Chapter Text
Dean was reading in bed when Anna burst into his room and demanded, apropos nothing he could think of, ‘You have a brother ?’
Dean blinked at her, setting his book aside. He'd been home two days, and had traded Pride and Prejudice for Anna's copy of The Hunger Games, which he was loving in an entirely different way. ‘Yes?’ he asked, momentarily uncertain if this was, in fact, the right answer.
‘And you never thought to tell him you were in hospital?’
‘No, but –’
‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Anna yelled. ‘I mean, it’s pretty much Family 101, Dean – even if you hate each other the rest of the time, if someone gets shot, you call!’
‘Hey, easy!’ Dean held up his hands, baffled and defensive. ‘I was going to tell him eventually. It’s just, he’s off at Stanford, and I didn’t want to worry him –’
‘Well, consider him worried.’
His mouth fell open. ‘What?’
‘He, ah, just called the store.’ Anna looked equal parts guilty and defiant. ‘It was an accident! I mean, he said he was your brother and that your mobile wasn’t working, and I said the doctors had told you to turn it off when you were sleeping, and he said what doctors, and I said, what, you think he’s Superman? A guy gets shot, he’s going to be seeking medical advice! And then he kind of freaked out on me, because – surprise! – he didn’t know you’d been shot, and the only way I could calm him down was to tell him you’d call right back. So.’ She proffered his phone – which was, as predicted, turned off – and added, almost as an afterthought, ‘Sorry.’
Dean groaned. ‘Dammit, Anna!’
‘Well, excuse me for thinking he already knew!’
‘What’s all the shouting for?’ Cas asked, sauntering in with a mug in each hand. ‘Is Dean being obstreperous?’
Anna crossed her arms. ‘No. He neglected to tell his brother he was in hospital, so I just did it by accident.’
‘Oh.’ Cas kissed him on the cheek – Dean flushed; even casual affection from Cas was distracting – and set his coffee down on the table. ‘I can see how that might be problematic.’
‘That’s all you have to say?’ said Anna, incredulous.
Cas shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, his lower back warm against Dean’s legs. ‘Well, in fairness, if anyone was going to ring him when Dean went into surgery, it should’ve been me. But as you may recall, I was too wound up at the time to even think of it.’
‘To put it mildly,’ Anna muttered. She waved an irritable hand at Dean. ‘Well, go on, then – call him back!’
‘Were you always this bossy, or has the power just gone to your head?’ Dean grumbled, switching on the phone. ‘Honestly, I should hire you to be my mother.’
'I thought you already had,’ said Anna tartly.
Dean poked out his tongue, and checked his messages. Sure enough, he saw he had three missed calls from Sam, all within the past few hours. Suppressing a pang of guilt, he made a show of hitting redial and said, ‘See?’
‘Good,’ said Anna, and with that, she turned and stomped back down to Impala Records.
‘She seems tense,’ said Cas, innocently taking a sip of coffee. ‘And you usually have such a calm, relaxing effect on people.’
‘Bite me,’ said Dean, and was more than a little thrilled when Cas did just that, nipping gently up the inside of his wrist. Dean shivered, and things might have escalated very quickly indeed, except that Sam chose that moment to answer, bursting out with, ‘Dean, thank god! What the hell happened? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, Sammy.’ He smiled at Cas, who kissed his knuckles and sat back, grinning. ‘Really.’
‘You were shot!’
‘Yeah, a bit. Everyone’s so hung up on it.’ Sam made an outraged noise, and Dean, sighing, said, ‘That thing with Crowley I told you about? Well, it went a bit sideways on me, but it’s fine now. All wrapped up. I mean, the FBI didn’t catch him –’
‘The FBI?’
‘– but he’s not the one who was after me, and the others are either dead or in jail, so –’
‘Others?’ Sam sounded genuinely panicked. ‘Who’s after you?’
‘Sammy, would you just listen to what I’m saying? I’m fine! It’s over!’
