Chapter Text
The night everything changes starts with a broken-down car. Not that Dean knows that anything in particular is starting when Castiel Novak walks into the café he’s bussing tables at and struts towards Dean.
“Uh, can I help you?” Dean asks him.
“I hope so. My car just broke down and I can’t get someone to come look at it tonight, this close to Christmas. Can’t get a tow either. I called my sister and she told me you work here, and might be able to help. I wouldn’t usually do this, but I remember you from high school, obviously, and I remember that you’re good with cars. I really need mine fixed before Christmas.”
“Anna told you to come talk to me?” Dean wouldn’t say he had been friends with Anna throughout high school, but they had been in the same circle. Castiel and Dean had definitely not run in the same circles. Dean didn’t think he and Castiel had exchanged more than a handful of words during their high school years. They’d probably already blown past the previous total with this conversation alone.
“Yes. I don’t mean to be rude, but can you help me or not? I need to arrange something else if you can’t.”
Dean considers it, rubbing at the back of his neck. He always liked Anna back in high school and even though he doesn’t know Castiel particularly well, he decides what the hell, his shift is wrapping up soon anyway. “Okay, I’ll take a look. I finish in thirty; grab a drink and wait for me?” Dean decides to play dumb with his next question, even though he remembers the guy in front of him perfectly well from high school; they shared a bunch of classes together even though they never spoke. “Castiel, right?”
“That’s right,” Castiel says, looking relieved. “Thanks for doing this. I’ll wait over at that table for you.”
Dean gets back to work, slightly distracted by the fact that Castiel Novak is waiting for him. A couple of years at college is definitely looking good on him, Dean can’t help but notice, not that he’s going to explore that line of thought any further.
His shift finishes and he walks over to Castiel’s table.
“Ready?” he asks. Castiel nods and finishes the last of his drink before standing up.
“I’m not parked far from here,” Castiel says as they step out of the café. He lets out a sharp breath as the outside air hits them. “Fuck, it’s cold.”
“You’re telling me,” Dean replies, drawing his coat closer around him. He really isn’t dressed properly for fixing a car, so he hopes it’s an easy fix. He fishes around for a conversation topic as they walk. “Uh, so how’s college?”
“Not bad,” Castiel replies. “This is my first trip back, but I think my siblings would murder me if I didn’t come back for Christmas two years in a row, so here I am. Are you back from college too?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t go to college. I’m actually working for my dad at his garage. The café is just for some extra money.”
“Makes sense,” Castiel says. “This is me here.” Cas’ car is functional, one of those cars that gets you from A to B but lacks any personality. Dean wouldn’t be caught dead driving one, but at least they’re usually easy to fix.
“Great. Pop the hood and I’ll take a look. Hold your phone light so I can see better?” Dean asks. It’s long since dark and the streetlights only do so much.
Castiel quickly pulls out his phone, and Dean gets to looking for the problem before he loses his fingers to frostbite. He finds the issue, and yeah – it’s not something he can fix without any of his tools. He tells Castiel as much and he looks concerned.
“You can’t get it running tonight?”
“Sorry man, but no can do. I can get my dad to come and give you a tow first thing tomorrow to get you up and running before Christmas, though. It’ll be a quick fix, but I can’t do it now.” Dean rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “You got the number for a cab, or…?”
Castiel just looks at him forlornly. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do?”
“Not right now,” Dean says. “I mean, I could give you a lift home, I guess? I’m kind of driving your way – you guys still live in that big place out west?”
“Are you sure?” Castiel asks. “That would be great. I have a bunch of Christmas presents in here and it would be nice not to have to deal with moving them into and out of a cab without help.”
Dean isn’t parked that far away so he tells Castiel he’ll be five minutes and then goes and gets the Impala, rolling his eyes at himself a little as he does so. He’s hopeless – one look from a guy like Castiel and he’s falling over himself to help. Add in the fact that they’ve barely spoken before this and Dean can’t help but feel a little pathetic.
Regardless, he drives the Impala back to Castiel and helps him move his Christmas presents into it.
“I appreciate this,” Castiel says once they’re driving towards his place.
“Honestly, it’s no worries, man,” Dean replies. “You’re not far out of my way.”
They lapse into silence momentarily. Castiel doesn’t seem to be in any rush to fill it, so Dean again searches for a conversational topic, settling on an obvious choice.
“Uh, so what are you studying?”
