Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Stanford campus is huge. Dean was right to case the joint before Sam’s graduation.

He wanders in the streets, looking around him. The campus is its own city, filled with students. It’s kinda weird. Dean is used to places with more diverse population. He hopes for them they aren’t as study-focused as Sam. He knows that real life has nothing to do with shows, but there has to be a middle ground between shows and what Sam is doing.

Dean stares at the students, wondering if he’d really like to be in their shoes or if he only watched too many shows. He doesn’t think about studying at Stanford, obviously, but he guesses every campus is alike.

Dean stops, seeing a street blocked by protesters, chanting slogans about the planet. A detour, then. Dean dislikes being among crowds, especially if there are cameras around. He doesn’t get how anyone can stand that.

Dean turns on his heels and is about to leave when he spots a handsome guy staring at the protesters. He stops to admire him—there’s no harm in that. The man has fluffy dark hair, stubble on his square jaw and piercing eyes. Dean can tell he’s finely shaped despite the shapeless trenchcoat cast over his clothes.

The guy eyerolls at the protesters and walks away... heading in Dean’s direction. Dean freezes on the spot, staring at him. The guy doesn’t seem to notice. As he’s bypassing him, Dean can’t help but call him—he’s kinda helpless around attrative men. “Not a fan of the greens?”

The guy aims blue eyes at him. They’re so sharp, so vivid, Dean feels like they’re boring into his soul. He shifts on his feet, his face flushing.

“Calling nature harmless and arguing one can destroy at the slightest moment of inattention is doing it a disservice.”

“Oh?”

”Ecology allows to save humans, maybe other mammals, but not the planet.” Blue-eyes wrinkles his nose in a way Dean can only describe as adorable. “I do not like ideologies based on lies, and Earth will outlive humanity. It got rid of the dinosaurs,” he adds in a way that makes Dean pictures Earth running after T-rex with a chainsaw—his horror movies marathon from last week may explain the image.

Dean tries to chase the stupid image from his thoughts. He gestures at the protesters.

“So this is useless?”

Blue-eyes looks back at them thoughtfully, as if Dean’s question deserves an answer.

“The Sun isn’t resolving around Earth anymore, God isn’t present in every thought to prove humans are the most important beings of Creation, and some humans need to feel like the world resolves about them.”

“That’s when the ‘poor baby nature’ appears?”

Blue-eyes nods solemly. “It makes them feel better, and urges them to act. I am no prophet to be able to say if it will be useless or not. At this moment, for them, it’s important.”

“What about people?”

Blue-eyes looks at him quizzically.

“You said it can save people. Don’t you think they deserve to be saved?”

“I don’t have an opinion on this very matter yet.”

“Better than a no.”

Blue-eyes tilts his head. Dean straightens up, noticing he leaned toward him. He holds out his hand.

“Dean Winchester.”

Blue-eyes looks at his hand. He reaches out slowly and shakes it as if it’s something new for him. Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Castiel... Novak.”

The pause and the note of hesitation make Dean curious. Is it reluctance about sharing his name or giving a false name? He doesn’t mind either way. No one is forced to tell their real name to someone they just met.

“And you? Do you think humanity deserves to be saved?”

Dean makes an amused sound but he realizes Castiel is serious. He’s really asking his opinion.

It’s not something he’s used to.

“You’d like to talk about it around a coffee?”

Castiel nods. A stupid grin appears on Dean’s face, yet he knows it’s not a date or anything like it. Or maybe that’s what making him so happy. When was the last time someone seem interested by talking with him?

Certainly never. He doesn’t stand out for his intelligence. It’s more Sam’s thing. He only has a GED and an attitude.

Dean leads Castiel to the closest coffee shop.

“Do you come here often?”

“I’m not from here. I only came to California for my brother’s graduation.”

“Your brother studies here?”

There’s such contempt in Castiel’s voice it takes him aback.

“It’s Stanford.”

“I... don’t really like this kind of place.”

“College?”

Castiel looks uneasy.

“We don’t have to stay here,” Dean says gently. He sets off. Castiel falls into his steps. Dean grins at him. “So, I have to convince you humanity deserves to be saved, Terminator?”

Castiel tilts his head in a show of pure confusion.

“I would be interested in hearing your arguments. You didn’t get angry at me for saying what I said. It’s a nice change.”

Amusement bleeds out of Dean. “People get angry at you for that?”

“They aren’t open to discussion.”

“There are baby dictators everywhere, huh?”

Castiel squints. “I’m fine. There is no need to comfort me. I’m used to it.”

“It doesn’t make it okay, Cas. That’s just plain sad.”

Surprise colors Castiel’s eyes.

“What are you doing here if you don’t like Stanford? Or college in general?”

“I’m searching.”

“Can I ask what or it’s a secret?”

“I don’t know yet. I hope I’ll find it soon.” Cas scrunches up his nose. “It’s not in California.”

Dean laughs. “I’m sorry California offended you.”

