can't trip and fall

by hepialidaes

Summary:

Dean Winchester did not think that he would be a good father. Or a father, period. He didn't have much of a choice when an officer and social services knocked on his door at six in the morning informing him that his father had wrapped himself and his truck around a telephone pole after a three-day bender. Leaving behind his three-year-old brother.
Castiel Novak was sure of two things; he would forever be grateful for his children - even with the heartache of losing their mother, and that his children would be the death of him.
The twins and Sam just think that their dads should hold hands.

Notes:

• For WilliamTheGirl.

Hello! If you have read this fic before 9/6/2025, you should reread it! I have made some minor adjustments and structured the story into three chapters. I'm a lot happier with how it all flows now, and the unfinished draft will no longer plague my dreams!
Thank you, my darling @williamthegirl, for yet again being by my beta (omega verse reference?!)

Chapter 1

 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dean Winchester did not think that he would be a good father. Or a father, period. Sure, he adored kids, but he’d rather cut off his own foot than potentially mess a kid up like his father did to him.

He didn’t have much of a choice when an officer and social services knocked on his door at six in the morning, informing him that his father had wrapped himself and his truck around a telephone pole after a three-day bender. Leaving behind his three-year-old brother.

Alone, unless Dean could take him in.

Dean wasn’t a cruel man. And Sammy was so little and so scared. It was a no-brainer. Dean made the five-and-a-half-hour drive to Lawrence, Kansas, in just a little under five hours that same day.

Before Mary Winchester died, Dean had only met baby Sam twice. He hadn’t spoken with either of his parents in four years; he had graduated from high school and left nothing but a cloud of dust behind him. But Mary had managed to reach Dean with a letter, one ultrasound photo included. Dean had returned to Lawrence a day after Mary gave birth. Sam had been so new and squishy, and quite frankly, gross. But Dean, like his mother, had been enchanted by the gross baby.

John Winchester had shown up several hours later, not even present for his wife’s labor, and promptly started a fight with Dean. Before the hospital staff could kick either of them out, Dean collected his jacket and kissed his mother’s cheek, then Sammy’s gross, squishy head, and left.

Mary sent Dean hundreds of text messages, all of them begging him just to let it go and forgive his father. It was never clear what exactly he was supposed to forgive him for. Neglecting him? Beating him half to death? Breathing the wrong way? But Dean had long come to terms with the fact that John would never change, and Mary would always try to sweep everything under the rug. Dean was ready to block her number again.

But then Mary started sending pictures and videos of Sammy, slowly looking less squishy and more human (still just as precious).

Dean loved it. For the first time in years, he couldn’t wait for Mary’s messages. He saved every video and picture to his phone. Sammy’s nursery was Dean’s childhood bedroom, half converted for a newborn. An odd mix of old band posters and Winnie the Pooh littered the walls (the band posters covered holes that John had made; he wondered if Pooh Bear was hiding more recent ones). But Sammy babbled and smiled at the decor either way. He was a chatty baby, humming and screeching at anything and everything with a gummy smile that made Dean’s day that much better. On several occasions, Dean had accidentally fallen asleep to Sammy’s sounds as an odd white noise. He wished he lived closer to his brother and maybe his mom again. Of all the things Mary sent, one of Dean’s favorites was a video of Sammy holding a framed picture of Dean at his graduation, his little chubby hands patting the picture while babbling, “Dee! Dee!”

Dean met Mary and baby Sammy at the halfway point for Sammy’s first birthday. Sammy had squealed and launched himself out of Mary’s arms and right into Dean’s. That was Dean’s new favorite picture. Sammy’s sweet, squishy face tucked into Dean’s neck; his hands blurry from how fast he was trying to pat his big brother's face.

While they sat at a diner a little while later, Dean had taken note of his mother. She was older now, obviously, no longer the young woman Dean remembered. But something was off about her. Her eyes looked sunken, her skin dull and clammy. The spark in her eyes had long gone out. Sammy sat in his lap, grabbing for anything in reach and none the wiser to the tension that had settled between mother and son. Dean asked Mary how she was feeling, only to be brushed off with the excuse that she was out of practice at being a new mom, just adjusting to Sammy’s sleep regression. Just tired.

He wasn’t sure how much he believed that.

He should’ve pushed.

Mary Winchester died four months later.

Her funeral happened on a sunny Friday morning without a word from John. Dean didn’t find out until a month after that. Mary Winchester was cold in the ground, stage four breast cancer that she had only known about for two weeks before she was hospitalized after a collapse at the grocery store.

Dean didn’t see his father again, breathing at least.

Shortly after Sammy’s second birthday, Dean had raced back to Kansas to retrieve his brother from the Lawrence City Police Department. He would never be able to forget his sweet, squishy, devastated face.

“Dee?”

Samuel Winchester looked too worn down for a two-year-old boy. His cheeks hollowed, and his body bony.

Dean Winchester didn’t think that he would be a good father, but damn his soul to hell if he wouldn’t try his hardest for Sammy.

Dean, with toddler Sammy in tow, packed up Dean’s shitty apartment and moved to Lawrence. He cleared out his parents’ house of all of John’s belongings, carefully packed away Mary’s, and sold the house. Dean couldn’t stand being there even without the overbearing presence of his father, and Sammy only seemed to get sadder by the day.

Their apartment in Lawrence was small and had no yard, but Sammy bounced back. His smile was less gummy, and now, with more teeth, he still brought Dean out of the worst of his depression. He would do anything to keep Sammy happy, anything at all. For a while, it was fine; Dean could deal with all the snarky comments and sideways looks from the folks who knew his parents. They hadn’t stopped him before. Dean got a job at a local shop as a mechanic while Sammy was in daycare. And it was fine.

Things were fine.

Then John sent one last “fuck you” from the grave.

An officer knocked on their apartment door at ten past midnight. Dean held a tired and grumpy Sammy while staring at the blank wall of the Lawrence Police Station.

Adam Milligan.

Barely seven months old, and alone and scared.

He could see that Adam had the same nose as him and Sammy.

No one knew where Adam’s mother was; her remaining family now consisted of only her elderly parents, with no interest in cleaning up any more of her messes. All rights signed over to whoever. The social worker guided Dean’s arm into position as she tucked Adam into his free arm, and for the first time that whole night, Adam took a deep breath and fell into a deep sleep. Sammy snuggled up to his half-brother, exhaustion taking him as well.

Dean Winchester was a father.

Twenty-two years old, with two small boys whom he would surely kill for.

He would strap another car seat into his beloved Impala, pack up their small apartment, and high-tail it out of Kansas. Away from the ghosts they shared. Back to Sioux Falls.

Samuel Winchester and Adam Milligan (now Adam Winchester, thanks to a helpful social worker and the already terminated parental rights from Adam’s grandparents) would not be alone in this world.

Not if Dean could help it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Castiel Novak was sure of two things: he would forever be grateful for his children, even with the heartache of losing their mother, and that his children would be the death of him. Claire and Jack Novak were probably the cutest reasons for Castiel to start graying at the ripe age of twenty-six, but still the reason he was graying at the age of twenty–goddamn–six.

At four years old, the twins were towhead blondes with mischievous blue eyes and now reached Castiel’s thighs. Even in their small bodies, they managed to spread chaos everywhere they went, leaving their papa to rush after them in an attempt to smooth over any hurt feelings. Unfortunately, typically left it worse than where they started due to Castiel being a profoundly awkward man. He thought himself more polite and mild-mannered, but alas, most people did not see it that way. 

His children would drag him, kicking and screaming (figuratively, since he was a grown man and they were tiny children), to their current hyperfixations and curricular activities. This month was ballet, last month it had been catching and cataloging the different types of insects around their neighborhood.

Castiel commonly found himself sitting and watching the pair play while the other parents chattered to themselves. Many of the groups gossiped about Castiel's strange demeanor, personality, and all-around being, as if he weren’t within earshot of them all. He tried not to let it bother him. He didn’t want Claire and Jack to pick up on his habit of self-deprecation. He could spend hours spiraling about his children taking after himself and not their mother. He could see the harsh, overwhelming faces of their local church in his mind; they had already hated him when he first moved here with Kelly. The hate only grew stronger after Kelly passed. Castiel was sure they blamed him for it in some way.

Castiel walked behind the pair as they scooted down the sidewalk towards their home. Despite spending the hour prior learning (very adorable) toddler ballet, they still had plenty of energy to push their scooters at least ten feet in front of their papa, giggles and all. It made his heart ache with love.

He preferred to walk in most places, his car being used only for trips too far away for a single father of two to manage on his own, or for grocery shopping. He found that Claire and Jack had an endless well of energy, and it was much simpler to get them to burn themselves out. 

The twins stopped at the crosswalk, waiting for their father to catch up to them, when they noticed a small moving van across the street from their home. The house had been vacant only a few months, and Castiel was unfamiliar with the old owners. Claire perked up when she noticed a child-sized push bike out on the lawn. As they (safely) crossed the street (looking left and then right and then left again), Claire shot off on her scooter – Jack and Castiel left in her dust.

“Claire!” 

Much too late for that, Castiel thought. Patting the top of Jack’s helmet, they trailed after Claire. He supposed he couldn’t blame her; if their new neighbor had a child her age, Claire would be the first to befriend them. That made his heart ache more. Those parts were absolutely from Kelly.

“Papa?” Jack tugged at his father’s well-loved trench coat. “Can I go too?” Jack’s blue eyes darted back and forth between his sister and the new neighbor’s door (of which Claire was now knocking on – well, no turning back now). Castiel nodded to his son and watched him zip off, tearing his helmet off and tossing it down next to his sister’s items. The twins are now working together, knocking on the door. Castiel hoped the neighbor wouldn’t mind.

He sighed.

The door cracked open as Castiel joined his children on the front porch, and out peeked a small boy with a round face, hazel eyes, and chin-length brown hair. He squinted at the twins in confusion and curiosity, then looked up at Castiel, which seemingly scared him as he let out a yelp and ran away. The front door still open.

“Hmmpf. That was mean.” Claire grouched.

“He’s little Claire, be kind, please.” Too little to be answering the door, Castiel thought as he peeked into the house. He caught sight of the little boy hiding behind a couch (littered with blankets and what looked like a stuffed puppy) and a few stacked cardboard boxes.

“Hello! My name is Jack!” His son shouted into the house, his hands both up in a half wave.

From further inside the house, a baby started crying. 

“Uh oh!” The boy popped up from his hiding spot. “Dee! Baby, Dee!” He ran in the opposite direction of the crying, hopefully to his parents, Castiel thought. He moved to close the door to start gathering his children’s things from the lawn, but Claire yanked her brother into the house before he could swing it shut. Claire took off after the boy and Jack towards the crying.

“Wait! Claire - Jack!”

And that was how Castiel found himself chasing after his daughter in a stranger’s home (he was only one person, as much as he wanted to chase them both).

“Dee!”

“Sammy, what’s wr – who the hell are you?” And there was the parent. Shit.

“My name is Claire, I’m four! My brother is Jack, and he’s four too!” Claire held up four fingers to the man as Castiel came around the corner, finding himself in a half-unpacked kitchen with two children and a man a few inches taller than Castiel. He looked bewildered at Claire, then at Castiel, and then at the small boy who was trying to hide behind the man’s leg.

“This is my papa! He’s old!” Claire proudly stuck out all ten of her fingers and wiggled them. Her wide smile showed off her tooth gap. (Very cute, but the stern talk his children were about to receive needed to come first.)

Before Castiel or the man could react any further, the baby’s crying got louder, and Jack yelled from somewhere in the house.

The man cursed, grabbed the little boy, and pushed past Castiel down the hall. Castiel did the same with Claire (The “Hey! Put me down, Papa!” going ignored.) They burst into a bedroom with Jack on his tiptoes, waving a pacifier in the baby’s face.

“Papa! He won’t take it.” Jack turned to him with a pout. The man, still holding the toddler in one arm, swooped the baby into his other arm. The crying settled into a hiccup. Jack still had the pacifier, pouting on full blast.

“Why won't he take it, mister?”

“Jack! Put it down!” The twins jumped at the sound of their father’s now stern voice (so did the man and the toddler, the latter pushing his face into the man’s shoulder). Jack dropped the pacifier and shuffled to his father’s side. Castiel turned to the man, his arms now full of his children.

“I’m so very sorry. They both know better than to do something like this.” He shot them both a look. Jack grabbed the bottom of his father’s coat and hid himself in it. Claire tucked her face into the collar. “Both of you apologize.”

Castiel could feel his eye twitch. Good Lord. “Jack. Claire. Now, please.”

Claire turned to the man, her lip wobbling.

“Mmh sorry, mister. Just wanted to say hi.” He felt Claire hiccup, and Jack did the same under his coat. He nudged his son gently.

“Sorry, too.” Jack let out a stuttered breath. “Baby was crying n’ I wanted to help.”

The pair sniffled. He wished they had never run in here; he hated having to upset them. Damn it. He dropped down to pick Jack up, gathering his children into his arms so they could both be comforted. They both rubbed their now wet and snotty faces into his coat. Damn it. He looked back at the man and willed his face into looking a little apologetic as opposed to his usual more blank stare (emotionless, dead-eyed, freak -).

