PLease enjoy. I wrote this when i got bored and it was an idea that was a jerk and wouldn't leave my head. So there.

Those frickin plot bunnies are like, evol.

With an O!

Oh and the Russian is from google translate! So look there if you wanna know what Cas is saying and what Gabe is saying.



Oh and i don't own Supernatural, although that's on my Bucket List!

The Universal Language of Love

When Dean had opened his apartment door to find a sticky note attached to the other side, he didn't know what to think. When he read it though, it sort of explained everything.

While he was on tour, his baby brother had rented out his apartment to someone.

The note said that it was a good guy and that he always paid his rent on time and it said that if Dean wasn't fond of the idea of a roommate, that Sam could always kick the guy out.

But Dean couldn't do that. And besides, he didn't even know the guy yet, so why judge?

Dean walked into the rest of the apartment, throwing his duffle onto the kitchen counter. Serving four years in Iraq was pretty trying on the body and mind, but what it did to the soul was unimaginable unless it was happening to you.

Dean decided to see where it was the guy was sleeping and whether he was couched tonight. Turns out, he wasn't. Stretched out the full length of the couch like a cat, was a man. He seemed to be no more than a few years older than Dean. He was slight of build, but you could see muscle bulging beneath the skin. His hair was dark and tousled, in a million different directions and his plump lips were parted slightly as he breathed.

All in all, Dean was sure that Sam had just given him something very pretty to look at.

Dean sighed, not having the heart to wake him up and scope him out. It was only three in the morning. Not that Dean was planning on sleeping anytime soon. Not after what he had been through, not after what he had seen…

Dean woke up to fierce light in his eyes and a warm bed around him. The nightmares that haunted him in the dead of sleep were shed as he got out of bed and froze. Was that… breakfast he smelled?

No, it was definitely eggs and bacon. The hell?

Dean, in nothing but a pair of boxers, made his way out of his room and into the kitchen. As he passed the couch, he noticed it was empty. Upon entering the kitchen, Dean was met with a back that was clothed in bright blue, legs that were covered in soft cotton bottoms and a head full of bed hair. He looked kind of nice from back here.

And then, the stranger, whom he assumed was the man asleep on the couch the night before, turned around and Dean-

Was hit by a tidal wave. The azure eyes that were staring back at him were enough to take his breath away and make him gasp wildly about like a fish out of water. Dean wasn't ashamed to admit that he was not straight; in the army, it was a strict don't ask, don't tell sort of thing, but man was this stranger sure making him feel funny in the head.

The man blinked and went back to cooking whatever it was that he was cooking and Dean didn't know what to do but sit down and let him. After a few minutes, he noticed that his duffel was gone and that the washer and dryer were going.

He was doing Dean's laundry?

"Um… hey. I'm- I'm Dean. Dean Winchester," Dean offered.

The stranger only turned and when he did, his brow was creased and he had his head tilted to the side in confusion. And man did he look fucking adorable. Dean gave the man a second, but then, he just turned right back around and went back to cooking, not even bothering to answer.

"I-uh… used to live here, before you. My brother, Sam, he rented it out to you. Hello?" Dean stared in amazement as he ignored him. "Can you talk?" No answer. "Dude, if you're gonna be my roommate, you gotta tell me something."

There was no answer.

Breakfast was quiet, since Dean's new roommate saw it fit to remain so and Dean had given up after the first ten minutes of getting ignored. The food was awesome, something that he knew he missed, this home cooked meal, and it just felt right that he was eating it now, even if it was with a stranger.

He put his plate away, turned around and tried to talk to the man again when he was finished. "Hey, man, say something?" he asked.

He got a blank, blue-eyed stare.

Dean sighed and made his way to his room, where his drawers were filled with old clothes of his so that he was wondering where the guy in the next room was keeping all of his. He changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, something he hadn't worn in over four years and walked out of his room to find the man already dressed in jeans and a button up thermal of his own, rolled up to the elbows and looking pretty good.

But Dean had morals. He was not going to flirt with his roommate. For all he knew, the guy was straight or married or not interested in people period.

After all, he wasn't talking.

Instead of confronting the man, who was on the couch again, reading something, Dean just slumped to the floor outside his door. He had a headache again and that never meant anything good.

And he couldn't help but get carried away by the river of broken memories threatening to crush him whenever he closed his eyes…

Ash was always first.

The stupid guy was a genius with a mullet and as far as Dean was concerned it was all the mullets' doing. Of course, the army let it go, that Ash's hair was as long as the Great Wall of China, since the guy could hack their enemies systems in a matter of hours when it would've taken anyone else a month.

And then Ash had been asked to go on an air strike, get past their radar so they could attack. And Ash had gone.

And Dean had watched from afar as his friend's first failure was his last and the plane was gunned down and exploded, the shockwave felt from over a mile away.

Pamela was usually next to flicker by in his head. With her dark hair and eyes and that no nonsense attitude, she was the girl that all the men wanted on their bomb-squad. Of course, she was on Dean's team, and he was damn lucky too. Until she took too long and the thing exploded in her face. He couldn't forget the look of surprise frozen on hers when they found her, her eyes bleeding and empty, her face scorch marked, pieces of shrapnel embedded in her brain.

