#satincas

I have a shoe addiction. I relate to this

A/N: For howboutnovak who needs some fluffy feels today. If you feel so inclined, please go give her some love! -- Fake boyfriends AU. ~5400 wc. 

Dean's been avoiding Sam and Jess all night. He feels like shit for it, they are the couple of the evening after all, but he's afraid they're going to want to meet his date. The date he absolutely doesn't not have.

Three months ago, when Jess had asked Dean if he'd be bringing a plus one to the wedding, he'd said yes. At that time, he'd reasoned three months was plenty of time to find a date.

Now it's the night before the wedding and while Dean doubts it's really that big of a deal, he doesn't want to disappoint them. They'd both seemed so happy to hear he'd be bringing someone along.

To make matters worse, the first person Dean saw when he'd arrived at the rehearsal dinner was a guy he absolutely despises.

Castiel J. Novak. Yeah, the J. was important, apparently.

He's a mutual friend of Sam and Jess', a guy they'd gone to law school with, and the handful of times Dean's met him, the guy's been a pretentious, smart mouthed, asshole; always looking at Dean with his mouth pulled into a frown, like he doesn't approve of Sam's less educated older brother who's perfectly content with working on cars for the rest of his life rather than feeling like he needs a fancy law degree to feel like someone important.

So yeah. So far Dean's night has been hell; most of it spent glaring at the back of Castiel J. Novak's head.

Knowing he can't avoid the happy couple forever, Dean goes easily when Jess catches his eye and motions him over to the drink table where she and Sam are taking a breather from accepting well wishes for their future together. It's finally time to bite the bullet and confess, he decides.

"Dean! I feel like I haven't seen you all night!" Jess says, pulling Dean in for a hug when he comes to stand in front of her and Sam.

"Didn't want to be in the way," Dean offers.

"You're not in the way, Dean." Sam counters, and Dean can practically hear his brother proverbially rolling his eyes.

Dean shrugs.

"So where are they?" Jess asks, her eyes bright.

Dean swallows and offers his soon-to-be sister-in-law a sheepish grin. "Where are who?" Nobody ever said playing dumb was a good idea, but it will certainly prolong the conversation for just a bit longer, and at this point, Dean will take whatever he can get.

Jess lets out a laugh. "Your date."

"Oh, right. My date. They're uh-" as Dean's brain scrambles for an explanation a figure looms next to him. The guy's probably just there to refill his drink, but knowing immediately who it is by the stiff posture and smell of tea tree, Dean grabs the man's arm and tugs him over.

"Cas," Dean says, "Castiel J. Novak is my date."

Jess and Sam's eyes flit back and forth between Dean and Castiel dumbfoundedly, and Dean hopes to high heaven his terribly idiotic plan isn't about to bite him in the ass. So many things could go wrong at this point, Castiel could actually have a date here, waiting for him to return with drinks, or the guy could just outright deny it, making Dean look like an even bigger fool, but Dean's grip tightens around the man's arm, begging him to understand.

It feels like none of them are breathing, Sam and Jess both knowing how Dean and Castiel feel about one another, Dean pleading with the universe not to slap him directly in the face, and Castiel probably still shocked at Dean's lie.

Finally though, blessed, fucking finally Castiel directs a stiff nod at Sam and Jess.

"Yes." His gravelly voice rumbles, and damn him for feeling the need to talk because despite Dean's burning hatred for the other guy, there are a few things about him that really sends excitement zipping through Dean's veins and that voice is one of them. (Another is his bright, unbearably blue eyes, and his perpetual bed head, but those are an entirely different story for an entirely different day. One Dean hopes never surfaces because even thinking about those things now is making him feel jittery.) "Dean and I are-" he flashes a glance at Dean, and Dean nods encouragingly, thanking him profusely with his eyes. "on a date. For your wedding. My boyfriend, Dean. And I. On a date." The words come out awkwardly.

Dean lets out an overzealous laugh and scratches at the back of his neck. Did Castiel just say boyfriend? Because that is so beyond the impression Dean ever intended to give.

Dean stares at Sam and Jess, waiting for them to laugh in their faces, but Jess just squeals and pulls Castiel in for a hug while Sam claps Dean on the shoulder.

 "Boyfriend? Why didn't you guys tell us you were dating?" he asks, his grin impossibly large.

"Wanted it to be a surprise," Dean wheezes.

"I don't know why, but seeing you guys together makes everything that much more perfect. I was afraid Dean would never warm up to you, Cas." Jess' voice is all glow-y and excited.

Dean feels like he's going to hurl.

"People can change," Castiel chimes in just as Dean's beginning to wonder what Jess meant by her statement. Castiel offers Dean a look and is that... warmth he sees in Castiel's eyes?

"Well this is awesome you guys, congratulations!" Sam's mammoth hands fall on Dean and Castiel's shoulders and he squeezes.

Dean nods. "Thanks, Sammy."

An awkward silence settles in the air, the four of them blinking at each other. After a beat, Castiel rests his hand over Dean's where it's still curled around Castiel's arm and pats it.

"We should get back to our table, Dean."

"Oh, yeah. Right. We'll uh- we'll see you guys later." Dean offers the couple a wave and allows Castiel to maneuver the two of them away from the drink table.

 They're just out of ear shot when Castiel spins Dean around, pushing him into a dark corner.

"Dean, what are you doing?" He hisses. "You don't even like me."