“I wouldn’t go as far as saying I am ‘offended’.” Dean stares the hands doing the air quotes. It’s so dorky. “But I don’t like this place. I think I dislike big cities.”

Dean nods. This is relatable. Visiting is fine, but living there for years?

“Knowing what you don’t like is a good start.”

Cas tilts his head. “I haven't thought about it this way.” He isn’t smiling but he looks pleased and it softens his features. “You’re right. I’m progressing.”

“You sure are.”

“Where do you usually live?”

“Lawrence, Kansas. You?”

Cas looks so sad Dean wishes to take back his question. He spots a group of friends laughing and horsing around. He shows them to Cas. Cas wrinkles his brow, not understanding yet.

They keep walking. Dean has a vague idea of their destination. Then he spots them, the families, gathered for the graduates later. Dean nudges Cas’ shoulder and nods to them. There are children running around, younger siblings and parents talking. Most people are smiling.

“It’s all that. You get it?”

When Dean turns his face, Cas is looking at him, his eyes creaking, the hint of a smile on his face. Something flutters in Dean.

“What?”

“Most people would have talked about major discoveries.”

“Oh.”

Dean glances back at the families. He can’t convince himself he should have done differently, though it certainly doesn’t count as an argument. But what matters more than families and people doing their best?

“I like your argument better.”

Dean whips his head to Cas. The beginning of a smile is still here. It makes his eyes softer.

“Did I save them?” Dean asks playfully.

“I don’t know that, but you made me understand why they deserve to be saved, and I’m grateful for it.”

A wave of self-consciousness hits Dean. Butterflies flutter in his stomach. It’s stupid. There’s no hidden meaning behind those words. But it’s more than he’s used to and he knows he’s going to cling to this memory for a long time.

“What are you gonna do now?”

“Leaving.”

“To where?”

Cas cocks his head to the side. “I don’t know.”

“Lawrence, Kansas, is as a good place as any,” Dean blurts, feeling strangely bold for a bit, and mortified the very next second. But Cas doesn’t recoil. He even starts to smile.

“Then, Lawrence, Kansas it is.”

Things are easy with Cas. Not because they agree on everything—they don’t—or one of them always folds—they both are stubborn bastards—but in the way they love to spend time together and genuinely care about the other’s interests. They meet in bars and restaurants. They go for walks and in theaters. They visit each other and simply talk.

It’s as if everything is clicking into place. Nothing ever felt so natural.

Cas tells him so, one day, and Dean is overjoyed to learn he feels the same.

“Eh, we’re obviously kindred spirits, Anne.”

As usual, Dean has to explain his reference. He loves that about Cas, too. He’s so curious about the world.

They spend Thanksgiving then Christmas together. Their family situations are complicated. At his graduation, Sam said he’d have to focus on his job and Dean’d better not call him outside life-and-death situation. And Cas... well Cas...

Dean can’t think about Cas’ situation too much or it makes him mad.

There’s finally a upside to his pathetic life: it allows him to understand Cas more than he would have otherwise. They don’t see eye-to-eye. They hadn’t lived the same things nor did they react the same way. But they understand enough. And sometimes, enough is enough.

Dean didn’t have that kind of fun in years. Maybe never.

Their friendship keeps growing and, before they notice, it tips into romance and they’re dating.

(Well, before Cas notices. Dean was pretending they were boyfriends since their third meeting. Sue him.)

They’re chilling on his couch, Dean resting his head on Cas’ lap, Cas’ hand petting his hair. Dean is wondering how to ask smoothly about Cas moving in when a phone rings. His phone. With a sigh, Dean sits up. Well, he tries to. Cas lays an arm across his chest, pinning him down. Dean raises an eyebrow at him. He’s strong for such a little guy.

“It could be important.”

“But we’re comfortable.”

“Cas.”

“Deannn.”

That’s basically cheating. But Dean can play this game too.

He lowers his face and looks at Cas through his eyelashes. “Please.”

He has to hold back a smirk at the shiver running through Cas. His boyfriend lets him go. Dean shoots him a grin. He goes get his phone on the kitchen table. His smugness vanishes at the caller ID. He picks up.

“Sam?”

“Good afternoon, Dean.”

“Are you fine?”

“Obviously. Everything is going well.” Good to know. “I was calling about Thanksgiving.”

“Huh... What?”

“Are we going to celebrate it this year?”

“You want to?” Dean asks, surprised.

“We talked about it,” Sam retorts, annoyance sipping in his voice. “I proved I’m an asset to my firm, so I’ve got time for all those family meetings now.”

Dean really doesn’t understand how Sam’s mind works sometimes. He glances at Cas, who is looking so focused that Dean is pretty sure he’s trying to listen the whole conversation. He smirks. Cas scrunches up his nose and looks away.

“I’m seeing someone.”

The following silence expresses such surprise it’s hard to not get offended.

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“I met them before your graduation... I didn’t tell you?”