Dead, just like Ash.

Because Dean hadn't been there.

Bobby tortured him worse than Ash and Pamela put together, though. Because Bobby was still alive. He was changed though. And a few shots to the spine and stab through the stomach could do that to a man. Dean still remembered Bobby's face as he was discharged. They'd slapped a purple heart to the guy's chest, but no badge of honor or bravery was going to get the man his legs back. It wasn't even like one of them was gone, or hell both of them. it would have been better if that were the case, easier. But no, Bobby was just paralyzed, forever able to see the appendages that refused to move.

There were Ellen and Joe Harvelle. Bill Harvelle had died in service years prior, prompting his wife and child to join. And then, they had been trapped, with only minutes left to go, Jo barely alive, Ellen refusing to leave the place without lighting it up like the Fourth of July. By the time Ellen had shoved Dean out to freedom, Jo was no longer moving and Ellen's hand was on the button.

Seconds later, along with over fifty of the enemy, Ellen and Joe had gone up in flames.

And then there was his father. God, he couldn't even…

John had served with him, was the reason Dean had even decided to serve. To be like his dad. How could he have known that he would be the death of him? When John had yelled and Dean had been shoved aside on the field, the last thing he expected was to see John's dead face staring back at him when he looked over his shoulder, a million shots from an automatic sunk into his chest.

Dean hadn't even blinked when he had shot the receding assailant. The best they had gotten from his father's killer was that his name was Azazel and that he was the right hand man of Public Enemy Number 1: Alistair.

Dean hadn't made it to the funeral, unable to face his little brother and the blame he felt was owed to him.

And then, of course, Dean had been captured and tortured for four months. It mind as well have been forty years for all the mercy Alistair showed him. He shivered even now at the memory of dark and dirty blades cutting him to pieces, of drugs being pumped into his body, trying to force him to talk, Dean refusing, even as vessels in his body popped and exploded from the effort.

And then, Alistair had tried out an experimental drug on him, one that forced the drugged to do as he was told… no matter what it was.

Dean cringed even now remembering whom he tortured under Alistair's direction. It wasn't even his own comrades, but Alistair's own men, the ones that disappointed him or betrayed him. And no matter how Dean tried to go against it, he couldn't without killing himself and Alistair wouldn't let that happen.

Dean had been rescued after only one month of torturing. He was not held accountable for anything he had done. In fact it was all classified and after Dean told them everything he knew, all the information he had gathered despite his situation, he turned in his papers and went home, extracting himself from the army.

He still had to call Bobby, as he had promised the older man he would when he got home for good. He still tried not to fall asleep, failed and was tortured by these dreams. He still hated himself, thought he was not worthy of being rescued and given a second chance, the chance no one else he cared about that got killed got.

Dean wrenched his eyes open, unable to endure the pain that had been building in his chest at the thoughts of his fallen comrades, his family, any longer.

And he came face to face with those azure eyes that made his heart stutter a little.

The man was right in his face, studying Dean like he was an unknown specimen. And although Dean didn't mind, he needed space right now. "Personal space man?" he said, his voice unexpectedly rough, making the man sit back and scoot away, a surprised look on his face.

And then he just stared.

Dean couldn't focus on anything, his head spinning, so he zeroed in on the man's sapphire eyes and stared right on back.

They stared for a while, blinking when they needed to, neither actually thinking, but getting lost in the others eyes and just exploring what they could find out about each other just by looking into their eyes.

Dean felt this inexplicable calm settle over him, one that he hadn't felt in forever, not since he was young and carefree and God-honest innocent. He liked it, liked that this stranger could make him fee like that. He contemplated saying something, maybe break the stare but… no, he liked it. It was good.

They were just staring and staring and staring and blinking and staring and staring and blinking and staring and-


Embarrassingly, Dean actually jumped and cursed as the loud noise shattered his quiet sanctuary. The man only blinked again and stared a little more before his eyes flicked to the phone in an apparent 'get the phone, it's your house'.

Dean sighed and actually got up, kinda angry that a bomb going off wouldn't have fazed him but the phone ringing in the dead of silence had scared him shitless and made him jump.

He walked over to the phone and answered with a raspy, "Hello?"

He glanced at the clock, to see just how long they had been staring and was surprised when he did the math and came up close to two hours.

Holy shit.

"Dean? Oh my God, Dean, you're home!"

"Sammy?" Dean asked, gripping the phone tighter, not sure if he was ready to talk to his brother.

"Dean," he said in apparent relief. "God I heard you got in, but… you didn't call and I-I was worried. Don't do that man. When you get home, you call me."

Dean snorted. Same old Sam. Maybe he was ready for this. "Thanks Samantha. Did you get all the letters I wrote to you about the afternoons of love and how much I was thinking about you? Are you going to come over so that we can have a teary heartfelt reunion and cry and go over baby pictures?"

Dean could feel his eye-roll through the phone. "Let me guess, Bitchface #1 'You're A Jerk'?"