‘Dean, seriously, I can be on a plane in three hours, I just need a little time –’
‘Hey, whoah!’ Dean sat up – a little too sharply, as it happened; he winced, and Cas squeezed his hand, concerned – and tried to get a grip on the conversation. ‘Listen, slow down, OK? Now, I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, but right now, you’re kind of proving me right about why I thought I should wait. Yes, I was shot, and yes, there’s a long, complicated story as to how it all happened, but the main thing is, I’m back at home, I’m healing fine, and you don’t need to drop everything and fly cross-country just to be at my bedside.’
Sam snorted. ‘Come on, I'm not about to leave you to fend for yourself. You need someone to look after you.’
‘I have someone looking after me! Multiple someones, actually,’ he added, to give Anna her dues, and felt a warm flush of happiness at the realisation.
Sam, however, was unconvinced. ‘The pizza delivery guy and some chick you hired to mind the store don’t count, Dean.’
‘OK, firstly, Anna is a friend, and not just some chick, all right? And secondly, even if she wasn’t busting her ass to help me out, I’m not alone. I’ve got Cas.’
‘Cas?’ Sam echoed. ‘Who the hell’s Cas?’
‘He’s my –’ Dean fumbled for the right word, lover being too personal, ‘– partner.’
‘What, like a business partner?’
‘No, you idiot. Like the guy I’m sleeping with.’
‘Wait a minute. You’re gay?’
Dean blinked, hurt. ‘Bisexual, actually, and how the hell did you not already know that about me? For god’s sake, Sammy, it’s why I got kicked out of the army!’
‘Wait, what?’ If anything, Sam sounded even more upset now than he had done earlier. ‘Seriously?’
‘No, I beat my commanding officer to death with a rubber chicken. Yes, seriously! What, you think I’d lie about something like that?’
‘No,’ said Sam, slowly, ‘but apparently dad would. Did, I mean.’
Now it was Dean’s turn to be startled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, he told me you got booted for disobeying orders, stealing stuff. You know, being generally disreputable.’
Dean felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. He laughed, and it came out cracked. ‘Of course he did. Had to be straight on dad’s watch. He probably thought he was doing me a favour.'
‘Dean, I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t –’ Sam broke off, a note of horror creeping into his voice. ‘Oh god, that argument we had, what I said about you sabotaging yourself, I didn’t – if I’d known why, I would never –’
‘It’s all right, Sammy.’ Dean ran a hand down his face. ‘Really. It’s not your fault. It’s his.’
‘But I don’t understand.’ His brother sounded pained. ‘Why would he do that? Why would he let me think you’d done something terrible? He was so angry about it, he made me think you’d let him down –’
‘Because I did,’ said Dean. ‘In his mind, I did.’ He swallowed, drawing strength from Cas – the touch of his hand, those fathomless eyes. ‘He blamed me for mom, Sam. I broke our smoke alarm just before the fire, and he figured, if I hadn’t done that, she wouldn’t have died.’
‘You were just a kid!’
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s what he thought.’
Sam was appalled. ‘You can’t know that for sure –’
‘Yeah, actually. I can. That Christmas we stayed with Bobby, I overheard dad talking about it.’ Dean shut his eyes, unable to bear the compassion in Cas’s face. ‘He said he didn’t love me, and that I didn’t deserve to have known her, because it was my fault. Bobby was furious with him; it’s why we never went back.’
‘Oh, Jesus.’ Sam sounded sick. ‘So when you called the other night, when you asked if dad ever said he loved me, and I just – that was because he never told you? Not even once?’
‘Maybe when I was little, but after mom? No. Not even once.’ Dean laughed, soft and sad. 'We really did have different childhoods, didn't we? He never raised a hand to you.'
‘Yeah, but he never hit you ei –’ Sam stopped, and Dean just waited out the silence, until Sam finally said, ‘I’m such an idiot.’
‘Sammy –’
‘All those times I saw you beat up, all the limping and bruises and black eyes, that wasn’t just you getting in fights? That was dad?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, it was. I mean, I sometimes did get into it with other kids, but, well. You know.’ His stomach twisted. ‘Those scraps, I tended to win.’
‘And you never told me?’ Sam laughed, an angry, anguished bark. ‘No, of course you didn’t, because you shouldn’t have had to. I should have just looked.’