Dean folds his arms over his chest because, yeah, he's not falling for that gimmick. Of course Castiel would play the innocent scorned. "You mean, we don't even like each other."

Castiel frowns. It's different than his usual frown, but it's a frown all the same. "I never said I don't like you."

"You frown at me all the time, man! You're doing it right now for hell's sake. You didn't have to say it. I can read it on your face. And besides; I'm not the one who went and told them we're dating!"

"I panicked!" Castiel nearly shouts, his hands flying in the air. "I was unaware I was about to participate in a lie to a couple of my dearest friends."

"Yeah well, I panicked too," Dean admits. He runs a hand over his mouth, the other going to his hip.

"Why did you lie to them, Dean?" Castiel wonders, his voice going quiet and soft around the edges.

Dean does not want to have this conversation. Especially with Castiel J. freaking Novak who's probably going to get so much pleasure out of Dean's embarrassment it's enraging. "I didn't have a date," Dean finally mutters, "and they thought I did." He looks Castiel square in the eye. "I'm sorry, Cas. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Yes, well, you best figure it out, Dean, because now we have to attend your brother's wedding tomorrow as a couple."

Dean nods and lets his head fall back, thunking against the wall softly. "I know," he states.

  The Winchester-Moore wedding takes place early in the morning the following day. It's an all day event with the ceremony first, followed by a luncheon for close friends and family, and concluding with a reception down town.

Dean picks Castiel up from his house - having suggested the night before it might make more sense for them to arrive together - and the first few minutes of the drive is the most stilted stretch of time Dean can recall to date. Instead of an elephant in the cab it feels like there's a whole fucking zoo and the space between them feels entirely too small.

"So uh- you think we should get to know each other a little better?" Dean asks, "You know, so we can pull this off?"

Castiel turns his gaze on Dean, eyes shining in the sunlight, popping against the weighty black of his suit. "What would you like to know?" he asks.

Dean shrugs, his eyes flicking down to the skinny black tie Cas is wearing that mirrors Dean's own. Dean's the best man today and Castiel a groomsmen so they're dressed to match. For some reason though, where Dean feels stuffy, Castiel looks... smoldering. And dammit that's just one more thing Dean can add to the list of Things He Gets Excited Over When Castiel J. Novak is Around.  "I don't know. What kind of music do you like? Do you have any hobbies? How many siblings do you have? That sort of thing. You know, couple-y things. Things I'd know about you if we really were a couple."

Castiel seems to give his answers some honest thought before offering them to Dean. "I like all kinds of music, but lately have found myself favoring hip hop. I enjoy knitting and art, and I'm the youngest of seven children. All lawyers, all working at the same firm, all married."

Dean doesn't even know where to start with all that information. He's still processing hip hop, and knitting, and seven siblings, when they roll to a red light.

As they idle, he decides to start with the music. "Hip hop, huh? Didn't have you pegged as a hip hop guy." Dean offers Castiel a smile; why, he's not sure, maybe it's because of the bitterness Dean heard in Cas' voice when he talked about his family, or how seriously he seems to be taking Dean's questions, but Castiel returns the smile all the same.

It's nice seeing Castiel smile, and for hating the guy so much, Dean sure does feel all warm and fond watching the corners of Castiel's mouth pull up.

 "And what's with the knitting? Your grandma make you learn or something?"

"No. I picked it up on my own. I find it very cathartic."

"Huh."

When they arrive at the church and Dean refuses to allow valet to take his car, Castiel rolls his eyes. "You're being ridiculous, Dean. Just let them take your car. It's much quicker."

And to think they had gone a whole fifteen minutes without Dean feeling like punching the guy square in the face.

"Nobody drives Baby but me, Cas." Dean bites out. "You want me to drop you off at the door, fine, but I'm not doing valet."

Castiel's lips pull into a thin line, but he doesn't speak.

Inside the church is a madhouse. There are people everywhere, some Dean recognizes as the bridal party, other's he's never seen before in his life.

As soon as she catches sight of them, the maid-of-honor whisks them into their appropriate places and Dean breathes easy for a minute. This is the easy part. He and Castiel aren't walking down the aisle as a couple, and for that Dean is grateful.

The ceremony is simple. Sam and Jess are both beaming, radiant on their special day, and though Dean and Castiel are sitting next to one another, no talking is required which Dean counts as another win. Halfway through the ceremony though, Castiel reaches for Dean's hand, lacing their fingers together and letting their conjoined hands rest on his thigh.

"What are you doing?" Dean jeers out of the corner of his mouth.

Castiel leans in close, his lips right next to Dean's ear. "I'm doing couple-y things, Dean. Relax."

At that moment Sam glances over at them and Dean offers his brother a weak smile.

The feeling of Cas' hand in his own isn't completely terrible, especially the way he's rubbing his thumb over Dean's, and Dean reasons he can probably bear it for at least a few more minutes. Probably.

When the ceremony comes to an end Dean nearly lets out an audible sigh of relief. One event down, two more to go, and then he and Cas can go about their lives, forgetting this ever happened. They'll have to come up with a break up story of course, but Dean's not against the idea of just calling it an amenable parting of ways and leaving it at that.

On the way to the luncheon (why Sam and Jess had to pick three different locations for their wedding Dean will never understand, but whatever, he loves the pair of them so he can't complain too much) Castiel is mostly quiet again. His hands, with their long slender fingers, grip his knees as they drive, almost like he's nervous. There's something black around Castiel's nail beds, but Dean's attention is drawn from them when Castiel speaks.