Sam sputtered and then, burst out into laughter. Dean made a weird face and looked to the man on the floor, still watching him and made a crazy motion around his head, pointing to the phone. He seemed to understand this one and his lips twitched in a ghost of a smile.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, a little worried when he hadn't stopped.

"Dude, its either I break down in tears or I laugh. I went with laughing." He heard Sam sigh and swallow. And Dean was grateful. "So, have you met Castiel?"

Dean raised an eye brow. "I'm gonna take it that that's blue eyed and silent, yes?"

Sam laughed and it was less hysterical. "That would be Mr. Novak."

"What the hell kind of name is Novak?"

"Russian, I think. Or I'm assuming," Sam answered.


"Dean, notice how he doesn't talk?" Sam said.

"Yeah," Dean answered.

"Its not that he can't. He just… doesn't speak English."

Dean froze and looked at the man who still staring at him innocently. "What language does he speak then?"

"Russian. Hence the assumption on his name."

"Sammy, you rented out my apartment to a guy who doesn't speak English? The hell?"

"Hey!" Sam protested, "he had a translator. As of yesterday. Now- Hey, would you stop! I'm trying to talk to him seriously." A beat and then, "Aw, babe don't look at me like that." A whisper of Sam's lips pressing to someone else's.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and concentrated until he could hear that there was someone in the background, making Sam giggle like a schoolgirl. "Sammy," Dean said, smirking, "Where are you?"

And then, like the little bitch he was, Sammy panicked. "Home… in bed, why?"

"With who?" Dean asked, trying not to laugh and getting a weird look from Castiel.

"N-no one." There was a sound of a smack as whoever was there hit his brother in reprimand. "Someone…" Sammy then conceded.

"Tell me, how long has my roommate been here and how long has his translator had you whipped?"

Sam then mumbled, "Castiel has been here for about a year and his… translator and I have been in a relationship about the same time, give or take a day or two. Are you happy?"

Dean would have answered, except the answer was not directed at him, since he heard a muffled, "Yeah, babe," in the background.

Dean laughed openly, getting an even stranger look from the now named Castiel. "You, me, the translator and Cas, dinner at the Roadhouse," which was now run by Bobby. "We'll give the old man a run for his money when he sees me. And no worries, I can deal with Cas. I know a little Russian here and there. I picked it up on the way. Goodbye, little brother."

And then he hung up before Sam could protest.

He turned back to Castiel and said, "So, you're Castiel?"

And he responded with, "YA Kastiel'."

So… he lied. He had no idea what he had just said.


The afternoon was filled with hand motions and head-nods. The hand motions from Dean, the head-nods from Castiel. Dean would motion about something with his hands and Castiel would nod if he understood; it seemed to be some unspoken understanding.

Sometimes though, the blue-eyed Novak would try and speak. Hilarity almost always ensued.

"Chto eto za shou?" Castiel had asked while they were watching Dr. Sexy MD.

And Dean had just stared and said, "What?"

Castiel had blinked imploringly and then sighed and said the same thing, slower this time. Dean shook his head, implying that he had no idea what he was saying. And then, Castiel had motioned toward the TV with his head and comprehension had flooded Dean.

"What are we watching? Is that what you mean?" He had pointed to the show and then to the title and Castiel had actually smiled, his plump, red lips stretching across him mouth, his smile all toothy and gummy.

And inconsequentially, the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

Then there'd been the time where Dean was hungry and his stomach had growled quite obnoxiously. Castiel had looked at him and tried, "Vy golodny?"

Dean rubbed his brow. What was he saying? "Um… mind throwing in a few hand gestures there?" he said and then shook his head in an 'I don't understand' motion when Castiel didn't understand what was being said.

And then Castiel had gone ahead and bit his lip, dragging it between his pearly white teeth slowly and tantalizing and then licked his lips. He looked Dean in the eyes and slowly, almost sensually rubbed his stomach. Dean's eyes had widened until he was filled with comprehension that Castiel was wondering if he was hungry.

"Yes," he said nodding and rubbing his stomach. "Yes. Hungry."

But, as it turned out, Castiel didn't need that much information and was on his feet in seconds. Stretching. Dean felt like a pervert as he watched Castiel's lithe body arch backwards, releasing the tension in his back from sitting for two hours watching in confusion as Dean drooled over reruns of Dr. Sexy. He tried, unsuccessfully, to look away when the hem of Castiel's shirt rode up and a wide expanse of toned belly flesh appeared, Castiel's navel cute and buttony.

And Dean had officially lost it. He'd called someone's belly-button cute.

But it was, he reasoned with himself as he followed Castiel's silent figure into the kitchen.

There had been that other time, once they were in the kitchen and it was evident that Castiel was going to whip them up a little snack and did not want help. So Dean had sat around until he couldn't and got up to get a beer.

And, you know, knocked into Castiel, making the Russian burst out with, "Syn suka! Syn suka!" as spices went flying to the floor.

And Dean had immediately apologized and went to his knees to pick up the spices. Castiel had sighed wearily and bent down to help and as they both reached for the same bottle, their fingers brushed. Dean's eyes had pathetically widened in alarm and shock as a spark travelled through his arm and throughout his body, almost making him groan. Castiel's eyes had just gotten slightly bigger and he had looked at Dean and his face had seemed to say 'did you feel that too?'

