Archive of Our Own

The doorbell rang.

It took Sam several seconds to look up from the bubblewrap-fat boxes, realising that the bing!bong! noise was not one badly-packed kitchen item hitting another, but someone at the door.

Eileen obviously hadn’t heard anything, being deaf, so Sam put down his box-opening knife and headed for the front door. The person outside rang the bell again.

“Hi, sorry,” Sam said, opening the door. “Hadn’t heard the doorbell ring before.”

An exceptionally handsome dark-haired man in a trenchcoat turned around, his blue eyes full of sunlight, a surprised look on his face. “Oh. Hello. I’m looking for Sam—”

“Sam Leahy, yeah, hi,” Sam grinned. He stuck out his hand. “Casteel, right?”

“Cas-tee-el, yes,” Castiel replied as he shook, speaking in the careless manner of someone whose name was often mispronounced.

“Right. Sorry. Nice name. Okay, do you wanna come in, do you have your stuff?”

“I have everything on me, yes.”

“Come in first, take a look and get settled. We can help you carry boxes later.”

“There’s nothing to carry. I have everything here.” Castiel showed off the face of a white teddy bear from inside one trenchcoat pocket, smiled down at it, then tucked it back in.

Sam hesitated, but then realised the guy was probably a minimalist. So he opened the door wide, arm spread to lead Castiel into the apartment. “Did you find the place okay? Eileen and I had some trouble with the map.”

“I had a little trouble, not much,” Castiel said, stepping over the threshold, looking up. “Oh, this is lovely. You can see the plants growing on the roof.”

Indeed, there was a Perspex roof over the entrance area, and there was some kind of greenery spreading out on top. Through the roof, the sun blazed down, warming the right-hand wall with gold, and Castiel admired the dappled effect as Sam led him the few paces forward to the main room.

“So, this is the living area,” Sam said. “Don’t mind all the boxes, we painted before we unpacked.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Just over a week? Oh! Eileen, look, our new tenant is here.”

Castiel grinned, and Eileen grinned, both crossing the living room’s wooden floor to take each other’s hands. “So good to see you again, my friend,” Castiel said, having let go of Eillen to sign with both hands. “Your place looks beautiful. I’ve never seen a home painted in forest green.”

“It was beige before,” Eileen said, making Castiel chuckle aloud. “Do you want to see your room?”

“Very much.” Castiel looked back at Sam, smiling. “May I?”

“Of course!” Sam gestured to three dark-wood doorways just to the left of the kitchen-dining area. “First door is mine and Eileen’s room, the one on the diagonal wall is the bathroom, and thiiiis...” Sam went forward, taking the third door handle and opening up the door. “This one’s for you.”

Castiel entered with a breath of thanks, and then let out another breath, apparently stolen away by surprise. “Oh, it’s so roomy. And the windows – there’s so much light, this is wonderful.” He touched the white metal frame of the bed without sheets, then looked over to the left, where there was a foosball table. “Is this really all for me?”

“Every bit of it,” Sam said, taking Eileen around the shoulders, hugging her to his side. She grinned up at him, equally delighted that Cas seemed so thrilled.

“Thank you,” Castiel whispered.

“Hey, it’s not charity, there’s rent to pay,” Sam said lightly, making both Castiel and Eileen laugh.

“No, no, really,” Castiel said. “When Eileen offered me a space in her newlywed’s apartment, I thought it would be a shoe closet. Or the couch.”

“And yet you said yes,” Eileen said aloud, careful with her syllables.

Castiel chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Um. There’s something... I think you ought to be aware of, before you... agree to let me stay. I know Eileen and I have been friends for many years but I never knew what to tell her before—”

Eileen pulled away from Sam just a little, leaning closer to read Castiel’s lips.

Castiel licked his lips and looked her in the eye, then Sam, then back to Eileen as he admitted, “I’m gay.” He fidgeted. “Or, ah. ‘Queer’, I suppose. Not exactly gay.”

Sam waited for the next part. But there was no next part. “Is that all?”

“If you feel that would, um, upset the balance around here, I totally understand, and if you’d rather not allow me to stay—”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop,” Sam said, grinning, as Eileen laughed with her hands over her eyes. “Cas. It’s fine. There’s no problem. You’re staying. And you’re welcome here.”

“You’re safe,” Eileen added, softly.

“Oh.” Castiel deflated a few inches in relief. “Oh, good. I’m so glad. This place is utterly perfect.” He let Eileen take his hand. “I’m so grateful.”

“Sooo?” Eileen teased. “Is there someone special?”

Castiel pinkened on the apples of his cheeks, a quiet smile emerging from deep within him. “Yes, actually. I have a boyfriend, his name’s Dean.”

Sam laughed. “Coincidence much? My brother’s named Dean. That’s his foosball table, we moved it over from the old place. This was meant to be his room, but he had to go on an extended work trip.”

“Oh... That’s funny,” Castiel smiled. “My Dean’s also travelling, he’s a long-distance trucker.” With a playful squint, he leaned on one foot to ask, secretively, “Any chance it’s the same Dean?”

“Pff!” Sam scoffed. “No. No, uh. Our Dean’s not a trucker. And besides, he’s as straight as they come.”

Castiel hummed. “My Dean... he’s still afraid to tell anyone he’s bisexual. He’s comfortable being who he is, but it’s been very hard for him, these past few months. Ah...” Castiel’s eyes turned down towards the bed, one arm rising to hug his middle. “It’s been hard for both of us, actually.”

“Yeah?” Sam rolled up his collapsing plaid sleeve, listening. “You okay?”

“Um.” Castiel shrugged one shoulder, meeting Eileen’s eyes. “It’s nothing, really. I just... miss him a lot. He’s all the family I have.”

Eileen stepped close, taking Castiel’s hands. “He’s not all you have,” she promised.

Castiel’s eyes began to glimmer, and his lips shook as he glanced down. “Oh.”

Sam came closer to touch Castiel’s shoulder. “I don’t know you yet, Cas, but if Eileen likes you, there’s a good reason.”

“Want help bringing your stuff in?” Eileen asked.

Castiel nodded. “But if you wouldn’t mind— May I use your restroom?”

“It’s yours now, too,” Eileen said, leading them out of the bedroom, pointing Castiel to the bathroom door, opposite, at a diagonal. “We’ll get started on dinner. Do you like curry?”

Castiel’s lips parted. “I don’t think I’ve ever had curry.”

“Do you like spicy things?”

“Oh, yes, very much. I like things I can actually taste.”

“Then you’ll like curry,” Eileen decided, leaving with Sam, as Castiel entered the bathroom.

As soon as Castiel was out of sight, Sam turned to Eileen, grinning. “He’s adorable,” Sam whispered.

Eileen laughed, nodding. “He’ll be your best friend by the end of the day. I’ll be out of a job.”

Sam smirked, taking Eileen by the hand and bringing her close, pressing a slow kiss to her lips. “Yeah, probably,” he said, and Eileen fell off him, doubled over with laughter.

Castiel grinned when he saw the bathroom. It was clean! Clean and uncluttered. White chevron-patterned tiles, a shower in the corner, a freestanding Moroccan-looking sink... Castiel let out a pleased breath, and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket.

He called Dean, since he’d promised he would once he reached his destination.

Dean picked up on the third ring. “Heya, hot sauce.”

“Hello, Dean. Are you driving?”

“Yeah, I got the hands-free. What’s up?”

“Dean, the place is wonderful. It’s so sunny, there’s windows everywhere. No religious imagery in sight. And they gave me my own room with a bed. There’s no sheets on it yet, but there’s a mattress. And a foosball table.”

Dean tutted. “Jealous. Ugh. I miss my foosball table.”

“You can play with mine when you visit me,” Castiel said. “Which will be very soon, yes?”

“Fingers crossed. But, uh. If I do pass through Alabama, Cas, you know I gotta see my family first. And if I’m there just the one night...”