Saying ‘them’ is pathetic, Dean knows, but he’s reluctant to share the truth with his brother for three reasons:

1. Sam had called him about the Pride when he was at college, saying he was going and wanting to convince him to go too. He was deeply annoyed when Dean refused and still talked about it from time to time. Dean can only imagine how much worse it’d be once he’d know.

2. Sam loves to bring the topic of his gender studies... forgetting conveniently the reason he had signed up for this class. He didn’t like the other options and, apparently, it’s a good way to meet girls.

3. Dean dreads ally Sam’s big speeches a thousand times more than he fears him being a bigot.

“You’re dating someone from Stanford?” Sam asks, something like joy in his voice.

“No. We both happened to be there at the same time.”

“Obviously,” Sam mutters, making a face—Dean just hears it

Dean pursues his lips. He doesn’t have much ego, fortunately. He’s been insulted twice in as many minutes.

“We spent the last Thanksgiving together, so...”

“You’ll invit her.”

Dean winces. He feels bad for misleading his brother and is about to correct him when he remembers his last lecture. He decides wisely to keep his mouth shut.

“Is it serious at least?”

“We’ve known each other for more than one year. We’ve been dating for months.”

Five months, two weeks and three days... but Dean can’t be that precise. His brother would laugh if he knew how gone he is.

“I want to meet her before Thanksgiving. I guess I can clear my schedule,” Sam says reluctantly, as if he isn’t deciding for this meeting all alone. “Next weekend?”

Dean’s first instinct is to retort it’s not possible, but it’d only postpone the meeting and he’d have more time to agonize over it.

“Alright.”

“You’d better not break up before one year at least. Got it?”

Dean will never break up. He hopes Cas is on the same page.

“You want me to pinky promise?”

Sam scoffs.

“I should warn you about a couple of things...”

“It’s a stripper?”

“What? No. It’s just... you’ll have topics to avoid...”

“I know how to handle social calls, Dean. I went to Stanford. I’ll see you Saturday.”

Sam hangs up. Dean blinks at his phone.

“Are you fine?”

Dean looks at Cas. “You’re gonna meet my brother.”

Cas’ eyes become as round as saucers. Dean had never seen him that surprised. He’d find it funny if he wasn’t so worried.

For the first meeting, Dean chooses his apartment. It’s a pathetic reminder of the only common point he found for Cas and Sam—himself. He had thought about it all week long, only to realize odds are that his boyfriend and his brother are going to end at each other’s throat.

Dean would make them sign a contract forbidding some topics if he thought it’d work.

Well, comes to worse what’ll happen? Sam and Cas will hate each other? So what? They’re all grow-up. They can swallow down whatever they’re feeling for a couple of hours.

Dean thinks about his brother’s character. He thinks about his boyfriend’s character.

They’ll never be able to.

Dean drives to the airport to pick up Sam with as much enthusiasm as he’d use to walk to the gallows. On their way home, Sam talks about his job. Dean is kinda relieved he isn’t asking about Cas. They’ll meet and all will be cleared soon enough. There’s no reason he should bear alone minutes of lecturing. Also, Sam should be less annoying about it in front of an audience. Dean hopes. He also hopes Sam’d want to make a good impression.

Dean is a bundle of nerves when they reach his apartment. Everything Sam tells him goes in one ear and out the other. He couldn’t remember a thing for the life of him.

At last, there are knocks at the door. Dean rushes toward it, not caring he’s interrupting Sam midsentence. He opens the door. Cas smiles softly.

“Hello Dean.”

Cas tells his name so fondly it feels like a hug. Dean loves it. 

“Heya Cas.”

Dean steps away to let Cas inside. He shuts the door and turns around. Sam’s eyes are almost falling out of his head. Dean winces. Maybe he should have warned him and taken the chance of facing Sam’s ally act alone.

Cas nods at Sam. “Hello Sam. Your brother told me much about you.”

“You’re a guy,” Sam says very unhelpfully.

Cas narrows his eyes. “Is it going to be a problem?” he asks, kindness already out of his voice.

“It won’t!” Sam hurries to say. “I’m an ally. I took gender studies when I was at Stanford.”

Dean still knows his brother well enough, despite them being mostly estranged.

“Gender studies?”

“You know, to learn about women’s place in society, as well as the LGBTQIAA+ minority.”

Dean frowns. There weren’t as many letters the last time Sam brought up that topic. Nor the mathematical symbol. He glances at Cas, who hates labels in every form. Dean can almost see the wheels spinning in his mind.

“Are you saying there are studies about sexuality at college?”

Sam smiles a relaxed smile. He doesn’t worry over the wheels spinning in Cas’ brain. Dean does.

“Exactly. I followed some classes.”

“Is it like zoology?”

Dean chokes and swallows back a laugh. Sam’s expression falls.

“What? NO! It allows people to understand the community and–”

“Wouldn’t it be better to talk with real people than trusting so-called professors who are certainly saying anything to make a name? What do they do? Do they bring students to bars to show them the local wildlife?”