"Did I tell you how nice you look in your suit, Dean?" he asks. His voice sounds as if it was scraped from his vocal chords and Dean's sure it's probably just as hard for Castiel to be nice to Dean as it is for Dean to be nice to Cas.

Against his will a heat raises in Dean's cheeks that has him cursing himself silently. It's just a damn compliment, Dean, get over it. He probably doesn't even mean it."Thanks," he mutters, "you too."

"I feel like I look foolish," Castiel admits, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

Dean glances at him. "What? No, you look great. Really. Besides, aren't you used to wearing shit like this? You are a lawyer. I thought their dress code had to be, y'know, polished or whatever."

Castiel's eyes swivel towards Dean, but Dean can't hold the other guy's gaze for long. It's too invasive. "I suppose you're right. I should be used to this sort of attire." His voice sounds almost sad, defeated in a way. Regretful.

"Did I say something jerky?" Dean asks.

Castiel's voice is quiet as he responds with a gentle, "No."

For some reason, despite Castiel's answer, Dean doesn't believe him.

The luncheon is less frantic than the ceremony was, but only slightly so. The same people that seemed to be running around at the church are now running around, dipping their fingers in food, checking ice levels on the punch, and giving the wait staff firm instructions on how things are to go.

Dean and Castiel steer themselves out of the way, their hands finding each other's again as they walk - more couple-y things, Dean thinks - and they find their names at the same table as Sam and Jess.

As they sit Dean doesn't feel as tightly wound as he did that morning. He's starting to relax around Castiel, which is a joke, the guy's probably going to do something shitty just because Dean's starting to warm up to him, but whatever shitty thing Dean thinks that is, it doesn't happen.

Castiel is kind whenever he speaks to Dean, his eyes soft and crinkled when they reminisce on the time Sam lost his shoe in a sewer, and by the end of the luncheon Dean's beginning to think maybe he's been reading Cas wrong all this time. He hasn't even frowned in several hours.

  Between the luncheon and the reception they have a few hours to kill. Dean considers taking Castiel home and picking him back up on the way to the reception, but with the amount of gas and time it'd take to get there and back it feels like too much work.

"You got anywhere you need to be?" Dean asks instead.

Castiel shakes his head. "I'm yours for the day."

Dean's caught off guard by how much he likes the sound of that. Why does he like the sound of that? He should not like the sound of that. Fucking asshole lawyer making Dean question everything he thought he ever knew.

"I've gotta pick up a few things before the reception tonight if you don't mind tagging along."

"Alright," Castiel agrees.

With that, Dean points them in the direction of the nearest grocery store.

When they arrive and have climbed out of the Impala, Dean shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it into the back seat, and loosens his tie until he can pull it over his head. It joins the suit coat, and then Dean is unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt until he finally feels like he can breathe again.

"What is it we're getting here?" Castiel asks, his eyes flirting with Dean's newly exposed collarbone. His tongue darts out to run over his lips and Dean looks away, forcing himself not to track the movement.

"I need supplies," he answers, being vague on purpose. Castiel's a lawyer; he should be able to read between the lines, right?

Apparently Castiel does not read between the lines because he asks, "What kind of supplies?"

Dean grabs for a cart just inside the entrance and moves to push it further into the store. "If you have to know, I'm getting things to trash Sam and Jess' car tonight. It's my right as the best man to do so."

Castiel clicks his tongue."Dean that's childish."

Dean bites at his bottom lip and smiles, nodding mischievously at Castiel. "I know."

Castiel huffs, but doesn't offer up anything else so Dean makes his way towards the appropriate aisle to get the first of the supplies he needs.

With the cart full of everything Dean thinks he needs they make their way to the register and unload the items onto the counter.

When the cashier is finished ringing everything up, Dean reaches for his wallet, but Castiel stops him.

"Let me." He says.

"It's cool, Cas, I can get it."

Castiel's hand doesn't move from where it's gripping Dean's arm. "Just let me get it, Dean. I am the lawyer after all."

Dean's hand falls to his side, Castiel's grip slipping away, and Dean scowls. "What, I can't handle it because I don't have a white collar job like you? Is that what you're saying, Cas?"

This. This is the shit Dean was anticipating.

Castiel's brows are pulling into that all too familiar frown now and Dean hates the guy all over again.

"Why is it okay for you to call me a lawyer and make jabs at it, but when I do it it's offensive to you?" Castiel asks. His voice is pitched lower than Dean's ever hear it and fuck him if it isn't sexy. Asshole lawyer or not.

"I don't know," Dean bites back, "your tone was just-" he doesn't even have a word for what Cas' tone was so instead he waves his hand in Cas' direction like it should explain everything.

On the other side of the counter, the cashier remains very quiet. Dean can feel her gaze on he and Castiel and it probably sounds like they're in the middle of a lover's quarrel, but Dean's too worked up to care.

After a moment Castiel sighs, his tall, lean figure deflating right before Dean's eyes. "I'm sorry, Dean," he says, "That isn't what I meant. I only meant-" He heaves a sigh, heavy, like it came from the bottom of his chest and starts again. "I'd like to take care of the cost is all. Please, Dean."

Cas sounds genuine enough and before Dean even gives his head permission it's nodding. "Yeah, okay."