Castiel shut his eyes, head down. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Dean gulped, Castiel heard it. “Love you, Cas. Congrats on the new pad.”

Castiel smiled, heart warmed. “I love you too, smoochiebear.”

“Caaaas, c’mon, I told you to stop callin’ me that.”

“Never.” Castiel pressed his cheek to the phone like he could press his cheek to Dean’s face. “Drive safe.”

“Will do. Bye, Cas. Smooches.”

Dean lingered on the line for a few moments, then hung up.

Castiel smiled at the phone as he lowered it, holding it cradled in his hands. The screen went dark, and he put the phone away, moving forward to actually make use of the bathroom.

“Hi-yah!” Sam flung the foosball smack-bang into Castiel’s goal. “And that, my friend, is how you play foosball.”

Castiel snatched the ball out of the gutter and slammed it into the center of the pitch. “Again.”

“Nuh-uh, you’ve lost, just admit it,” Sam smirked.

“I will not, and I have not, and you will play another round,” Castiel demanded, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He hadn’t changed after coming home from work, too eager to take Sam on.

Sam sighed as he grinned, eyes rolling. “Okay. But just so you know, I’ve played against my brother for, like, the entire time foosball tables have existed.”

“In that case I believe ‘beginner’s luck’ has to start happening at some point,” Castiel said, eyebrows raised, as he lost another goal. He scowled, and slammed the ball down. “Another.”

“I’m telling you, Cas,” Sam said, as he knocked the ball into Castiel’s goal with a twist of two fingers. “You’re better off playing with Eileen.”

“I’ve played with myself a lot since I got here, I know how to handle a ball,” Castiel said, but when Sam snickered, he blushed, and muttered, “You know what I meant.”

Sam went quiet for a while, smiling, letting Cas bat the ball a few times, obviously going easy on him. “How are you holding up?” Sam asked. “I mean, like... personal-wise.”

“How do you mean?”

Sam shrugged. “Settling in here. New home? You said you were traveling with Dean up until very recently. Is it different, staying in one place?”

“Oh, yes, it’s different. But it’s been good,” Castiel smiled. “Very good, actually. You and Eileen have made everything easier.”

“What about...?” Sam grinned. “I know it’s none of my business. But I keep thinking about how it would be if I was apart from Eileen, the way you’re apart from Dean. I’d miss her like crazy.”

“Yes.” Castiel swallowed. “Yes, I do miss him. Despite how close and you and I are now, there’s a big difference between a friend you hug and a friend you fu— Uhhh. Hm.”

Sam burst out laughing, further amused when he saw Castiel’s shy blush. “Horny, huh?”

“Not very? But I miss his closeness. His smell. Just...” Castiel let his hands go slack around the foosball knobs, not even noticing he lost the game. “His presence. His heat? I don’t know. We drove around the country in his truck for nearly three months before we ever kissed, but once we started, it was hard to stop. Being apart from him now, after six months together, feels... lonely.”

Sam offered a sad smile.

Castiel flushed, glancing up, and then back down, now realising Sam had used his moment of distraction to knock the ball away. Castiel stood back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “We had sex in the truck a few times. Motels. Dean had never been with a man— A male. And I, um. I hadn’t been with anyone. But—” Castiel blushed when Sam seemed surprised, “We were sexually intimate, and I do miss him. But when I said I was playing with myself, Sam, I really did mean I was playing with the foosball table, not my penis.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t need to explain, man.”

“I’m... not a man,” Castiel muttered.

Sam seemed open and curious, so Castiel said, “I’m non-gendered. Like— Like an angel.”

Sam seemed to approve, his lip pressing into an arch. “That’s cool.”

“I think that fact helped Dean,” Castiel said fondly, stroking the foosball’s ball under his thumb. “He was very uncertain about kissing or sleeping with a male, but knowing I had no gender seemed to make it less ‘gay’.”

“Was he... worried about that?”

“Um.” Castiel rolled the ball around, up and down the length of his thumb. “He harboured a great deal of lust for my physical form,” he said. “He really enjoys penises, and facial hair. But.” Castiel chuckled when Sam laughed. “Yeah, he was afraid to make such a big change, when he’d only ever been with women before. He’d just broken up a woman when we met, in fact. I think caring deeply about me both helped and hindered him in trying something new. He relaxed a lot once he realised what ‘bisexual’ meant.”

“It’s weird, actually,” Sam mused, “but these past couple weeks since you moved in, I’d occasionally wondered if there was some cosmic coincidence at work here, and we’re both talking about the same Dean. But no.” He shook his head. “My brother was not that guy. Not least because he definitely doesn’t have an eighteen-wheeler truck. My Dean’s a restaurant hygiene inspector, drives his own car, goes around giving food retailers those certificates they have to display.”

Castiel grinned. “My Dean would’ve loved that. But no. It was a very big truck. It was ugly, impractical, and noisy, but I kinda miss it sometimes. Smelled like him.”

Sam gave Castiel a soft smile. “Do you have photos of him?”

“Oh, do you want to see?” Castiel brightened. “Yeah, I have some. He’s very handsome.” He pulled out his phone, spending a while searching for his folder of Dean’s pictures. He found it, selected it, and handed over the phone.

Sam took one look and yelped, handing the phone back. “Nope! Nope nope nope, no thank you. Foosball over. Bye.” He laughed hysterically as he rushed out of the room.

Squinting, Castiel lowered his eyes from the slammed door to his phone. “Oh, my.” He blushed hot, covering his mouth with his hand. Of course the first picture in the folder was of Dean’s erect penis. He liked sending those photos at the most random times of the night.

Castiel’s eyes lowered to his crotch, feeling a pressure there. He let out a frustrated grunt, then a sigh of longing. He scrolled through the pictures, knowing somewhere there was a perfect one, one where Dean was aroused but also showed his face.

Castiel found it, and heat rushed inside him, tight between his legs. He could gaze at Dean like this, look into his eyes. And also look down, and see him wanting.

Castiel went to check if the door was closed. It was.

He went to his bed and lay in the sun on his sky-blue covers, shutting his eyes as he got comfortable. Then he held up his phone, looked at the image, and slid a hand down his body.

He got himself hard... then, feeling naughty, he lowered his phone and took a photo of his unzipped pants, erection just peeking out. He bit his lip, grinning as he typed a text message.

Cas: Pull over before you look at this.

Then he sent his photo to the contact labelled ‘Smoochiebear’.

Cas: Thinking of you.

He kept touching himself until Dean replied.

Smoochiebear: Nice bedsheets.

Castiel laughed, rolling his eyes. He shut his eyes, then, and relaxed, imagining Dean looking at his photo as he stroked.

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Dean!” Sam sat up in bed, throwing the covers back and getting to his feet, cellphone clutched to his ear. “Where are you, are you driving? It’s three in the morning!”

“I’m at a truck stop— Uh. I mean, like, one of those roadside restaurant things. Y’know. Gotta get that hygiene report done.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It’s... a twenty-four seven place.”

Sam screwed up his face, easing himself out of his and Eileen’s room, going to the living room. Only the light over the dining table was on, so Sam headed in that direction. “Seriously, Dean,” he uttered, “I haven’t heard from you in weeks, how the hell are you so busy you can’t call?! Every call I’ve made goes to voicemail. If you ever pick up you’re driving.”

“Yeah? And? I’m calling now, aren’t I?”

Sam sighed and sat down in a wicker dining chair. “You’re coming to visit soon, right?”

“Thought you rented out my room.”

“Yeah. But there’s still the couch.”

Dean snorted. “’Preciate it. Naw, but. I’m okay. I’m good out here on the road.”

Sam flared with frustration. “You might be good! But we miss you, Dean. Eileen and I, we miss you.”

Dean went quiet for a bit, maybe surprised by Sam’s angry tone.

Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell. It’s just— Our new tenant, he has this – partner. Significant other. Hasn’t seen them in a while. He’s getting more and more antsy about it, almost... depressed? And I really feel for him. I’m worried about him. He’s a great guy, actually. We’re kind of best friends now.”