“Linguistics,” Castiel replies.
“Which is…?”
“In a nutshell, the study of languages,” Cas replies. “And before you ask, no, that doesn’t mean I speak a dozen languages. It’s how we learn language as human beings, and how language shapes how we interact with the world, among other things.”
“Right,” Dean says. “I remember now, you always were pretty smart in high school.”
“I did okay,” Castiel replies. “I have to admit, I noticed…different things about you in high school.”
Dean inhales some of his own spit at how Castiel tells him that, not sure if he’s communicating what Dean thinks he is. He coughs awkwardly, trying to clear his throat. He swears he sees Castiel smirk a little out of the corner of his eye, but by the time Dean recovers enough to check, whatever was on his face has passed and he’s the picture of neutrality.
Mercifully, Dean pulls up to Castiel’s house not long after this interaction and is spared any further awkwardness of having to address it. The house is lit up softly by strings of fairy lights, and Dean can see the blinking lights of a Christmas tree through the windows of a downstairs room.
“Need a hand with the bags?” Dean asks, despite himself.
“Sure,” Castiel replies, already opening his door to step out. Dean follows suit and opens the trunk to start loading up with Castiel’s bags. They manage it all in one trip between the two of them and Dean follows Castiel up the pathway to his front door.
“Anna might be around,” Castiel offers as he puts his bags down to fish out his key from his coat pocket. “Gabriel too, my younger brother, but he usually keeps to his room.”
“No worries,” Dean says. He’s always liked Anna and wouldn’t mind having to make small talk for a few minutes while dumping the bags.
Castiel finally finds his key and lets them in, calling out a greeting as he steps through the door, Dean following close behind. He had visited the house once during high school, when Anna hosted a party that had been shut down when their older brother had come home from work early. That was the first and last time Anna ever hosted and although Dean hadn’t been there for long that night, he thinks it still looks mostly the same, a long hallway branching off into various rooms with a staircase leading to what Dean assumes is the bedrooms.
They hear footsteps approaching from one of the rooms off the hallway and Anna pokes her head out of the doorway.
“Castiel?” she says, then catches sight of Dean behind him. “Dean! I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. Couldn’t fix the car? That would be a first for you, right?” Anna says this along with a smile, letting him know she’s joking. It’s good to see her; although they were never overly close in high school, Dean had always liked her. He’d privately always thought of them as kindred spirits, both the misfits in their wider group of friends.
“Nah, no luck. I’ll have it fixed for Christmas, promise,” Dean replies. “Long time, no see. How are things?”
“Oh, you know how it is. Home for Christmas,” Anna says distractedly, eyes not on Dean but on Castiel, who’s fallen a few steps behind Dean. Dean turns around to see what’s going on and catches the tail end of a facial expression from Castiel that he’s not sure how to decipher. It’s gone before he can think too much about it, Castiel’s features once again schooling themselves into a too obvious blankness.
“Anyway,” Castiel says. “I hate to break up the reunion, but Dean probably has places to be and I don’t want you to see the presents. Dean, would you help me with these up to my room?”
“Sure,” Dean says, feeling confused about Castiel’s expression. He sees Anna roll her eyes towards Castiel with a smirk as he rearranges the bags in his hands. “Lead the way.”
Castiel brushes past him and Anna and starts up the staircase in front of them. Dean smiles apologetically at Anna, who just smiles and winks at him in return as she retreats back into the room she had come out of when they arrived.
Castiel opens the second door on the right once they’re up the stairs and Dean follows him into the room.
Castiel’s room is nice, Dean has to admit. It’s big, way bigger than any bedroom he ever had growing up, probably bigger than some of the living areas he had, if he’s being honest. The walls are a light blue, with various pieces of art pinned to the walls haphazardly. There’s a nightstand stacked with books at the side of Castiel’s bed, and he has one of the windows cracked despite the temperature dropping by the minute. The room is messy, definitely messier than Dean keeps his spaces, but not in a bad way. It’s kind of endearing, Dean thinks, taking in hoodies strewn over a desk chair and coffee mugs piled up around the computer monitor. One in particular catches his eye and he frowns, reading it. It’s a white mug, emblazoned with the phrase, the only ‘straight’ I am is a straight up bitch, the word ‘bitch’ written in block rainbow letters.
Castiel catches him looking at it and flushes slightly, shrugging at Dean.
“It was a gift from Anna,” he says. “She thinks she’s funny.”