Castiel quirks a small grin at Dean. "Thank you, Dean."

By the time they're finished at the store it's nearly time for the reception to start. They head back, Castiel not even urging Dean to use the valet this time, and enter the building with their shoulders brushing. It should probably bother Dean more than it does.

Inside the lighting is low and there are obvious touches of Sam and Jess everywhere. It makes Dean smile a little, knowing this is something the two of them spent so much time planning together, and he's distracted enough that when Castiel slips his hand into Dean's, the only thought Dean gives it is, this guy sure does like to hold hands.

They're quick to find Sam and Jess, congratulating them for what feels like the eighteenth time today, and then Dean is heading to the bar, turning to Cas only as an afterthought and asking if he wants anything.

"Whatever you're having will be fine, Dean, thank you."

"Even if I'm having a Purple Nurple?"

Castiel's brow furrows in confusion as his head tilts to the side, and Dean thinks Adorable followed instantly by Shut the hell up, Winchester, Castiel J. Novak is not adorable.

"What's a Purple Nurple?"

Dean brushes it off. "Forget it. I'll be back, okay?"

"Alright."

Minutes later and with drinks in hand Dean heads back to the table. Castiel is alone, his eyes scanning the room, and Dean takes a moment to observe him. Not talking to anyone Castiel looks less formal, but only slightly so, almost like he wants to relax, but isn't sure if it's okay.

His usual air of confidence seems less prominent from where Dean's standing, and he's struck again by how different Castiel seems compared to the image Dean's had of him since they first met.

At the table Dean sets the drinks down and Castiel offers him one of the warm, crinkle-eyed smiles Dean's starting to crave more of. Dean sits down next to him and takes a sip of his drink while Castiel fiddles with his glass.

Dean's eyes are drawn to Castiel's hands and he notices the black again, not only outlining his nails, but in some of the crevices in his hands as well. When Castiel catches him staring, he pulls his hands away from the glass and settles them in his lap.

"I can never get it all off," Castiel explains.

"What is it?"

"Artist's chalk. My parents have never approved of the hobby; they say it makes me look grimy and that it's not a respectable activity, but-" Castiel looks down at the table briefly before meeting Dean's eyes again, "I've always loved to draw and paint."

"Well fuck what they think," Dean blurts. He doesn't understand why he's feeling angry on Castiel's behalf, but he is. "If you like to do it then to hell with what everyone else says."

Castiel gives Dean a half smile. "I wish it were that easy," he quips.

Suddenly things feel very weighty between them and Dean feels like he has to do something about it. Almost like a poke in the back a song starts up in the background and Dean flashes Castiel a grin.

"You wanna dance, Cas?"

Castiel shrugs. "I suppose that's what couples do at weddings, isn't it?"

Dean chuckles. "Probably."

He stands from his chair and offers Castiel his hand, leading the other man out to the dance floor. As they walk a nervous flutter beats in Dean's chest. They're about to breach that awkward who's-hands-go-where moment as two guys dancing together, but without any trouble at all Castiel wraps a hand around Dean's and places his other on Dean's shoulder. It feels easy, comfortable, and with Dean's brain still reeling at how not-awkward things turned out to be, Castiel begins to sway to the music.  

"I feel like I don't know anything about you, Dean." Castiel says as they dance, "Tell me about yourself."

Under the scrutiny of Castiel's gaze a shiver runs along Dean's spine. "I'm kind of a boring guy," he replies, but Castiel shakes his head.

"I doubt that. Please; tell me something. I want to know."

Dean thinks for a moment, trying not to allow his brain to get stuck on the fact that he's dancing at his brother's wedding with Castiel J. Novak, and not hating it. "I used to wrestle in high school, "Dean finally offers, "I was the best in my weight class."

Castiel's eyes practically glow with interest. "Tell me more," he requests.

Before he even realizes what's happening Dean's launching into all sorts of random information about himself. He talks about everything from the first time he met Jess to how much he's looking forward to owning his own mechanic shop someday.

"I can tell you really love what you do," Castiel says when Dean finally takes a moment to breathe.

The statement comes off as odd to Dean as he's always been under the impressoin Castiel thought lesser of Dean because of his job. "Really? 'Cause I always thought you think what I do is crap," Dean admits.

Castiel shakes his head. "Quite the opposite, Dean, I'm intrigued. You're doing what you love no matter the salary. I wish I were brave enough to do that."

"What'dya mean, you wish you were brave enough to do that?"

"I come from a family of lawyers, Dean. My father is a lawyer, my mother, grandparents, and all of my siblings are lawyers. It's what the Novaks do. To go against that, to disobey? It's unheard of in my family."

Learning this about Castiel almost feels like, ever since he met the guy, Dean's been trying to jam the wrong key into a key hole. But now, he's being presented with the right key and it slides right into place, unlocking the door and showing Dean an entirely different view.

Suddenly all the scowling Castiel does, all the glowers and frowns, and holier-than-thou comments make more sense to Dean. Castiel isn't an asshole, not on purpose anyway, he's unhappy.

"What do you want to do instead?" Dean wonders.

 Castiel's cheeks flush ever so slightly. "I want to be an artist," he admits, "I know it isn't a stable job and I may not ever make money off of it, but it's my passion."

His eyes are shining and Dean feels warm again.

"So I gotta ask; what's up with the J. in your name?" They remain on the dance floor as the current song ends and another begins.