“Again, I’m very sorry for this. I’ll have a stern talk with them both at home.” He moved to carry them both out of the bedroom.

“Hey man, it’s ok.” The man shuffled, trying to balance the toddler and the baby. “They’re kids, just curious.” The toddler gave him his best rendition of a flabbergasted face (if Castiel weren’t in such an odd situation, in his neighbor’s home, and four upset children, he would’ve laughed) and bopped the man’s face.

“Dee! Go.” The toddler cried.

Dee(?) winced at the toddler’s attack.

“Sam, Sammy, come on, buddy – “ The baby began fussing again, and Castiel felt sympathy for the man. He knew how hard it was to juggle two children. Sam(?) stopped his smacking and leaned over to place a rather wet kiss on the baby’s forehead.

“Sorry, Addy, sorry.” He peppered several more (also wet) kisses on the baby’s face. He looked up at Dee’s (that’s not a name) face and gave him an even bigger and wetter kiss on his chin. “Sorry, Dee.”

“’S ok, Sammy.” Dee (ask his name) pressed a kiss into Sam’s hair. Castiel’s children wiggled in his arms, their hiccups the only sounds coming from the pair.

“So, uhhh. ‘M Dean.” The man, Dean (Dee for Dean, ok), started to move as if to shake Castiel’s hand but realized that neither could do so while having a child in each arm. Dean made a face at his blunder. Not that Castiel was in a position to judge him for anything.

“Castiel Novak. This is Claire and Jack.”

“We’re twins.” A muffled Claire called out.

“We’re four.” Jack sounded off.

Dean snorted. “This here is Sammy.” He wiggled the boy in his arms, and he giggled in response. “And over here we got Adam.” This time, wiggling the baby as gently as possible. Adam whimpered despite the gentleness. Sam and Dean both leaned to comfort Adam, only to smack their heads together. Sam let out a wail. Then Adam did. Then Claire and Jack whimpered out of what Castiel thought was camaraderie.

And there stood Castiel in the house of his new neighbor, arms full, and a room full of upset children. He watched as Dean swore while his toddler and baby cried—what an unfortunate afternoon. Castiel had hoped that he could’ve spent the rest of it in his little garden. But again. Here he was.

He caught sight of the abandoned pacifier and figured there was nothing to lose after this disaster of a first meeting (adding another one to his list of first meetings). He maneuvered Claire to reach the pacifier. Being a single parent to two twins meant he had learned the careful art of “don’t drop either of the babies,” and it was paying off. Spotting a burp cloth on his way back up, he grabbed it and wiped the mouthpiece off. Hopefully, no fuzz was stuck to it. Castiel gently popped the pacifier into Adam’s mouth – the baby huffing and staring up at Castiel and his twins. Jack perked up at the sound of Adam’s huffing, peaking back down at the baby. Jack waggled his fingers at Adam. (Cute.)

“Heh – thanks. Still getting used to it all.” Dean winced, his forehead now sporting a red splotch matching the one on Sam’s. Sam whined, catching Dean’s attention again. He turned to the crib, placing Adam down softly. (Adam only huffing now, his little face calming.) Dean dropped down to his knees and sat Sam on the ground next to him, then did a pat-down as if to check for other injuries.

“Yeah, buddy. Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to.”

“’S ok, Dee.” The pair went in for a hug (Carefully this time).

Castiel was typically unsure of how to leave regular social situations – this one was a strange outlier, and he felt incredibly unprepared for the situation. Deciding that there was no coming back from this strange meeting, he moved to the bedroom door, Jack and Claire still tucked into each of his arms. Jack tugged at his father’s coat, getting his sister’s attention.

“Bye, Mister Dean.” A quick, sneaky exit was no longer an option. Damn it. Castiel walked a little quicker on the way out. “Bye, Sammy! Bye, Baby!” Jack cooed.

He came around the corner, the front door still wide open.

Lord help him.

Claire, a menace but her mother’s daughter (polite and confident), hooked her chin over his shoulder and yelled into the house.

“BYE! CAN WE SCOOTER TOGETHER?”

Castiel was relieved that he shut the door before they could be rejected.

Nothing wrong with a bit of sheltering. Probably.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been exactly 2 weeks since Claire and Jack introduced themselves and their father to the new neighbors. Castiel had been able to corral the pair away from Dean’s house, but his excuses were flimsy at best, and his children were proving to be too smart for their own good.

He sighed as he crossed another item off his grocery list and pushed his car over to the apples. Claire had taken a sudden liking to green apples. Specifically, he needed to make sure he got exactly four green apples with no blemishes. She was picking up on Castiel’s own “picky eating.” Logistically, Castiel knew it wasn’t being picky - at least according to his therapist. But his heart ached anytime he thought of either of his children dealing with his same diagnosis.

He shook the thought from his head, the best he could.

If that happened, he would ensure that they had all his support. He would not put either of them through the same treatment he had received.

Green apples.

He needed to get green apples. He needs to pick out four green apples, grab three cucumbers, and twelve ounces of blueberries, and then check out. He had plenty of time before needing to get home to make dinner as a “thank you” to his older brother Gabriel for babysitting.

Gabriel had moved to Sioux Falls shortly after the twins were born, following Kelly's passing. He had always claimed he moved because the town lacked a competitive bakery market. The town had been severely lacking in a “quality” bakery. But Castiel suspected that Gabriel had wanted to reconnect with his younger brother and provide him with some sort of support system.

Castiel pushed his cart from the produce aisle, hoping one of the self-checkout lanes was still open. He needed to clear his mind and find a sense of calm.

He sighed.

(Breathe in. Out. Think of things that bring joy. The twins dancing. Gabriel’s pumpkin bread. Accounting reports that were still warm from the printer.)

He scanned his items when he heard a child whining behind him.

“Dee! I want it!”

Uh oh.

Castiel turned his head slightly, and right there, waiting in line for the self-checkout was his new neighbor and his children. Dean, Sammy, and Adam.

Dammit.

“Sammy, I told you no.” Dean rubbed his face, unaware of Castiel’s presence.

(Good.)

Sammy whined louder, his little foot stopping against the tile.

“Sammy, buddy, work with me here.” Sammy stomped both of his feet this time. “Dude, I already got the ice cream.”

Castiel tried to scan faster. This is why he wants to do grocery pick-ups, but Gabriel (and his therapist) insisted he needed to get out more, even for simple things. (It was worth it. It was working. It IS working.)

Adam gave a screech from his carrier in the cart, and Sammy had taken it upon himself to yank on Dean’s pant leg, flashing sad puppy eyes. Castiel felt bad for the man. Lord knows he still cannot wrangle his children, even after four years of being a parent.

Dean dropped his head to the cart handle. Castiel heard him release a deep sigh. As he finished scanning, he watched him from the corner of his eye. The man could not be older than Castiel himself. His face was still youthful and tan, his freckles popping dramatically. His hair was a soft brown, almost blonde when the light caught it. Even with his hair being closely cropped on the sides, his front bangs were currently facing every which way. Dad hair. Castiel knew his hair was in a worse state; his avoidance of the barber meant his hair was starting to curl out of control. (The barber was not gentle; the thought alone made his scalp ache. He could put off an appointment for another few weeks, for sure.)

Shoving his bags into the cart, he booked it out of the store. After everything was in his backseat, he checked his text messages in the front driver's seat. Nothing except a text from Gabriel asking for cupcakes. (You own a bakery, Gabriel. Just make them yourself.) Ignoring the request, he dropped the phone into the center console and looked into his mirror to back out of his spot. Only to be met with Dean and co. in the parking spot behind him.

Dean was loading Adam into the car, attempting to hold it in place with his foot. He watched as Sammy pouted in the basket.

Then the little boy stood, and Castiel could see the thought that just popped into Sammy’s mind. Sammy was halfway out of the basket when Castiel swung his car door back open. The boy dropped to the pavement without alerting his father to his ploy, and then looked around the busy parking lot, his hair whipping around him. Then he shot off on his little legs back to the store entrance.

Right past Castiel.

Without much thought, Castiel launched out of his car and snatched the boy up (softly, soft hands and all), and Sammy, rightfully so, gave a screech.

Castiel winced as he saw Dean’s head smack the top of his car, head snapping to the now empty cart, and then wildly around for Sammy. His eyes locked on Sammy as he wiggled against Castiel’s arms, his little hands smacking Castiel’s scruffy cheeks.

“Dee! Dee, noooooo!”

Dean pushed the cart out of his way, rushing over and snatching the boy out of Castiel’s arms. (That did not look good.) (Breathe in. Out. In. Out.)

“Dude, what the fuck!?”

(Breathing is…not working?)

Dean patted the little boy down as he clung to his neck, shooting a glare in Castiel’s direction. Sammy squirmed against his father’s hold. (Maybe he doesn’t like being held? Claire had not liked being held for a long while…no, not the time.)

“What happened, Sammy? Are you ok?”

“Stop! Down, put me down!”

Dean rolled his eyes, and neither man moved from their spot in the parking lot. (Castiel might’ve been stuck; he couldn’t quite feel his toes.)

“No kid, Ya’d get stolen again. You’re going straight into the car.”

“He got out of the basket.” Castiel’s voice was always rough, harsh, and all-around not friendly. He never really understood how to use tone either.

“Sure, yeah. Likely story, dude.” Dean turned on a dime, opened the other car door, and tried to strap a displeased toddler into his car seat.

“Wanna go back, Dee! Please!” Dean ignored the little boy’s whining.

“I swear I did not try to kidnap him, Dean. I just did not want Sammy to get hurt.” His voice died into nothing more than a croak.

Dean glanced back at Castiel in confusion, only now seeming to realize who he was.

“Casteel?”

“Cass-tea-ell.” He responded automatically. (Not the time.)

Dean was hunched over, still trying to hold Sammy in his car seat. His face suddenly relaxed, and then he laughed. It was loud and… charming. The action made his face scrunch and his eyes crinkle. He stood fully, placing both arms on top of the older-looking car.

“Jesus, dude, you freaked me out! Didn’t even realize that was you.” His laughter dropped into a huff. “Thought I was gonna start a fight in the damn parking lot.”

Castiel shifted his weight. (He could feel his toes again! That was nice.)

“I apologize, Dean. He just seemed incredibly determined to return to the store.”

“Well, that makes sense. Sammy seems to wanna buy all the sweets today.” At the sound of his name, Sammy kicked himself out of the seat and made another run for the store. Castiel grabbed him. Sammy whined and wiggled. Dean laughed so hard he wheezed. Castiel loaded Dean’s groceries into the trunk while Dean wrestled Sammy back into the car seat. Adam napped peacefully.

 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Castiel went out of his way to stop at a bakery (not his brother’s, just to spite him) to pick up cupcakes. Not for any reason. (Not to avoid pulling into his driveway as Dean would pull into his.) Just to show Gabriel his appreciation. (There are only so many awkward meetings he could manage in a day.) Brotherly love, if nothing else.

As he drove into his driveway, he made note of Dean’s black car across the street and quickly delved into getting all his bags from his backseat. He was met with two small attacks on his legs.

“Papa, we missed you!” Jack squealed as he jumped up and down, still trying to remain attached to his father’s leg. Castiel patted his son’s soft curls. Claire attempted to dive between them to look into the grocery bags.

“I missed you both as well. Help me with the bags, please.” They groaned but grabbed a bag. Castiel took a quick look over his shoulder. He was still in the clear as no one was in front of Dean’s home. 

“Heya, Cassie,” his brother Gabriel sings from the front door. “You did not tell me you had a handsome new neighbor.” The twins giggle at their uncle as he wiggles his eyebrows at Castiel. He pushes past him in the doorway.

“Because I am unfamiliar with them, Gabriel.” He tried to dodge the obvious growing interest his brother was showing. (What is there to be interested in?)

“We went to their house!” Claire chimed in as she ditched the grocery bags in the kitchen, grabbed her brother, and skipped out of the room. Gabriel shot him a mischievous smile.

“What does she mean by ‘went into their house?’ Gabe, did you let them go without permission?” Great. Just what he needed. A second break-in. Gabe only cackled as he snatched a cupcake and licked at the frosting.

“Mmmm…good, but nowhere near as good as my frosting.” Gabe mused.

“Gabe.”

“Oh, lighten up, Cassie. I walked them over, and we said hello to the squirt and his dad. And then the dynamic duo asked very politely if they could have a playdate. Like perfect little angels.” Castiel stared at his brother, still looking entirely too smug for someone who had chocolate frosting on his nose. He rolled his eyes. Yes, he thought his children were absolute darlings, but the trouble they could stir up was on another level.

“Mr. Dean said that they would loooove to have a play date. So, you all get to do that tomorrow!” He brought one hand up for an attempted jazz hand.

“Gabe, no.”

“Nope. The kiddos already know about it. You’d be breakin’ their poor little hearts.”

“But Gabe,” Castiel was not whining; he was much too old for that. “He already thinks I’m odd. I don’t want to subject him to anything more…” As Gabriel polished off his cupcake, he dusted off his hands and grabbed Castiel’s face. He cringed at the leftover sticky residue.

