Dean’s so distracted that he can’t even remember giving his address to the driver, although he must have since the car is, well, moving. They arrive at Dean’s building after a short while, and he swiftly hands the fare to the driver. He’s also pretty sure that they stumble into his apartment, pawing and impatient, and it’s a split second between the door closing and Cas shoving him against it.
He tastes the liquor on Cas’ tongue, its bitter flavor insistently pervading his mouth as they kiss, harsh and filthy. Dean groans at it all, their tongues rocking together, Cas’ wandering hands, and he shucks his jacket before maneuvering them toward the bedroom, making quick work of the excessive layers keeping him from touching Cas.
“Mm, Dean,” Cas murmurs when Dean’s mouth finds the hollow of his throat, arching his back to give Dean better access. Dean feels his arousal start to spike because Cas sounds so fucking gorgeous, gravelly and broken, shooting right to his erection. He manages to get rid of the tie and unclasp the buttons after fumbling a bit, pulling the shirt off of Cas, which, fuck, reveals toned muscles and abs and tanned skin that cause his brain to short-circuit. He wants to touch every inch of Cas’ body and starts by tracking the collarbone and chest with his tongue, licking and searching for the sensitive spots to make Cas quake and shudder. He doesn’t have to wait too long because Cas bucks and moans when Dean’s tongue sucks around a nipple, and a thrill runs through him at the effect he’s having, driving this beautiful man crazy with need.
By the time Dean sinks to his knees, Cas is writhing, hands already in Dean’s hair. Dean teases him a little, though, and lets his fingers brush feather-light across Cas’ hipbones before unzipping the fly at a painfully slow pace. He slides the pants down just enough to mouth at Cas’ dick through his boxers, moaning at how damp it is from precome, and it’s Cas panting out “Dean, come on, please” that cues Dean to finally pull the shorts down too, leaving nothing between his lips and Cas’ cock. He uses one hand to grip Cas’ hip, the other to wrap around the base of Cas’ thick length, and the room fills with dirty-hot noises when Dean moves to take Cas’ dick into his mouth, tongue swirling around the head.
“God, Dean,” Cas keens, fingers tightening in Dean’s hair and every syllable like a labored punch from his lungs. Dean just keeps going, taking him in gradually, and pulls off only when Cas starts to tremble, not wanting this to end with a mere blow job. He stands back up, gasping at Cas’ lust-blown eyes, and proceeds to grab his wrists and manhandle the guy in the direction of the bed, his own control wearing dangerously thin.
He pushes Cas onto the mattress and climbs over him, pinning him with his weight, then bends down to capture his mouth in a messy kiss, both groaning at their bodies seaming together. “What do you want, Cas?” Dean whispers, straightening up to divest himself of his shirt. He tosses it aside and glides his palms over Cas’ skin, prompting again, “What do you want?”
“I need- Dean, I...” God, Cas' voice is wrecked, chest heaving with every ragged breath, and his long fingers curl desperately into the sheets as he tells Dean, “I need you to fuck me.”
-----
“Shit,” Dean growls at the request, bowing down to mash his mouth against Cas’, kissing him deep. Cas is breathless, suffering a moment of confusion when Dean tears his lips and body away, but he soon realizes it was to fetch supplies and waits for Dean to settle back on the bed to pull him close. “You’re so fucking hot, Cas,” Dean groans into the crook of his neck, and Cas’ eyes screw shut on a whimper at that.
His heart pounds as Dean spreads his legs wider and then a dozen things seem to happen at once, the click of a bottle cap, gel trickling lewdly over Dean’s fingers, the ringing in his ears all the while. Dean is also pressing kisses into his skin, which burns in their wake, and Cas feels an overwhelming buzz in his nerves at the lips and tongue tracing patterns on his torso. “I’ve got you,” he hears Dean say, the assurance muffled by another kiss, and he has no chance at a response because Dean’s lubed fingers are now paused at his entrance.
Cas gasps loudly and Dean is careful, one finger then two, pumping in and out slowly, alternating with licks across his skin. When Dean is up to three fingers, Cas starts to groan incoherently, the pressure brushing his prostate on every stroke already too intense. His hands scrabble at Dean’s shoulders, urging him to get on with it, and there’s a low chuckle as the fingers disappear, followed by sounds of a condom being opened and lube dripping onto latex. Dean re-enters his field of view after, green eyes locking onto Cas’ for an impassioned moment where neither looks away, and he finally pushes forward when Cas squeezes his arm in permission, the initial burn quickly giving way to pleasure as Dean bottoms out.