Dean knew he was probably not expecting an answer, but he nodded anyway and Castiel sat back on his haunches in surprise.

And they were caught in another fit of staring.

They had stayed quiet the rest of the day after that. And if Dean brushed past Castiel more than he necessarily had to, then… well no one but him needed to really know the truth of that, now did they?

At around seven o'clock, there was a knock at the door. Dean and Castiel were caught in another fit of staring when it came and Dean was still the only one who jumped. He went to go answer the door, leaving Castiel with a dashing Winchester Brand smile and opened the door on a very unexpected sight.

There was his Sammy, almost past 6'4". And standing next to him, at an unimpressive 5'5" was a man. He had light brown hair that was curling at his neck and expressive nutmeg eyes. And there was something in the way that he was smiling that unnerved Dean a little.

And he looked a little familiar.


"Dean Winchester, right?" the guy said. He quirked an eyebrow at Sam and said, "Well Sammy-Boy, he's… not what I expected. He's kind of short, compared to you."

Dean bit back the customary response of, 'and who are you to be talking pip-squeak?' and looked at Sam as the guy just pushed his way past Dean and into the apartment. "Who the hell was Napoleon Bonaparte over there?" he spat, venom in his voice.

"That's Castiel's-" Sam got cut off as they heard a squeal from inside. Dean spun around and Sam followed him into the kitchen to find Castiel being attacked in a hug by the smaller man, who was still an inch or two shorter than Castiel, who was shorter than Dean.

"That's Gabriel Novak," Sam said wearily, but almost affectionately.

But Dean wasn't paying attention. All he saw were two happy men hugging. With the same last name. It hadn't occurred to him that Castiel actually might me committed to another male, never mind married to one.

And Dean guessed that maybe Castiel liked it that Gabriel was shorter than him and easy to reach, easier to dominate and nice to hold all tucked next to you in bed, and hold tight to your chest, that Gabriel was a cuddling sort of short guy.

And those thoughts were just making him sick and depressed. He suddenly had lost his appetite. "Know what Sammy? I don't think I'm up to the Roadhouse today. Why don't you just take the Novaks instead?"

Sam looked slightly horrified. "What? And have them speaking fluent Russian the whole time? Hell no. Not that Gabe would ignore me, but when it comes to Castiel, he pays attention."

And there went his none-existent appetite. "Yeah. I'm definitely not for it," Dean said again as the two men parted and started to speak in Russian. Gabe looked over at him a few times as Dean even saw Castiel point. No doubt he was telling his partner how a stupid American was hitting on him.

Dean started heading to his room then, when someone grabbed his arm. It was Castiel himself. And the look on his face was far from happy. He looked quite upset actually and he stared imploringly at Dean: 'where are you going?'

"I'm not up for it Cas," he said and cringed. He's unconsciously given the Russian a nick-name. Great.

Castiel tipped his head to the side as Gabriel rambled off what must have been a translation in Russian. Then those big blue eyes got wide and a little worried. He said something in Russian and then Dean heard Gabe say, "He wants to know if you're feeling sick." There was a smug tone to it and it made Dean's stomach clench.

"Nah, buddy, I'm fine. Seriously Cas," Dean responded.

Gabriel translated and that's when Dean noticed: Gabriel was translating. For Castiel. And he had walked in with Sam. And called him 'Sammy-Boy'.

Ok. He was missing a puzzle piece.

He put a hand to Cas's shoulder and the man's face brightened inexplicably. "I'm gonna talk to Sam. See you in a minute?" Gabriel translated and Castiel nodded, his eyes a little confused.

So was Sam apparently. Dean grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him into his room. "Is that or is that not Castiel's partner?" he asked his brother right off the bat. Things weren't making sense. If they were partners, why had it been only Castiel living here and why was Gabriel's last name the same if they weren't? And who the hell was Sam dating, since Gabriel was a man? Was there a different translator?

"What?" Sam said, looking disgusting. "Talk about incest, dude. NO!"

"Incest?" Dean asked weakly. Ooops.

"Yes," Sam responded. "They're brothers. Gabe has been in the states since he was little and moved with his mother. Castiel was still in Russian until last year when he came down. Gabriel… translates for him." The last part seemed rushed and Sam was not looking at Dean.

And then it all just clicked for Dean. "You're gay," he said to Sam.

His little brother sighed. "I thought I was bisexual for a while but then… then Castiel wanted to rent out your apartment and Gabriel came along and then… that just was not true." He peeked up at Dean.

But Dean was speechless. "Dude, you actually… love this guy?" Ok, speechless for about five minutes.

Sam nodded. "Yeah Dean. I've been with him for a year and counting. We've already moved in together. He's pretty amazing."

"That was him that smacked you and was making you laugh this morning?" Dean asked, wanting positive clarification.

"Yes," Sam said exasperated. "Yes."

Well. He was making Sam happy and that was all that Dean was worried about. So if that wasn't a problem, that still left the old question of: was Castiel interested in men?