Castiel shakes his head and huffs a laugh. "I hate the J. actually. My father suggested it sounded more dignified. He said clients would take me more seriously if I used my middle initial."

"I'm beginning to think your dad gives the worst advice ever," Dean says.

"I've been thinking that for awhile now."

They fall quiet for a moment, staring at one another through the easy silence. "May I ask a question?" Castiel inquires after some time.

"Shoot."

"Last night at the rehearsal dinner, you said we hated each other. Do you really believe I've hated you all this time?"

Dean feels like a mouse caught in a trap with the way Castiel's eyes are boring into him. "Didn't you?" he finally wonders out loud.

Castiel shakes his head. "Why would I hate you?"

"I don't know; I just felt like maybe you found me lacking or something." Dean shrugs. "Whenever you were around you were always kind of... cold." Now Dean understand the coldness more realistically, but admitting to Castiel the impression he's had all along feels something like unloading a weight he's been carrying around in his chest.

At least now Cas has a chance to explain himself whether he hates Dean or not.

"Dean, I've never hated you. I find you irritating at times, you're incredibly arrogant, and you listen to your rock music far too loud, but I never hated you. Quite the opposite actually."

Dean frowns. "What does that mean?"

Castiel opens his mouth to answer, but he's cut off by everyone being called to attention by the DJ. She thanks everyone for being there and then calls Dean and the maid-of-honor to the stage for their toasts.

Dean and Castiel stop dancing. "Guess that's my cue," Dean mutters.

Castiel smiles at him. "Good luck," he says before gently brushing his lips along Dean's cheek bone.

Dean's rooted to the spot for a split second before Castiel is gently pushing him along. He walks to the stage in a daze, replaying Cas's lips on his skin over and over again until he's being handed a mic and turned towards all the eyes that are now on him.

Luckily Dean rehearsed his speech into the ground and he recites it without a hitch. People laugh in all the right places, Jess wipes a tear from her eye when he gets sentimental, and when he's finished he passes the mic along to the maid-of-honor, and jumps off the stage, slotting himself into Sam's widespread arms.

"I love you, you big moose," Dean mumbles against his brother's shoulder.

Sam huffs a laugh. "I love you too, Dean."

Dean wiggles out of Sam's grip then and offers Jess a kiss on the cheek and then he's joining Castiel back on the dance floor to listen to the maid-of-honor's speech.

 The reception lasts a few more hours, part of which Dean spends outside with Castiel, tagging Sam and Jess' car despite Castiel's declarations of, "I want no part in this, Dean." In the end Castiel relents and draws a large penis on Sam's window with a silly grin on his face.

When Sam and Jess finally leave the reception hall, Dean reasons it's time to take Castiel home.

They're idling by the curb of Castiel's house when Dean clears his throat. "I'm sorry I thought you hated me, and I'm sorry I thought I hated you too." He says.

Castiel smiles at him. The cab is dark, but Dean can see the flash of Castiel's teeth. "Thank you."

"I hope someday you get to be an artist. I'll bet you'd kick ass at it."

"That means a lot to me, Dean. Thank you."

"I mean it, Cas. You're actually a decent guy. It sucks you're doing something you don't love. I really hope things work out."

Castiel shifts in his seat. "Dean at the reception, when I said I didn't hate you, I wanted to tell you that I actually-" Castiel stops, inhaling a deep breath; "I actually really like you. That's why I'm always so stiff around you. I never know what to say."

Dean feels like he can't breathe. For every way Dean saw this day going, this was never, not even in his wildest dreams or his deepest nightmares, an option.

"What is it you wanted to say?" he asks quietly.

Castiel doesn't speak, only reaches a hand across the cab and fists the lapels of Dean's suit coat in his hands. There's a brief pause before Castiel's warm, chapped lips are pressing against Dean's and Dean nearly flips the fuck out.

He's kissing Castiel J. Novak, he's kissing Castiel J.- No. He's kissing Cas. The Cas that was there all along, the one Dean never took the time to see.

Castiel lets out a breathy, little moan. His mouth is insistent, his tongue wicked as it works its way into Dean's mouth, and Dean smiles.

 Maybe this is what's been building all this time. Maybe it wasn't hatred at all, but attraction, curiosity, interest.

Dean shuts his brain off for a minute and allows himself to feel everything from the way Cas kisses like it's the most important thing the two of them will ever do together to the way one of Dean's hands is gravitating towards Castiel's hair.

A beat later they pull apart, Castiel panting lightly and Dean swiping a hand across his mouth. He shoots a lazy grin at Castiel. "You may never have known what to say, Cas, but I sure heard that loud and clear."

"I'm sorry I waited so long," Castiel breathes.

Dean rubs a thumb over Castiel's cheek bone and the other man presses into it with a smile on his face.

"I'm gonna take the initiative here and say, let's not do anymore waiting, huh?"

Castiel nods, wrapping a hand around Dean's neck and pulling him back in. "Agreed," he says.

  Two weeks later Dean is there for Cas when he quits his job at his dad's firm. In celebration they take a week-long vacation to Hawaii, consummating their new relationship and Castiel's recent-found freedom.

The trip is paid for with the money Castiel's parents had given him to start his own firm.

wAT. who could possibly pass up a chance to hang out with someone as awesome as u T^T

awe, thanks caroline, really <3

A/N:For the lovely whelvenwings who's celebrating a birthday today. Happy birthday, doll! -- AU ~3,300k; in which Dean discovers knitting isn't all that terrible. (Based off of this gross picture.)