Sam heard Dean pouting. “Thought I was your best friend.”

“I can have more than one best friend, Dean,” Sam smiled. “Eileen’s my best friend too. Besides, it’s easier to be friends with someone when they don’t ghost you for three weeks straight.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah.”

Sam heard a rustle, as Dean probably ran a hand back through his hair.

“Look,” Dean said, “I’ll try and make it down there. Maybe. No promises. There’s this – uh, new roadside restaurant chain that opened up and I’m just following the trail.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Sam said testily. “You’re busy.”

“It’s not that.” Dean’s breath hitched, his voice more emotional as he asked, “It’s just— No... No, forget it.”

“What,” Sam insisted.

Dean took a breath. “You ever feel like... like you failed someone...?”

“What?”

“Like you let someone down. Like you’re letting everyone down, even when you try to help. And it’s not even your own fault. Shit just happens. And you do whatever you can to fix it, but you gotta admit after some point, it’s not working. It’s not working.”

“What? What isn’t working?”

Dean was quiet for a while, then sighed. “See ya ‘round, Sammy. I gotta go. I can be in Alabama – I dunno, maybe the weekend after next. Sunday. But that’s the only evening I’ll get. Email me the address.”

The phone beeped.

“Dean— Dean!” Sam looked at his cellphone as the screen lit up, showing the call was over. Confused, Sam shook his head, going back to the call log, scrolling down. The last time Dean called him was a month ago.

“Sam?”

Sam turned, expecting Eileen to pad out in bare feet, long curls, and a sleep shirt, but it was Cas, standing by the half-wall divider between the kitchen-dining area and the doors to the other rooms. He leaned on a wooden pillar, looking tired.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said.

“You’re upset.”

Sam smiled, looking down at his phone. He lay it on the table top, then shrugged. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

“Do you want to talk?” Castiel came to sit opposite, pulling out a pale blue chair with a crescent moon and stars painted on the upper part of the backrest.

Sam wet his lips. “What does your Dean say to you, when he says he can’t be there? What excuses does he give?”

Castiel looked carefully into Sam’s eyes. “Excuses?”

“Yeah. What does he say, what reasons does he give that he can’t make it?”

“His reasons aren’t ‘excuses’,” Castiel said. “He doesn’t lie to me, Sam. If he can’t make it, he can’t make it.”

Sam rested his forehead in his palm, looking down at his blank-screened phone. He touched it with a fingertip, rotating it a fraction.

“My Dean told me he lost his job,” Castiel said, looking into the dark half of the room, “a week, two weeks before he met me and picked me up at the side of the road. He also left a woman behind. He was still reeling from that loss, I think. My presence helped him recover, I know that much. We found ourselves opening up to each other, talking for – hours, hours every day and night. And it would’ve been useless and exhausting to lie. So we never did. Eventually when we ran out of conversation, we told each other the things we hadn’t said before, about the abusive people in our pasts, our... sexualities, our phobias – but not saying them before wasn’t lying, it was just too hard to say aloud.” Castiel gazed serenely at Sam. “Do you really feel like your brother’s choosing to lie to you? Or is it just too hard for him to say?”

Sam rubbed a hand over his lips. “He’s lying. I think he has been for a while.”

Castiel reached to hold Sam’s wrist. “I’m sorry. That must feel horrible.”

“I don’t know why he won’t come visit.” Sam looked around at the darkened living room, at the patches of moonlight highlighting the front door at the other side of the living room. “We bought this place specifically so he could live here with us, after Eileen and I got married. But he took off, and hasn’t even asked for the address before tonight. I’ve sent it to him, sure, but I don’t think he checks his emails more than once every few weeks. He never replies.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel squeezed Sam’s wrist assuringly. “He doesn’t sound like a very good brother.”

“What?” Sam almost laughed. “No. No, he’s the best brother. Or – he was. He raised me since he was a kid. He’s looked after me my whole life, looked out for me, taught me basically every life skill I know. He worked so I could eat. He worked so I could study. He set his whole life on hold so I could get going first. Then I put him through college, same as he did for me. And ever since then he’s been living his best life, you know? He loves food. He loves travelling. Hopping from restaurant to restaurant and giving hygiene ratings is about as close to his dream job as he could get, and seeing him happy makes me so happy, you have no idea.”

Castiel tilted his head, seeing the sadness in Sam’s eyes, which Sam knew he couldn’t hide.

“He’s the best brother in the world,” Sam said again. “He’s just not here.”

Castiel swallowed, eyes down to the table.

“Guess you know,” Sam said, patting Castiel’s hand. “Someone you love is just as absent.”

“Dean calls me every day,” Castiel whispered. “Texts me almost hourly. It’s not so bad.”

Sam’s heart sank. Whatever fanciful musings he’d had that somehow the two Deans were the same Dean, it vanished with that confession. The Dean that Sam knew would give his little brother the same attention he’d give his romantic partner.

“Sorry,” Castiel uttered. “Shouldn’t have said—”

“It’s fine, Cas. You were just being honest.” Sam took a breath and looked away. “I, uh. Should get back to bed.”

Castiel pushed up a smile. “Sleep well.”

Sam got up, pacing towards his room. “Thanks, Cas,” he said. “Thanks for talking.”

He left Cas sitting at the dining table, as Castiel watched him leave.

As soon as Sam’s door was closed, Castiel went back to his room. He pulled his phone from its charger and lay on his bed, finding Dean in his contacts and calling him.

Dean picked up on the fifth ring. “Ooh, you callin’ for a little midnight party?”

“I miss you.” Castiel’s eyes had flooded with tears. “I miss you so badly, Dean.”

Dean’s breath caught.

“I just want you here,” Castiel breathed. “Please. Seeing other lonely people just makes me miss you more.”

“Cas, you okay? Are you crying?”

“I’m—” Castiel swiped his face, feeling sticky tears on his palm. “I love you.”

Dean sighed. “I love you too, hot sauce. Like, you don’t even know.”

Castiel sniffed, smiling up at the ceiling.

Dean sighed. “God, I hate this.” Dean sighed again, then said, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll be there. As soon as I can. God. God, this sucks. Sunday next week. I can be there Sunday. But that’s the only day I have, I’m gonna hafta— Fuck. You’re in the same state but I dunno where my brother is in relation to you. Fuck, I gotta cancel with him.”

Castiel shook his head. “No! No, don’t do that. Brothers need you more than lovers do.”

Dean laughed softly. “My brother doesn’t get anxiety when he doesn’t hear from me in two hours, Cas. And he has his own friends.”

Castiel’s stomach churned with shame. “I’m sorry. I just got so used to having you by my side all the time. You’re all I’ve ever had.”

“I know,” Dean said sweetly. “I know, babe.” He breathed out. “Sunday, alright? Around five. We can do dinner.”

“I’ll cook for you,” Castiel promised.

Dean seemed delighted. “Gonna be awesome. I have your address already, so... Smooches.”

“Smooches,” Castiel said.

He hung up, smiling at the phone. Guilt wrapped cold around his lower half, spawned by the knowledge that Dean was choosing Castiel over his own brother. Just having witnessed Sam’s pain over not seeing his brother hit close to home, but Castiel couldn’t help the selfish happiness that morphed into utter joy when he realised, finally, truly, he was going to see Dean. He stretched up in the bed, laughing, rolling to cheer into his pillow.

Now he had two weeks to convince Eileen and Sam to let him prepare a meal with their oven, and find a way to get them out of the apartment so he and Dean could be alone.

from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]

Heya Sammy.
Look, I know you’re gonna hate this but I need to cancel for next Sunday. Something came up and I literally cannot express to you how important this is.
Okay. Maybe I’ll try, because the vagueness is pissing me off too.
I have a girlfriend. And you’re not gonna believe this ... but I actually love her. And the last thing I need right now is to lose her, because she’s been with me when I needed her most, and if I abandon her now, I’m not gonna have her when I need her next. Right now she needs me.
And I know you need me too, but Sam, I have to go see her instead. I’m sorry about the timing, but she called me just after you did, crying. (As annoying as I should find that, it

Dean jabbed the backspace until the screen and his thoughts seemed clearer. Then he started over.

from: [email protected]
to: [email protected]

Heya Sammy.
I need to cancel Sunday. Work stuff. Sorry.
D.