Hot tears pricked Dean’s throat. ‘It’s not your fault. You were just a kid.’
‘And you weren’t?’
‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ And then, more hesitantly, ‘You really didn’t know? Not any of it?’
‘I swear, I didn’t.’ Sam gulped. ‘Jesus, Dean, I can’t – I don’t even know how to process this. Dad used to say that you getting in fights was half the reason we moved around so much as kids, because he didn’t know how else to keep you in school, but if it was just him beating you, then why did we move? Was he ducking child services, or just plain restless, or what? Was anything in my childhood real? I mean, I always thought you were a good person, but I still grew up thinking you were this scary, angry, uncontrolled guy, and when dad told me about you getting discharged, I figured you’d just messed up again. It fit the story, you know? And all this time, he was lying to me.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Dean swiped at his eyes. ‘He could be a real sonofabitch.’
There was a heavy silence. Then, awkwardly, Sam said, ‘So, your, uh, partner – Cas? He’s there, looking after you?’
‘Yeah,’ said Dean, gripping Cas's hand. ‘He is.’
‘Is he around right now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Can I… would you mind if I spoke to him?’
‘I don’t know. Hang on.’ He held the phone to his chest, looking confusedly at Cas. ‘He wants to speak to you. Is that OK?’
‘Sure,’ said Cas. ‘Unless you’d rather I didn’t.’
‘No. I mean, go ahead.’ Dean forced a smile. ‘Actually, I think you guys might get along. Here.’
He passed the phone to Cas, and it felt like shedding a physical weight; he lay back against his pillows, so dazed by the conversation with Sam that he almost forgot to feel anxious about his lover and brother speaking.
‘Hello, Sam,’ said Cas. ‘Yes. Yes, he is. I don’t think you need to apologise. No.’ A long pause. ‘I’d like that. I’ll see what I can do. Actually, that could work out well.’ He laughed. ‘Yes, this number is fine. Or the store. We’ll answer eventually. Speaking of which, why did you call? I didn’t think – oh.’ He nodded, listening. ‘No, that makes sense. Yeah. It’s quite a story. OK. Hang on.’ And then, to Dean, ‘You want to say goodbye?’
Dean shook his head; it hadn't been the sort of call you could just tie up with a ribbon.
‘He’s good,’ said Cas. ‘All right. Same to you.’
He hung up, set the phone and his coffee down on the bedside table, and took a hold of Dean's hand, gently massaging the web of skin between his thumb and forefinger. 'Are you all right?' he asked.
Dean gulped. 'How much of that did you hear?'
'Enough,' said Cas. There was a pause. 'He really didn't know you were bi?'
'I guess not,' Dean said. He dropped his gaze to their hands, watching the smooth progress of Cas's thumb over his palm. 'I mean, I was never shy about bringing home girls – it always seemed to make dad happy, keep him in a good mood, so I did it a lot. But the one time he caught me kissing a guy, it... didn't go well.'
'What happened?'
Dean winced. 'He broke two of my ribs, for starters. I think we told Sam I fell off a motorbike.' He shook his head, discomforted by his own complicity in the lie. 'After that, I was pretty careful about things, and Sam was four years younger, so it's not like we sat down and talked about that stuff. By the time he was old enough, I'd already left home, and once I came back from the army, we lived in different cities. So, yeah. If dad never told him, it makes sense he wouldn't know.'
Cas's touch slid from palm to wrist, encouraging Dean to look up again. 'You never brought anyone home with you? For Christmas, or Easter, or something like that?'
'What, like a partner? No. There wasn't anyone like that, male or female.' He tried to smile, and failed dismally. 'My longest ever relationship was with Lassiter, and that was hardly what you'd call functional.'
Cas stayed silent, but his eyes spoke volumes. Gently, he slid fingers slid from Dean's wrist up to his elbow, smoothing circles in the crook of his arm, the simple contact giving Dean the courage to speak. He'd finally told Sam the truth, and somehow, it made this second honesty, if not easier, then less hard.