"Couples Knitting? Sammy, what the hell is Couples Knitting?"

It's early Sunday afternoon and Dean's seated at the bar in Sam's big ass house with a mouth full of pancakes that Jess made. It's their tradition, Dean joins the happy couple for free food once a week, and Sam gushes to Dean about his perfect, apple pie life complete with a successful law firm, one beautiful wife, and a baby on the way. It's the best part of Dean's week, usually, until things like Couples Knitting are mentioned.

"Keep your voice down, Dean, geez."

"Please tell me it isn't what I think it is," Dean continues, ignoring Sam's request. He washes his bite of pancakes down with coffee and stares at his brother expectantly.

"It's probably exactly what you think it is, Dean. It's Couples Knitting; me and Jess together, in a class, learning how to knit. She wants to make the baby a blanket before it's born."

"So you need to learn how to knit why?"

Sam shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know she just wants to do it together; as a married couple, I don't see anything wrong with Couples Knitting."

Dean shakes his head and reaches across the counter, pulling a few strips of bacon off of a plate and popping one into his mouth. "That's the problem, Sammy. You don't see anything wrong with it. Take my advice, if you want whatever's left of your manhood to stay intact, you will not go to that class."

"Right," Sam says with a huff, "Because I should definitely be taking advice from the single guy who's 'between partners at the moment'. Maybe you should go to Couples Knitting."

Dean waves Sam's comment off with a hand in the air. His life is awesome, thank you very much, he doesn't need couples anything.

  Wednesday afternoon Sam invites Dean out to lunch. Dean feels like he should be suspicious, Sam never has time for lunch on weekdays, he's chained to his desk for eight hours a day, but when Sam offered to pay Dean reasons it'd be stupid of him not to go.

They meet at Dean's favorite diner, Sam looking wildly out of place in his suit and tie, and settle in to a booth in the corner. The waitress hasn't even dropped off their drinks before Sam is grimacing at Dean and saying, "I have a huge favor to ask."  

Dean lets his menu drop to the floor and eyes his brother incredulously; looking for any signs he might be joking. He finds nothing but guilt written in Sam's eyes.

"I knew you had ulterior motives," Dean bites out. "What do you need? Your car need a tune up or something? You know how I feel about those European cars, Sam. Nothing's where it should be."

"My car's fine, Dean. It's-" he takes a deep breath, "I have to go out of town for a few days; I just found out today and that leaves Jess alone and I feel really guilty already for leaving her, but on top of that-"

"Sam, slow down. How bout we breathe for a second, huh? You want me to check in on Jess while you're gone? Sure, no problem. It's not that big a deal, Sammy."

Sam shakes his head. "No, Dean. I mean yes, that'd be great, but... I'm going to miss the first session of Couples Knitting."

Sam's face is pulled into a wince as he finally stops speaking and Dean can't find any words that would appropriately express what's going through his brain right now other than, "Hell. No." which he finds his mouth sprouting off anyway.

"But, Dean she was really excited."

"I don't care, Sam. She can be really excited next week when her husband can go with her. I'm not going to some knitting class."

Sam's expression fluctuates into what Dean recognizes as pre-begging phase and he shakes his head, cutting Sam off before he even begins. "Forget it, Sam. Jess probably wouldn't even want me going with her anyway. I'm not part of your couple."

"Actually, she said she'd be fine with it," Sam offers.

Dean chokes on air. He knows he's probably being over dramatic, it's just a damn knitting class, but something about the idea of being in a room full of married (or committed) couples, learning how to knit something for a kid he aint even having just gives him the heebie jeebies. "You already talked to her?"

"Of course I did, Dean. I told her the second I found out I couldn't go."

Dean remains quiet and Sam lets all of the air out of his lungs, slumping into the worn booth behind him. For what it's worth, he really does look like he's sorry he even had to ask.

Dean shakes his head. Damn kid with his floppy hair and big, mopey eyes. It's impossible to say no when he's looking at Dean like that and Sam probably knows it, the little jerk. Dean heaves a sigh, just to accentuate how uncool he thinks this is and then says, "Fine. But you're buying me a slice of pie. Hell, screw that, you're buying me a whole fucking pie. Cherry. And a tub of vanilla ice cream."

Sam's smile is wide as he reaches across the table and claps Dean on the shoulder. "Yes, Dean. Whatever you want, just- thank you."

And though Dean doesn't mention it out loud, Sam now owes him. Big time.

  Friday night finds Dean on his way to pick up Jess, blaring AC DC, and thinking about everywhere else he'd rather be than on his way to Couples Knitting. When Jess climbs into the car though all glowy, and smiley, and grateful, Dean melts just a little.

If this is something that's going to make her happy, then it can't be that bad, right?

The class is hosted at the craft store on Main. Dean carries Jess' bag of yarn and knitting needles inside for her and they file into a small classroom behind several other couples.

As they take their seats, two chairs towards the front per Jess' request, Dean looks around at the other guys in the room. Several of them look to be in the same position Dean's in, not actually wanting to be there, but the rest don't seem to be bothered. Dean still can't pin point why he is either, but that bother is still there all the same.

A few minutes before 6 o' clock a man walks in and Dean has to do a double take. He's tall, lean, with dark hair that's a bit of a mess, and bright blue eyes. He's probably the most attractive person Dean's ever seen in his life, and Dean doesn't even hide the fact that he's staring; hard.