Eileen jumped as she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

Castiel smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” he said, his lips moving clearly. “I’ll wave next time.”

Eileen grinned, taking a dishtowel and drying her hands, turning away from the kitchen sink. “What’s up?”

Castiel looked down. “I, um.”

Eileen touched him under his chin and raised his face, needing to see his lips.

Castiel apologised again. “My boyfriend’s coming to visit on Sunday, at dinner.”

“Oh!” Eileen clapped her hands. “Yes, I nearly forgot!” She took over with sign language, “What do you need us to do? Are you taking him out? Should we cook? Is the place tidy enough? Or do you want privacy?”

Castiel followed Eileen’s hands, translating in his head. Finally he shook his head, then said, aloud, “I did want privacy. But then I realised, Dean hasn’t come out to anyone yet, I think it might be nice if he could visit a place where he’s safe to be himself, and not have to explain himself or feel self-conscious. I’ll cook for him. But it could be a family gathering. I’d love for him to meet you both, I know he’ll love you.”

Eileen smiled. “Of course.”

“I truly appreciate this,” Castiel said, hands together in thanks. “Should I tell Sam? Dean’ll be here on Sunday at five.”

“I’ll tell Sam when he comes home from work,” Eileen signed. “He’ll be so happy to have company. Maybe we can finally lay to rest that crazy theory that your Dean and his Dean are the same Dean.”

Eileen used both Sam and Castiel’s symbols for ‘Dean’ as she signed: Sam’s was the same as ‘brother’ – L-shaped fingers ascending and descending to meet over her chest – and Castiel’s was a pair of bear ears drawn either side of the head. The third, neutral ‘Dean’ was fingerspelled.

Castiel laughed, rolling his eyes as he turned away.

Eileen smiled, patting Cas as he went on his way. But secretly she thought about how terrible it would be if they were the same Dean. The evasive behaviour of Sam’s brother was potentially excusable, if he really was buried in work. But if the same Dean could be so connected and loving with Castiel and leave Sam by the wayside, that disparity would be hard to contend with. Privately, for Sam’s sake, Eileen hoped they were different men.

Castiel gave up spinning the dough after he dropped the third batch.

They were having mini-pizzas now. And that was final.

Castiel had some kind of nervous energy, flitting between the oven and the fridge and the table, carving out a brand new Bermuda Triangle of insecurity. He neatened the cutlery, re-folded the napkins, moved the wine from the top shelf of the fridge to the bottom, then Googled where to store it, then put it by the sink. He checked himself in the flower-shaped mirror in the hall, ten or fifteen times, finding himself concerned that his vain streak was taking over. So he fled to his bedroom, pacing between the foosball table and his bed.

The front door opened with a clack.

“Cas?”

Castiel rushed from his bedroom and smiled, finding Sam just home from work. “Hello, Sam.”

“You look... energised.”

“I’m sweating!” Castiel raised both arms, flapping his fingers at his underarms. “I’m so nervous.”

“What about?”

“Dean hasn’t seen me like this. In a clean shirt, in a bedroom, in an apartment. Last time he saw me I barely had shoes! We were— We were homeless, Sam. Homeless. We just wandered.”

Sam stared. “You never told me that.”

“He told me,” Eileen said softly, eyes skipping between Sam and Castiel, reading their signals and confirming she had the right topic. “That’s why he’s here. That’s why I offered him the room. He reached out in an email.”

Sam’s lips rounded. “Oh. Eileen, why did you never say?”

“I asked her not to,” Castiel said. “There was some questionable legality of my moving here as I had no previous address, and I didn’t know if I could trust you yet. Besides, it’s all new,” he breathed. “My job mailing people their credit card statements, which I only got because of my ‘qualifications’— Dean found me the job, that’s why he left me here. That’s why we went our separate ways. He wanted me to have the solid financial foundations he didn’t have.” Castiel swallowed, looking down. He calmed himself, then was further calmed as Eileen came to stand near him. “I’m nervous because – wh-what if this version of me, this domesticated animal – isn’t who he fell in love with?”

Eileen grinned. “He’ll just be glad to learn more about you, sweetheart.”

Castiel was soothed by that.

So was Sam, apparently, as he forgave the shadiness of Castiel’s past and his wife’s secrets in a single breath. “Is Dean usually on time?” Sam asked, checking his watch.

Castiel shrugged. “He always completed his deliveries within the given timeframe – and he could orgasm on demand. So yes.” He blushed as the other two guffawed, and he bent his head to watch himself pluck at his cufflink.

“Either way,” Sam puffed, eyes agleam, “it’s almost five. Anything else important and overly personal we need to know before your Dean gets here?”

“Um.” Castiel thought. “Not really. He’s not – uncomfortable about his sexuality, he’s quite confident, but he is nervous about telling people about it. So maybe we could pretend it’s all very normal that we’re a same-sex couple.”

Eileen laughed, rushing to take both Castiel’s hands. “It is,” she said. “It is normal. We don’t need to pretend anything.”

Castiel let out a breath. “Oka—” His agreement was cut short by a bing!bong!

Eileen only realised the bell had rung when Sam went to the door and Castiel followed in a flustered rush.

Eileen went after them, one hand on Castiel’s back for reassurance.

Sam took the door handle and opened up the door with himself behind it, Castiel directly in front of it.

Sam stood back with Eileen, giving Castiel the space to greet his boyfriend after so long. The tall, pale figure had already fallen into Cas’ arms, hands gripping his back like he intended to rip the shirt off him; his face was pressed tightly to the shoulder Sam couldn’t see. Castiel embraced his lover with both arms, their shoes interlocked, Castiel’s black slacks touching the newcomer’s tattered jeans.

As they hung on for so long, Sam got a good look at everything except his face. He’d never seen such a rough-looking guy outside of the poor part of town. There was dirt under the man’s nails, scabs on his knuckles, scruffs and dust on his brown boots. He wore a purple plaid overshirt, which seemed to be the only clean thing on him.

Dean sighed, and leaned back, sinking into a kiss at last.

Sam began to tilt his head, frowning. Freckles... A familiar jawline.

That was all Sam got before Dean’s hands reached up to scrunch through Castiel’s hair.

Then he fell back with a chuckle and sore lips, bright-eyed. “God, I missed you, Cas.”

Sam’s heart plummeted to the floor. “Dean.”

Dean’s eyes shot to his brother, and his smile vanished.

Castiel had never looked happier. “Yes! Dean, I’d like you to meet Sam Leahy, and Eileen Leahy, my housemates. They’ve been very kind to me these last six weeks.” Castiel then offered Eileen to Dean, easing her closer by her shoulder. “Eileen, meet my much-beloved boyfriend.”

Dean stared, with terror in his eyes.

“Dean, it’s okay,” Castiel smiled. “They’re not homophobic. They already know you’re bi, and they know what it means. You don’t have to explain anything to them.”

Dean’s eyes shifted to Castiel’s. His mouth remained open, lower lip moving like he wanted to speak but nothing came out.

After a long pause, he turned and fled, leaving by the open door. He rushed to the edge of the porch balcony, looking down onto the neighbour’s lawn. Sam went after him, as did Castiel, stepping into the cool air of evening, hearing birdsong and the slow drone of semi-distant traffic.

“Where did you park the truck?” Castiel asked, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulders, apparently so happy to see him that he was oblivious to his distress. “I don’t see it anywhere.”

“M... Motel,” Dean whispered, his voice guttural, his eyes fast-shifting.