They’re totally still and Dean continues to watch him, checking to see that he's okay. Cas eventually cradles Dean’s face in both hands and draws him in for a soft kiss, murmuring a simple command of “Move” because the anticipation just might kill him otherwise.
Dean laughs quietly but obliges him, thrusting shallowly at first then deeper, faster. Cas bucks his hips upward to meet Dean’s movement, moaning when Dean’s cock hits his prostrate, and then he’s panting “There, Dean. Oh god, right there” as he fists the sheets, knuckles white.
And Dean. Dean is ruthless, snapping his hips and rutting into Cas like his life depends on it. He has clearly made a mission out of grinding on Cas’ sweet spot and, oh, he’s succeeding, making Cas ache with desire as his pleasure knots into a tight, volatile coil. Cas hitches his legs around Dean’s waist and fucking takes it, whimpering from the unrelenting rhythm, the sultry roll of Dean’s body. He and Dean are practically shifting up the bed with how hard they’re moving, and if that weren’t enough Cas nearly blacks out when Dean’s fingers land on his throbbing erection, slipping on precome as they jack him off.
“Fuck, Cas,” Dean grunts, his gaze poring over Cas’ body like he’s drinking in the sight of him. “God, you feel so-”
“Dean, Dean,” the name streams from his mouth and Cas doesn't try to stop it, because the rough chant seems to only ignite the other man further.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Dean grits out as he thrusts. “Wanna see you come, Cas, see you fall apart.”
With that, Dean pushes in again, pressing firmly on his prostate, and all of it plus the hand wrapped greedily around his cock are suddenly too much. Cas doesn’t tumble over the edge, he’s flung, propelled, and stars burst behind his eyelids as he comes, painting his stomach and Dean’s chest in hot, wet stripes. His veins feel like they’re fizzing, and he closes his eyes to relish the high while Dean works him through the orgasm.
“Cas,” Dean calls, and when Cas' eyes open, he leans in for a kiss, tongue and teeth and visceral and unbelievably amazing.
Cas runs his hands up Dean’s sides, the skin like fire beneath his fingertips, and as their lips separate with a slick, obscene little noise he whispers, “Come for me.” And, shit, Dean does, his hips stuttering, whole body tensing at the release overtaking him, and Cas can feel Dean’s cock pulsing inside him, which is insanely hot and almost enough to make him hard again.
When the climax subsides, Dean inelegantly slumps onto him and they lie there, sticky and blissed out, entangled in each other.
“Wow, that...” Dean chuckles breathily.
“Yeah,” Cas agrees. His previously grayed vision is at last restoring itself to full-color and he lifts his head to look at Dean, who props his chin on Cas’ chest to do the same in return.
“This isn’t how I thought the night would pan out,” Dean mumbles, and the grin that accompanies his sated sigh is lazy and beautiful and Cas panics because they’re cuddling, aren’t they.
“Same,” he replies quietly, trying to quell the emotion as Dean laughs and presses a small kiss to his mouth. He shivers when Dean pulls out and begins to drift off when Dean comes back with a warm towel, though he's conscious of an arm looping solidly around him and Dean’s chest against his back, the soft kisses to his nape, a sleepy “Good night, Cas.”
-----
Dean wakes up to sun streaming in through the blinds like an intruder, groaning at the immediate, dull ache in his temples that seem to yell, ‘Good morning! Fuck you.’ He attempts to rub the pain out using his fingers, which helps a little, and as the headache fades, memories take its place, flooding his brain with images of the party, the Roadhouse, Cas- Cas.
Dean jerks his head to the left, half-expecting (entirely hoping) to find Cas still asleep, burrowed in the covers. But the other side of his bed is flat, cold, disappointing, and Dean even listens for noises beyond the bedroom before sinking into the mattress, hating himself for feeling so upset.
His crestfallen thoughts are interrupted by an all-too-chirpy sound from his iPhone and he glacially reaches over to grab it, which is when he spots the folded paper on the nightstand. He stretches his arm to retrieve both items and flips open the note first.
Dean,
I had to go pick up my kids and didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for letting me stay over. I enjoyed my time with you last night.
Cas
There’s no number or any indication of wanting to see Dean again, just three bland sentences in a neat script that pretty much ruin Dean’s day. He tosses the paper aside (but not too hard because it’s pathetically his only tangible connection to Cas) and dejectedly checks his phone, sighing at the multitude of texts from Jess.