“You’re not straight?” Dean asks, in a way that he hopes sounds like he’s unattached to the outcome.
“Uh, no. I thought that was obvious,” Castiel replies. “Although I guess you haven’t seen me since high school.”
“Right,” Dean manages to say, any coherent thoughts exiting his mind.
“Look, if that’s a problem, I can get someone else to look at my car tomorrow,” Castiel says, but Dean waves him off.
“No, it’s not that. It’s, uh...” Dean swallows. “Me too. Me either. Uh, not straight, I mean.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Castiel says, smirking a little like he’s the cat that got the cream. Dean wonders vaguely if he’s the cream. “You know, back in high school, I always thought you were the hottest straight guy in the whole place. Turns out I was only half right.”
Castiel moves towards Dean, taking a few steps but stopping just short of touching. He can tell Castiel wants to come closer, is waiting for a signal that Dean wants that too. Dean can’t help but get turned on when he knows someone wants him and Castiel himself is easy enough on the eyes that Dean’s dick is definitely interested. More than interested, even. He lets his eyes drop to Castiel’s mouth.
“Let’s just say, I had a whole list of things I wanted to do to you,” Castiel continues, eyes darkening as he sees Dean’s interest. “Most of them involved us in the back seat of your car. This’ll work though. Let me say thanks for the ride home and the help with my car?”
With that, Castiel breaches the last bit of space between them, putting his hands on Dean’s belt but not unbuckling it yet, clearly waiting for Dean’s answer. Dean’s brain is currently short circuiting, making answering a little difficult. He’s had guys pick him up before in the bars he sneaks into; hell, he’s even picked up a few himself. But no one’s been as confident as Castiel. He’s well and truly shooting his shot. Dean respects that. His dick really respects it. He swallows hard, trying to make words, any words, form in his mind.
“Uh, wait, wait,” Dean says. Castiel’s hands immediately draw back from his belt. “No, uh, you can…do whatever you were going to do. But not to thank me, that feels weird. Only if you actually want to.”
“I definitely want to,” Castiel says, his voice dropping lower as his hands reattach themselves to Dean’s belt. He walks Dean backwards and pushes him down lightly until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “I thought the ‘thank you’ line would be hot.” Castiel’s voice rises at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question.
“It was, don’t get me wrong,” Dean says. “Just not my thing. I like the people I sleep with to actually want to be there, not thinking they owe me something.”
“I definitely want to be here,” Castiel says, unbuckling Dean’s belt.
Dean stands up briefly to get his jeans off. They fall to his ankles in a crumpled pile and he steps out of them to sit back down on the bed. He shucks his jumper and shirt off for good measure, throwing them into a pile with his jeans. Dean sits back down and Castiel immediately drops to his knees in front of Dean, pushing his knees apart as he does so.
“Can I…?” Castiel asks, pointing at his own mouth as if Dean wasn’t already getting the picture. All Dean’s blood rushes south, or at least that’s how it feels. He feels his cock harden even more than it already is and he lets out a shaky laugh.
“Go for it,” he manages. He aims for cool, calm, and collected, but he thinks it lands as more choked than anything else.
Castiel gets his hands in Dean’s briefs without needing to be told twice. He brings Dean’s cock out, giving it a few pumps to make sure Dean’s well and truly ready. Dean lets himself fall back against the mattress as Castiel works on him, a small groan escaping his lips. This seems to embolden Castiel and before Dean knows it, his mouth is on Dean’s cock and all he can think is, thank god he’s already lying down.
“Feels so good,” Dean murmurs, and Castiel hums in approval around Dean’s dick. Long, deep pulls of Dean’s dick have him gasping for breath in a surprisingly short amount of time. It’s not long before he’s fisting his hands in the sheets, trying not to thrust his hips up into Castiel’s mouth. His tongue is doing something unspeakably good to Dean’s dick, his mouth tight around him.
Castiel seems to sense he’s getting close and speeds up his pulls of Dean’s dick, his mouth working on Dean just the way he likes it.
“Cas, Cas,” Dean gasps, the nickname slipping out of Dean’s mouth without thought. “’m close.”
Cas hums his acknowledgement and gives Dean’s dick one long, final pull with his mouth and pops off Dean’s dick just before he comes. Dean spills onto his stomach with a groan, bursts of white flaring behind his eyelids as he does so. As he returns to his body, he props himself up on his elbows and looks down at Cas who’s still kneeling between his legs, smirking at him. Yeah, Dean thinks, he’s definitely the cream.