Some things just never got answered.

One question had to be answered though, before they left… "How old are they?" Dean asked.

Sam made a face. "Gabriel is 37 and Castiel 36. Why?"

"Dude, you're what, 28? The guy is almost a decade older than you! And he's the oldest and the shortest guy in the house." Not that Dean was complaining. Age was just a number.

Sam knew it too. "Dean, I kinda think it doesn't matter, as long as we love each other so, yeah. I'm gonna go with 'do not care' on this one." He scowled. "And anyway, Castiel is four years older than you."

Dean felt his face heat. "So?"

Sam smirked. "Dude. You are so obvious. Do you not see the way you stare at him? And when you touched his shoulder, the guy looked like he was gonna melt. Damn, I leave you with him alone for one day and you go off and get infatuated with each other!"

Dean could only mumble, "S'not my fault you chose the sexy guy for a tenant. Stupid, gorgeous blue eyes."

Sam laughed. Damn his brother was thick. "So, you back on the horse, big brother? Or are you gonna stay home and mope and give Castiel out there a heart attack because he's way too worried?"

Dean shoved Sam on his way out his bedroom door and let himself have a small smile. If Sam thought that maybe Castiel was interested in Dean then there had to be a chance; his brother wasn't becoming a lawyer for nothing, he could read people.

They walked into the kitchen to find Gabe and Castiel have a hushed conversation. But the second Dean was in the room, Castiel's attention and focus was on him.

"Hey Cas," Dean said, smiling a little at the small one that lit up Castiel's own face.

Gabriel whistled at that. "Damn. Well I'll be. No one's made the stiff smile like that in a while." He shoved Castiel and said the same in Russian, making the man uncharacteristically blush and send him a death glare.

Dean felt like this was going to be an awesome night.

The Roadhouse wasn't that full, but still, it could be said that it was a good business night. The Winchesters and Novaks were in the back, next to the jukebox that was playing some AC/DC and making Dean rock his head back and forth. Castiel tilted his head and Dean just nodded to the jukebox and understanding flashed into the younger Novaks eyes.

Dean liked the song.

Not that Castiel had a clue what was being sung at all, but the instrumentals were loud and harsh and seemed like the thing that Dean would like to listen to. Castiel had to admit that it wasn't that bad either.

He looked to Gabriel who was staring at Sam Winchester, his landlord for the past year, with a loving look in his eye. Sure his brother wasn't big on being sappy and was probably a dick most of the time, but he did love and Samuel Winchester was the head of that committee.

He remembered when Gabe had first told him he was dating his landlord. Castiel had thought it was just a fling. Until they moved in together. And then he started taking his brother's relationship seriously.

And now he knew his brother was absolutely in love with the young man.

Castiel had been telling Gabriel about Dean when Dean and Sam had mysteriously disappeared. He'd told him about how Dean would talk in his sleep, how last night, he'd had a nightmare that woke Castiel. He shyly told him how he'd massaged Dean's temples until he had calmed down and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

And Gabriel had told him that that was not his idea of foreplay, but that it was sweet and Castiel had thwacked him. He told Gabriel of his attraction toward Dean, but how it was very hard to communicate with him. He softly told him of the jolt he had felt when their palms had touched and how they stared at each other unendingly sometimes and didn't notice the time. He old him how he liked Dean's personality, but that there was something that he wasn't telling anyone, was harboring.

And Castiel desperately wanted to know what they were because they were killing Dean, slowly.

Gabriel had told him that he might want to take a class, English As A Second Language, that it would help. But Castiel had blatantly refused. Until the Roadhouse.

Dean had been talking to Sam and occasionally to Gabriel and frequently to Castiel with Gabriel's help when an exceptionally beautiful waitress had walked by and caught sight of the man-filled table. She tried flirting with Sam, but he was neutral, his eyes on Gabe. Gabe had discreetly dissed her and looked at Sam a cheesy smile on his face.

But then, she had started speaking to Dean and although Castiel could not understand what was being said, he saw that sly smile on Dean's face, those eyes shining, the woman leaning over, so that maybe Dean could get a peek down her shirt. He'd seen her get too close for comfort, but Dean hadn't pushed away, seen her slip her number into Dean's pocket, sneaky and sly, but obvious to everyone at the table.

And then, she'd given him a peck on the cheek and whispered something in his ear that had made Dean smile a little and look contemplative. She said something else and he nodded and then she got up and left, her ass swinging in an exaggerated manner and Dean had winked, ok winked, when she had turned around.

And Castiel's blood had boiled. He was pursuing Dean, not some snot-nosed bitch who looked fresh out of high school and the strip-club up the road, who probably wanted a one night stand with Dean and not an actual relationship, like Castiel did.

So he had excused himself through Gabriel and went into the bathroom where he proceeded to punch a wall and smack his head into a stall door. He felt better after that and making his way out, he saw Dean crumpling up the napkin the woman had given him and throwing it out with his plate, as another waitress came and cleared out the table.

Well wasn't that interesting.