Dean expects the guy to make his way deeper into the room, settle in next to some insanely beautiful woman (or man), but instead he takes the seat up front and begins digging through a bag similar to Jess'.

As Dean watches him, attempting to take in the fact that their teacher is apparently some gorgeous god sent down from the heavens rather than an elderly woman like Dean expected, Jess nudges him in the ribs and offers him a wide, knowing smile. There's a glint in her eye that makes Dean shift in his seat.

"He's cute," Jess stage whispers, gesticulating with her head in the teacher's direction.

Cute is an understatement. Baby animals are cute, small children are cute, that lady on the Progressive commercials with the bright red lipstick and winged eyeliner; she is cute. The man sitting before them is not cute. No, he's so much more than cute.

Dean offers Jess a weak smile that probably looks more like a grimace, and then the class is being called to attention.

The man, whose voice is much deeper than Dean would have guessed, introduces himself as Castiel and gives a brief overview of what he hopes everyone will get out of the class.

By the time the actual instructional section begins, Dean's already lost himself in the man's perfectly angled nose and slightly dimpled chin that's covered in a soft sheet of stubble. Their eyes catch every now and then, Castiel's bright, shining, and it makes Dean feel warm all the way down to his toes.

He gets nearly nothing out of watching Castiel's long, slender fingers maneuver four knitting needles over and through a ball of magenta yarn, but he watches aptly, his eyes never leaving the other man's hands.

After awhile the class is left to their own devices and Castiel makes rounds about the classroom, critiquing and offering tips to the students. When he arrives at Jess and Dean's table, Jess has made good headway on what's supposed to be a simple square, and Dean's got nothing but knots in his green yarn. When Castiel's eyes land on his tangled fingers, Dean blushes and pulls his project off the table and into his lap.

"It's uh-" he flashes what he hopes is a charming enough smile to deter from the fact that he's shit at knitting and continues, "a little more difficult than I thought it'd be."

Castiel shakes his head. "That's alright, Mr.-"

"Dean. You can call me Dean. None of that formal crap with me."

Castiel smiles and nods. "Dean. This is your first time knitting, am I correct?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Don't be discouraged. You and your wife can work on it at home together as practice. That's the point of Couples Knitting, to give couples an activity to participate in as a pair."

"Oh, he's not my husband," Jess is quick to point out, "he's my brother-in-law."

A slight look of confusion crosses the teacher's face, and Dean chuckles. "I'm filling in for my brother tonight. He'll be here next week. I'm single." Dean winces before the words are even fully out and he kicks himself proverbially in the ass.

"Oh, I see. Well then, if you're interested in more practice, I also teach Singles Knitting on Wednesday nights. I'd love to see you there."

Dean isn't sure if it's a trick of the light, or if Castiel actually winks, but regardless he definitely knows where he's going to be on Wednesday night.

When he and Jess leave for the night Jess waits until they're in the parking lot to smack Dean on the shoulder and squeal, "He was so into you!"

Dean's grateful for the dark shrouding them, knows his face is probably pinker than pink, but he remains mostly quiet as he fiddles with his keys and opens Jess' door for her.

Inside the car, Jess doesn't relent. "He winked at you, Dean. Winked. I'm sorry, but that was a bold invitation if I ever saw one. You know what happened to the last guy that winked at me, Dean? I married him and now I'm having his baby."

Dean huffs a laugh at his sister-in-law as he shifts the Impala into gear and points them towards home. "You and I both know at least one of those things won't be happening to me," he points out.

Jess ignores his poor attempt at a joke and continues yammering. "Please tell me you're going to that class on Wednesday, Dean."

Dean shrugs and shifts in his seat. "I'll think about it." He can't give Jess satisfaction that quickly.

"He winked at you, Dean."

"Did he wink at me, Jess?"

The grin she offers him is wide, her teeth bright even against the inky backdrop behind them. "He winked at you, Dean."

"I guess we should stop for pie and ice cream then," Dean suggests.

Jess nods. "Oh, of course."

  During the week Dean does a little research on knitting projects. If he's going to be attending this class he might as well have an endgame in mind, something he wants to make. He has no interest in making anything for himself so instead he decides on a Yoda hat for Sam and Jess' baby. If he starts now, he may be able to finish it by Christmas when the baby will be a few months old.

On Wednesday night Dean makes his way back to the craft store, bag of knitting supplies Jess bought for him tucked securely on the floor on the passenger's side. His stomach is a mess of knots, and his palms feel clammy.

He's nervous to see Castiel again.

When he arrives, Castiel is already there. He's sporting a light pink button down and a navy cardigan, and his eyes are so bright against the blue, it's hard to believe it's their true color.

Dean takes a seat, in the front again, and when Castiel's eyes catch his own, the teacher smiles. "Dean, you came."

"I caught the knitting bug," Dean lies with a sheepish smile.

Castiel nods. "Have you been practicing?"

"Uh-" Dean's brain flits to the corner his knitting needles and yarn sat in all week. "No," he finally admits.

"That's alright. I'll just have to keep a close eye on you for awhile; until you feel more comfortable with handling the needles."

Dean swallows hard and nods. He's not sure how he could get comfortable with anything when Castiel's eyes are on him.