“Cassie, the dude seemed pretty excited about it. More excited than his kid.” He laughed and squished his younger brother’s cheeks. “Have you seen the bitch face that kid can pull? Hilarious.”

Castiel pulled his face back and rubbed it clean with his sleeve. He made a displeased sound.

“Besides, once I told the guy I was the uncle, he got this look in his eyes. Could be a real good time for everyone, Cassie…” Castiel elected to ignore that comment and put the groceries away.

“I mean it, kiddo! You’re doing this play date. Do you want to subject us all to the world’s saddest children?” Castiel sighed. No, no, he did not.

“Fine, I’ll do the play date.” Gabriel gave another eyebrow waggle.

Claire and Jack cheered from the other room.

 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

After Dean had a serious conversation, as serious as one could get with a three-year-old, with Sammy about answering the front door, he found the little squirt peeking at the Novaks’ house frequently. After the baby break-in via his new neighbors, he assumed he’d be seeing them around the neighborhood, but he hadn’t seen any of the Novak family since. But there were always several toys and two matching scooters scattered around the yard. Dean had taken to taking walks with Sammy and Adam around their new neighborhood in the evenings – Sammy on his push bike and Adam in his stroller. Sammy would push himself at a snail’s pace every time they lapped past the yard, staring almost longingly at the scooters. Dean couldn’t tell if that meant the kid wanted a scooter too or something more.

But still, in the two weeks since their move, he had had no other interactions with the Novaks. Brief introductions were made with other neighbors, but none had been as interesting as the twins and their father. He often found himself thinking back to the incident. Oh well, if the man was too proud to show face, what’s it to Dean?

That was until Dean was sporting a lump on the back of his head in the middle of the grocery store parking lot. He wasn’t the most observant person, but he’d thought that he would notice when one of his baby brothers was potentially being kidnapped.

Nope!

Thank God, Castiel seemed to be a nice dude – weird, but nice. Definitely a dad. He effortlessly loaded all of Dean’s groceries into his Impala, closed the trunk, popped the cart into its return bay, and was gone by the time Dean had gotten Sammy to stop trying to escape his car seat. All before Dean could even say thank you. Dean stared out at the road as he drove them all home. This parent stuff was hard. He wished he had someone to help him, or hell, just give him advice. Setting up daycare for Sammy and Adam had almost given him an aneurysm, and he’d had to do it twice now. After that excursion, Dean sat on the kitchen floor, his head in his hands, and Sammy tried to tuck himself onto his lap. The poor kid was just too empathetic. Dean had taken extra care that night when tucking both boys in to say how much he loved them.

As he pulled his Impala into their driveway, Dean saw the two Novak children in their front yard. Was Castiel that fast? The man’s pimpmobile was nowhere to be seen, and the figure sitting on the porch was shorter than Castiel. His hair was light, not dark like Castiel’s—and ok, yeah, it’s not Castiel. Good detective work.

Dean climbed out of the car, pulling open the back passenger door to lean over Adam’s carrier to release an ever-wiggly Sammy from his car seat. Sammy shot off like a rocket to pick up one of his abandoned toys in the yard, and Dean hollered for him to stay on the grass. Listening to the boy talk to himself as he played, Dean popped Adam out of his car seat, tucking him closely under his chin. Adam yawned, his little hands grasping at nothing. Dean felt his heart do a little leap at the adorable boy’s movements. Carefully, he swung the door closed and turned to check on Sammy.

Peeking over his fence were Claire and Jack Novak; Dean would never forget their introduction. And the short blonde man, whom Dean was unfamiliar with. Sammy sat in the middle of their open yard, attempting to hide behind his hands. He chuckled; object permanence was still not grasped in their home. Adam huffed as Dean made his way over to the Novak twins. Claire’s eyes snapped over to Dean. He swore he could see her brain going a mile a minute, and she turned and yanked on the blonde man’s arm.

“Uncle Gabe! Ask Mr. Dean!”

Chapter 2

Summary:

Time passes and the Novak and Winchester families find themselves growing closer.

 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

And that's how Dean found himself with Adam strapped to his chest, diaper bag in one arm, and Sammy in the other. Sammy had been nervous all morning after Dean had explained what a “playdate” was. The boy sat at the kitchen table, wiggling his toes and staring at his cereal like it held the secret to a “playdate.” He had only whined to Dean a little as he dressed him for the day, his blue overalls still a little too big on the three-year-old. Sammy had asked to bring his stuffed puppy, and Dean was all too happy to let him bring his favorite toy- Hell, Dean was prepared to haul half of Sammy’s toys over to the Novaks’ home if it meant he would have a good time.

Dean wasn't entirely sure if Sammy was big enough for a playdate, but Adam was just too little to play with his brother, and the sad, longing looks that Sammy would cast to their neighbor's house were starting to weigh heavily on the man. Dean knew a thing or two about what he thought his little brother was feeling. Dean had once been that little boy, too sad and lonely for one little body to be holding in. So to hell with developmentally appropriate activities. If his boy wanted to hang with the four-year-olds, then so be it. 

And so what if Dean had a flutter in his stomach when he thought of Castiel? Nothing wrong with a bit of curiosity. Healthy even. 

Nothing bad about getting lost in your thoughts about your hot older neighbor-

Dean rolled his shoulders and knocked on the deep navy blue door, Sammy holding his puppy to his face, looking nervous and excited all at once. Adam babbled in his carrier, and Sammy grinned at his brother. Dean would always be grateful that Sammy latched onto Adam just as quickly as Dean did to Sam. 

No Winchester left behind.

The door flung open with a wild-eyed Claire Novak on the other side.

“Mister Dean!” The girl's face scrunched up with excitement, and she bounced on her tippy toes. “Sammy!” 

“Claire, you can't answer the door alone! What have I told you?” Castiel came flying around the door, Jack close behind him, hands clutching at his jeans. The little girl huffed and mumbled back to her dad. Dean couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Doors were a tough one for the Novak children. Go figure. 

Dean rolled his shoulder again, jostling Sammy from behind his stuffed puppy. Why didn't anyone tell him kids would be hell on his back? Castiel’s eyes locked onto the diaper bag, and he crinkled his nose. “I apologize, Dean. Please let me take your bag.” Cas was a weird dude. But weird in a way that Dean couldn't help but feel drawn to. So far in Dean’s adventures as a parent, he had only met very snobbish stay-at-home moms and grouchy, deadbeat dads. It had not been easy for him to meet his own social needs over the past year. 

He carefully dipped his shoulder to ditch the diaper bag and entered the Novak household. The front room was tidy with a scattering of toys across it, pictures neatly lined the walls of the sweet little family, and children’s drawings were taped haphazardly everywhere. A large fireplace marked the focal point of the living room, which was baby-proofed to high heaven. Despite that, it still wrapped Dean up in the comforting feeling of safety. Their house was just that —a home, filled with so much life and love. Dean stood there, stuck in his feelings that he couldn't - wouldn't voice. He snapped back into his body as Claire pulled on the bottom of his shirt, looking up at him with big blue eyes. 

“Can Sammy come down?” Dean looked abruptly at his brother, the boy gripping tight to his stuffy but eyes peeking over the soft head down at Claire. Dean moved to whisper in the boy’s ear.

“Think you're ready, little dude?” Sammy looked back at his older brother, still nervous but nodding anyway. “That's my boy.” Dean gave him an obnoxious smooch on his forehead and kneeled to set him down, Claire instantly gluing herself to his side. 

“I like your dog. Does she have a name?”

Dean gave Sam a soft rub on his back as the boy took a deep breath.

“Her name is Lovey.” Dean remembered getting the stuffed toy shortly after clearing out his parents' house. Mary had bought the bare essentials needed for a newborn, and there were not many toys. Dean had plucked the dog out of a pile at the grocery store and started calling it Sammy’s lovey, and the boy, well, loved Lovey. “You…you can pet her if you wanna.”

Dean beamed at the kid. What a freakin’ sweetheart. 

Jack wormed out from between his father’s legs and stopped in front of Dean. His eyes were just as big and blue as his sister’s. He looked to Dean and down at Adam, leaning in to cup Dean’s ears in a stage whisper. “Can I say hi to Adam?” He felt his heart melt into a puddle. He didn't know how he would make it through a playdate without his heart giving out entirely to an overwhelming amount of cuteness. He nodded in approval, and Jack leaned into Dean's shoulder, wiggling his fingers at the baby. Adam cried happily at the new movement, making Jack giggle in return. Claire turned to her brother, pulling at his arm to join her and Sammy in gathering up other stuffed animals. Looked like they had already determined they would start with a stuffy tea party, the sound of little shoes pattering into what Dean assumed was their bedroom.

Dean’s knees creaked as he stood from his kneeling position. Damn, what twenty-two-year-old’s body makes sounds like that, his now apparently. 

“I no longer have a Pack and Play, but I have ensured that the living room is safe for Adam if you’d like to lay him out.” Dean had almost forgotten Castiel was in the room with him, the man managing to make himself quiet and small. Dean glanced at the fireplace, and then at the coffee table - the edges had all been covered with what looked like pool noodles. Had Castiel gone all out for their playdate? “I still have some of the toys the twins had at Adam’s age. I sanitized them, so that should not be a worry.”

Castiel was a tall dude, only a few inches shorter than Dean, but he held himself so…softly. Almost like he was trying to draw as little attention as possible. Huh. He wasn't too full of himself to admit that he took his time observing Castiel. Castiel was… kind of a dilf. He bit his bottom lip, eyes dragging up the man’s thick thighs and up to his broad shoulders. His eyes caught again on Castiel’s face as Dean watched the older man shift his weight, looking nervously around his home, squirming under Dean’s gaze. Castiel’s face took on a soft blush. Huh.

“If you would like, I do have a television. I understand that there is a game on tonight, if you like football?” His rough voice starkly contrasted with his actions, and something about that had Dean feeling hot. He snapped out of that inappropriate train of thought as Adam squealed in his carrier, kicking his legs against Dean’s chest. No time to be a horn dog, Dean.

“Nah, you can pop on anything for all I care, Cas. Can I steal a blanket from ya for Adam, though?” Dean unclipped the baby from his chest, Adam now flailing about and getting a little too huffy than Dean would like. Castiel pulled a soft blue blanket from the top of the couch, laying it quickly on the floor. Dean plopped the boy down, and his grumpy noises died into a quiet, happy mummer. Castiel flipped the TV on, and the soft volume played a calm cooking show. Dean sat crisscrossed on the floor with Adam, letting the sounds of the kids playing in the next room wash over him. He closed his eyes, feeling like he could just slip off right there. 

Adam cooed next to him, and Dean peeked one eye open to watch the scene playing out next to him. His little arms pushed to keep his head up. Castiel waggled a toy at Adam, and in turn, the baby began blubbering at him. Castiel had moved to the opposite side of Adam, a baby toy in hand. It had distinct black and white stripes; the material looked like soft canvas with rubber-like corners. A soft smile graced Castiel’s face, and Dean felt a wave of…awe? Castiel carefully brought the toy to Adam’s hands so that the boy could investigate the new item himself. As Castiel brought his hand back up, he caressed the boy’s head, twirling the light blonde hair into a silly little spike.

Dean snickered at how goofy Adam looked, whipping out his phone to snap a quick picture. Unfortunately, that seemed to break the spell that Castiel had been under, as he snatched his hand back, his face once again flaming red. 

“I apologize, I -”

“Hey, man, no need to say sorry so much.” Dean shrugged, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Babies are cute, can't help doin’ silly stuff with ‘em.”

Castiel shifted, his broad shoulders slouching in even more somehow. “Adam, uh, he looks like the twins. When they were little.” His face pinched, dark eyebrows drawn. “Well, littler than now.” Dean smiled at his response. What a weird guy, he thought dreamily. 

“Papa? Can you come play with us?” Claire called from the other room, Adam’s squishy head bobbing to follow the noise. “Mister Dean, too?”

“Could you come out to the living room, Claire bear? So Adam can play too?” Dean found himself swooning.

 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Castiel helped the children bring their tea party supplies into the living room, and Jack assisted Sammy in picking out a stuffed animal for his father and brother. Sammy happily placed a stuffed Mexican Free-tailed bat in his father's lap, gasping when Jack showed him that the wings could bend and wrap around Dean’s wrist. Jack placed a small stuffed lamb before Adam, and the baby instantly tried to put the soft toy in his mouth. 

The three children sat in a misshapen circle and passed out tea cups. Castiel watched as Dean offered his stuffed bat a pretend sip of tea, his heart doing an odd beat in his chest. (That's something to tell his doctor about for sure.) Jack happily took a few moments to explain that he had picked his favorite stuffed animal to join, Marvelous Marvin. The boy also took the time to introduce his sister’s toy, Grumpy Cat (Claire had caught sight of the thing at one of their mall outings, Hot Topical was quickly her favorite store because of the copious amounts of Grumpy Cat).