Dean pictures the scene—a bunch of students listening to their snotty professor in a gay bar while the professor points out at different people and puts a label on them—and doubles over. Sam casts him an horrified look. How he can not laugh? Cas has the weirdest ideas sometimes.

Cas tilts his head, confused. Dean hiccups. He wipes out his eyes.

“Well... we’re an endangered species and we’re hunted in some countries. I guess it makes sense there are classes about us like there are for polar bears and sharks.”

Cas nods slowly. The laugh bubbles in Dean’s chest again.

“Can’t you see he’s kidding?” Sam asks, his voice sharpening, gesturing at Dean who is doing his best to not laugh.

Cas squints at Dean to judge it by himself. He shakes his head.

“I don’t care. It’s the most logical explanation. The less insulting too.”

“The less insul–”

Dean claps his hands together. It’s about to escalate, despite Cas and Sam not having been introduced yet.

“Let’s start with introductions,” he chimes in. There’s no way to wipe the slate clean, he knows. He should have trusted his instinct. Why is he always making the mistake of ignoring it? “Cas, that’s Sam, my baby brother. Sam, Cas, my boyfriend.”

And, no, Dean isn’t ashamed of basically saying ‘I love you both please don’t hate on each other’.

Sam and Cas glare at each other. Sam is the first to move. He holds out a hand to Cas. Cas stares at it like he’d stare at a bug—nope, like Dean would stare at a bug, Cas is the type to hold bugs with bare hands and puts them outside gently. Cas looks at Dean, looks back at the hand and accepts the handshake reluctantly. Sam is obviously offended by it.

“Someone wants a beer?” Dean asks.

Cas and Sam acquiesce in a annoyed mumble. Dean heads for the kitchen area, elbowing Cas when he bypasses him. Cas falls into steps behind him.

“You could be nicer,” Dean mutters as soon as they’re as far as the room allows them to be.

Dean glances at his brother. Sam produced his phone and is frowning at it. He hopes it means he isn’t listening. You can never be sure with younger siblings.

“How?”

“I dunno. The handshake, for a start.”

“People have too many physical contacts in this world.”

Dean tries to harden his heart at Cas’ big blue eyes and at his allusion to his past. It’s certainly the most difficult thing he ever did.

“Come on. You never acted like that with me.”

“Why would I have? I found you beautiful as soon as I laid my eyes on you.”

Dean stares at Cas.

Cas stares him back.

Dean blushes furiously. How Cas can say that kind of thing so genuinely?

Dean grabs three beers from the fridge and walks back, Cas still on his heels. Dean opens the beers and hands them out. Then, he finds himself with nothing to do. The silence is too heavy. He nearly clears his throat just to hear something.

“So... Cas... It’s a nickname?” Sam asks, his tone flat enough to show he’s doing so only for the sake of the conversation.

“Obviously.”

“Where does it come from?”

Cas stands taller and preens. He even gives a little smirk.

“Dean gave it to me.”

He says it with as much pride as someone showing off their new car. He’s the cutest person who ever existed. Dean would fight anyone on that.

Sam frowns. “Well. No. I mean... What’s your actual name?”

“Castiel.”

“That’s– unusual.”

“I often hear so.”

“It’s the angel of Thursdays, Solitude and Tears,” Dean chimes in, because Cas is taking things too literally and they risk to be rooted in the same spot tomorrow at this rate.

“Original.”

There’s another silence.

“It’s funny, because sometimes he’s confused with Cassiel, the archangel of Saturdays,” Dean says.

“Though they don’t have many similarities,” Cas adds.

“So... you started dating and Dean became an angel expert?” Sam asks, his mouth curving mockingly, filling this information for future sibling mockery.

Cas frowns. “Dean knew about angels before we started dating.”

“It was his pick up line?” Sam’s smile is downright mocking, and Dean knows he’s going to hear about it forever. He doesn’t mind. Everything is better than this horrible silence.

“It wasn’t.”

Cas’ serious voice drops like a stone. Dean doesn’t mind his curtness, usually, but it’s no good for his tension right now.

He takes a sip of his beer. The silence keeps weighting around them. Dean is pretty sure it’s trying to squeeze him like an orange.

“How did you meet?”

“We talked, then we ordered a coffee and talked more.” Cas turns his face toward Dean. “It was very enlightening.”

“It was.”

Dean stares into Cas’ eyes and the weird atmosphere doesn’t matter anymore. It can’t touch him here.

Sam clears his throat. Dean blinks back in the present.

“We... Let’s sit?”

The silence somehow manages to get heavier once Dean and Cas are settled on the couch and Sam on a chair across them. Maybe because it looks like an interrogation.

“Where do you fall on the LGBTQIAA+ spect– scale?”

“I’m Castiel.”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Cas hates labels,” Dean clarifies. ”He thinks they were only created to cause division and make people worry over details instead of finding their kindred spirits.”

Cas smiles softly. “They’re uselessly complicated. Though Dean helped me understand some people find comfort in it.”

Dean smiles and lowers his eyes.

“Ah. So you’re pansexual, right?”