Sam looked back inside to Eileen, who clung to one side of the door frame, looking as aghast as Sam felt. She couldn’t look away from Dean any more than Castiel could.

“Dean?” Sam said. He just wanted his brother to look at him. Please.

Dean looked like he was about to puke. Maybe that was why he’d come out here.

“Dean,” Sam said again. He reached to touch Dean’s hand, white-knuckled as he gripped the porch barrier. “Come inside. Me and my wife... would be really happy to get to know you.”

Dean blinked twice, frowning. He looked up at Sam, astonished.

Sam gave a small, pleasant smile. “Sam Leahy.” He held out his hand to shake. “It’s Dean... Winchester, right?”

Dean gaped, but slowly – jerkily – moved his hand to take Sam’s. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Th— That’s me.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Alright!” He shot Castiel a smile. “Let’s get inside and we’ll figure out what’s happening for dinner.”

“I made mini-pizzas,” Castiel said, taking Dean hand and leading him in. “There should be enough for six each, we can choose toppings.”

Dean managed an uneasy grin. “Sounds like an awesome five-year-old’s birthday party.”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel agreed, walking backwards, holding Dean’s hands, looking at him with adoration in his eyes. “I did think you might appreciate that, I know how you missed all your birthdays.”

Sam felt a sullen tug inside him, remembering how hard it was to celebrate growing up, as they had no money and no parents and no friends. He and Castiel had talked about that, vaguely, but Castiel had always spoken of Sam’s past in a way that made it sound like Dean could someday ‘relate’ to Sam, never realising it was literally the same story.

“Wow,” Dean said, looking around at the living room. “Forest green, huh? Bold choice.”

“Matches your eyes,” Castiel said, booping Dean’s nose and making him blush.

“Would you like to wash up, Dean?” Eileen asked, holding out a hand. “Bathroom’s just through there.”

Dean hesitated, but then nodded, eyes darting to Sam’s. “Yeah. One minute.” He started that way, but Castiel caught his hand and swung him back, planting a long kiss on him before releasing him. Dean practically stumbled away, a hand in his hair to shield his blushing face as he passed Eileen and Sam.

The bathroom door closed with a click.

Castiel went to the dining table on light feet, crinkles by his eyes, grinning so much his gums showed.

“You seem happy,” Sam smiled, coming to stand by the table, hands on the back of an empty chair. “You really missed him, huh.”

“More than words could say,” Castiel sighed, his voice breaking as looked back at his friends. “And until this moment, words were all we had. I’m so glad that’s over.”

Sam and Eileen shared a look.

They eased away from the table, checking Castiel had sat down and wasn’t looking. Sam began to sign, “How the hell did this happen? What are we gonna do?!”

Eileen shook her head. “Just roll with it! Castiel must not have known you’re brothers, you have different surnames.”

“Oh, come on! Dean must have mentioned my name at least once. Cas would’ve put together the whole ‘Dean and Sam’ puzzle by now.”

“Yeah, but Cas didn’t know you then. I always talk about ‘my friend’ or ‘my aunt’ with people who aren’t directly acquainted, rather than use names. Dean probably said ‘my little brother’ a thousand times.”

“And you’re telling me Cas never asked?”

“Maybe Dean never told.” Eileen shrugged. “He obviously hides more private details than either of us realised – and you know how tough he finds it to talk about your childhood. Besides, you don’t look that similar. It wouldn’t have been obvious even after you met.” She chuckled. “Wow, this is so crazy, huh.”

Sam laughed a little manically, then silenced himself when Castiel looked. Sam patted a hand down, signalling to Cas everything was okay. To Eileen, Sam signed, “I don’t think Dean ever knew our address, he cancelled before I remembered to send it again. He must’ve shown up here thinking it was Cas’ place.”

Eileen nodded, baffled and on edge.

Soon Dean emerged from the bathroom, looking fresher. He grinned shyly, and took the seat Castiel pushed out right next to him, so Dean was opposite his brother once Sam and Eileen sat too.

“Nice place,” Dean said, eyes down. “You got good taste.” He gulped, looking up at Sam. “You decorate yourselves?”

“Mostly, yeah,” Sam nodded.

“I decorated my room,” Castiel smiled. “I put the teddy you gave me on my nightstand.”

“The... the white one holding a heart?” Dean checked.

Castiel nodded. “Sam and Eileen love it almost as much as I do.”

Dean’s ears had gone red. “Cool. Awesome. You guys all saw that.” He cleared his throat, bowing his head all the way down.

Sam grinned. “The food’s almost done. You like wine?”

Dean looked up. “Dude, you know I’m a beer guy.” Then he winced, and shrugged like that was a normal thing to say to a stranger. “I can do wine. Special occasion, right?”

“Right.”

Sam got up to get the drinks, leaving Eileen with the other two.

It was very quiet.

Sam turned around to see Eileen signing, “—very cute together!” and Dean blushing more than ever before. Castiel whispered to him the translation, but Dean shook his head; he already knew. Castiel was pleasantly surprised. He must not have known about the hours Dean spent in Eileen’s kitchen throughout her and Sam’s engagement, practising ASL while he cooked family dinners.

Sam stood by the table, pouring wine for everyone. He wasn’t sure if the silence was awkward or if that was his own impression, as he ached to clap his brother on the back... or strangle him. How dare he cancel on Sam to see his boyfriend? How dare he lie about work to cover his true plans!

But with that in mind...

Sam sighed, pushing Dean his wine. “Here.”

Dean probably lived in fear, Sam realised as he took his seat opposite. His brother was afraid all the time and Sam never knew. They lived in Alabama. This wasn’t an easy place to be gay, or bisexual, or any kind of queer.

Was this why Dean never called? Was this why he never visited? Had he been keeping important personal news to himself all this time because he wasn’t ready to confess? He couldn’t lie about it to Sam’s face, so it was just easier to avoid talking altogether...

“Good wine,” Castiel said.

Dean laughed. “Dude, what are you comparing it to? Doubt your cult had anything better than communion Kool-Aid.”

Castiel tipped his head. “True.”

“Wait. Hang on,” Sam said, grinning. “Cult?”

Dean snorted. “You didn’t tell them?”

Castiel seemed bemused. “How would that have come up in conversation? Oh, yes, Sam, in the four years between seeing Eileen last, and joining Dean on a six-month road trip, I lived in a haunted shipping yard converted into a militant cult commune, and I hitchhiked with a stranger the night I escaped, and then fell in love with him. Really just rolls off the tongue.”

“You told me,” Dean argued.

“Yes, after knowing you for two months,” Castiel replied. “I’ve known Sam six weeks. I need another fortnight.”

“You gotta get drunk,” Dean decided.

Sam and Eileen stared, dumbfounded. “Are we... supposed to be asking questions?” Eileen asked. “Militant... cult... commune...?”

“Nope,” Dean said. “You get what you get.” He tipped back the last of his wine. “Alright, where’s those pizzas at?”

Castiel laughed, getting to his feet, pushing Dean back down. “I’ll serve. Tell Sam and Eileen about your truck! It’s a very impressive truck.”

Dean seemed caught out, eyes skittish again. “Right.”

“Yeah, tell us about that,” Sam implored, leaning closer. “How did you come to be driving an eighteen-wheeler, exactly?”

Dean looked pleadingly at Castiel, but Castiel’s back was turned.

“I, uh... It, um.” Dean tugged at the collar of his cotton t-shirt. “See, what it was...”

“Dean lost his job,” Castiel said, scraping pizzas off the baking tray and onto hot plates. “And I believe—” he sucked tomato sauce off his thumb, “he took the first travelling job that came up.”

Sam stared in concern. “You lost your job?”

“Yeah.” Dean hung his head, lips sucked between his teeth.

“And you didn’t tell m— anyone?”

Dean shrugged. “Didn’t wanna let people down.”

“How is that letting someone down?” Sam asked, shaking his head. “Unless it was your fault?”