“Adam can name the lamb when he can talk, so he can feel ‘cluded.” Pride filled Castiel’s chest as he ran his fingers through his son’s hair. Despite not often being around other children, since Castiel only needed daycare four days a week, both twins exceeded expectations, going out of their way to include anyone and everyone in their play. It made Castiel think of Kelly, her confidence and kindness seeping out of their children. Sometimes it was blinding to look at them, the two of them casting the darkness and loneliness from his heart. Like tiny little angels. (Kelly would’ve loved to see her babies like this.) He blinked the start of tears from his eyes, clearing his throat and thanking Sammy for pouring their pretend tea into Castiel’s cup.

The children chattered amongst themselves, occasionally pulling either adult into their conversation, but Castiel kept finding himself lost, staring off at his neighbor. He was incredibly expressive and immediately on board with whatever the children stated. He was a natural father. An uncomfortable mix of jealousy and warmth raced through him. (Not everyone gets it at first; some people have a learning curve, Castiel.) 

Claire had moved on from pouring pretend tea to trying to place different hats on Dean’s head, earning a roar of laughter from Sammy and her brother. Sammy clapped and gasped at each hat, crawling onto his father’s lap after Claire decided the man looked best in one of her tiny cowboy hats. She nodded, a proud look on her face as she turned her attention to Castiel and his hatless head. Tiptoeing around Adam and his current field of tea cups covered in his saliva, Claire stood in front of him, head tilted and face full of consideration. Her mouth pushed into a pout as she glared at Castiel’s bare head and rubbed at her chin (much like a detective).

“Papa always looks pretty in a crown!” Jack had joined Sammy in Dean’s lap, the boys snuggling together with Lovey the puppy tucked between them. Castiel did a double-take at the sight. Jack smiled at his father, hands tangled with Sammy’s as they giggled at each other. (His heart was going so quickly, he felt like he had just run a marathon. Castiel had always longed for a large family. He couldn't help his traditional religious upbringing, its claws sunk deep.) Dean smiled down at both boys, his arms keeping them from spilling out of his lap.

“Does he now?” Dean hummed at the boy. 

Jack flapped his hands excitedly, going off on a tangent about all the pretty crowns his papa wears when they play castle together. Claire hummed at the multitude of crowns and tiaras that they had amassed over the years (The Novaks enjoyed a good historical play time, princesses included - Castiel was just glad that the hennins had been put away. They were much too similar to dunce caps in his opinion.), she held up a shiny silver one with a speckling of green gems scattered around the swirly design. 

“Perfect! Now you match your cowboy husband!” 

Castiel choked.

Jack gasped, swinging his head to look at Sammy.

“We can play house! Claire, we can be the kittens!” 

“Yes, Papa and Mister Dean are the papa cats and we’re the kittens!” Claire pulled at her papa’s shoulder, dragging him in a half-crawl to Dean. “Wait! No, I’m the boss cat…Jack and Sammy are kittens, and Adam is the boss with me, too!”

Dean threw his head back as laughter shook his body, Claire pushing at his shoulders to move closer to Castiel. Jack and Sammy followed suit with a silly chorus of meows as they climbed from Dean’s lap (Adam’s cooing sparking another round of mewls).

Sometime later, Castiel made his escape to the kitchen. He had already prepped the meal he had planned earlier that day, but claimed that it needed a little more time to “make it just how the twins like.” (A very helpful Claire commented that they don't like their food burned, Papa.) He sighed, resting his hands on the counter, and hung his head. Play dates are…interesting. While he was giddy at the fact that the twins were having such a wonderful time, the idea of having to do more had Castiel ready to sleep for a week. But for the two of them, he would walk on broken glass if it made them happy. Nodding to himself, he began prepping the ingredients for the household's current favorite casserole. (He really couldn't cook, alright? Casseroles were easy and less likely to burn. No one likes their food burnt.)

Hopefully, he could present the Winchesters with something at least edible.

(Breathe in. Out. In. Out.)

 He chopped up the salad into child-sized bites as the casserole baked in the oven - Dean rounding the corner into the kitchen, Adam in the crook of his arm.

“Need any help in here? Kiddos decided I wasn't needed for their game anymore.” He clutched at his heart. “Didn't know it’d start this early. The upside is that they’re not tryna lick me like cats anymore.”

Castiel felt like he had nailed down a very good impression of a fish out of water, with how often he found himself floundering in Dean’s presence. The constant flushing of his face was a problem. (Almost like how he had felt with Ke- NO. No, absolutely not!)

 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That evening, Dean and the boys walked across the road, clinging to Dean like koalas. Thankfully, it was their bedtimes anyway; nobody's sleep cycles were going to suffer after one damn good playdate. He felt like his head was in the clouds, the sudden and almost overwhelming fuzzy warm feelings that Cas planted in Dean’s chest giving him a bounce in his step - that was met with a grumpy groan from Sammy - oops. He had almost forgotten how good having a harmless crush felt; he hadn't thought about romance since he was in school. That felt like a lifetime ago.

There was no missing the gummy smile Casitel blinded the room with, the pride in his children, including even the smallest kiddo in their playdate group. Envy thrashed at the gentle butterflies in his chest, making his heart dance to an offbeat song. Sure, he was jealous of how put-together the man was; he had the parenting shit down! But damn, Dean wouldn't mind getting to sit and stare at Castiel for a few more hours. Thank you, Jack and Claire, for orchestrating a second playdate! Annndddd Papa’s phone number! 

He did the nightly closing routine with his heart singing and as he tucked Sammy into his bed (forehead smooch tax paid as always), the little boy whined - quiet enough that Dean knew Sammy had tried to fight the sound from leaving his throat.

“Hey, hey buddy. What's going on?” He smoothed his hair down; he should've brushed it before the kid was half asleep. Sammy only pulled himself into a little ball, his breath stuttering, making his body shake. The high that Dean had been floating on all afternoon dissolved as his brain made several dots connect. Dean remembered crying like this to himself many, many times. Always quietly so he wouldn't catch his father’s attention. He cursed John, vowing to trash his stupid fuckin’ headstone for making someone so little feel something so big.

He pulled Sammy into his lap, wrapping him tightly in his arms, peppering small kisses on his head. Dean pushed his temper deep down; he could get mad later. Not when Sammy was there. The boy gripped Dean’s shirt tightly, his little knuckles turning white. He slowly rubbed his back, hushing the heartbreaking whimpers as they came in waves.

An eternity later, Sammy whispered into his big brother's chest.

“I forgot Lovey.”

Without any hesitation, he scooped Sammy up, looked to see that Adam was still knocked out in his crib, and booked it downstairs. He didn't stop to pull on his shoes, only slowing to fling the door open and dash across the street and praying that Castiel was awake or that at least the twins weren't disturbed when he knocked - hard - on the door. Sammy looked at him with what Dean thought was an excellent, albeit confused, bitch face and wrapped his arms even tighter around his brother’s neck as the cold night nipped at them both. 

Thanking his lucky stars, Castiel cracked his front door open and tilted his head in confusion.

“Dean?” Good God, his voice rough with sleep. That's so hot - Not the time, Dean! “Is something wrong?”

“Cas, man, are you a sight for sore eyes. Listen, looks like Lovey got lost, and we were hoping she was here with you?” It felt silly, but Dean had done some pretty stupid stuff in his time. This was nothin’ in the grand scheme.

Castiel’s eyes fell on Sammy, unfortunately still weepy, and his face lit up with what Dean hoped was understanding. He hurried them into the living room and began sorting through the different piles of toys.

“Sorry, Cas, I shoulda cleaned that up.” Dean would have to consult the mommy blogs on proper playdate etiquette. 

“You are a guest in my home, I wouldn't make you clean.” Castiel looked at Dean from his spot on the floor, head tilted again, kinda like an owl. Ok, wow, that's adorable. He went back to digging for the missing toy, letting out a quiet “ah-ha” when Lovey was unearthed from the remains of the tea party. His joints popped as he stood and brought Lovey to Sammy, tucking the puppy into the little boy's arms. Sammy had stopped crying only a few moments prior, but a few sniffles and whimpers were let out as he rubbed his face into the soft fuzz of his beloved stuffy. Castiel seemed to melt at the sight, and Dean understood the feeling. Castiel gave Sammy a soft rub on his back and apologized for not noticing Lovey’s disappearance. 

When his sky-blue eyes met Dean’s, he whispered again, this time to Dean. 

“I’m glad you came back to find her. I know how upsetting it is for children to lose a comfort item like this.” Sammy sighed heavily and dropped his head to his big brother's shoulder. The sight must have further melted Castiel as he smiled brightly. “Please know you and your sons are always welcome here. We deeply enjoyed spending time with you all.”

For a moment, Dean forgot that he wasn't in Lawrence, that it wasn't a topic of gossip about how and why Dean was the guardian of his brothers. Regular people would assume that Dean was their biological father, a single parent to two young children. Relief washed over his ever-churning brain at that thought. Castiel didn't know the intricate details of his - their -  lives. That Castiel (and by extension, Claire and Jack) wouldn't treat them any differently from any other family they know.

That Castiel wouldn't judge Dean…Castiel didn't know any of Dean’s dirt.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel’s deep voice brought Dean back into the present. He shot a look down at Sammy, finding the boy snoring, wrapped around Lovey. 

“Thank you, Cas…I hope you won't mind another playdate real soon. It was good for him. Good for me.” He swayed, unconsciously rocking himself and Sammy. Castiel’s hand still rubbing softly on Sammy’s back - he could feel Castiel’s arm bump his shoulder, his warmth seeping into him. “Probably for Adam, too.” 

His eyebrows shot up.

Fuck.

He left Adam alone.

Without much thought, Dean presses a chaste kiss to Castiel's cheek and a rushed goodnight and sprints back across the street. (Unbeknownst to Dean, Castiel watched as the front door closed, one hand softly petting the exact place Dean kissed him. He returns to his bed, convinced he must have imagined it.)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Novak family had a new routine (as close to one as possible with the children’s chaotic and curious minds) as the Winchesters settled into their own. Castiel would take the twins to daycare four days a week, so he could get some accounting work done and his children could socialize with others. He would then pick them up (walking while the weather was still nice) and take them to whichever extracurricular activity had their attention at that time. He would sit in the parent waiting area of their dance studio, sometimes watching them learn twirls and footwork, and sometimes reading. Rarely did any other parents interact with him (not that he wanted them to); mostly, it was just a forced “hello, nice to see you” and a nod. A new and welcome change to this was the addition of meeting with the Winchester family for more playdates, something that he and the twins looked forward to during the weekends. 

The juxtaposition of Dean’s seemingly genuine enjoyment of Castiel’s lackluster personality and the parents of his children’s friends was jarring, and it was nothing that he was used to experiencing. 

Castiel himself had never had friends. Not at least until he met Kelly. 

But that was different. 

(Was it different? It surely felt the same, if not similar.)

He shook his head, his wild hair fluttering into his eyes. Damn. He couldn’t put off his haircut any longer, noting that he needed to call and schedule an appointment during business hours tomorrow. He waited at the exit door as the ballet class was dismissed, Claire and Jack skipping over to their father, they chattered asking him what he thought of their spins (they both had been practicing at home and it had been paying off), what they were going to do this weekend (the Winchesters were going to come over for lunch tomorrow and another playdate), and could Papa ask Mister Dean what treats that Sammy and Adam like? 

As they turned into their neighborhood, Castiel caught sight of the Winchesters out front of their house, Claire and Jack perking up at the sight of their friends. Giving the pair the go-ahead, they sprinted over, giggling loudly and carefree. Sammy stopped on his push bike, looking over his shoulder at the sound. His face split with his wide smile, and he waved wildly, shouting at his father.

“Dee! Dee! Look it!” Sammy had truly come out of his shell in the few months that they had been living here, Dean telling Castiel that the boy had been having a rough time after his mother passed and all the moves they had gone through. Both Claire and Jack were able to understand Sammy’s sadness after Castiel had explained his loss to them. They had begged Castiel to take them across the street so they could hug the boy (and Adam, even if the baby didn't understand why) and spent the afternoon asking Sammy about his Mama and telling him what they knew about their own (Any question they had about her, Castiel was happy to answer - it was the least he could do). 

Castiel had to step outside to do his breathing exercises, and he wasn't about to make any comments about the tears that Dean tried to hide. The loss of a wife wasn't something he had thought he would bond over with anyone, but it did make him feel closer to Dean.

Dean walked out of the garage. Adam, as usual, was in his carrier on Dean's chest. The brunette man smiled brightly, waving them over.

“Hiya, kiddos! Cas!” Castiel preferred this nickname over Gabriel’s “Cassie.” “You guys excited to scooter tomorrow?” He was met with an overjoyed chorus of cheering, even getting Adam to kick and squeal in response. The children decide to take a moment to play and run over to the lawn. Jack explains to Sammy that they’ve been working on their twirling in dance class, showing him how to spin on his toes. A breeze mucked up Casitel’s mop of hair, the strands once again tickling his face. He huffed his breath, catching the hair mostly out of his way. Realizing that he had not said anything to the other adult, he turned, mouth open, to ask Dean how his day was - only to find that Dean had been watching him, an odd look on his face. 

“Ya want me to clean that up for ya?” Castiel stared blankly at him, fighting the urge to look around for a mess. What needed to be cleaned? Thankfully, Dean seemed to catch on to most of Castiel’s social ineptness; he chuckled and clarified. “Your hair, Cas. Want me to cut it back for you?”