'I wasn't in a good place, back then. I didn't know what I wanted, but Lassiter told me he knew what I needed, and I was so messed up, I believed him. It was easier that way. Or I thought it was, at first.' Dean gulped, running a hand through his hair. He'd never told this story before, though he'd come close with Anna, and each word was like pulling a thorn from his throat. 'It was angry. Aggressive. He was always in charge, always controlling. I was submissive, and I hated myself, and I thought it was all the same thing, that I wanted to be punished because I was a bad person, that I deserved pain. Because I didn't... I mean, I liked what he did, or some of it, but he'd hurt me, too, and I didn't know how to separate it out. If I ever said no, he'd laugh, because I'd still be hard, and that must mean I was teasing him, so he'd keep going, and I'd struggle, and he'd tell me how I liked it rough, and I believed him, Cas, I had to believe I deserved it, that it was meant to hurt, that I was meant to hate it, because otherwise it was rape, and I didn't want that to have happened to me, so I made it my fault –'
He broke off, gasping as though he'd snapped a rib. He badly needed to be held, and suddenly Cas was there, sliding up the bed to pull him close. Dean clung to him, digging his fingers into the soft fabric of his lover's shirt, breathing in the scent of him. Cas stroked his back, and murmured, 'It wasn't your fault.'
'I know,' said Dean. Or I do now, anyway. He lifted his head a little, settling himself against Cas's shoulder, and said, 'After we were discharged, I didn't see him for nearly two years. I was with the police by then, living in a new state, new town, and god, I was lonely. And then Sam called to tell me dad had died.'
Cas didn't say I'm sorry , and if it were even possible, Dean loved him all the more. Instead, he asked, 'How did it happen?'
'Car crash. He was driving drunk, swerved into the wrong lane, hit a truck. The other guy came out with a broken arm, but that was it. So I drove to Sacramento for the funeral, which was about as awful as you'd expect, and Sam wanted me to stay, talk with him, reminisce about dad, but the person he was crying over wasn't who I remembered, you know? And maybe I should've just told him then, but I was so angry, I didn't know how to do it without hurting Sam worse. So I bailed out, went to see some army friends who were back on leave – there was this party, you know – and Lassiter was there. And he wanted to talk to me.'
Dean leaned into Cas, into the warmth of him. 'He came up like there was nothing wrong, like everything was fine between us. So I pretended it was fine, too. We talked for a bit, and I was drinking way too much, and then he asked if I wanted to get out of there. And I mean, I didn't want to sleep with him – I wasn't that far gone – but I did want to leave, and I was drunk enough to convince myself he didn't mean it that way. So we left the party, and we were walking through this part of Sacramento I didn't know, and we ended up on a bridge, and suddenly he was shoving me up against the railing, saying how I owed him for getting us booted, and he was just – he wouldn't listen , and I was fighting him, and I forgot about pretending he'd never hurt me and I – I called him what he was. I called him a rapist. And it made him furious .'
He shut his eyes, thin tears leaking from under the lids. 'He just started screaming at me, saying I was selfish and a liar, that I'd already ruined him once and I didn't get to do it again, and that if – if I'd let him do something I really hated so much, then I was so pathetic, I really had deserved it, and how I should just kill myself instead of taking it out on him. And I couldn't cope any more, I thought he was right, and the railing was right there, and I just... I jumped.'
Horrified, Cas tightened his arms around him. 'Oh, god, Dean.'
'Luckily for me, it was a low bridge over water, so all that happened was, I got drenched and bruised and ended up with pneumonia.' He exhaled softly. 'And Lassiter took me to hospital. He told everyone I'd fallen in, and I was so drunk, and he was being so kind to me, that I just... I made myself forget it, again. And the next day, when he came to see how I was, he said he was sorry we'd gotten into a fight, and I apologised for saying such horrible things. And then he left, and I didn't see him again until last week, when he walked into the store.'
For a long moment, they were both silent. Dean felt strangely calm, as though he were floating. Lassiter was dead, the truth was spoken, and he was still here. Slowly, unbelievably, he smiled.
'Cas?'
'Yeah?'
'Kiss me?'
And he did, a tender brush of mouths that left him gasping. He lay back, pulling Cas with him, and for a brief eternity, nothing else existed. Cas stroked his jaw, his blue eyes dark where they bore into Dean's, and whispered, 'I love you.'