Dean grabs Cas’ arm before he can do something like punching Sam. He really hates labels.

“He hates labels, so he isn’t. He isn’t anything LGBT or political or other stuff.”

Dean pats his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the tension running under his skin. He brushes his arm, trying to calm him down. Cas relaxes after a while. Dean offers him a smile. It’s quite a proof of self-control. He’s proud of him.

“But– It’s not–”

“It is,” Dean interrupts him.

That silence again. Dean glances at his phone. It’s not been ten minutes since Cas joined them. To say it has felt like hours...

“Did you go to college? Dean said you met at Stanford–”

“Accidentally,” Dean reminds him.

Sam eyerolls. Dean sinks back in his seat. Sam is trying, he gives him that, but he’s trying wrong. Maybe it’d work with someone who isn’t Cas. Or maybe it wouldn’t but they’d be patient and put their trust in all this social nonsense.

“I didn’t.”

“Do you think about enrolling one day?”

Cas scoffs.

“What?”

“College is certainly great for people with a certain mindset.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s the perfect place to impose an ideology and prevent people from thinking for themselves.”

“It’s the opposite! College allows people to think beyond the box.”

“Then why all those maintening the status quo enrolled?”

“Pioneers did, too.”

“I think the word you were searching for is dictators. If you were interested in history and sociology like your brother, you’d realize it.”

Sam frowns in confusion. “Dean doesn’t–”

“Every institution that prides itself with owning the one and only truth has this risk. Not being aware of it is absurd gullibility.”

“Absolute defiance is absurd. It leads to conspiracism.”

“Believing blindy and never questioning anything lead to be complacent for the wicked. The mindless soldiers are as guilty as their leader.”

Dean lays his hand on Cas’ thigh. He accumulated many regrets and those words are partially aimed at who he used to be.

Cas puts shyly his hand on Dean’s. Dean hates how remembering about his past strips him from his usual confidence.

“College helps to avoid those excesses.”

Cas straightens his spine. He raises his chin at Sam. “You haven’t listened to anything I said,” he remarks, his tone dripping with contempt.

“I did, but I’m sensible.”

The passive-aggressive wording makes Dean wince. Cas narrows his eyes. It hasn’t escaped his notice either.

“Are you implying that having doubts isn’t sensible?”

“Not for such obvious matters.”

Cas scoffs. We’re lucky not all men are like you, or there’d never have been any progress.”

“You– Are you saying I’m a reactionary? You’re the one with a problem. You’re questioning everything.”

“It’s the best way to understand the world.”

“It’s not!”

They both point a look at Dean, sure to deserve his support.

“Hurrah for democracy.”

“Dean,” Sam snaps, annoyed.

“What happened to ‘agree to disagree’?”

“There are limits,” Sam grits between his teeth.

Cas squints at Sam. Knowing him, he could challenge Sam to a duel anytime now. He thinks it’s a waste this practice had been abandoned—the non-legality of it wouldn’t bother him.

“Well.” Dean looks at his brother. “I’m proud of you for going to Stanford and reaching your dreams. But I told you he,” he points a nod at Cas, “is a bit of an anarchist.”

Cas scoffs. He despises anarchists. Actually, he despises all political and community movements, whatever they are. He bristles at everything having some kind of structure. He’s doing pretty well despite his past.

Dean smiles at his boyfriend. “The fact you think by yourself and outside every box is something I love about you.” Cas softens. Dean feels the sudden urge to kiss him but he doesn’t. Cas looking at him that way always makes him shy. “But I told you about Sam and his studies and his job.”

Dean looks between them.

“Maybe you should talk about something safer. Like... the weather?”

It turns out that weather isn’t a safer topic.

Dean didn’t know people could get along so badly.

“It’s getting late,” Sam comments.

Dean startles out of his thoughts. He somehow managed to drift away from this. A glance at his phone shows Sam is right. It’s past 7 pm.

No wonder he’s getting hungry.

“It is,” Cas retorts.

Dean sighs. He doesn’t know how, but he’s certain them talking about hours is going to turn into another ideological argument.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Sam prompts.

Cas winces. He stares at Sam, shocked. Dean is too. Cas turns sad eyes on him, tearing his heart to pieces.

“You– You want to cast me out?”

“No no no.” Dean reaches out to him and touches his arm. “Of course not, sunshine. You know you can stay as long as you want.”

Dean bites his tongue before asking—begging—him to stay by his side forever.

“Your brother–”

“Sam doesn’t mind.” Dean looks up at his brother and snaps, “Right?”

“I– You– What?”

Dean draws back his attention on Cas. “It’s my home. He doesn’t have a say in it.”

Sam clenches his jaw. He stands up.

“Then I’m going to the hotel.”

“Sam–”

“I don’t want to bother.”

Sam grabs his bag and leaves the apartement with determination. Dean rises off the couch and follows him in the doorway. “We still see each other tomorrow?”

“My flight is only tomorrow afternoon.”

Dean takes that as a yes.