Oh. 

“There is no need, but thank you for the offer, Dean. I’ve been putting off making an appointment for as long as I can.”

“D’ya want long hair?” It was Dean’s turn to be confused for once. “Think that you look handsome when it's trimmed like you normally do…”

Castiel felt his face flushing at the compliment. Dean seemed to have no problem speaking his mind, and in the months that their friendship went on, Castiel had been subject to the many, many kind words Dean had to say about him. (And Castiel had many, many moments of needing to do his breathing.)

“No, I much prefer it shorter…I don't enjoy getting my hair cut, my scalp is sensitive, and most hairdressers or barbers I have been to are not very careful.” He swiftly taps his fingertips one by one against the pad of his thumb, hoping his movement did not catch Dean’s attention. “I try not to go very often.”

As the children come running back, Dean only smiles softly at them.

“Well, Cas, don't you worry about that anymore. I’ve been doin’ my hair for years now, and Sammy says that I’m real soft at brushin’ his.” Dean stands confidently, hands on his hips - Sammy nods happily at his father's words. “When the kiddos are down for their naps tomorrow, I’m treatin’ ya to the Winchester special.”

The wink that Dean shot at Castiel made his heart stutter.

And who was Castiel to say no to such a charming offer?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dean floats through his week on a cloud, working at Singer’s Auto and making Bobby Singer question his sanity just a little, his head bobbing in agreement to every tedious customer request, no matter how irritating. And god, they were annoying. Monday, he and Cas shared a quick conversation over Dean’s white picket fence about movies Cas had never seen, Dean even getting Cas to laugh at a dumb joke. Tuesday, Cas all but ran across the street to help Dean unload his groceries while hollering at the Twins to “do as he says, not as he does” as they run after him. Wednesday, Dean fills up the windshield wiper fluid in Cas’s terrible pimp car because Cas couldn't remember the last time it hadn't been bone dry. Thursday, Cas had agreed to a haircut, and Dean would happily admit to anyone that he was over the moon at the opportunity to be so close to Castiel. That landed him on Friday, singing a nonsense children's song (Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques, Dormez-vous ? Dormez-vous ? Sammy was loving the niche interests of the Twins, which currently, were french children’s songs) under his breath as he wrenched another bolt into place, when Bobby slid open his office window, phone pressed to his ear.

“Got a Gabe Novak asking for ya, boy. You takin’ it or is he sellin’ you car insurance?”

He zipped over to the man, trying to figure out why Cas’ brother would be calling him here or at all.

Bobby grumbled as he gave the landline cord some slack and partially closed the window for privacy. Bobby Singer had been relatively impressed with Dean’s shop experience when he had rolled into town looking for work. Dean had always considered himself lucky, having snagged an under-the-counter job as a preteen at an autoshop and remembered all the nitty-gritty details better than any other shop hand. Bobby raised an eyebrow as Dean gave him his work history. He watched him closely as he demonstrated his knowledge of Dean’s car. (He had soaked his shirt and boxers in sweat that day, hoping Mr. Singer approved of the state of Baby.)

Bobby had told him to be there first thing the next morning, wheeling back into the conditioned shop muttering about finally finding some goddamn help around here. Dean went above and beyond to stay on the older man’s good side, god forbid he fuck up the budding friendship. (Something he felt pretty good about; Bobby had gotten all misty-eyed when Dean stuck up a couple of photos of Sammy and Adam, telling him to bring them around for a barbecue sometime.)

“Uh…this is Dean -”

“Oh, thank fuck! Dean! It was my turn to pick up the kiddos after dance class, but a fucking pipe burst at my bakery and I can’t just leave! The only employees I’ve got right now are part-time teenagers! What fucking kid would know what to do with a flooding storage room?” Dean heard him take a gasping breath. “But the twins are too fucking little to just, like, walk home on their own! I’d be the world's worst uncle if I just let that happen -”

“Gabe! Dude! Slow down!” Dean made eye contact with Bobby through the shop window. He forced a smile and spun to face out into the shop. “When do the twins need to be picked up? And what’s the address?”

He fished out a marker from his coveralls, yanking the cap off with his teeth, and began scribbling out the details on his hand. He ended the call feeling just a little panicked, though nothing compared to what Gabe had been, and knocked to pass the landline back through the window.

“Mr. Singer,” The man snorted as he slid the window back open, “I hate to bother ya, but I gotta go help out my uh - my neighbor.” Fuck, does it sound silly to say“best friend” as a man in his twenties? “His brother can't pick up his kids, and he’s an hour outta town right now.”

Bobby gave him a knowing look, nodding as he looked past Dean and into the shop.

“That truck done?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Might as well head home anyway, nothing new comin’ in till Monday. Go on an’ get your littles while you're at it.” Bobby tossed his trucker hat onto his desk and pushed his wheelchair around the corner. “Flip the sign to closed on your way out.”

Dean sped his way out of the shop and into his Baby.

He calculated in his head just how long it would take him to make it across town, deciding that it would be faster to get the twins first and then his boys. Baby roared down the road, echoing as he pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio that Gabe had directed him to. 

Dean made his way into the building, undoing his coveralls and tying the sleeves around his waist, a pitiful effort to prevent grease from getting all over. He stopped at the front desk, smiling at the attendant, and his fingers tapping at the counter's edge. 

“What can I do for you today?” She smiled as she stopped typing on her keyboard, her eyes only giving him a quick once-over before returning to his face.

“Uh, yeah, I’m picking up Claire and Jack Novak. I don't know if their Uncle called you, but uh, he got held up at his bakery and couldn't get here on time, and their Dad is at work and he wouldn't be able to get here on time either, so -”

The woman stopped him from rambling further.

“Yes, Gabriel called just a few minutes ago and filled me in. We don't normally allow unauthorized adults to pick up any of the children, but I’m familiar with Mr. Novak’s working situation.” She flips through a stack of papers and hands one to Dean. “Considering Gabriel is the only other contact for the Novak children, this is technically an ‘emergency.’ Take this form with you and have Mr. Novak fill it out. It’ll authorize you for pick-ups if anything like this happens again. Can I snag your ID so I can have a copy on file?”

Thank God. Dean had been nervous that they would turn him away and made the poor kiddos wait until Cas or Gabe could get here. The receptionist gave him another smile as he handed over his driver's license, watching as she scanned it and handed it back.

“But I ask that we not make a habit out of this before that form is returned.”

“Not a problem, miss. You have my word.”

“Dee?”

Dean spun around, finding Jack standing at a door a few feet away as his sister pulled on her light-up shoes. Claire looked up in confusion, her nose scrunched, like in the pictures he’d seen of their mom.

“Where’s Uncle Gabe?” 

Dean folded the paper and stuffed it into one of his many pockets.

“Uncle Gabe’s bakery had a huge mess! He asked me to come and get you two.” He ruffled Jack’s hair. “And I thought we could have pizza for dinner after I pick up Sammy and Adam from daycare. Maybe watch a movie?”

The kids looked at him with owlish eyes. So much like their dad, he thought. 

“Can Adam eat pizza?” Claire blinked at him.

The receptionist chuckles under her breath, and Dean herds them out the door and into the Impala. He cringes at their lack of car seats, the seatbelts cinched as tightly as possible, and promises the pair that he will ensure Baby is ready for them the next time they ride with him. Never did he think that Baby would one day proudly hold several car seats, leaving indents in her smooth leather, but Dean could think of a worse fate than that. They giggle at the car's sounds, trying to imitate it in the backseat as Dean pulls up to the daycare. Claire’s vroom vroom’s stop as she watches Dean closely as he yanks the wheel around to park. He deems it safe enough to leave the twins in the backseat, as he has managed to snag a spot right in front of the colorful house turned childcare center. He leans over the front seat to roll down the back passenger window, so he can hear them as he walks to the door. 

Dean winks at the two of them, telling them to stay put for a moment, and dashes to the front gate, taking the stairs two at a time. He’s never been so quick at check out as this moment, Sammy tossed over his shoulder as he squeals, and Adam gurgles from his baby carrier. 

The second Sammy catches sight of the twins in the backseat, his squeals go supernova.

“Jack! Claire!” He fights Dean as he tries to buckle him into his car seat. Jack gives him his hand, and Sammy is thankfully pleased enough with it that he stops his struggle. Dean smiles as Sammy rubs Jack’s little hand on his cheek, just like he does with his Lovey. He can remember when he had a similar habit, playing with Mary’s curls when he was no bigger than Sam as they sat together for Sunday Mass. He can almost see it clearly in his mind, her golden ringlets catching the light from the stained glass windows. He drives back into their neighborhood, playing the radio quietly as the kids chatter among themselves. His phone buzzes from where he tossed it on the bench, and he ignores it for a little longer.

The Impala rolls smoothly into the driveway, and he clambers out. Dean unbuckles them, letting the three toddlers loose in his yard and pulling Adam out of the carrier and into his arms. He was only getting bigger, now pushing and pulling at Dean to get comfy in his hold. Soon, Adam would be on the move, and Dean was an unnerving mix of pride and melancholy. His baby was growing! He kisses the boy's head and gathers the assortment of child-sized bags scattered throughout his car.

Who’d’ve thought this would be his life?

The thought resonates in his head; despite all his fears about having kids, he feels…fulfilled. 

Like he was always meant for this.

His heart pounds away in his chest as he follows after the gleeful screeching into his home. No longer just a house to him, a home with laughing and loving that bounced off the walls, no holes in the drywall.

He lets the kids eat their pizza on the living room floor, all snuggled together on a blanket he lays out for them as they watch The Lion King 1 ½. (Adam snoozing in his playpen after his meal, because, sorry Claire, Adam can't do food like that yet.) He keeps the remaining pizza in the oven, hoping Cas may want to stay and eat with him later, and finishes tidying the kitchen. Dean tosses the wash rag into the sink, deeming it good enough, when he remembers his phone. He flops on the couch, huffs a quiet laugh as the movie plays, and pulls his phone from his pocket. 

Cas 🐝😇: Gabriel has called my cellphone 32 times in the past two minutes and isn't answering my text messages. Do you know what is going on?

And several minutes later, another text.

Cas 🐝😇: Are the twins with you? Gabriel isn't responding to me. I'm unsure what his text messages mean. He was supposed to pick them up and watch them until I was off work.

Dean feels bad for making him wait, not thinking about Gabe’s mini freak-out and how Cas would feel about it. He scrolls to the most recent message.

Cas 🐝😇: Dean, the receptionist messaged me to say the children were picked up. Please tell me whether it was you or Gabriel. Please.

Dean types furiously at his chipped screen.

Me: cas! sry for not responding! yes, I have jack & claire w me & the boys! we r eating dinner & watching a movie. hope all is good at the office! when u get back in 2 town just come 2 mine ❤️

Cas 🐝😇: Thank you, Dean. I am pleased they are safe and taken care of. I will see you in an hour.

Sammy pops his head up and makes grabby hands to his brother. Dean drops his phone on his lap and pulls the boy up. Sammy wastes no time getting cozy on his chest, and Dean is more than happy to accommodate the kiddo.

“Dee?” Jack whispers from the floor.

“What’s up, bud?” Sammy is as close to one can get to purring as Dean pets his head, twirling his floppy brown hair between his fingers. 

Jack looks down at the floor and then to his sister, his round face uncertain.

“Can I cuddle too?”

“Me too?” Claire’s head pops up, looking significantly more confident than her brother's.

Dean shimmied around, making Sammy giggle despite how tired he was. He pats at the couch cushion, and both kids clamber up, knees and elbows managing to hit Dean in all his soft spots. Claire claims a spot between Dean and the back cushion, her little legs kicking over Sammy. And Jack, on his opposite side, head resting on Dean’s shoulder. They giggle as they hunker down again, hushing each other when Adam’s little snores turn fussy before calming into snores again. 

What was he so afraid of? There was no greater feeling in the world than this moment right now. 

He hummed quietly as the movie broke into another musical, slowly drifting into a sleepy state.

If only Cas were here…

He wakes to the movie's end credits and Cas hovering above him.

Cas has one hand rubbing softly on Sammy’s back, squinting adorably down at him.

“Sorry to wake you, Dean, but I thought you would want to be relieved from babysitting.” He whispers, his deep voice like a heavy, warm quilt. “I’ll have to take them one at a time back home. They get quite grumpy if they're roused.”

Dean lifts his hand from where it clutches Jack’s sleeping form, catching Cas’s wrist, just wanting to pull him down into the massive pile of snuggles.

“Nah, just put ‘em in Sammy’s room.” He let go of Cas’s wrist, even though he really didn't want to. “They’ll wake up in a bit anyway, it's barely six.”

Dean tiptoed as carefully as he could out of the bedroom, Castiel following him out quickly. He held his breath as Castiel closed the door, baby monitor in hand - both men only letting a sigh of relief at the sound of the door clicking shut. Castiel leaned back against the door, head tipped back, giving Dean a wonderful view of his…delicious neck. He felt like his eyes were glued on Castiel’s Adam's apple, watching it move as he gave another sigh.

Holy shit, how could this dweeb be so hot?