'I love you, too.'
They kissed again, slow and sweet, and when they finally pulled apart, Dean said, 'So, what did Sammy say to you?'
Cas twined their fingers together. 'Actually, he wants us to visit. That's why he called in the first place – he and Jess are moving into a new place together, and as you were apparently quite upset that he hadn't told you his new phone number, he wanted to let you know. When you didn't answer, he got worried and called the store.'
Dean blinked. 'Visit him? Like, in California?'
'That's the idea, yeah.'
'Do you want to?'
Cas seemed surprised. 'Is there some pressing reason why I shouldn't?'
'No.' Dean had a lump in his throat. 'You really want to?'
Smiling, Cas reached across and stroked his jaw. 'I really want to. In fact, I was thinking we might drive there, once you're feeling better. Make it a road trip, you know.'
Shyly, Dean said, 'I'd like that. We could even, uh –' he hesitated, not sure how the suggestion would be greeted, '– swing by Nevada, if you wanted. See your family too. Bao said they'd be moved to a real house soon, and that we were cleared as visitors. But only if you want to.'
Cas's eyes widened. 'Oh,' he breathed, and Dean knew he was thinking of Clarity, and the diary-book. 'I – yes. Yes, please.'
Dean squeezed his hand. 'You think we can talk Anna and Charlie into running the stores while we're gone?'
Cas hesitated. 'Do they really need to be open?'
'Well, if you want to keep making money, yeah,' said Dean – and then he remembered what Anna had said about Cas's accounts, and how he probably couldn't afford to pay Charlie for this week, let alone over a longer period, and winced. 'But if it's not cost-effective, then we can figure out something else.'
'Huh?'
'I mean, if it's too much money, you just have to say.'
Cas was puzzled. 'Why would it be too much money?'
'To pay Charlie. You know, if the shop's not making that much, I don't want you to lose out –'
'Oh!' And to Dean's absolute astonishment, Cas burst out laughing. 'Dean, the bookshop's never made a profit. I run it because I want to, not because I need to. I have plenty of money.'
'You do?' he said, startled.
'I do,' said Cas. A sad smile crossed his face. 'It's because of John Aveline. He died seven years ago. It was sudden, painless – a heart attack in his sleep. He didn't have any family, so he left what he had to me. Which, at the time, wasn't much – his possessions, his store and home in Joseph, and a parcel of land he bought decades ago. It was out in the middle of nowhere, totally worthless, or so he'd always thought; I don't know why he bought it. And then, a few months after he died, I was approached by a consortium of buyers. They offered a few hundred thousand for the land, but got edgy when I started asking why. So I told them no, and overnight, they doubled their starting offer. And I thought, what's so special about this place? I'd already sold the house and store in Joseph, so I wasn't desperate for money, and I had enough that I could hire someone to look into why the other land might be valuable. I figured, John had held onto it all those years, so if I was going to sell, I might as well do it right, for his sake.' He snorted. 'It turned out, it was right in the middle of an area this big company wanted to tap for oil, but they couldn't start drilling without my land, and nobody had realised until they'd bought up all the surrounding property, and found there was a bit left over. Which meant I had them over a barrel. They'd been seriously lowballing the value, hoping I wouldn't notice. But once the cat was out of the bag, they got generous. They had to.'
Dean just stared at him. 'Cas,' he asked, voice strangely hoarse, 'are you rich?'
Cas appeared to consider the question. 'Yes,' he said, after a moment. 'Very.'
'So why –'
'Why do I live here, run a bookshop?' Dean blushed, nodding, and Cas sighed. 'The first year I had money – the first year I lived in Monument – I... well, I went a bit mad. I'd been poor my whole life, and lonely, and I didn't know how to be sensible, and the only things I really needed, or wanted, even, weren't for sale. I couldn't buy my family free from the Fellowship, I couldn't buy the scars off my back, I couldn't buy a sense of self-worth, and if I couldn't buy any of that, then it didn't seem reasonable that I buy anything else, either. And I thought about John Aveline, about how it was really his money, about what he would've done with it if he hadn't died, and I realised: nothing. He was a good man, happy in himself, and he'd told me himself a dozen times that he didn't sell books to make money; he just liked to find them new homes.