Sam walks outside and slams the door behind him. Dean heaves a sigh. The day has been quite stressful for no reason. He turns around. Cas is sitting straight, like a general after a victory. Dean walks back to him and shoves his ankle. Cas cocks his head to the side.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t think me staying would make your brother leave.”

“It’s not about that.” Dean isn’t surprised by Sam’s departure. Sam and he had lived in each other’s pocket when they were kids, and one gets used quickly about having their own space. “I’m pretty sure I told you about enrolling to college... maybe.”

“You did.”

“So I’m signing up for brainwashing?”

“Of course not. You have your own values and ideas, and you don’t believe one source blindly. You’d need more than smoke and mirrors to be fooled... that’s the saying, right?”

Dean nods. Cas smiles, pleased.

“College is only dangerous for weak minds,” Cas concludes.

“Aww. Cas, ya gonna make me blush.”

Cas perks up and stares very pointedly at his face. Dean was kidding but the intensity of his gaze causes him to blush indeed. Cas’ smile grows into a smirk.

Second try, in a restaurant of Sam choosing. Sam demanded so in a text. (Dean is skilled at reading tones, including in texts.) He deserves it to not have been too bitchy about Cas... and to have failed to notice Cas wanted to punch him.

Dean feels somewhat guilty for that.

For that matter, he spent the morning with his brother, listening about his work projects and talking about Thanksgiving, both of them carefully avoiding to mention Cas.

Dean keeps telling himself it could be worse. It’s not really comforting, but it’s all he has.

His guilt thaws when he sees the restaurant. He didn’t know there was that kind of stuck-up restaurant in Lawrence. Would he be allowed inside? On one hand, it’d be humiliating to get forced back. On the other, it wouldn’t last long and it’d give him the opportunity to pick up a nice diner instead.

Sam looks around and sighs.

“When will... Cas joins us?”

“Who knows.”

“You mean he isn’t even ponctual?”

“What does that mean?”

Sam shakes his head. He glances over Dean’s shoulder and his expression darkens. Dean swirls around, smiling. Sure enough, Cas is here, walking toward them—toward him.

“Heya.”

Cas pecks him on the lips. Butterflies fly in Dean’s stomach.

“Hello Dean.”

Cas admires his features as if they haven’t seen each other for days instead of a couple of hours. He darts a glance to Sam and nods curtly.

“Sam.”

“Castiel.”

“How about we go... in there?” Dean says, not eager to step inside the restaurant, but even less eager to give them a chance to argue.

They walk inside the restaurant and it looks even more snobbish inside. Sam asks for their reserved table—what’s so special about those restaurants where you can’t just settle and eat? They sit at their table and, as Dean feared, everyone else is dressed up.

Cas reads his set menu. He frowns and reads it again, his face scrunching up in disgust.

“There aren’t burgers.”

Dean sighs. It keeps getting worse.

Sam eyerolls. “Those meals are perfect for health.”

“I don’t care. I want to eat something good.” Cas frowns at the menu, as if it personally offended him. “I’ll settle with edible.” He folds it and slams it on the table. “It looks like it’s too much to ask.”

“It’s important to be careful with your diet.”

“It’s unnatural.”

“You’re talking nonsense.” Again, goes unsaid. “It’s excellent for health.”

“Nature and health aren’t related. Diseases are natural. Natural disasters are natural. Being torn apart and devoured by a mountain lion or a shark is, too. Humans are omnivores, and mammals. By their very nature, they need all kind of food and love comfort above everything else.”

Sam glances at Dean in annoyance. Dean shrugs.

“You can’t believe I’m gonna agree with you on this?”

Sam is prevented to comment further, or start another lecture about food, when a waiter appears. Dean could applaud his timing.

“What do you want, sirs?”

Cas glares at the waiter. Dean kicks his ankle. Cas’ forehead wrinkles in confusion.

“He isn’t the one who wrote the menu.”

Cas slouches down. “I don’t want anything.”

Sam takes charge and orders them three meals. Dean is sure he’ll hate the food but he’ll clean his plate anyway. Having spent your childhood being hungry and afraid of starving works miracles. Dean is glad his brother can be picky about food, even though he’s getting lectured because of it.

“I’ll be back,” Cas warns.

“Sure, Terminator.”

Cas squints at him—he does not fancy this running joke. He stands and heads for the door. He leaves the restaurant.

How lucky he is to not care much about his ‘people skills’.

“Are you sure about this?” Sam asks as soon as the door close behind Cas.

“Huh?”

“Cas.”

When Dean looks up, Sam is making a very judgemental face. He holds back a sigh.

“Listen, I’m not asking you to be best friends or anything.” Cas is his best friend anyway, so everyone who wants the title, back off. “Just... Get to know each other. Like I did for your girlfriends.”

“It’s different. I intended to marry Jess.”

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“About what?”

“Him.”

“Sam–”

“Don't you realize what you’re dealing with?”

“Cas isn’t a what. He’s a person. And I do know him better than you.”