‘Anna says you left with Cas?!’ the earliest one reads, followed by a ‘Good luck!’ with six smiley faces. There are a few more exuding a similar enthusiasm and then the message sent a few minutes ago: ‘How did everything go last night?’
A part of him wants to call Jess and cry, rant, do something to let out this frustration, but Dean pushes the temptation away, chalking it up to his emotional state not being as strong as it should lately. Instead, his mouth tightens as he types, ‘Hey, Jess. Nothing happened. We actually split after grabbing food and drinks at the Roadhouse.’
He sends off the text and clambers out of bed, cursing the annoyingly clear sky outside as he trudges to the bathroom to shower.
-----
Cas parks in Gabe’s driveway and pulls down the sun visor, hoping he doesn’t appear too exhausted; he had to leave Dean’s place early in order to go home and shower before coming here. But he has about ten seconds to come to terms with the dark circles under his eyes, because one glimpse out the window reveals his daughter running up to the car. She giggles delightedly when he steps out and gathers her in his arms.
“Hi, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, the same shade of brown as his. She buries her face in his shirt, her words dampened by the fabric, among them a quieter “I missed you, Daddy” that clenches at his heart.
“Me too,” Cas replies as a another blur of brown and blue dashes toward them. It’s his son, who wraps both arms around Cas when he’s close enough, and suddenly they’re a bundle of limbs standing on the pavement. “Did you guys have fun with Uncle Gabe?”
“You bet they did,” comes the answer from a couple of feet away. Cas glances up. “I gave them so much candy that they passed out at eight.”
Both of his children start yelling “No, he didn’t, Dad!” and “Uncle Gabe’s lying again, Daddy!” and Cas just rolls his eyes at his brother, who laughs at the chaos he’s created.
“Alright, calm down.” Cas sets his daughter carefully onto the ground next to her brother. “Why don’t you head inside and grab your things. We’ll go get breakfast.” This, of course, leads to pleads of “Can Uncle Gabe come?” that both men have no choice but to agree to.
Gabriel waits for his niece and nephew to disappear past the front door to fix Cas with a curious grin. “So, how was your night?”
“Ugh, Gabe,” Cas says indignantly and, god, he sounds like his own children.
Gabe ignores Cas’ whine like the practiced older brother that he is. “Anna called. Said you left with her co-worker slash friend’s brother-in-law? Very classy. Was he hot?”
Cas almost blurts out ‘yes’ but reels himself in. “We just went for drinks. And burgers. Well, he ate a burger. I got fri-” He stops there because he’s starting to sound like a seventh grader. Minus the alcohol.
“Aw, you didn’t even hold hands?” Gabe teases, not unkindly.
“No, we talked and then... went our separate ways.” Cas can’t comprehend why it physically pains him a little to say this.
Gabe seems skeptical, understandable since Cas looks really tired for someone who supposedly got enough sleep. There are unspoken questions hanging in the air between them and Cas is grateful that his brother doesn’t push, especially when the kids come prancing back out and Gabe just goes to scoop one up while Cas takes the other, all four Novaks heading to the car in a cloud of laughs and anticipation of waffles and pancakes.
September
The school year starts out smoothly for Dean, who really loved teaching back in Lawrence and didn’t think Boston would top that experience so soon. But to his own surprise, settling into the new post was as effortless as it could be, and he’s already made some good friends on the staff, namely Charlie who also teaches first grade and Benny, who teaches fifth.
He’s bonded with his class too, a group of twenty rambunctious six and seven-year-olds. It’s an age where most kids adore their teachers but Dean works hard regardless to deserve that adulation, the pay-off being the way his students excitedly dart up to him every morning.
Still, teaching is exhausting even on the best of days, and today more so because it is six pm and Dean’s back at the school for parent-teacher conferences. He’ll be lucky if he’s home before ten but the upside is that first grade-related topics are mostly light-hearted, and Dean is in a fairly pleasant mood eleven meetings into the evening.
That is, until the twelfth parent walks into the classroom and Dean chokes on his water.
“Cas?” Dean’s eyes are bugging out of his head, and the confusion only grows when Castiel remains maddeningly calm, approaching the desk in slow, graceful strides.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies as he sits down, the welcome packet from the opening assembly placed neatly in his lap.
“Yeah, uh...” Shit, this is awkward. “It’s... nice to see you.”
Cas' probing blue gaze meets his nervous one and Dean feels a flush creep up his neck, because the last time he thought (vividly) about those brilliant eyes was this morning. In the shower.