'So I bought a bookshop, and I went back to living like I always had. Except that now, I donate most of what I earn in interest to charity.' He gripped Dean's hand, suddenly serious. 'Dean, I want you to know, the lie Crowley told you about Sam being in debt – if it really had been a question of money, if he'd wanted repayment, I would have offered. I just didn't know how to mention it without sounding, well, strange, or making you feel like you owed me something in return, and then it turned out not to matter.' He gulped, absurdly vulnerable. 'This doesn't change anything, does it? How you see me? Only, when people used to know I had money, their behaviour changed, and I don't want that to happen –'
'Never,' said Dean, and shut him up with a kiss, pressing himself to Cas's chest as firmly as his injuries would allow. His hand sneaked under Cas's shirt and stroked his side, up and down, until Cas gasped into his mouth and trapped Dean's thigh between his legs. They pushed against each other, hands teasing and grasping, and as his pain increased along with his arousal, Dean moaned and pulled away.
'Goddamit,' he said, flushed and aching, his lust reflected in Cas's eyes. 'I need to get better, like, now .'
'It is becoming an issue,' Cas admitted, running a hand possessively over Dean's chest. 'I want you.' He kissed his throat. 'All of you.' He kissed his ear, and whispered, 'I want to make love to you, I want to fuck you in every way I know how, I want you inside me, I want to be inside you, I want –' he reached down, stroking Dean through his boxers, '– I want you, I need you, I love you, Dean, I love you, I love you –'
'Cas,' Dean moaned, fumbling with his lover's jeans, 'god, Cas, I love you so much –'
Their mouths met, panting and passionate, and Cas took hold of Dean's cock just a half-second before Dean grabbed his, and they were stroking each other, each needing more than the other was, at that precise moment, capable of giving, yet desperate for what they could still have.
'Wait,' Dean gasped, and Cas stopped instantly, panting like he'd run a marathon.
'Did I hurt you?'
'No, I just –' god, he couldn't believe he was saying this, '– I think we should wait.'
'Until you're better, you mean?'
'Yeah.' He bit his lip. 'Is that... is that OK?'
Cas kissed his nose and smiled. 'Of course.' And then he groaned, as though unable to help himself. 'Oh, god. Now you really need to hurry up and heal.'
'Believe me,' said Dean, fervent as Cas flopped back beside him, 'I'm trying. Which is why we need to stop. I mean, god, I just want to do everything with you right now, and it could kill me, and I honestly don't think I'd notice. Or if I did, I wouldn't care. But the next time I'm with you, I don't want either of us have to to hold back, because that's what we're doing right now, and it's driving me crazy.'
'You and me both,' said Cas.
They lay there quietly, trying to cool off, which was about as easy as swimming through jam.
'Dean?' Cas asked, after a moment.
'Yeah?'
'When you say you want to wait, what does that rule out, exactly? I mean, besides the obvious.'
Dean turned his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. 'Are you asking if we can still make out?'
'That's what I was getting at, yes.'
He laughed, delighted by Cas's seriousness, and pretended to give the matter deep consideration. 'I guess ,' he said, feigning reluctance. 'But no roaming hands, you hussy. I'm saving second base for my wedding night.'
Cas's eyes were blue as twilight. 'I would, you know. If you wanted to.'
'Would what?'
'Marry you.'
Dean sucked in breath, a sudden dizziness rushing through him like stars. 'Was that a proposal?'
Cas laughed softly. 'I don't know. Let's call it an overture to one. We are, after all, still waiting.'
'Right,' said Dean, heart pounding. 'Waiting. Yeah.'
He looked at Cas, at the sheer beauty of him, and wondered how the hell he was going to survive the next few weeks.
'I'm hungry,' Cas announced suddenly. He leaned back on his elbows, grinning like a puppy. 'You want me to make us some eggs? I'm going to make us some eggs.'
And before Dean could answer, he leapt up and headed out to the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder about organising their road trip.
Dean's smile was so wide, he didn't see how it could fit on his face. Like this, he thought, joyfully. I'll survive like this.