Before Castiel could come back though, an older man came by in a wheel chair and right up to their table. He started talking to the Winchesters, especially Dean. He was happily smiling and such and he turned to Dean and spoke with him in detail. He then gestured to the empty seat and that's when Castiel noticed that Dean wasn't as relaxed as he seemed. He was nervous and worried and antsy. And he was looking around.

Who was he looking for?

Castiel's question was answered when Dean's eyes fell on him and relief washed over his face. Dean unexpectedly got up and walked over to Castiel, throwing an arm over his shoulders and walking him back to the table where he returned the Novak to the seat beside him. The man spoke and then, he heard Gabriel's translation. The man's name was Bobby. He was in the service with Dean, since yes, Castiel knew all about Dean and the army and was very glad he wasn't there anymore.

Castiel responded with, "Privet Bobbi. Ochen' priyatno."

"He said, Hello Bobby. Nice to meet you," Gabriel translated and Bobby answered, "Nice to meet you too."

Gabriel informed Castiel of this and the younger Novak nodded. And then, when Dean and Sam and Bobby were entangled in a conversation that was making Gabriel grin, Castiel whispered to his brother in Russian, "YA hochu, chtoby nauchitʹsya govoritʹ na angliĭskom yazyke."

I want to learn how to speak English.

And for some weird reason, that made Gabriel smile even more as he responded with, "Rechʹ idet o vremeni."

It's about time.

Gabriel was smiling about something and talking to Castiel and Dean was just dying to know what, but Bobby was on his case about the Novak already, so he had to focus on one thing at a time.

"So he's smitten over him?" Bobby asked, talking to Sam.

Sam chortled. "Oh yeah. They stared at each other the whole ride here. I was afraid we were going to crash, what with Dean driving and Castiel riding shotgun. Gabe was literally in stitches."

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but he knew it was useless. He couldn't lie to his surrogate father and brother. Although, looking at Bobby made him feel he owed the man something.

"Well, don't screw it up, you idjit," Bobby then said. "He seems like a nice guy."

And Dean was going to hold himself to that. He was not going to screw it up with Castiel.

With Cas.

Dean tossed and turned. Blood. Torture. Screams. Innocent people he was killing, no people who had sinned that needed to be punished. People he was punishing on the rack. It felt good and he felt powerful.


He was not a monster.

And yet, Dean couldn't stop as the blade come closer and closer to that ivory neck, the flesh about to be tied with a red ribbon of blood.

Castiel's neck.

Castiel's screams of horror.

Castiel's death…

Dean shot up in bed. It had been a month since he got back and still the nightmares were there. It was a horrible mix of truth and lies, of the present and the past and Dean just wanted it to end.

His head pounding, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. Just to find that he was not alone. Sitting at the foot of the bed, looking worried and slightly shaken, was Castiel. He and Dean had come up with a sign language system that it seemed only they could understand.

Castiel was using it now.

He silently reached over and his fingers fluttered over Dean's lips and throat indicating that Dean had been screaming in his sleep. He then tapped his temple, representing a nightmare or dream.

Dean loved this language of theirs. It involved a lot of touching.

Dean nodded in response to the question that was not asked with words. He nodded, that yes it was a dream and he put a hand over his heart, indicating that yes, it had scared him.

Castiel nodded slowly and got a little closer on the bed to him. He blinked and bit his lip and Dean repressed the moan that was begging to come out. But no. He promised himself and hell, he promised Bobby that he was not going to screw this up with Cas. He was going to take it slow.

Castiel put a hand to Dean's shoulder, indicating that he wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how. He actually looked frustrated and Dean spoke into the silence. "Hey, its ok, Cas. I'm fine." He pointed to his forehead, then the center of his chest; their sign for wellbeing.

Castiel scowled and the look on his face said it all; that he wasn't buying that 'fine' crap. Castiel crossed his arms and scowled even deeper at Dean, making him laugh and Castiel's face soften in the moonlight. He gave him this face, this face that screamed 'are you really alright?' and Dean nodded.

Castiel was far from satisfied, but… if Dean really wanted to be left alone, Dean knew he would leave. But the truth was that he obviously wasn't fine and that he wanted Castiel to stay, even if it was only as a friend, on top of the sheets.

He didn't want to be alone, but Dean didn't want to be with just anybody. He wanted to be with Cas.

"Um… Cas," he said, as Castiel froze in the door way. The other man turned, recognizing his nick-name. The Russian would scowl if anyone other than his roommate used it and that made Dean feel good. "You can… stay. If you want."

He waited in silence as he realized he had to do the motions for Castiel to understand what was going on. He patted the bed beside him and pointed at Castiel then spread his hands: their motion for stay.

Castiel looked surprised. Dean didn't want him to feel weirded out or pressured, so he made the sign for 'uncomfortable' and made a question. But the Russian shook his head, a small smile on his face and slipped into the other side of the bed.

Dean could feel his heart beating as he felt Castiel shift a little closer to him and Dean felt the heat of his body pressed to his back. The bed was a small one, not quite a full, not quite a twin. If was a stretch to fit two people in there, but they managed.

And for the first night in a long time, Dean didn't have a nightmare.