“Did you hear how he talked about studies? about LGBTQIAA+? food? He looks like...”

“Don’t.”

Sam glowers, but he’s smart enough to not finish his sentence. “Does he know the earth is round at least?”

“Rich coming from a guy who still didn’t know what a civil war was after two years at college.”

“I’m serious Dean.”

“So am I.”

And he’s regretting there’s nothing stronger than wine on the card. Surely that’s the duty of restaurants to serve strong drinks to allow their patrons to go through their meetings. Especially when the food hardly counts as edible.

Sam’s expression brightens. “I get it.”

“What?”

He looks relieved and quite proud of himself.

“Okay, tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“Tell you what?”

“It’s a prank. You’re mad at me because we haven’t seen each other for a while. I understand and I’m sorry.”

Dean blinks. He hasn’t pictured Sam assuming this even in his worst projections.

“I love Cas.”

The little ease Sam had managed to summon vanishes. Thanksgiving is going to be so much fun.

“Can you... think about it? That guy is a conspiracy nut.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“He said college is used to brainwash people!” Sam whispers angrily.

Dean wonders if Sam is angry about college or about what it would mean for him. He leans for the latter.

“Cas’ past is not your business, but he has good reasons for being...” Dean gestures at the door. He doesn’t have the right word to finish this sentence. Cas did nothing wrong. “He had bad experiences with schools.”

Quite the downplay, but as Dean said, it’s not Sam’s business.

And Cas keeps trying. Which is more than most would do in his shoes. He had tried to overcome his bad impression and give a chance to college. By a bout of bad luck, the professor he had met was dripping classism, talking with contempt about people who didn’t study as well as people in manual trades. Those people hardly counted as human beings in his mouth. It’s quite a miracle Cas didn’t hit him and end up arrested for assault. He got mad, told him some home truth, and related the whole thing to Dean, offended on everyone behalf. ‘How this assbutt who is paid to sit all day long and despise people would feed without farmers, and have the modern comfort he wouldn’t be able to live without if there weren’t people to build and fix everything he’s using? He wouldn’t find an apple if we dropped him in an orchard!’

Maybe one day Cas would be ready for another try, and maybe that day he’d be lucky enough to meet a decent human being.

“It’s not a reason.”

Dean stares at his brother. “I remember someone who went to college only to annoy his dad.”

Sam tenses. “It’s not–”

“It is. So drop your holier-than-thou act. It’s embarrassing.”

And it reminds Cas everything he hates about college.

“Embarrassing?” Sam echoes, his voice sharp.

“While you’re at it, drop out the interviews and the ally act too.”

“It’s not an act.”

“I don’t care. We’re brothers. Don’t get all... weird about it.”

Sam mutters something. Dean makes out the fact Cas is the weird one. He doesn’t retort—it’s not like it’s false per se. He can allow Sam this small win.

The waiter brings three plates and places them in front of them, including in front of Cas’ empty seat, not hinting at surprise or curiosity. Dean looks the contents of his plate. There’s something a greyish green in the center, with a leaf of something over it to decorate. He pokes at it with his fork. People pay to eat that kind of stuff, seriously?

At least, there’s only two bites of it.

“It doesn’t look good,” comments Cas’ voice.

Dean raises his head. Cas is staring down at his plate, his nose scrunched up.

“Cheers to that.”

Cas’ eyes find him and his expression shifts, gaining accents of victory. He puts down a paper bag on the table.

“What’s that?”

Cas grins. He opens the bag and produces warm bacon. Dean’s mouth waters. He glances at the... whatever was served to him. There’s no comparison.

“What are you doing?” Sam hisses.

“What anyone with a little sense and money would have done in my place.”

Cas shoves bacon in his mouth and chews defiantly. Sam bristles.

“Are you for real?” Sam turns toward Dean and gestures at Cas. “Just say you hired him. No one normal acts like this.”

Dean shrugs. “Normal is overrated.”

Cas looks at him with an expression so fond Dean could turn into a puddle.

Sam glares back at Cas. Cas’ features morph right away into annoyance.

“Were you raised in a barn?”

“A cult.”

Sam looks startled. Cas wrinkles his brow. He looks at Dean. “I shouldn’t have told it?”

“It’s your story. Share it with whoever you want.”

“A cult?!” Sam echoes, his voice rising.

Someone clears his throat. A waiter who informs them they’re bothering the other patrons. Given the pointed look he gives to Cas’ bag, it’s not his only reproach.

“It’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me!” Sam seethes, stomping away from the restaurant.

He may have studied at Stanford, but he’s still a temperamental younger brother.

“Come on, Sam. It’s not in the top ten.”

Sam scoffs. Well, Dean is happy to refresh his memory.

“There’s this time you broke your leg because you jumped off of a roof, believing you could fly–”

“I was eight!”

“You were dressed as Batman. There’s also that time–”

“Shut up,” Sam mumbles, the closest he can get to acknowledge he’s right. He glances at Cas and winces. “Can I talk to you Dean?”

“Sure.”