“Yes, likewise,” Cas says. “I imagine you’re quite shocked that I’m here.”
Dean almost snorts. Talk about understatement of the century. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Cas ducks his head like this is entirely his fault and Dean tries not to be distracted by how adorable he looks, all mussed hair and wonky tie. “I saw your name on the syllabus,” he murmurs like it's a confession. “I remembered you mentioning that you’re a teacher when we...” he trails off, blushing, and Dean really wants to call someone, anyone, for help. “I figured it was you but I... didn’t think it’d be appropriate to say anything.”
“No, I understand.” Dean fidgets with the stack of Post-Its by his computer. “I, um... We didn’t cover your- I didn’t catch your last name that... night... I had no idea...” The color on Cas’ cheeks deepens to a crimson at that, and Dean changes the subject to give the poor guy a break. “So, your children are Rose and Max?”
His instinct was on point and Cas’ fluster evolves into a broad smile. “That’s right. The twins.”
“Yeah,” Dean mirrors the smile. Rose and Max Novak are two of his favorite students. “They’re really great. Max is way ahead of the curve in math, so that’s an area to definitely pay attention to. And Rose, she shows a lot of strength in writing already. I think it’s because she reads so much and constantly absorbs new words. Both of them are always engaged in whatever we do and I love having them in class.” Dean pauses here and grins. “I’ve also never met six-year-olds more obsessed with Marvel than they are. You’ve cultivated good taste.”
Cas’ laugh is at once fond and exasperated. “I am learning far more than I ever wanted to know about the Marvel universe. I’m getting concerned about the paraphernalia piling up in our home as well.”
“Well, the silver lining is that you have a large selection of movies,” Dean teases. “I had a parent in here earlier who told me she’s seen Frozen every Saturday and Sunday since the DVD was released. She can recite the whole script.”
“Oh no,” Cas cringes in solidarity, eyes crinkling in a way that’s too cute for words. “At least the Avengers don’t sing, though they inspire my kids to jump off of furniture on a regular basis.”
“Between a rock and a hard place.”
“Exactly.”
His conference with Cas is twice as long as normal (ten minutes per kid and Cas has two, so). They discuss Rose and Max for the most part but some side conversations slip in there too, like Cas asking how Dean’s adjusting to Boston and Dean asking about Cas’ field of law (corporate mergers and acquisitions, yikes). It all flows so easily that the meeting nearly runs over, but Dean glances at the wall clock just in time.
He stands up when Cas rises from his chair, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, unsure if he should go for a handshake or- Cas makes the decision for him by extending a hand, which Dean takes. It’s warm and Dean doesn’t let go right away.
“Cas,” he begins instead. Their hands are still clasped together and the other man waits for him to continue, expression slightly bemused. “Would you want to, um, maybe have coffee sometime?”
“Dean, I...” Cas tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and Dean’s stomach sinks at the sight. God, he could kick himself. This was a monumentally bad move. “I really like you.” But. “But I am- I’m not in a place to pursue anything serious.”
Dean’s heart both aches and flutters at the thought that dating Cas is a possibility yet not an option, but what hurts more is the guilt and frustration crossing Cas’ face, like he’s self-blaming for being a single dad. “You have your hands full with Rose and Max,” Dean supplies. “I get it, Cas. I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that.”
“No, it’s- Please, Dean, don’t apologize,” Cas sighs. “Believe me, I’m very flattered that you asked at all.”
“What-” Dean’s incredulous because, okay, how could someone so thoroughly attractive not know that they’re so thoroughly attractive. That makes him even more attractive. Fuck. “Seriously? I mean, have you-” Dean almost utters something hopelessly cheesy like ‘Have you seen you?’ but he apparently doesn’t have to since Cas is blushing again. He clears his throat. “Right. Well, just, keep the offer in mind... you know, for the future.”
“I will.” Cas smiles shyly when they finally release each other’s hand, and the promise is enough to have Dean grinning like an idiot as he waits for his next parent. Man, is he screwed or what.
October
Castiel curses whoever thought this event was a good idea. It’s technically called Family Pumpkin-Carving Night on paper, but it might as well be Parents vs. Gourds: Death Match because every father and mother gathered in the gym, including Cas, is sweating buckets as they battle pumpkins that refuse to be carved, and he can see the profanity bubbles floating above the adults’ heads.