“Jesus Christ,” he says, his breathing still struggling to return to normal. “You do this often?”
“No,” Cas replies. “Only to guys I fantasized about in high school. And considering you’re the only one who ever made that list, you do the math.”
Dean grins, the knowledge that he’s some kind of conquest for Cas filling him with an odd sense of pride, as messed up as that is.
“Let me get you something to clean up with,” Cas says, rising to his feet. He reaches around Dean for the dresser behind them and manages to snag a box of tissues that he places in Dean’s general vicinity. Dean takes the opportunity to clean up his stomach and then throws the used tissues at the bin near Cas’ bed, leaning back on his elbows to look at Cas.
“Can I return the favour?” Dean asks and Cas looks at him, surprised.
“You don’t have to, I wasn’t expecting –”
“Nah man, it’s the least I can do,” Dean replies, trying to play it cool. He remembers his own rule, actually wanting to have sex, not just as a favour. “Besides, you weren’t the only one with a crush in high school, you know.”
“Is that so?” Cas asks, smirking.
“Absolutely,” Dean says, and hey, it’s mostly true even if he didn’t fully realise it at the time. A retroactive crush is a thing, right?
He snaps back into focus at the sound of Cas’ belt unbuckling, and oh yeah, this is definitely happening. Dean sits up properly on the edge of the bed, Cas standing in front of him, his cock obviously hard through his underwear and his jeans now a puddle around his feet. Dean reaches forward to palm at Cas’ dick with one hand, his mouth following closely behind as he works on Cas’ cock through his underwear. Cas lets out a soft moan which only encourages Dean to mouth at his cock even more.
In what feels like no time at all, Cas’ briefs are damp with some mixture of precome and saliva and Dean thinks he better move things onto the next course. He gets his hand inside Cas’ briefs and draws his cock out, giving it a few lazy pumps with his hand. Cas groans from where he’s standing in front of Dean, his hips canting slightly towards Dean’s hand. Dean leans forward and takes Cas inside his mouth, wrapping his lips around Cas’ cock that’s more than ready for him.
Dean hears Cas let out a litany of curses above him which only serve to encourage him more. He starts working on Cas’ cock in earnest now, getting his tongue involved and bobbing his head vigorously back and forth. He knows he’s good at this, been told a few times before now how good he is, and he wants to make it good for Cas. Before long, Cas is tugging at his hair.
“Gonna, gonna come, Dean,” Cas says and Dean knows he’s giving him the chance to pull off before he does. Instead, Dean takes him as deep as he can manage and with a choked groan Cas is coming in his mouth, down his throat. Dean pops off Cas’ cock, swallowing the last remnants of come and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand for any that escaped.
“Not bad, Winchester,” Cas says. Dean rolls his eyes as Cas zips his jeans back up.
“Not bad yourself,” Dean replies, meeting Cas’ cocky grin with one of his own. “I swallowed though.”
“There’s always next time,” Cas says.
“Next time, huh? Was I that good?” Dean smirks at Cas, knowing he’s just gained an upper hand in this conversational spar.
“Let’s see, shall we?” Cas replies and okay, maybe he doesn’t have the upper hand here.
“I should go,” Dean says. “As fun as this was.”
“It’s not every day you get to live out a high school fantasy,” Cas agrees. “Thanks for the help with my car.”
“No problem,” Dean replies. A thought occurs to him. “Oh, it won’t be my dad’s place calling you tomorrow for the repair, I’ll get our friend Bobby to do it. His guys are great too, they’ll get you running again, no problem.”
“Okay,” Cas says, looking confused.
“Don’t think I could keep my hands off you if you came in,” Dean says. It’s true, but it’s not the real reason he doesn’t want Cas to come to the garage. It’s just, he could live without his gay one-night stand being in the same building as his dad at any point, ever. He’s not exactly ready to have a conversation about his sexuality with his dad until it’s well and truly necessary, and maybe not even then.
Cas grins at him and Dean thinks about round two for a moment before his better (or worse) judgement gets the better of him.
“Enjoy your break,” he says, shucking his coat back on. “Seriously, this was fun.”
“Merry Christmas, Dean.”
“Yeah, you too, man,” Dean says, turning tail out of Cas’ room.
Dean sees himself out and yeah, Merry Christmas to him - that’s for damn sure.