When the class starts, Dean gets lost again. The cadence of Castiel's voice, and the slow, soothing movement of his hands, the slight twist of his wrists, is just too much.

Dean does a bit better on his square this time than he did at Couples Knitting, but when Castiel looms over his table and looks down at Dean's progress, Dean still feels embarrassed by his lack of talent.

"May I?" Castiel asks, coming to stand behind Dean. Dean nods, and then finds himself encircled in Castiel's arms, and the teacher's hands closing over his own. They're warm, soft, and dammit, Dean, he's saying something, listen up.

"I find it easiest if you loosen your wrists a bit. Yes, like that, and don't curl your fingers so much." His hands graze over Dean's showing him the proper way to hold the needles, but all Dean can think about is how he's going to pass out from holding his breath if Cas doesn't move soon.

Castiel steps away slightly, watching as Dean tries to mimic the technique Castiel showed him. "Yes, Dean. Just like that. That's perfect." The praise gets Dean another warm smile, and Dean smiles weakly in return.

From the back of the room comes a shrill voice, drawing Castiel's attention away from Dean's face. "Yoo-hoo! Handsome! I need some help back here. My hands don't work like they used to!"

A small sigh escapes Castiel's lips and he gives Dean a slight shake of his head. "I apologize, Dean. It appears Ms. Smith is in need of some assistance."

Dean turns in his seat and glances towards the back of the room. He finds Ms. Smith sitting there, silvery-purple hair all ratted and smoothed, and arthritic hands shaking. She smirks at Dean when their eyes meet and he offers her a small salute.

"No problem, Cas. Thanks for the help."

As Castiel walks away, Dean's ashamed to admit his eyes are glued to Castiel's back side.

Class ends shortly after that, and as Dean is shuffling out of the room with the rest of the class Ms. Smith wraps her arm around Dean's and pulls him close. "He has such soft hands, doesn't he?" she says.

Dean rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand. "Uh, yeah. He sure does."

Ms. Smith winks at Dean, and then she's toddling off towards the EXIT.

  Dean actually practices before his next class. He wants to impress Castiel and he feels the only way that's possible is if he becomes a Knitting Jedi.

He makes a little progress, but not much, and by the time the fourth week rolls around, Dean's getting more enjoyment out of listening to Ms. Smith sprout off boisterous pick up lines at Castiel from the back of the room, than he is actually knitting.

Castiel never gives up on him though. He's always there with a concerned furrow of his brow, or a soft smile, encouraging Dean to "Keep trying."

By the fifth week, Dean is done trying. He feels discouraged and like he's wasting Cas' time so by the end of the class, he's made the decision to move on from Singles Knitting, and move on from Castiel.

As his class mates head out of the classroom, Dean remains at the table, staring down at the lumpy piece of work that is his square. Some in the class have moved on to other projects, but not Dean.

"Dean, what's the matter?" The voice comes from above him, gentle, but disquieted.

Dean looks up into Castiel's familiar blue eyes. "I'm not getting better." he grumbles, casting his glance down to the table in front of him.

"It's alright, Dean. Some catch on quicker than others."

"I shoulda just asked you to dinner." Dean mutters with a shake of his head, "Woulda been less humiliating."

"What?"

Dean finally brings his gaze to rest on Castiel's again. "I said, I shoulda just asked you to dinner, after that first Couples Knitting class. It's the only reason I agreed to Singles Knitting in the first place, Cas. Cause I thought you were hot."

"You thought I was-" Castiel stops, pressing a hand to his chest. His expression is unreadable.

"Yeah. And then Jess said you winked at me so I thought maybe you were feeling it too, and-" Dean sighs, "I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry."

Dean moves to stand from his chair, but is stopped by Castiel practically shouting at him, "I did wink at you, Dean!"

"What?" Dean's staring up at Castiel now, his eyes locked on Castiel's.

Castiel nods. "I did. When I invited you to class. I-" he smiles, lopsided and small. "I thought you were attractive too."

"Then what the hell am I doing in fucking knitting class?!" Dean exclaims, a wide grin growing on his face.

Castiel shakes his head, and then he's bending down, gripping handfuls of Dean's shirt and yanking him close until their lips meet. Dean practically squawks into the kiss while his brain tries to catch up, but when it does he stands, never breaking contact with Cas, and cups Castiel's face in his hands, walking him backwards until Cas' back is thudding against the wall.

If Dean thought he could imagine just how good of a kisser Castiel would be by his teaching methods alone, he was very, very wrong. Where Castiel was quiet and patient with his students, he was insistent with his mouth, demanding more, taking more.

Dean's never been so turned on in his life.

When they break apart, both of them breathing hard and clinging to each other with a death grip, Dean smiles.

"You may ask me to dinner now, Dean," Castiel mutters in his quiet-teacher-voice, all traces of the frenzied man he'd been just seconds ago dissipating.

"So you're the dessert first type-a guy, huh, Cas?" Dean asks around a grin.

Castiel shakes his head. "Terrible," he breathes before sealing his mouth over Dean's again.

  After that night Dean does give up on Singles Knitting. He doesn't really see a need for it, after all, when he can get private knitting lessons whenever he wants from his extremely hot and ever patient boyfriend.

When Christmas rolls around Dean proudly presents baby Sunny with a hand knitted Yoda hat, complete with matching booties, courtesy of uncle Cas.

i’m fucking sobbing THIS SHIT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO AFFECT ME FUCJKD