The children, meanwhile, are growing restless, disappointed that the fruits bear no resemblance to the jack-o’-lanterns they’ve seen on television. Rose is pouting a little too, because the cat in her pumpkin is looking more and more like a gaping hole, and Cas is about to lose a bit of patience himself when he hears “Mr. Winchester!” and glances up to find Max clinging to Dean’s leg.
Dean looks really, really amazing in a black Henley and jeans, and Cas stills his hand so he doesn’t nick any skin on what’s already an uncooperative blade. Max rapturously tugs Dean by the hand to their corner, inviting him to sit, and Rose scrambles over to join them, leaving Dean’s sympathetic gaze to meet Cas’ across two pumpkins and gleeful squeals.
“You okay there, Cas?”
Cas waits until both kids are looking away to roll his eyes, and Dean laughs as he hauls Max’s untouched pumpkin toward himself. “What do you want on here, buddy?” he asks Max, whose whole face lights up like a lantern as he yells, “A spider!”
“Hmm.” Dean makes a show of inspecting the fruit from every angle, drawing giggles out of the twins. “Let’s see what we can do.” He produces a Sharpie and a utility knife from his pocket, and Cas wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to help (this is blatant favoritism or something). But Rose and Max are watching their teacher so intently that Cas ultimately relents and returns to salvaging the cat, gritting his teeth as he saws through a rind that’s like a wall in fucking Alcatraz.
Dean, though. Wow, Dean is an expert at this. He cuts the top and digs into the center with his large hand, pulling out the flesh and seeds onto the newspapers covering the floor. He then elicits a reverent “Whoa” from Max by drawing a perfect, creepy spider on the waxy surface, and Cas is just watching too at this point because Dean is so focused and careful as he carves, forearm muscles flexing from the effort, and, god, is it ever hot.
Rose claps enthusiastically when Dean puts the finishing touches on Max’s spider, which honestly belongs in the Halloween edition of a Martha Stewart magazine. “Can you do mine, Mr. Winchester?”
“No, Rose, don’t-”
“It’s alright,” Dean assures him. He actually shrugs apologetically like he’d hate to steal Cas’ ‘dad thunder’ or something, but Cas’ arms and hands are aching and he did enjoy seeing Dean go to town on Max’s jack-o’-lantern so he nods, selfishly, letting Rose push her pumpkin closer to her teacher. Dean quickly draws an outline around Cas’ poor excuse for a feline and gets to work while Rose peers at him like he’s Tony Stark himself.
Since they’re left with two hefty pumpkins at the end of the night, Cas and Dean each carry one out to the car, and a strange feeling swells in Cas’ chest at Dean leaning down to fasten the twins’ seat belts, making sure the jack-o’-lanterns are settled snugly between them.
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says as he shuts the rear door. “I would’ve run into a lot of trouble with my children if it weren’t for you.”
“Nah, it was my pleasure, Cas.” His green eyes appear warm even in the moonlight, and it’s a long moment before Cas manages to bid Dean good night, to tear his own eyes away.
Rose’s cat and Max’s spider glow beautifully for the next two weeks, and they’re all more than a little sad when the time comes for them to remove the pumpkins - mementos of that evening spent with Dean - from their porch.
November
Dean has sort of a love-hate relationship with field trips; he imagines his colleagues do too. Sure, they get kids out of the classroom, are interactive, et cetera, but they can also be nightmarish for the person in charge, i.e. the teacher.
There’s the counting, for one. Endless, panicked counting, because if there’s an easy place to lose a kid, well, that place is everywhere. So, yeah, his anxiety reaches a high this morning during the migration from the bus into the science museum (open spaces are the worst), but nobody wanders off thanks to the chaperones who are staying alert.
Oh, speaking of chaperones. Dean is extra, extra preoccupied today for an entirely unprofessional reason, and that reason is Cas, who volunteered to help out. He’s now efficiently rounding up the students in his group, appearing delectably windswept. The blue half-zip pullover he’s wearing also makes his eyes look absolutely ridiculous and everything is twice as terrible.
“Earth to Dean,” Charlie whispers beside him. She quirks an amused eyebrow when Dean jumps.
“Sorry, Charlie,” he mumbles, still glancing furtively at Cas because, shit, he is such a goner.
Charlie follows his eye line and smiles knowingly, her elbow nudging Dean’s side. “Got a crush on Smoking-Hot Dad, huh?” There’s a bright peal of laughter when Dean spins around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “He is dreamy. Think the other moms have caught on too.”
She nods toward Cas and Dean turns and, lo and behold, several female chaperones have moved the students in their charges closer to Cas’, totally counterproductive to the goal of keeping the two classes in smaller, manageable groups.
