#ftm!cas

Unwanted, tears began to well at the edge of Cas’ eyes.  He shuffled to the bathroom, thighs close together.  He sniffed as quietly as he could.  

His birthday was in a few days.  This was not the time for this.

On a particularly long stride, something shifted and the slimy feeling got worse.  He blinked in a disgusted fear.  Tears began to roll down his face and he rushed to the toilet, flicking on the light and leaving the door open on the way.

Practically tearing the lid off the toilet, Cas opened it up.  He spun and squatted in a fast and fluid movement.

His shivering at the cold of the toilet only got worse when the slime began to drain.  At this point, the tears were coming faster and the endeavor to keep quiet became harder to accomplish.

Cas reached out a shaky hand and tugged open the bottom drawer of the under-sink unit.  There they were, pads and - he shuddered - panties.

His lip quivered.

He fucking hated this.  The tears never seemed to stop.  It was almost as much of a giveaway as the tell-tale feeling between his legs.

“Hey, Cas.”

Cas’ head jerked up to the door.  

Standing there with half of his hair sticking up in an awkward bedhead that almost made Cas laugh, even in his current state, was Dean.  “Uh, I know your birthday isn’t until later this week, but I’m going to give you one of your presents.”  His voice was sleep rough.  He brought his hand around from behind him with a plain, white gift bag.

Dean went through it a bit.  Different thinks made different sounds.

Cas’ tears dried, paying avid attention to the gift bag.  He sniffed again and watched intently.  Somehow, this was important.  Everything that Dean did had a purpose.  He was just a purposeful person.

From the bottom of the bag, Dean pulled out two flattish bundles.  They were wrapped in newspaper and tied closed with twine.  

Once upon a time, Dean had explained how his family grew up with practically nothing and how everything was wrapped in newspaper or magazines or grocery bags.  It meant a lot to Cas that Dean would share the stories and the tradition with him.

Staring at the packages, Dean finally passed them over.  “Here.”

Gently, Cas took them. and put them on his bare thighs.  He lifted the first and shook it a little.  Tears forgotten and replaced with curiosity.

Dean put the gift bag down in the door jamb, far enough away that Cas couldn’t peak inside.  He moved in closer and took the soiled boxers from the floor next to Cas’ bare feet.  

Pausing his investigation of his gifts, Cas eyes followed Dean’s movements and a lump lodged itself in his throat; he had trouble speaking around it.  “You don’t have to-”

“I want to.”  Dean put them in the sink and began to run the hot water, eventually balancing it out by turning on the cold tap.  “It’s not like I haven’t washed your blood out of your clothing before.”  He smirked.  “Like when you beat up Raphael in 11th grade for calling you names or when you beat the crap out of Cole when he cheated me out of my summer money or when you pulled out all the stops to make sure Naomi paid for what she did and she scratched your hip really bad.”

Cas sucked in a shaky breath and nodded, shallowly, in awe of all this, this perfect boyfriend.

“Open your gifts, Cas.”  Dean spoke it softly, like he was trying not to break the moment.

Slowly, like he was stuck in slo-mo, Cas pulled the twine bows loose and unwrapped the newspaper.  Inside with nested wrappings sat a pair of boxers, plain black.  “I don’t-”

“Try putting them on.”  Dean didn’t look over from where he was working in the sink.

Shaking his head, Cas scoffed lightly.  “I can’t; they’re boxers.”

Dean turned and looked at Cas in the eye.  He repeated himself, “Try putting them on.”

That’s when it clicked for Cas.  “You didn’t.”  He hastened to open their waistband.  There, in the crotch, was a panty sling sewed into place.  Cas could tell that it wasn’t a professional job.  “Did you buy these or did you...?”  He trailed off when he saw Dean’s blush, high on his cheekbones and revealing his freckles.  The stitches were a little uneven but they were strong and doubled over on themselves to ensure they wouldn’t come loose.

New tears sprung into Cas’ eyes, happy ones.  “Thank you, Dean.”

Abandoning the almost-rinsed boxers in the sink, Dean wiped his hands idly, crouched next to Cas, and wiped a knuckle at his tear-stained cheek.  “You deserve it.”  He stood and reached to turn off the water.  “Now, get them on and come back to bed.”  Dean smirked at him playfully.  “You know I can’t sleep without a big spoon.”

Cas laughed.  Dean wrung out the boxers and hung them on the towel rack behind him, before exiting the bathroom.  He left the door open.

Pulling his new underwear up to his thighs, Cas still grimaced when he tore apart the wrapper for the pad and stuck it and all its tabs in the right places.  He finished cleaning up, stood, pulled up his newest present, and bounced in them a bit.

It felt weird, but not as weird as when he had to wear his panties.  For that, he was thankful.

He washed his hands, reveling in how clean Dean had managed to keep the sink, turned off the light, and slunk back toward bed.  He crawled in behind Dean and tucked an arm around him, just like usual.

Dean’s hand found Cas’ and he entwined their fingers on his stomach.  “Remember the time that Lucy was fucking with me and you beat her up?  I washed your blood out of your Sunday school shirt that time.”  He shifted and pressed back into Cas.  “Or, do you remember when Ruby tried to pull that shit on Sam - he was crying, man - and you took her down?  I had to wash your blood out of your favorite shirt and off of your white sneakers.  Dude, that was a bitch.”  He turned his head a little and bumped his nose into Cas’ affectionately.  “Oh, remember that time-?”

“Why are you telling me this Dean?”  Really, Cas just wanted to forget it and go back to sleep.  It was going to be a rough week. Just thinking of it had him exhausted.

Dean turned further and looked Cas in the eye.  “I’m trying to tell you that this is just another fight, bloody and full of tears, that I’m gonna fight with you.”  He turned back over and settled as little spoon.  “That’s all.”

Grinning suddenly, Cas kissed an appreciative, open-mouthed kiss to the base of Dean’s neck.  “Thank you.  You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“No, I’m not.”  Dean spoke softly before falling off to sleep.