Sam points a look at Cas, showing quite blatantly he doesn’t want to talk with him around. Even Cas gets the clue. He eyerolls before staring at Dean.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dean smiles. “’Kay.”

Cas smiles back. He walks away without bothering to utter another word to Sam. Dean holds back a sigh. It could have been worse.

“You took in someone who used to be in a cult? How reckless can you be? How can you be sure he isn’t going to cut you to pieces and throw you in a river?”

“At least, if he goes serial killer, you’ll start liking him.”

Sam looks at him, making a long face. “I’m serious, Dean.”

So is Dean. Sam est fan of those true crime podcasts. It’s better for everyone he’s working in business law.

“Cas isn’t dumb. If he was going to kill me, he’d have done so before meeting you, when nothing was linking him to me.” Dean can’t believe they’re having this conversation. “I’m a grown-ass man. I’m seeing whoever I want.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I have a weird feeling about him.”

“Sounds like a me problem.”

“Don’t come crying to me when it’ll turn wrong.”

Ah. Family. It’s always so heart-warming to have their support.

“Sure.”

“And I’ll be allowed to tell you I told you so.”

Dean scoffs. As if Sam needed his permission for that.

Dean drives Sam to the airport not long later. They part way quite coldly. Dean isn’t surprised. Sam isn’t one for emotions. He had been barely moved when they had reconnected after his first four years at Stanford.

Dean goes back home, exhausted. He’s pleasantly surprised to meet Cas in front of his apartment, and even more so when he notices he’s holding of bouquet of red roses.

“Is that for me?”

“Of course.”

Dean accepts the bouquet. There are twelve beautiful roses and they smell so good. It’s the most romantic gift he ever got... but Cas’ voice sounds a little weird. He looks up from the flowers and spots a hint of worry in the blue eyes.

“Something wrong?”

“I love you. I don’t want you to break up with me.”

“Why would I?”

“I haven’t been nice to Sam.”

Dean snorts. Cas winces. Dean reaches out and touches his shoulder.

“I don’t know where you were the last two days buddy, but it’s mutual.”

“But he’s your brother, and it’s important.”

“And you’re my boyfriend. It’s important too.”

Cas is looking so uncertain it shatters Dean’s heart. He nods toward the door. Cas sighs but he follows him inside. Dean keeps the flowers against him. He isn’t ready to let go of them. It’s still the sweetest gift he ever got, even if it’s a sorry gift.

Come to think to it, it’s the very first time someone gives him something to apologize, or try to apologize to him at all.

Dean glances at Cas, wondering how in heaven he got lucky enough to meet him. Cas shifts uneasily. Dean’s expression softens. It’s about Cas, right now. He’ll marvel about his luck another day.

“What happened? You didn’t care about that at lunch.”

Or yesterday.

Cas looks so defeated it awakes every nurturing instinct of Dean. He suppresses the urge to grab a blanket and wrap Cas into it. Or to cook something. What Cas needs, right now, is talking.

“I ran into Anna after the restaurant. She thinks it can’t work between us because we’re too different.”

“Of course we’re different. We’re different people. And we agree on many things.”

“Not you and me. Me and Sam.”

Dean frowns, even more confused. “But... I’m the one you’re dating?”

“Anna said you can’t get along with your brother so well and settle down with me.”

Settling down. An exhilarated sound chokes in Dean’s throat. But it’s not the right time, not when Cas is looking so small and so sad. Dean puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Cas, I love you. And you know me, so what do you think?”

The line of Cas’ shoulders relaxes. He puts his hand on his.

“You care about people. That’s why you get along with so many different people. It’s something I love and I admire about you. I’d like to have as much heart as you, unfortunately...”

Cas shrugs. Dean lets out a laugh. Cas tends to ruffle people the wrong way, even when he tries. Dean bumps his shoulder against his. He leans into him.

“And this is something I love about you. I love everything about you. You’re it, for me, ya know?” Dean presses his shoulder against Cas, wanting to hug him but not wanting to crush the flowers. After a bit, he adds, “It’d be creepy to date someone alike to my brother.”

Only wording it that way makes his skin crawl.

Cas tilts his head. He frowns, thoughtful. “I didn’t think about it that way. It’d be creepy indeed.”

“Yeah. Let’s never talk about that again, huh?”

Cas smiles shyly. “Agree. So we’re good?”

“Of course we are.”

Dean smiles. He glances at his bouquet, then at Cas.

“How sorry you are?”

Cas raises an eyebrow. Dean bats his eyelashes. Cas eyerolls.

“I guess I’m sorry enough to watch one of your historically inaccurate cowboy movies.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“I think I’m sorry enough to rewatch Lost Boys for the eighteenth time.”

Dean makes a delighted sound. It’s even better. The real question is: how he’s going to choose between Lost Boys and a western?

“Both, even.”

“You’re killing me.”

Cas smiles proudly.

They spend the afternoon the best possible way: cuddling together, watching movies.

The last two days, as stressful as they were, were worth it.