“I’m gonna put a stop to this,” Charlie declares, solemnly marching into the mass like some kind of superhero. It’s a daunting task but Dean silently cheers her on, and in the end everyone is relieved except for the hungering moms who sulk under Charlie's sweet-smiled dictatorship.
It takes about fifteen more minutes of loitering in the lobby to hand out the tickets, which the kids all clutch fiercely, and form mini, single-file lines. Rose keeps sneaking into Cas’ group to join Max so Dean lets her trade places with another student to maintain the numbers, and she beams at him while her hand reaches up to grasp her dad’s, stealing Dean’s heart yet again.
“Are you ready?” Charlie asks, as they herd forty bouncing children down to the lower level. Her tone is theatrical in the way of a suspenseful movie trailer and Dean laughs, though he secretly prays to every deity he knows of for the day to proceed without any hiccups.
The kids practically vibrate with excitement upon seeing the full-sized, model capsules in the moon exhibit; it's as if they can instantly picture themselves as astronauts. Charlie and Dean have to handle some fussiness - generally whines of “We can’t climb on the Apollo?” - but besides that the tour goes surprisingly smoothly, and they both relax a tiny bit by the time lunch rolls around.
Dean scans the café after grabbing his sandwich and bottled water, and it’s not difficult to find Cas among the mostly three-and-half-feet-tall crowd. He checks to make sure that Charlie’s eating before heading to Cas’ table, slipping into an empty seat near him as casually as possible.
“Hey, Cas.”
Cas is in the middle of wiping a smear of mayonnaise from little Kevin Tran’s cheek, which is adorable. He then gives Dean an apologetic smile as he takes the sandwich Max presents to him, going on to meticulously cut the crusts off with a plastic knife. Rose comes next and Cas hauls her onto his lap, bending his head down to ask if she wants apple or grape juice, and Dean's just sort of left gaping like a fish because he cannot handle the level of cute he’s witnessing.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas finally says once all eight students in his group are digging into their lunches.
Dean notices the unopened sandwich in the middle of the table and slides the box over until it’s at Cas’ fingertips. “You have to eat.”
“Yes... Thank you.” Cas sounds dazed like he completely forgot about putting food in his own stomach, and Dean can relate; it’s easy to slip out of it when you’re swamped with kids.
“I really appreciate the help, by the way. You sure it’s okay that we interrupted your scary M&A work?”
Cas shakes his head with a laugh. “This is a very nice break from my usual routine, and the other partners were good sports. Of course, one of them is my brother-in-law so I had that going for me.”
He must be referring to Anna’s husband (Charles? Chase?). Chuck, Cas answers for him, and Dean would’ve been happy to listen to Cas speak more about his family except one of the girls spills juice on her pants and any chance at a conversation flies out the window.
The rest of their trip is spent in the planetarium, where the kids are unanimously captivated by the lights and visual effects, and when everyone is settled in for the showing of Magic Tree House: Space Mission, Dean takes a quick breather, walking toward the back wall.
“I don’t know how you do this every day,” Cas whispers to him. It’s dim inside the planetarium save for the distant glow of the constellations, but Cas’ eyes nonetheless shine somehow and Dean is utterly mesmerized.
“It’s easier in a classroom.”
“Well, I’m in awe.” Cas shifts his gaze to Dean, a charming tilt to his head, and suddenly Dean can’t breathe. “They love you, you know. Rose and Max... Neither can stop talking about you.”
“Yeah?” There’s a warm burst of affection in Dean’s chest, as well as a distinct flutter of butterflies in his stomach, because call him crazy but he swears that Cas’ words seem to hold a second meaning, something more private for just the two of them.
Cas nods and they are stupidly close, enough for Dean to discern a flash of nervousness and hopeful shyness in his eyes. “And I also...” Cas continues, and Dean thinks he has to be hearing wrong so he tries to clarify.
“You...?” he tapers off too soon, though, Cas’ soft smile rendering him incapable of much else.
“Yes.”
It’s the quiet, simple confirmation that Dean’s wished to receive for months, and the only way he can respond is by gently pulling Cas in for a kiss. Their lips seam together and the moment is brief, chaste (because, well, children, field trip, other chaperones), but it’s also perfect and unbelievable and Dean could pinch himself.
“Dean?”
“Yeah, Cas?”
“Would you like to have coffee with me?”
Dean grins as his hand seeks out Cas’ in the dark, their fingers entwining comfortably. “Yes, I would love to.”
Part 2