Although Dean absolutely loved the friendship he and Castiel had built over the past few months, his underlying crush on the man sometimes made it hard to focus on anything else. The crush had morphed from silly and harmless into a lot more. Every day, he watched the man father his twins and treat Sammy and Adam so sweetly, and it was another day that he dug himself deeper into wanting to kiss and touch him. 

It was…so fucking distracting. And it seemed that the only person who hadn't noticed was Castiel himself. Even Claire had given Dean a look when she caught him staring wistfully at her Papa as he was cooking another casserole for them, and she was four. A four-year-old knew that Dean wanted to…hold her Papa’s hand. 

And the little shit got a kick out of making just that happen when both men were dragged into their games. 

She was a menace in the making, and Dean feared for Castiel’s sanity in the future.

“Alright, Cas, let's get you looking snazzy.” He wiggled his eyebrows at him, finding joy in the silly little things that seemed to always get a reaction from Castiel. He pulled him by the elbow back into the kitchen, where he had left his kit, containing his hair clippers and combs. As he sat him down on one of the kitchen stools, he could feel just how tense Castiel was holding himself. Not that he was normally the most relaxed guy.

He smoothed his hands over Castiel’s shoulders, snapping the cape that came with his clipper kit in place.

“You tell me if you don't like anything, ‘kay, sunshine?” He wasn't quite whispering, but his tone was soft, and he, maybe not so by accident, let a hot breath out on Castiel’s ear. Castiel shivered and silently nodded, and Dean took that as his go-ahead. He started with the comb, carefully detangling his dark hair, going just as slowly as he would with Sammy’s hair. Bit by bit, Castiel relaxed back against Dean. Remembering that Cas needed his hair actually cut, he plugged in the clippers and began trimming the back of his neck. Dean couldn't help the urge to run his fingers through the soft curls, excited to have this excuse to finally do so. 

Castiel let him maneuver his head however he needed, and when Dean moved to face him, he found himself captivated by the man. His face was relaxed, and he looked like he was about to melt into a puddle. Dean had rarely seen the man smile, but here he was, a soft, sweet smile gracing his handsome face. Dean felt like he was under a spell as he traced his knuckles against Castiel’s chin. He could feel a light scruff growing. 

“I can clean this up too if ya want, sweetheart.” Dean normally tried to keep the pet names in his head, remembering the first time he dropped one, Castiel looked like he was about to explode - and he wasn't sure if that reaction meant he liked it or not. Castiel’s bright blue eyes slowly opened, looking adorably confused as he stared up at Dean. This got a chuckle from Dean, and he rubbed the back of his hand a little firmer against Castiel’s cheek. “I’m gonna shave your face, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes had an odd glazed-over look, he swallowed - Adam’s apple as always catching Dean’s attention - and nodded again.

As he finished loving the haircut, he changed out the clipper guard. Thankfully, he always kept the entire kit together, and no shaving cream was needed for these clippers. He once again moved Castiel’s face into place, absolutely living for how pliable the older man was for him. He felt a quick shiver race down his spine. This would be something he would think of for a while. 

He pulled back, humming to himself as he inspected his work. 

Handsome as ever.

He unsnapped the cape, shaking it off. Castiel seemed to still be stuck in his little haze, and Dean didn't want to force him out of it so soon. The dude just had probably the best haircut of his life, not to toot his own horn. He pulled the broom and dustpan out and went about cleaning everything up, letting his hand occasionally brush up on Castiel. He couldn't help the urge to touch the man; his brain was practically screaming for him to be wrapped around him at all times. His crush had admittedly gotten…a lot bigger recently.

The baby monitor crackled to life as the kids seemed to wake up all at once. They chatted quietly to each other as they shook the sleep from their systems. Castiel finally came back into his body, turning but not making eye contact with Dean.

“That was - this was the best experience I’ve ever had. Thank you, Dean.” He didn't even try to fight the prideful smile that made his face ache. Hell yeah, it was.

“Happy to help, Cas. Lemme know when you need another appointment.” He put the clipper set away and began to pull out Adam’s carrier. 

He had really gotten into the habit, and he and Adam’s pediatrician had noticed the change in the baby’s health - he slept through the night like never before and was engaging in all sorts of play that he would’ve just ignored before. Something about the physical touch and reassurance was slowly changing Adam’s brain chemistry; whatever it was, Dean would happily keep up with the baby sling. The doctor told Dean that he should be proud of the progress both boys had made, and boy howdy was he over the moon about it. 

Castiel watched from his spot on the stool, his head tilted in his trademark confusion. 

“Why do you use the baby carrier so much?”

As he clipped the empty sling into place, he peeked over to Castiel, feigning a nonchalant answer.

“Doc says Adam needs touch like this. His development was fucked up after his mom left ‘em. Bein’ able to touch is putting him back on track.” Castiel’s eyes were wide at that answer, Dean saw from the corner of his eye as the man’s face grew stony.

“And where were you when this happened?” The accusatory tone was not lost on Dean; his hands grew clammy. He wiped them on his jeans and took a deep breath. No time like the present. 

Castiel would understand…it’s not like he was the most conventional guy either.

“I didn't know Adam was a thing at the time. I had just gotten Sammy when social services told me about him…” He chose not to look back at Castiel as he continued, fingers messing with the buckles. “Sammy and Adam aren’t mine. They’re my brothers. Got Sammy after our parents died a while back, and Adam a few months before we moved here. Nobody knows where his mom is.”

He heard Castiel gasp. 

Please, please don't think any less of him. Of his boys. Please Cas.

“Oh, Dean-”

The monitor crackled again, Claire’s voice coming across clear as day as she asked the two boys if they knew what a sleepover was. The sound of the bedroom door opening and the pitter-patter of feet racing down the hall echoed through the little speaker. He turned as they ducked into the kitchen, happy for the excuse to leave the room for even a moment to get Adam.

“We play this right and they won't be asking for a sleepover ‘til they’re older.” The look on Castiel’s face let him know that that wouldn't be the situation. 

He’s lucky he’s cute.

Notes:

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Chapter 3

Summary:

First sleepover! ...And more?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Castiel wasn't exactly paying attention when he agreed to whatever the children were asking him, so when Dean clapped his hands and asked, “Yours or mine?” Castiel only responded with a confused “mine?” Three small children had bedrolls on the living room floor, and one oddly squishy dinosaur nightlight sat on the coffee table. Dean kissed Sammy’s head, telling him to be a good boy and that he’d see him in the morning. 

 

Dean waved Adam’s hand at their group as the door closed.

 

(Sammy and Adam were his brothers?)

 

He tucked each child in, murmuring a quiet goodnight (Castiel gave forehead kisses to all three; it felt cruel not to include Sammy), and making sure they each knew where to find him if needed.

 

(Dean is their only guardian. Not only did both children not have their parents - Dean didn't either.)

 

He went through the motions of his bedtime routine like a robot, his mind too clouded by the information Dean had given.

 

(That meant there was no partner in the picture-)

 

That was no way to think about such a sad situation! This family had gone through such an awful tragedy that Dean would have to step up and raise both of his brothers! He brushed his teeth a little harder, the pain reeling him back in. He forced himself to maintain eye contact with his reflection.

(“Marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of God, and that the family is central to the Creator’s plan for the eternal destiny of His children.” You would be leading yourself and your entire family astray. Tearing them apart. Is that what you want, Castiel? Why would you do something so cruel?)

He pressed the brush harder, bright red spots dotting against the pale pink gums. He breathed deeply through his nose.

No. No, that’s not right.

He was not dooming his family by being…not straight.

(You can't even say it!)

He yanked the brush from his mouth, stop stop stop. There was no point in hurting himself, not when he needed to be present for his children, for Sammy. He needed to have a clear head, and spiraling over some hypotheticals about his less-than-explored identity did not take precedence. Letting old habits haunt him would only cause more problems than they were worth.

Besides, he was ok. The people most important to him knew his truth, and they did not care for him any less because of it. His therapist knew, and she was brilliant; the number of times she had explained away the decade's worth of self-hatred was staggering. Gabriel knew, and his brother loved him, having entirely uprooted his life so he could be closer to Castiel. Kelly knew. 

Kelly had known after Castiel had finally worn himself down to the ground around month six of her pregnancy. He could still remember crying himself hoarse, begging for her forgiveness, promising that he would never act upon it, never do anything to ruin her or the babies.

But Kelly had understood on a level that Castiel couldn't even grasp. Kelly had left the church as a teen and had been so far removed in her adult years that she had grown so far beyond what was ever expected of her. And she still loved him. She had told him that nothing was wrong with him and that she would still love to have a family with him, even if it wasn't what she had expected.

His body slightly relaxed at the memory of her calm and loving attitude. Kelly was a once-in-a-lifetime love, and he knew that mostly because he knew he would never love another woman. She was everything he had ever wanted and needed, his best friend to the end.

And she would be proud of his progress.

He finally releases the last of his tension. His complicated feelings (about Dean, about himself) are pushed to the back of his mind, settling to be poked at later. He pulls back his old comforter and lets his eyes grow heavy.

(You could have him, couldn't you?)

(This would not be the first time you’ve let yourself covet the man.)

(It’s probably the most innocent that you’ve had about him…)

He’s snapped out of his fitful sleep at the saddest whimper he’s ever heard in his life. He shoots straight up, finding three little figures at the foot of his bed, clinging to one another. He makes out the little braids he had put in Claire’s hair earlier that night, followed by a morphed blob - the two boys…hugging each other?

“Papa!” Claire whisper-shouts. “Sammy is scared!”

She pulls at both little boys, tugging them up and onto the bed. Jack pulls away enough to look at his father’s face, looking much like his sister’s, upset and confused. Sammy is harder to see, even up close, as he hides himself behind the twins. His almost silent whines are the only clue to his distress. Castiel decided to forgo any learned social cues of parenting another person's child and gathered Sammy into his arms, hoping the careful pats to his hair were more calming than alarming. His little body shakes as he tries to draw in another breath, and the twins collapse against him now that their mission has been accomplished, both hiccuping in distress. 

“Can you tell me what you need, Sam?” 

Sam only hid further into Castiel’s shoulder, his cries now wet and labored.

He tries to wrap all three children close as he scrabbles for his phone, hoping that Dean would answer, that he would be easy to wake.

The phone rings and he waits.

“ - ‘lo?”

(Is that what you want for your eternal life?)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dean dashed across the street like his life depended on it, and Adam did not like it. In all fairness, Dean had snatched him from his crib in the middle of the night and bounced him around like a basketball. They both probably looked a little crazy, Dean in hot dog pajamas and Adam in one of Sammy’s sweaters, which he had haphazardly tossed on the boy before darting down the stairs.

After Dean had done the Twin rescue, Cas had given him the code to the front door, so Dean punched in the numbers, making sure to latch the door hard, and sped down the hall to Castiel’s room. 

Adam cried, his hands grasping hard at Dean’s bare shoulders, and Dean felt guilty - but he couldn't imagine leaving Adam behind again, even if it had been for a few mere moments, and he swung the door open. The sight of Cas covered in kids was something he wanted to have tattooed onto the inside of his eyelids forever. Sammy was hanging on his shoulder, arms wrapped around the man’s neck, but his hands tangled with Jack’s, who had wormed behind his papa and had his chin propped up opposite of Sammy, and Claire was hugging his side, trying to pat Sammy’s back.

Oh.

What he would give to have that, all the time?

Adam screeched in his arms, oversized sleeves flailing and smacking Dean square in the nose.

Sammy turned, pushed himself out of Castiel’s hold, and launched his body at Dean. The fact that he caught him was a small miracle; the other miracle was that no one’s head got bashed in the rush to catch the boy. Dean took the moment to settle on the bed, pulling Sammy in and whispering soft assurances in his ear. His bad dreams had slowed since the first big one, but each one still rattled them both. Sammy didn't have enough words to tell Dean what he was so scared of, but the frightened “I’m sorry, daddy’s” were more than clarifying for Dean.

He struggled to keep both boys balanced, with Adam screeching and Sammy sobbing. Then Castiel (his angel) carefully pulled Adam from Dean’s hold and onto his lap, soothing the baby with soothing hushing. Jack and Claire both climbed up their papa for a better spot and relaxed against him. Dean gave his full attention to his boy, humming and rocking him.

Dean had lost track of time, having closed his eyes as Sammy got quieter. But when he peeled them back open, he found himself lying flat on his back across the foot of Castiel’s bed. He turned his head, careful of the little boy draped across him, finding Cas propped against his headboard, Adam on his chest, and Jack and Claire lying on his legs. 

“I would offer you a blanket, but I’m not able to move currently.” The low timber of Castiel’s voice sent a shiver down Dean’s spine like it normally did, but the softness of being the center of a cuddle puddle made Dean’s heart burst. This dude melted him in so many ways, and he doesn't even know.

“Wanna have a sleepover?” The blush that covers Cas’s face is brilliant, and Dean wants to tattoo it to the back of his eyelids so he can see it forever. “We could make it easy on ourselves, and I could rearrange ‘em.” Dean slowly sat up, holding Sammy in place. “Easier said than done, but I can at least get you on your back.”