Dean shook his head, then shrugged tensely. “Just. I dunno, they told me something about rearranging the company circuit so workers don’t have to travel so much. And... And that was kind of why I liked the job in the first place. So. I quit.”

Castiel came to the table, carrying a plate in each hand and one balanced on either forearm. “Aaaand... there we go. One for you, one for me. Sam. Dean.”

Castiel brought a topping smorgasboard to the table, then sat, happy.

“What happened to the car?” Sam asked.

“What car?” Castiel squinted.

“Let’s eat!” Eileen chirped. “There’s all kinds of cheese, olives, bacon, onions—”

Dean rushed to serve himself, taking cheese with his fingers before Eileen slapped him, handing him tiny tongs instead. Dean waited his turn for all the other toppings, having cleaned out the mozzarella bowl, fingers now wriggling eagerly for the bacon.

“Anyway,” Castiel said, “Dean is a very accomplished transporter of chilled beer, now. Like he said, he’s a beer guy.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam bit into his tiny veggie pizza, eyeing Dean unsurely.

“Met Cash a couple weeksh into the trucker thing,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full. Eileen stared at him intently, trying to figure out what he said. “Found him wanderin’ on the Minneshota shide of the Mishishippi River, gritty edge’a the I-ninety in bare feet, pwoo in the morning.”

Castiel nodded. “I’d left the commune under cover of darkness, I’d finally had enough of their bizarre ideology – which I had once observed for myself, but had been questioning ever since they introduced the goats. Broke a window, abseiled the building using torn bedsheets—”

“Clashic,” Dean added, smirking as he chewed.

“And I snuck away. Walked by the road until a truck came. The truck slowed down...” Castiel smiled. “He wanted to ask why I didn’t have any shoes. He called me dude, and I said, I’m not a dude, I’m a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent, and he said he ‘feels that’.”

Dean snickered, while Sam and Eileen grinned.

Castiel kept his eyes on the wooden table, while his heart went back months in time, obviously warmed by the memories. “Dean...” He sighed. “He took me to a diner, bought me a burger and chili fries and salad and a shake. He was very concerned about me. Then he booked me a motel room, gave me his clothes, but I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t even—”

Dean slid his hand over, taking Castiel’s to hold.

Castiel gulped. “I tried to leave, but I exited the motel room and Dean was there, sitting in the light of a streetlamp on a park bench, keeping watch. Said he was making sure none of the ‘crazies’ tracked me down.”

Dean wore a soft, loving smile. Sam had never seen him look at anyone like that before. Wow.

“We stayed up until dawn, talking.” Castiel smiled even wider. “And we slept in the motel... Only one bed, it seemed silly not to share— Ah— Anyway, that afternoon, we got in his truck, and we just... drove.”

“Behind schedule,” Dean muttered.

“He got in trouble,” Castiel smiled. “All for me. But we completed the next leg in good time! And the next. And the next.”

He took a breath, then went on, speaking thoughtfully, “We became affectionate in a joking way – we pretended to say sweet things to each other, call each other ridiculous pet names. But,” Castiel gave Dean a curious look, “I began to suspect they were real for Dean, because they started to feel real for me.”

Dean smiled, then looked down, and with one hand, worked to fit an entire tiny pizza in his mouth at once.

Castiel watched, not at all fazed by that. “I spent almost three months on the road with Dean... until I couldn’t bear it any longer, and at some Gas-N-Sip on a cold but sunny autumn morning in Nebraska, I climbed out of the truck, pushed my hands into his hair, and kissed him.”

Dean coughed, but kept chewing. Castiel stroked his thumb over Dean’s hand.

“And Dean had never kissed someone... man-shaped,” Castiel went on, and Dean had his mouth full so was unable to stop him exposing him like this. “He was terrified. I thought he was going to leave me alone again. But he ran away, then came back, almost in tears. And he couldn’t speak. He just kissed me back.”

Castiel gazed at Dean the exact same way Dean had gazed at Cas. Now Dean was blushing, and finally swallowed. He didn’t look back, but he smiled. He smiled, and smiled, sucking his bottom lip.

“Somehow along the way we’d fallen in love,” Castiel said. “We became friends at a moment when we were both vulnerable. We became romantic at a moment of strength. And lovers at a moment of weakness.” Castiel turned his head towards Dean, eyes down, forehead almost touching his shoulder. “I’ve been weak ever since.”

Dean heard the break in Castiel’s voice, same as everyone else.

He tilted his head towards Cas, flour-dusty fingers touching Castiel’s chin, lifting it.

Their eyes met.

Dean shut his eyes and kissed Cas, and Cas parted his lips, accepting the kiss like it was their first, or their last.

Sam felt a pressure on his hand, and realised he and Eileen had reached to hold each other. Sam didn’t know who’d moved first. But they held on, seeing something in Dean and Cas that they saw in themselves. Another story, another pair of lives, but finding love just as electric, blind, and furious, if not more so.

Castiel licked his lips as the kiss broke.

Dean was so deeply in love, it hurt to look at him.

Sam ached for them, heartbroken that Dean had tried to give Cas up, staying away from him so he’d have a better life. Because that was what this was, Sam now realised. It wasn’t just about setting Cas up with a job so he’d be financially stable. It wasn’t just that the truck-driving kept Dean away. Dean didn’t feel safe loving Castiel openly, so kept to phone calls, emails, text messages. It was a different list of reasons than why he’d stayed away from Sam, which explained why the amount of contact had been different.

Dean had avoided speaking to Sam because he was afraid of precisely this: showing someone exactly how much he loved another man. And... well. He didn’t want to tell Sam he’d forfeited his last job over some childish cowboy ride-into-the-sunset fantasy and had essentially been homeless since. That too. Maybe that was the real reason. And it was all for nothing, because Sam was angrier about Dean’s avoidance of telling the truth than he was about the actual truth.

But curiosity overrode his ire, and he had to ask... “What happened to the car?” Sam said again.

Dean turned to look at Sam, dread in his eyes.

Castiel looked over, confused. “What car? Whose car?”

Sam licked his lips. He couldn’t explain about the car unless they all broke the spell and came clean to Cas about whose Dean this was, whose Dean was sitting here, guiltily stretching strings of mozzarella up from his plate. Sam glanced at Eileen, and she nodded firmly. Sam looked back at Dean, and Dean shut his eyes and lowered his chin, surrendering to what was about to happen.

Then Sam looked at Cas. Poor, confused, oblivious Cas.

“There’s something you need to know,” Sam told him.

Castiel picked up on the serious tone, and all the brightness in his eyes dimmed, looking at Sam with renewed focus.

Sam sighed. “Eileen and I... we got married last year.”

“Yes,” Castiel said, waiting for more.

“And before... before we got married,” Sam went on, “my surname was Winchester.”

“Ha!” Castiel looked between Sam and Eileen, starting to smile. “Do the coincidences never end? My God. Dean, you wouldn’t believe. Sam actually has a brother named Dean Winchester to— ooooo.” Castiel had looked at Dean, saw the discomfort in his expression, and realised everything, all at once.

Castiel took in a fast sip of air. “Oh.”

Dean gulped, still holding Cas’ hand.

“Sorry,” Sam whispered to Cas. He knocked his head towards Dean. “Dean was freaking out when he saw me, figured he’d calm down if we... I don’t know, started fresh. Pretended to be strangers. Didn’t intend to lie to you, promise.”

Eileen signed quickly, “It made it easier for Dean to be as loving with you as you both wanted.”

Castiel leaned his elbow on the table, hand cupped over his mouth, staring at nothing. Then he ran his hand back through his hair, breaking the gel he’d clearly spent half an hour perfecting. All mussed up and wide-eyed now, Castiel turned his baffled gaze to Dean.

Dean had slumped back, forearms vertical on his chest with no space between them, wrists to his throat, hands cupped around his mouth – protective, protecting his heart, and his unspoken words. He looked at Castiel, not knowing what his reaction would be. Nobody knew.

Castiel took a breath, then another.