Dean woke up the next morning. Castiel was still on his side of the bed and-

Oh. My. God.

Castiel's hair was horribly mussed and it only made him look smoking hot. His plump, red mouth was open in a small 'o', the tiniest line of drool making it out of the corner of his mouth. Dean thought of how hot it would be just to lick it off, when he noticed something very embarrassing.

He was… hard.


Castiel started to shift then, shifted until he was on his side and opened his eyes and hit Dean with so much blue that the older Winchester swore he was drowning. The Novak blinked a few times until his vision was clear and then he smiled and not only did Dean's heart stutter but so did his….you know.

Of course, Castiel was innocent and pure and Dean remembered a conversation that they had all had with Gabe and Sam and Gabe had been teasing Cas in Russian how he was still a 'devstvennitsa', a virgin, and Gabe had translated to English to embarrassed his baby brother even more.

And here was Dean, going major pervert on him.

Crap. Again.

Dean quickly held a hand to his heart and then pointed to Castiel and smiled, nodding his head, saying 'thank you'. Castiel merely nodded, but smiled and then tilted his head to the side as Dean stealthily got out of bed, making sure the bottom half of his body was hidden from Castiel's view and he practically ran to the bathroom. By the time the white door was slammed shut behind him, and he was in the safety of the blue walls, Dean's face was flushed red in embarrassment.

Yes, he was attracted to the guy, but, not only that. Castiel was sweet and kind. He'd seen it when he worked with the kids down in City hall, whose parents were Russian diplomats. Castiel was the go between, Dean had learned, worked for the government because he was familiar with the Russian government and could speak it. But those diplomats had children, and sometimes, while there parents were in meeting with higher officials and Castiel was waiting outside, he'd sit next to the children and talk to them and calm them. Dean had been there to pick Castiel up from work before since, for some reason the guy didn't drive, and he'd seen with his own two eyes and it had touched his heart.

And he wasn't a chick-flick moment kind of guy.

Castiel was also religious, which was a really good thing. Dean knew you needed to have faith and Cas was always at church, when they were saying the Latin mass, because apparently he understood that better than English and Dean had actually started going with him.

Castiel was also funny, in his own dry way. He didn't even need to speak to do it. A few practical jokes here and there kept the apartment bright and Gabriel proud of his brother.

Not only was Cas gorgeous, because he was and Dean could go on and on how beautiful Castiel was, not hot, although he was that too, but beautiful, Castiel also had this unshaking faith in Dean. He trusted Dean to take him places, to watch him and make sure nothing happened to him. Hell, he had even created their own stupid little sign language thing to help them communicate. Castiel was smart, Dean knew, had been to the best universities in Russia. He knew Latin, which was more than Dean could say for himself and could cook magnificently.

Castiel was truly amazing.

He was also warm and soft and sometimes, would just grunt at things and Dean would imagine things that he shouldn't. Because Castiel was still innocent and Dean did not want to corrupt that purity.

He groaned, relieving himself, needing to get back out there before-

There was a knock on his door and Dean heard the words, "Din ty v poryadke?" through the door.


Crap. For the third time.

He sounded worried. Dean couldn't help another groan and flushed in embarrassment. Oh God. This was bad. He was SO bad.

"Din vy brosali vverh?" he heard Castiel say. He couldn't see what Castiel was signing, so of course the poor guy was forced on reverting back to Russian.

Dean searched the bathroom, sighing in relief when he found his phone that he had left there the other night. He quickly dialed Gabe's number and didn't even wait for the customary ass-hole pick up. "What's your brother trying to tell me?" Dean asked, panting a little.

"Um… I don't know. Give him the phone." Dean was about when Gabe then said, "Hey, wait. Don't you guys have that weird signing thing? Use that."

Dean groaned, the urge and awkward evidence still evident. "I kinda… can't stand and sign right now."

Sam was in the background and probably could hear the conversation because he said, "Dean, are you ok?"

And then, in a very small voice, Dean said, "I just pulled a horny teenager."

And Gabe and Sam burst out into laughter. "Give him… the phone," Gabriel gasped between snorts and Dean quickly passed the phone out through a crack in the door. There was talking and Russian and talking and by the time Castiel was knocking to give Dean the phone back, he had his body back under control.

He stepped out, apologized in sign, but Castiel was weirdly ok with his freak out. He just nodded and gave Dean a barely controlled smile and handed him the phone, walking out to the kitchen to make breakfast.

"So… what's the verdict?" Dean asked.

But Gabriel and Sam were both still laughing, though the subject was different this time. "He said-he-he said…" Gabriel tried to control himself. He took a deep breath, but you could still hear Sam in the background. "He said you practically ran to the bathroom and you were…" A chortle. "You were –groaning." Gabriel dissolved into laughter a gain. "He thought you were throwing up. That's what he was asking you!"

Dean had never felt more embarrassed in his life. He slumped down onto the couch and groaned again, making Sam and Gabe crack up. "I hate you guys," he said. And then he hung up.