Castiel hummed, and Dean began moving Sammy closer to the middle of the king-sized bed, like he was defusing a bomb, which he was - a little. Once Sammy was cozy, he turned to the twins, deciding his best bet would be to pull Castiel down by his legs, and hopefully the kiddos would slide with him. Cas gave him a confused look and yelped when Dean slid him down the mattress. He crawled over the leg pile, too exhausted to overthink sharing a bed with his crush and their kids, and pulled the covers over them all. 

He and Sammy let out a matching huff as Dean wiggled into his spot, letting his exhaustion once again take him.

Sharing a bed would be a problem for awake Dean.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Castiel stared at the man who was now asleep in his bed. (In his bed. His bed, in his bed, wrapped in his bedding, and beautiful face resting on his pillow - ) 

Castiel shifted as he avoided looking at Dean. Logically, this made sense. Three children, all under five, would be too much for one person to handle alone, especially at a sleepover. They really should have thought of that before Dean returned home. Sammy very clearly had trauma, something that he did not know how to deal with, especially combined with sleeping in a new place without his fath- his older brother. Both adults were exhausted, with it being long past midnight, and the children had just calmed down from being incredibly distraught. Castiel was not about to send them home; they could sleep here. Of course, they could stay here. (He didn't want them anywhere else.)

(Don't look at him, don't be gross. He didn't permit you to creep on him. Your children are in the room.)

He could see Dean out of his peripheral, tucked into the well-loved quilt. (He can see Dean’s bare shoulders from here. The skin looked soft, and he wanted to reach out, touch, and taste!) He clenched his jaw, snapping his eyes shut. 

It was wrong of him to think of Dean as anything more than just his friend, wrong to think of him at all. Dean could never know the sinful thoughts that plagued his mind, the ungodly things he had done to himself as he whispered Dean’s name in the dead of night. Even amid a blissful afterglow, he would feel the regret, the guilt, creeping up his throat and escaping his mouth as panicked prayers. 

And there he would end without fail, lying in bed with his sins, gasping sobs smothered in his pillows.

(Control yourself!)

Worthless. Gross. Wrong.

(Why? Why him? Why hadn't Dean realized his lowly desires and left already?)

He could feel bile fighting its way up his throat. He was going to throw up. He couldn't do this, couldn't be here. He was disgusting. 

(A predator, just like they had said he was.)

Painfully slow, he moved Adam off his chest, dislodging the twins from his legs. He barely caught himself as he stumbled out of bed, stubbing his toe as he desperately made his way to the bathroom. In the back of his mind, he was thankful for the bulk order of nightlights he’d ordered, which Gabriel had insisted were ridiculous, as he bolted through the dimly lit hall. He collapsed on the toilet, gagging and retching. 

He dropped his head to rest on the cold porcelain. He did not feel any better after purging what was left in him. A hand pressed to the back of his neck, making him freeze, panic amping up all over again. He looked over his shoulder, knowing what he must look like. His skin was pale and clammy, and his eyes were probably disturbingly bloodshot.

“You wanna tell me what’s got ya thinkin’ so hard?” Dean poked the furrow in Castiel’s brow, then, light as a feather, slowly began smoothing the offending area. “I could guess? See if I can take a peek at the wheels grindin’ away in there.”

“I don't think you could guess, Dean.” And if he somehow did? Well, he heard that Canada was lovely this time of year. “I apologize, I know it’s been a rough night for you. Please go back to bed.”

“You can keep me up anytime, sweetheart.”

Castiel’s heart did a haphazard flip, and the hot flush covered his face.

Sweetheart? Dean thought him highly enough, even in passing, to be called sweetheart?

An unfortunate wave of tears flooded his eyes before he could pull away from Dean’s still-present hand. 

“Oh shit - Cas?” Dean pulled Castiel closer; he would’ve been able to count his freckles if he could see. “Hey, man - I'm sorry. I know I play, but I don't mean anything bad! I don't wanna upset you, that's the last thing I wanna do.”

Dean wrapped his (very strong, very nice) arms around Castiel, his face pressed into Dean’s shoulder. 

(Turn your head. His neck is right there. Go on.)

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, Dean.” He gasped, his throat burning still. “I’m disgusting -”

“Hey now, a little vomit isn't gonna scare me off.”

He wiggled free from Dean’s hold. (You don't deserve it, you’re using him for your selfish desires.) He felt delirious about the oddness of the situation. If Kelly were here, she would have found it silly, laughing until Castiel had no choice but to laugh along with her. 

“I am unclean, Dean. Unworthy.”

“Cas, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

An all too familiar feeling to hide, to pretend he wasn’t there, to let his face fall and show no sign of emotions ever having a place within him.

He felt it climb from his spine and into his lungs, each breath suddenly feeling as if there were weights pressed on his chest.

Castiel did not deserve this: to be happy, to live in safety, with laughter and warmth. These were not things he was promised, that soon, God would realize his mistake and take it all away.

God would not reward a sinner like him to have something so precious, not Jack, not Claire, not Dean, Sammy, or Adam. His lungs failed him as he desperately tried to suck in air, his hand clutching his chest, as if that would stop the all-consuming notion that he, Castiel James Novak, even deserved to continue breathing.

And how else could he explain to Dean? Dean was not raised in the church or any church at all. He had mentioned occasionally attending an Anglican church with his mother as a child, but never as an adult. Everything Castiel knew about Dean screamed “free-spirited. " He was so similar yet so different from his Kelly. His heart ached, his mind was clouded, and his body screamed at him to touch. So, forgive him for doing something so irreversibly stupid like kissing Dean, hard.

Dean would be so uncomfortable with it, be so disgusted with Castiel, that he would leave right now - be gone forever from his life. Castiel would be devastated, and Claire and Jack would be heartbroken. The idea of Dean never looking at him the same way drove a knife deep into his heart. (Maybe Dean would let the children still play together as long as Castiel wasn't there? Gabriel would be alright taking them.) Castiel couldn't even fully bask in the glory of kissing Dean Winchester, his mind scattered in the wind. 

Dean abruptly broke the pathetic excuse of a kiss. His eyes were wide as he stared at Castiel, confused.

“Sweetheart, I would love to kiss you some more, but can I ask that we brush our teeth?”

What? 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dean stood elbow to elbow with Cas as they brushed their teeth in the bathroom. Cas had pulled out a spare brush for him, meant for a kid, seeing as the brush handle was tiny and also dinosaur-themed. But the Hell if Dean wasn't excited that Cas wanted to kiss him some more. He smiled around the brush, looking back at Cas, who had not stopped staring at Dean this whole time. His face screamed ???, which was cute, but Dean wasn't entirely sure why Cas was confused. He thought he had been laying it on thick with the man.

He hadn't been a subtle person, which is why, as he got older, he and John bashed heads more and more. Any girlfriend or boyfriend he had been with had told him that it was obvious he had wanted them, but Dean should’ve known that Castiel would be different. Cas stood out so much from anyone he had ever liked - fuck - loved. 

Dean nudged him as he went to spit the toothpaste out, and Cas followed after him. 

He leaned back against the door frame as he watched Cas swish mouthwash, mumbling that he had a routine because, of course, he did. 

“Gonna just check on the kids real quick, meet ya in the living room?” Cas nodded, his head fighting that cute tilt he did.

Dean zipped down the hall back into Castiel’s room, the kids still all snuggled up in the bed. Jack had wiggled over to Sammy, arms tangled around the younger boy's leg like an octopus. Claire was asleep on her stomach, soft little snores puffing from her mouth. The same with Adam; the baby looked like he could be her little brother. He thought with a start. 

The four of them looked like siblings, as if Dean and Cas had a family together.

It struck Dean just how badly he wanted that.

He walked in a lovely, dreamy haze, turning into the living room only to run face-first into Cas.

“Shit! Sorry, Cas, didn’t see you-”

“Why are you still here?”

Dean blinked. Fuck, he didn’t read the room correctly, did he? God damn it, he had fucked this up before it even started. 

“You know I am…” Castiel’s voice choked, and Dean watched as his lashes clumped together and more tears formed. “Unclean…”

Ok, that wasn't? What?

“Are you sick or somethin’? Like an STD?” 

Castiel’s face quickly slipped from his almost righteous anger to a confused puppy.

“What? Dean, no. I - I am not sick.” They still stood close together at the entrance of the living room. Dean felt Castiel’s soft breath dance across his face, minty and fresh. “I am…I am a homosexual. I thought you understood that now…”

Oh, well, duh. He kissed Dean first. Dean asked to kiss some more.

“That's very nice. I’m bi.” Dean jokingly stuck out his hand for Cas to shake, the man doing so, but very, very confused. “Did you want me to go, or? I still wanna kiss some more, if you're up for it…”

“Don't go!” Cas immediately cringed at his volume. “Please stay. I want you to stay.”

Dean brought his hand up to Castiel’s face slowly, giving the man time to reject his advances. Cas only leaned in so fast that he almost head-butted Dean. He knew he was giggling, but Cas wouldn't tease him for that, so he laughed again as he leaned in to kiss Cas again. 

“Couch?” He murmured into Cas’s mouth. 

They stayed pressed together as they fumbled back, Cas hitting the couch and falling back into it. He looked good enough to eat, spread out on the cushions like that. His sweatpants dipped dangerously low on his hips, his shirt pulled up just above his belly button. God, Dean just wanted to dive right in, but he kept the man’s devastated face in the forefront of his mind when he whispered, “Homosexual.”

But fuck, he was also going to keep the image of a flustered Cas for later. Private time, later.

He sat on Cas, legs on either side of his lap, running his hands over his covered chest. Cas shivered at the move, and Dean smiled. He took the opportunity to kiss up his throat, pressing more and more wet, open-mouth kisses the closer he got to his jaw. Cas, his angel, whimpered as Dean kept going. His hands were clutching onto the couch cushions, painfully so, so Dean pulled them to his hips. 

Cas gripped him tightly, his hips almost uncontrollably rutting up into Dean. 

Castiel’s eyes snapped open wide, his face a mix of fear and pleasure.

“Sorry, sorry -”

Deciding to pump the brakes, Dean slid off his lap but pressed himself closely to Cas’s side.

“S’ok sweetheart, I’m not complainin’.” Dean gave his cheek another soft, chaste kiss and ducked his head onto Cas’s shoulder. “Don't know if the kiddos are gonna let us back on the bed now.”

The laugh he got out of the man was beautiful.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Castiel woke up the following morning, he found himself alone in his bed, except for the small baby starting to rouse from his rest. Castiel and Dean had managed to puzzle piece back into bed after Castiel watched the man cringe at the hard couch. (The younger man had back issues, and Castiel did not want to contribute to it further.) Claire had kicked at Castiel as he had moved the child to the middle of the bed, safety be damned in her sleeping mind.

He rolled closer to Adam, the baby starting to grumble as he tried to push himself off his stomach. Castiel cooed and waggled his fingers for the boy, the initial grumpiness evaporating into giggles and screeching. 

He heard the telltale sounds of children running down the hall to his bedroom and the door smacking open into the wall.

 “Papa! Dee is making pancakes!”

“Up! Get up!”

“Addy!”

Castiel scooped up Adam, noting that he was no longer wearing the sweater that he had been wearing last night, and grabbed one of the throw blankets from the bed to wrap him in. He followed after the parade of children, finding a beautiful scene in the kitchen. Dean was wearing one of his few zippered hoodies, only zipped about halfway up his still bare chest, and pajama bottoms, cooking in his kitchen. Claire ran to his leg, wrapping her arms around the man. Jack and Sammy sped into the living room with a clatter of toys echoing behind them.

“Papa! Can we keep him?” The question startled him. Her smile was mischievous, even with the missing tooth. “He cooks!”

“If your papa asks nicely, you might be able to keep me.” Dean laughed as he tussled Claire’s bedhead, her braids long gone from the night before. The girl tried to tiptoe to look at the stove top, but Dean bumped her with his hip before Castiel could chide her about the stove.

“Nuh-uh, miss ma’am. This is hot up here. Go grab your step stool if you wanna look.”

(Was Castiel…aroused by Dean's parenting? No, that would be odd. Odd.)

As Claire dug her personalized step stool from the pantry, Dean approached Castiel. He pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, swiftly dipping to give Adam a raspberry on his cheek as Claire came back over. She gave the men a look, one little eyebrow raised and lips pursed. 

(Oh shit, did Claire know? No, that would be crazy. There’s no way she could have seen that kiss, Dean had been so quick -)

“Ew, Adam stinks!”

Oh, yes. He did smell. Dean made an offended face at the smell.

“Cas, could you run over to mine and grab some stuff for Adam? I’ll give you extra bacon…” Castiel nodded. Dean was incredibly kind to cook for them; of course, he could help with Adam. “If you could just grab his diaper bag, that would be a lifesaver.”

Claire pinched her nose, climbing up on her stool, now a safe distance from the stove. Dean returned to his station, preparing to flip the next rounds of pancakes.

“Ok, Claire Bear, when you're flippin’ cakes, you gotta wait for all the bubbles to pop…’

Claire was thoroughly intrigued by this cooking lesson as Castiel cut through the dining room into the living room, checking in on the boys as he slipped on his sandals. The pair was tucked together under the coffee table, trusty stuffed animals in hand as they babbled to one another. Satisfied they would be fine, he slipped out the front door with Adam. He jogged across the street, plucking the spare key from its hiding spot in a flower pot, and let himself into the Winchester home.