Then he puffed out a careless laugh, turning away. He seemed annoyed, and nobody spoke or moved or breathed.

Then he smiled, and looked back at the table. “Eat,” he said, sounding defeated. “Before the pizza gets cold.”

He led by example, and picked up a pizza, eyes on the ceiling as he bit into it.

Eileen was the next to move, stealing the last olive off Sam’s plate, then offering the salt shaker to Dean. Dean hesitated, then unwound from his tense position, taking what was offered and scrunching salt onto his leftover two pizzas.

Sam let out a sigh. “There’s pudding for dessert.”

Dean met his eyes, and smiled. “Love me some puddin’.” He glanced towards Cas – and judging by the boot noise and the rock of both their bodies, he kicked him gently under the table. “Ain’t that right, hot sauce?”

Castiel smiled at his food. “Mm. From what I recall, you can’t get enough of it.”

Sam and Eileen shared a quick glance, both catching the sexual undercurrent in Dean and Castiel’s exchange. Sam dared not imagine what they’d done with the pudding.

Sam cleared his throat.

Dean blushed. Castiel blushed.

They ate pizzas, and then moved onto dessert.

“What happened to the car?”

Sam asked for the third time, sitting on the couch, both hands around a beer bottle. Eileen sat beside him, a beer in her hand too.

Dean sat in Castiel’s rust-coloured armchair, Castiel sitting sideways in his lap, arms around his neck, both of them holding beer.

Dean wet his lips with a swig of his drink.

“What car?” Castiel whispered.

Dean sighed slowly. “Okay. Look. Cas... Before I drove trucks, I drove my own car. Used to roadtrip alone, just me and my baby, zig-zagging the country, giving restaurants their A-pluses and shutting the bad ones down. Real nice car, alright? Real nice. Black. Silver rims. Sixty-seven Impala.”

“Oh... yes, the kind you always wolf-whistled at while driving,” Castiel said. “I had to yell at you to look at the road. Or I’d make you leave the gas station behind, because you were clogging up traffic.”

“Yeah. That kind. Anyway.” Dean took another sip of beer, nuzzling his forehead against Castiel’s chest, taking a deep breath of his scent, then letting it go. “Pretty obvious right? Only way I could take that trucker job was to leave the car behind. So.” Dean rolled a shoulder. “I did.”

“Did you sell it?” Sam asked in concern.

Dean shook his head. “Hid her. Off the interstate, down this little grass road. Under some branches. The green stuff’s probably died after seven months, dunno how out-of-sight she is now. Just hopin’ to God she’s still there, and no freeloading asshole jimmied the lock or broke a window or hotwired her pretty engine.”

Sam went quiet, appreciating that Eileen rubbed his arm. That car had been as much a home to his younger self and Dean as the truck was to Cas.

Dean lay his forehead down on Castiel’s chest again, smiling to himself when Castiel cradled his head, stroking his hair.

“You loved that car,” Castiel said, his voice slow and deep and knowing. “You loved her very much, didn’t you?”

“Leaving her was the worst thing I ever did,” Dean whispered. “But I had to. I already quit my proper job and my boss said it was too late for me to take it back. All I ever wanted was the open road, and I quit my job over that, but I never realised I loved the ride because of who I was with, not where I was goin’. She. That car. She was my life. My freakin’ soul.”

Castiel kissed the top of Dean’s head. Sam wondered if he was jealous, or if he understood.

“That was why you were heartbroken when we met,” Castiel realised, softly, laying his cheek on Dean’s head, gazing at the rug under Sam’s feet. “I thought you’d ended a relationship.”

“I had,” Dean said. He pulled his head up, looking doe-like into Castiel’s eyes. “And the next time I felt that same feeling, it was when I left you here in Alabama. Tore my heart out, Cas. Right out.” He shook his head, and Sam saw how much he meant it. “I can’t ever do that again, alright? Not ever. I can’t leave you again.”

He looked over at Sam, begging, shaking his head. “None of you. Y’all are my goddamn family. I’m nothin’ without you. I’m just – listless. Roaming, empty inside. God help me, I love the truck too, but she ain’t nothin’ like the Impala, she’s nothin’ like home.”

He looked back to Castiel again, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I need you, Cas. I need all of you.”

Castiel smiled, leaning to kiss Dean’s temple. “My room was meant for you, I understand. Your, ah, foosball table...? Still there.”

Hugging Dean, Castiel looked over to catch Eileen’s eyes, then Sam’s, and they shared an understanding: Dean was welcome. Of course he was welcome.

Castiel looked back to Dean, meeting his eyes from inches before his nose. “You can sleep in my bed, if you want. It’s not too wide, but... perhaps, if we snuggle very tight...?”

Sam chuckled. “We have an air mattress, Cas.”

Castiel let out a breath. “Oh. That’ll do.”

Dean grinned, head down. “Y’all serious?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sam slung an arm over Eileen’s shoulders as Castiel pressed his cheek to Dean’s head. “Yeah, we’ve been waiting. Hoping, right? Hoping someday you’ll finally find your home here.”

“It’s nothing like the open road,” Castiel admitted, stroking Dean’s hair back with his fingers. “There’s a clean toilet and we can prepare our own food. But... perhaps, if we went to fetch that car of yours, she’d be happy to assist us in a few occasional drives. You may not need to rate restaurants on hygiene, but I did notice you seem to rate everything else, as well. Don’t you? Burgers. Fries. Milkshakes.” He tilted his head playfully. “Hot sauce.”

Dean’s eyes twinkled. “Hot sauce is the sexiest sauce.”

“I know it is.” Castiel kissed Dean once, twice, and the third became a long, pushy, smoochy thing that went on so long that Sam threw up his hands and went to get himself another beer. Eileen laughed, watching for a moment, before getting up too.

They left Dean and Cas alone to be together.

It was all different now, wasn’t it? A house of four people. One bathroom, two bedrooms, two happy couples.

Sam didn’t say aloud that he’d forgiven Dean for lying, nor avoiding him. If Dean knew anything about Sam, it was all said in his generosity, in his joy of having him close, and a strong pat on the arm and a smile. Yet Dean wasn’t sure about the smile at first, and began a bumbling, stilted apology over that evening’s washing-up, only for Sam to shake his head and bring Dean in for a hug. “I don’t need to hear it,” Sam promised him, squeezing his brother tight. “I forgive you.”

After then, each of Sam’s smiles was met with one of Dean’s.

Nobody here wanted to be without the people they loved most. And – as annoying as it might become, in times ahead – now they’d never be alone again.

“Please be there please be there please be there,” came the breathless, everlasting mantra from where Dean sat in the passenger seat of Sam’s Dodge Charger, both hands gripping the dashboard, his body straining against his seatbelt as he looked ahead.

Castiel watched the view from the back seat, sitting on Eileen’s left. He held the safety handle over his shoulder, rocked about and bumped from side to side as the car made its way off the interstate, rumbling and bumping onto unmarked land.

There was barely space to drive; Dean muttered about how there weren’t this many weeds when he drove in, seven, nearly eight months back.

Trees overhung from the right, and a length of broken fence panels hugged the left, collapsed, cobwebbed, strangled by bindweed. The blue sky and the sunshine made the place look friendly to Castiel, welcoming even – like a little garden someone had forgotten.

“Left here,” Dean said. “God, come on.”

Without warning he opened the car door and ran down the left lane, leaving Sam unsure whether to turn and keep driving with the door open.

Castiel hesitated, then got out too, following Dean at a jog. He panted, stumbling and jumping over lumps of grass, tangles of weeds, severed tree stumps now growing again as a bush.

He grinned when he heard Dean’s yelp of absolute relief – a distant “Ye-heee!” – and kept running, coming to Dean’s side, hand on his back as Dean jumped for joy.

Dean folded forward over the Impala’s dusty, leafy, bird-poop encrusted hood, making kissing noises but not actually kissing her. “Mwah. Mwah, mwah, mwah. I missed you, baby. I missed you. Hey, girl. Oh, you’re more beautiful than I remember. Told you I’d come back, didn’t I tell you?”