Spotting Adam’s diaper bag in the kitchen, he tossed the strap over his shoulder, only hesitating in the hall to the bedrooms. Sammy already had a change of clothes. Dean had packed him an overnight bag, but he had only been in his pajama pants, borrowing a jacket from Castiel to cover his top half. He decided to bring Dean some of his clothing would be thoughtful, wanting the man to be comfortable in his home.

(He couldn't think too long about last night; he could feel a deep blush forming from his ears down to his chest. And also, Adam still smelled. And he was getting very squirmy in Castiel’s hold.)

Making his first stop in the boy’s bedroom, he changed Adam into a fresh diaper and a cute little outfit. He had missed when the twins were too small to have an opinion on what they wore. Castiel had loved dressing them up in silly baby clothes. Adam kicked his legs as he was being dressed, grunting and cooing at the mobile above the changing station. He took an extra moment to tickle Adam’s stomach, delighting in the gummy smile and spit bubbles he was making. 

(Adam did look so much like the twins at this age, and his blue eyes were the only difference. The shade a muted blue instead of the distinct sky blue of the Novaks. But that didn't detract from how much he adored the baby.)

He gathered Adam back up, bag back on his shoulder, and he tiptoed into Dean’s bedroom. The blankets had been tossed onto the floor; he assumed that during the panic of the night before, Dean hadn't cared about tidiness. Deciding to help out a little, he pulled the comforter back on, doing his best to make the bed with only one hand. Deeming the effort good enough, he ventured to Dean’s dresser. Not lingering long on the drawer containing his underwear, he quickly grabbed a pair and slammed the drawer closed again. He methodically went through each drawer, pulling out items that he thought would go well enough together, and stuffing each piece of clothing into the diaper bag.

He did an awkward shuffle back to the front door, trying to bounce Adam to keep him happy. He snatched a pair of Dean’s boots as he latched the door, hoping that the man wouldn't be weirded out by Castiel’s choice to dress him.

(Kelly had once told him that his love language was acts of service, but he hadn't understood that then.)

Castiel came back into his house right as Dean called for the children to sit at the table, rounding the corner to watch the other man helping Sammy climb into his chair. He pushed back the boy’s long bangs and gave him a loud, wet kiss on the forehead, making all three children giggle at the silliness. 

His heart was again doing odd things in his chest.

Adam announced their presence with another grunt, Dean spinning around, a massive smile on his handsome face. 

“Ah, perfect! Come help me in the kitchen real quick?” Not giving him time to answer, Dean briskly left the dining room. He followed closely, only to run into the man once he was out of sight of the children. Dean drew him in for a deeper kiss, nipping softly at Castiel’s lip. (Castiel wished his lips weren't so chapped.) As quickly as it had begun, the lovely kiss was over. Dean did a double-take at Adam, his eyes going soft, patting the baby carefully on the back.

“You didn't have to get him all cleaned up, sweetheart. I was gonna do that when you brought the bag over.” Dean brought that same hand up to Castiel’s face, rubbing his thumb in small circles on his cheekbone. “You goddamn angel.”

Castiel flushed, ducking his head, just not enough to dislodge Dean’s hold on him.

“Brought you a change of clothes as well…” He mumbles, sliding the bag from its place on his shoulder. Dean’s smile somehow got bigger, and he pressed into Castiel. (Only squishing Adam a little, the baby not caring. The boy seemed to like being squished.)

“Dee! Where are cakes?” 

Breakfast was delicious and messy. 

The process of getting three toddlers and a baby cleaned of syrup was a tough one, but they managed. Sammy and Claire tried several times to escape from the bathroom and somehow got syrup on the ceiling, so Castiel’s delay in processing everything that had just gone down between himself and Dean was warranted.

It at least had the decency to wait until the midday nap time. 

Dean and his boys had spent the morning with the Novaks, Dean going between cleaning up around the house, playing with the children, and kissing the everloving daylights out of Castiel. With each kiss, he would pull Castiel into whatever room the children had just vacated, press him into the closest wall, and kiss him silly. Neither adult stopped to change from their pajamas, Dean seeming pleased every time he played with the zipper on his borrowed jacket.

It was exhilarating. 

But as they put each child down for a nap - baby monitors in hand, Castiel could feel dread building in his stomach.

(He had done it. That was the final step; he could never come back from this.)

The earth did not open beneath him, no flames eating away at his flesh, no one kicking down his door to tell him just how wrong he was.

(The Elders must have meant it metaphorically. But there was still the possibility that someone would take one look at him and know…)

He had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he stood at the twins’ bedroom door, staring off into nothingness, when Dean noticed his kind of spiral.

“Cas, hey…are you - uh - doin’ ok?” Dean whispered. Castiel snapped his eyes to Dean’s face, the man’s green eyes disarming as always. “You wanna talk about what’s got your goat?”

He felt his nose scrunch as he looked at him in confusion. 

“I do not have a goat?”

Dean stifled a bark of laughter, grabbing Castiel’s wrist and pulling him towards his bedroom. He clicked the door softly behind him, leaning back against it. Castiel had to pry his eyes off Dean’s bowed legs, feeling the dread and shame build and burn inside him. His legs felt like jelly, and he let himself fall back onto his bed, hands gripping the bedpost.

“I-I’ve never -” His voice was stuck in his throat again, feeling thick and sharp. “You are the first…man…and I - I don’t -”

He groaned in frustration. Why was this so hard? It’s not like Dean was the first person he had told about his romantic or sexual preferences. He threw himself back onto the mattress, dragging his hands over his face.

“If it makes ya feel any better, I’ve got a little experience.” Castiel peeked at the younger man between his fingers, and Dean looked sheepish. “I got around a little bit in school…oh hell, not that I was like a, you know, a slut or anything.” His face scrunched into a harsh cringe. “Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with bein’ a slut, to each their own, but uh, fuck.”

Castiel couldn't help the laugh that clawed its way from his chest. How much more darling could this man get? Castiel was being faced with yet another religious-inspired breakdown, and Dean was trying not to slut shame him? Or slut shame himself? Stars above, he was precious.  

“Hey, don't laugh! I’m not laughin’ at you havin’ a hard time with words!” Dean harped back at him, but his tone was soft. “But I take it that you’ve never been with a dude, in any capacity?”

Castiel’s laughter died out at that. Right. Yes.

(You owe Dean honesty. Honesty is the starting point.)

(Those thoughts echoed in his head, voices sounding more like Kelly, Gabe, and his therapist. They fought back against the uncomfortable churning in his stomach.)

Castiel sat up again, reaching for Dean, cautious of him, waiting for the man to jump back from his touch. But he didn't. Dean followed easily when Castiel pulled at his shirt, making Dean sit with him. Even the briefest touch sent a confusing zap through Castiel.

“Dean, I was raised in a strict church, and the things that have been taught to me…they are forever ingrained into my being.” He sighed and began tapping each of his fingers against the pad of his thumb. “It’s not that I believe these things anymore, or practice any of it. But…I didn't realize that I was…gay until I was sixteen. My Bishop was not kind to me. He told others without my permission.”

(Oh, what a miserable time that was. To look at oneself and think only of the things that were wrong. That they were grotesque. And to know that’s what others saw too.)

Dean flinched, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye again.

“He convinced my parents that I needed to be…corrected. I didn't go to any of those conversion camps, something that I thank my lucky stars for, but the “therapy” they put me through was harsh.”

Castiel could feel his tears burning, dripping down his face one by one.

“I did not marry Kelly to be cruel. I thought I had been fixed. I thought I was a straight man and that I was being pious since I wasn't attracted to her.” He laughed bitterly. He remembered Kelly’s face during the first year of their marriage, any time sex had come up, as if she knew how much Castiel did not like it. “I did love Kelly.”

His rant died with a whimper.

(Kelly had deserved so much more. More than what he had to offer her.)

“She was my best friend and I loved her, but not how I was supposed to.”

Dean’s hand inched towards him, giving Castiel enough time to reject him. He tried not to lean so aggressively into the man’s hand.

“They were wrong, I know that now. But…”

“But it’s never gonna leave you.” Dean cupped his face, his hand warm and comforting. “I get that. The way people treat you when you're young, it sticks.”

“I do not want to live like this anymore. I want to feel good and brave. I want my children to be proud of their father. I want them to know I will love them forever, no matter who they become.” His voice got firmer with each word. “I want to love someone romantically, sexually. I want that with -”

Dean’s eyes were glued to his.

“I want that with you, Dean.”

Dean smashed their faces together, his mouth open and licking at Castiel’s.

“Really…want that…too…” He huffed, pulling back enough only to smash back into Castiel. 

And Castiel was a goner. Each lick, kiss, and groan sent him into the stratosphere. Dean could lead him anywhere, and Castiel would follow, happily. Dean worked his hand into Castiel’s ever-messy hair, twisting and pulling him into angles that made sense in his mind. He again found himself wishing his lips weren't so chapped, just so Dean could experience the best. (Not that Castiel thought he was the best, only that he wanted Dean to know just how special he was.) But Dean either did not notice or did not care, as he ran his tongue along Castiel’s, sucking the muscle into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. It felt like his body was trying to match Dean, but was frozen like a deer in headlights. 

He tried to push back, to meet Dean with the same level of excitement, but wincing when their teeth clacked together. 

“Shit - sorry, sorry -”

“Say sorry one more time, angel, and we will have a problem.” Dean’s tone was again obviously joking. (That was something Dean had taken to doing, drawing out his over-exaggerations for Castiel to pick up on.) “Can I do somethin’ for you?”

Castiel gave him a confused stare. Weren't they a little busy right now? Dean’s smile was that of a cat who caught the canary. 

“Can I do somethin’ dirty for ya, Cas?”

Oh!

(SAY YES SAY YES SAY YES)

“You don’t–you don’t have to do anything for me, Dean!” Dean pressed his shoulders back, making Castiel lie back on his elbows. He started trailing kisses down from Castiel’s jaw, his breath catching with each press against him. He was still clothed! How could kissing feel so good through so many layers?

“I wanna make you feel good, make you feel brave.” Green eyes shone brightly up at Castiel, as Dean kneeled on the ground between Castiel’s legs. His words were not lost on him. “Can I?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

(The voices were pleasantly quiet now; instead, a soft buzzing filled his head. Like cotton candy cushioned his brain.)

Dean pressed an open-mouth kiss on Castiel’s covered penis, his breath hot through the thin sweatpants. Castiel felt like he was going to melt. And then Dean pulled the elastic band down, letting him pop obscenely out of the oppressive material, and licking up slowly from the base to the tip. He couldn't fight the groans coming from him at the simple action.

“As much as I wanna hear you, sweetheart, gotta be quiet. Kids are down the hall.” Dean cruelly kissed the tip, sucking the spongy head into his warm, wet mouth. His eyes closed as he hummed around Castiel like Dean was the one being pleasured. Castiel bit his lip hard, stopping a whimper from shooting out into the room. His head felt even more clouded in sugary sweet cotton candy; it felt so good!

“Dean -”

“Grab my hair, Cas. Pull me where you want me.” Dean let his cock slip from his mouth, saliva connecting from the tip to Dean’s pink, plush lips. (Now a harsh red from being used.) He did not hesitate to follow his instruction, Dean groaning lowly as he swallowed Castiel down, down, down…

He had never felt like this before. He felt like he was on fire and being electrocuted and - and! 

He slapped a hand over his mouth, falling flat to the bed. 

(He felt like a stray dog who had finally found their forever home.)

“Dean - mph!”

Dean felt so right (and so warm and tight and wet), and oh God, Castiel was close. Dean ran his tongue against the bottom of Castiel’s cock, letting Castiel tug his hair harder and harder. His mind was slipping, his body was convulsing, and his hips were uncontrollably bucking into Dean’s poor, abused mouth.

Castiel felt something inside him snap, his body going taut as he pushed up one last time into Dean’s sweet, darling lips. He bit harshly into the palm of his hand as he felt come rush into Dean’s mouth, only briefly thinking himself rude for not warning the man, before his eyes rolled back into his head; White pulsing lights taking over his vision entirely, pins and needles quickly spreading through his limbs. 

He slowly returned to the world, noticing a soft whimpering coming from himself. A constant “Dean, Dean, Dean” mumbled into the quietness of his bedroom, and the man himself adjusted Castiel to lie entirely on the bed. Dean tucked himself into Castiel’s side as he placed him carefully back into his sweatpants, kissing his cheek so sweetly, as if he hadn't just given Castiel his first blowjob.

“Dean, I think I am in lo -” He gasped.

Dean pressed another kiss to his mouth, and Castiel could taste himself on his lips.

“Yeah, me too, Cas.”

They exchanged watery smiles. 

(“You deserve love, Castiel. In every form.” Kelly’s voice echoed in his head.)

Notes:

I'm sorry I made Cas Mormon like that. That's my flavor of religious trauma. Thank you for reading and I hope you had fun.
ok love you bye
find me on tumblr
or on twitter

Notes:

thank you bye
find me on tumblr
or on twitter