He stood back, swiping dead leaves off his chest. He turned just as Sam and Eileen came up, and Dean’s grin was unparalleled, tears in his eyes, a shake at the corners of his mouth. “She waited for me. All this time. She waited.”

Dean’s grin shattered and he broke down in sniffly, wet sobs, and when Castiel touched his shoulder, Dean collapsed onto Castiel, breathing deeply. Castiel chuckled, nuzzling the top of Dean’s hair.

Dean stood back quickly, sniffing, taking a freshening breath. “Right. I gotta. Toolbox. Lubricate everything. Spark plugs. And we gotta get the cables and clamps – shock her to life, that oughta do it.” He whacked his brother on the chest with the back of his hand as he passed. “You gonna stand around here all day, or what? Get to it, Sammy.”

The key turned in the Impala’s ignition, Dean’s thumb white from how hard he held on, begging through touch. Come on, come on... The car only spluttered, coughing, stuttered out what could’ve been dying words, held back for the moment Dean was here to hear them. Dean shook his head, refusing to listen. Even Castiel chanted in his head, leaning forward to hold onto the passenger-side backrest. Come on...

Dean let the engine rest for a moment – a beat, another, another – then held his breath and turned.

VffvffgfrevvrevrerevrffffvfewvrewvvvBROOOOmmmmmmmmmpptptppmpmptptptpt—

Dean chuckled in exhaustion, laying the nape of his neck on the backrest, eyes closed. “Oh, baby,” he whispered. “Oh, yeah. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Gimme that good stuff, girl.”

Castiel reached to poke Dean’s ear. “I suppose I have competition, now, don’t I?”

Dean grinned, head popping up, eyes turned to Castiel. “Psh,” he said. He leaned forward, adjusted himself in the seat, then he pulled the driver’s side door closed and eased the Impala forward. “Don’t see why I can’t have both,” he said, going slow as the weeds tickled the car’s underside. “Got my girl. Got my guyyyyyyyyyycelestial wavelength of—”

“Multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent,” Castiel said.

“Uh-huh, yeah, that.” Dean smiled, eyes on Sam and Eileen: both lounging against the Charger, now bouncing up in applause as they saw the Impala sneak from the lane and turn to meet the bumper of the other car. “Yup. Got me one of everything.”

Castiel smiled, still leaning forward with his chin resting on his hands, feeling the engine’s vibration in his teeth. “She’s a beautiful car.”

“Damn straight.”

Dean parked proudly, then cast a fond look towards Castiel. “Aw.” Dean smirked, reaching to ruffle Castiel’s hair. “You’re still the hottest sauce in the condiment rack, Cas. C’mon. My baby’s great company and all, and she gets me where I’m goin’. Home on wheels!” Dean shrugged, still gazing at Castiel, eyes a-twinkle with love aplenty, making Castiel wonder why he’d ever worried. “But sometimes where I’m goin’ is nowhere, Cas. And it’s times like those, buddy—”

Dean leaned over and placed a quick kiss on the tip of Castiel’s nose. “Times like those, I just want you. ‘Cause like I said. I don’t dig the ride because of where I’m going, or how I get there. Just... who I’m with. When it comes down to it, that’s all that really matters.”

Castiel narrowed one eye, disbelieving. “But the car certainly improves the experience.”

“Aw, hell yes. Are you kidding me?” Dean grinned. “I’m gonna become a roadside diner reviewer! Start a blog, organise my posts by state. Rate the burgers from one to ten, hot sauce as a separate category. Put the Impala’s picture in the website header.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, leaning to open the door for Eileen. “That does sound like something you’d enjoy.”

“What are we enjoying?” Sam asked, as he and his wife piled into the car, Castiel’s ass moving to cold leather as Eileen took his seat.

“Dean’s just become self-employed,” Castiel said. “He’s a travelling food reviewer now.”

“Oh?” Eileen seemed pleased.

“Hey, I know my way around the States purely by my mental map of the tastiest budget-friendly eats in town.” Dean adjusted the mirrors, catching Castiel’s gaze in the reflection. “How ‘bout we make a stop on the way back to Alabama? A certain diner. Wasn’t too far from here, actually. They sell the best hot sauce.”

Castiel remembered the one.

Sam drove the Charger, following after the Impala. They moved along a bit below the speed limit, as the Impala was still getting her bearings, but they sped up as she remembered how to coast along a pale road at high speed, then remembered how to fly.

They soon pulled into a dinky little pitstop, with a flashing arrow-shaped sign outside, advertising America’s Best Hot Sauce. Dean made Cas stand in front of the arrow, and took a dozen photos on his phone, grinning the whole time.

“Why do you call him ‘hot sauce’?” Eileen asked.

Dean and Castiel shared a smile.

“This was the place,” Castiel said, holding Dean’s gaze. “The place he brought me the first night we met. I’d never eaten anything spicy. And—”

“And let me tell you, he loved it,” Dean clapped Cas on the back, “more than anyone has loved anything, ever.”

“I like food I can taste,” Castiel said with a shrug.

Dean leaned in close and gave Cas a taste of him. Castiel pulled back, smiling, hands on both of Dean’s elbows.

“Any good?” Dean asked.

“Ten out of ten,” Castiel said. “But I won’t recommend to others, because I wouldn’t want to share.”

Dean leaned over backwards, laughing. “That’s a five-star review right there, Cas,” he said, taking his hand and leading him and the rest of the family towards the diner’s front doors. “Anyone got a notebook? I’m gonna start cataloguing my findings right here, right now. I knew my hygiene inspector’s note-taking skills were gonna come in handy someday.”

“Just to clarify,” Sam said in concern, as he pulled out a tiny, tatty Moleskine from his windbreaker, “you’re still going to live with us, right? Not disappear for weeks on end?”

Dean shrugged, taking the notebook and the pencil stub. “Can’t promise anything. Open road’s still wide open.” He caught Castiel’s gaze again. He started to smile, and Castiel smiled with him. “But I got me a damn good reason to come back home.”

Dean brought back recipe ideas every weekend, and he cooked, and stayed for three, four, maybe even five days. Then he’d be gone for half a week or more, living that cowboy trucker life, sans the cows and sans the truck.

He called his family every day. Texted almost hourly. Posted a review online every few days.

The blog started small, and got bigger week by week. Within a few months, Dean’s Roadside Review turned from a plain-looking collection of thoughtful reports with the Impala’s grainy picture at the top, to a clean, sleek, professional get-up blazing with topic-appropriate advertisements and a keen (if dirty) sense of humour.

There was a seperate review scale for hot sauce.

In the top right-hand corner of the website there was a drawing of a cute white teddybear holding a loveheart. When clicked, visitors were treated to a history of Dean’s Roadside Review, including photos of himself (no dick pics!), his three-person family, his car, and Castiel’s now-iconic eye-roll as he stood at the tip of a flashing arrow, declaring himself to be America’s best hot sauce.

Two months later, a new photo was added: Dean kissing his trenchcoat-wearing partner in front of a famous neon-lit diner in the Mojave Desert, purple dusk on their shoulders, happiness in every soft curve of their embrace. They sat on the Impala’s glossy black hood, soon to be on their glorious way to the next diner, barbeque grill, ice cream parlour, or burger joint they saw.

Within a year, the food reviews made up only half the content Dean put out there. The rest were stories about his and Castiel’s near-weekly road trips, mixed in with accounts of their pretty solid home life. Dean’s growing audience seemed to find those tales even more delicious than the burgers, which made it so much easier to share.

For a man once so afraid of being open about who he was and what he liked, Dean Winchester had become his own living proof, his own inspiration; he could look back at what he’d made, seen how he’d grown, changed, and opened himself up not just to family, or friends, but the world.

He and Cas kept driving.

But they were only ever detouring, forever on their way back home.