It was funny how Castiel didn't bring it up, but just did little things that made Dean feel better throughout the day, like he knew Dean was a little down in the dumps. He's sit really close to him when they were watching TV that he didn't understand, he made greasy food, instead of the healthy Russian stuff he usually did, he made Russian sweets, the kind Dean loved (although he had never actually told Cas that, signing or otherwise). Castiel ended up falling asleep on the couch, his head on Dean's shoulder, his soft little mouth open, making Dean pine over it.

Instead, he settled for running a tentative hand through Castiel's hair, knotting the dark black strands in his hands, letting the waves of his silky smooth hair go through his fingers and calm and relax him. And when Castiel moved closer to Dean, his head slipping to Dean's lap where the eldest Winchester let him sleep until the reruns of Dr. Sexy MD were done, Dean gave a little smile and decided that all this not able to speak the same language-ness and embarrassing moments was worth it for the little moments like these.

It stayed like that until it became a routine. Castiel would climb into one side of the bed, Dean into the other and they would sleep. Castiel didn't have a couch to screw with his back and Dean didn't have nightmares. Sometimes, they almost sat on each other when they were on the couch. It came that they knew each other better than their own brothers and said brothers realized it too and were happy. Dean and Castiel began to work off of each other. Their daily routines involved each other as much as themselves. They were used to each other and after almost a year of living with the same person, you had to be.

Although, for Dean it was so hard. He gave himself kudos every time he stopped himself from perving out or something equally demeaning. He was giving Castiel space, space to find someone he loved and cared for, although Dean was finding that he was starting to love Castiel with all his heart, despite the large chasm in communication.

Ironically, Castiel was feeling the same thing for Dean, that tug of love yanking in his chest, not at all like a tug. And he wanted so badly to tell Dean, but even though he was secretly taking those classes, he still wasn't solid enough in the new language that he could get out more than a few sentences on the weather.

Yet, it was all going well, more than well, it was going great, until Dean woke up one morning, not where he should be.

He didn't notice it at first, far from it actually. All Dean knew was that he was warm and felt safe and loved and it was just like heaven, like being wrapped in angel's wings. Until he felt something steadily moving beneath him and he felt his chest freeze as he inhaled and recognized that smell of lean linen and fresh air. Opening his eyes cemented his theory.


He was on Castiel's side of the bed, both men rapped up around each other, his arms pushing the smaller man to his chest, Castiel's hands around his neck, fingers clutching his hair, one of Dean's knees pressed between Castiel's legs. Dean was frozen, his face inches from Cas's, their nose tips touching.

And he was so close, so close that he could kiss him.

And that's when Castile decided to open his eyes.

At first, there was confusion, then surprise, then shock, as if he was accusing Dean of stealing his honor or something. And Dean, being emotionally constipated and having been in the army for a god majority of hi adult life did the stupid thing.

He yanked himself away.

Didn't push, didn't explain, didn't do anything but the wrong thing and yanked himself out of Castiel's grip. Dean got straight out of bed, distancing himself from Castiel so the man wouldn't have to see how much Dean had liked being that close to him, holding him, feeling like he owned him, like Castiel was his, all his.

Because he had no idea how Castiel would react. Sure in the beginning there may have been attraction, but was there more? How did Castiel feel about it? Dean had no right to just touch him and feel him up and like it.

"Cas," he started, not looking at him, but getting up and backing away. "I'm sorry. That was wrong. That was wrong." He kept signing the words to Castiel. Kept signing and saying it. Saying how wrong he was. "I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have touched you. That's wrong. We're not supposed to.. to do that. It was wrong. I had no right." He took a breath, signing as he spoke. "It was a mistake." He signed mistake and then looked up.

And that's when he realized his actual mistake.

Castiel was actually crying.

Castiel read Dean's hand motions. I'm sorry, wrong, no right, not supposed to, wrong… but mistake? That hurt the worst. Castiel had finally thought that maybe Dean had gotten his act together, was making a move, was about to sign on how he liked it and then he had gone off on how being like that with Cas was a mistake?

Had it felt like one to Dean?

Because it hadn't for him.

It had felt right with him.

Castiel felt ashamed to feel tears coming down his face. He had also recognized a few of Dean's words from the classes he was taking. He saw real fear and horror on his face as he looked up to Castiel's crying one and Castiel feel this heart just… rip into shreds.

Was he that disgusting?

Had Dean just been leading him on?

Castiel couldn't be there anymore, couldn't look at him at the moment. Whenever he did, a stab of pain went straight through his heart. So he did the only thing he could think of to do.

He got out of bed, ignoring Dean's unintelligible protests, assuming that Dean was just insulting him even more, grabbed the bag that he kept in the closet down the hall with extra clothes and turned to Dean one last time, hurt in his face and heart, tears streaking down his.

He recognized what Dean was saying and signing now. "No," Dean was saying, seeing the bags. 'No', he was signing. 'Don't leave, you can't leave. Let me explain.'

But explain what? Castiel understood. Dean hadn't meant any of it. It had been a… mistake. Dean didn't feel like that for him, was probably disgusted with himself and Castiel and Castiel couldn't just…

He walked out.

Dean was in a ball on the bed. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. All he wanted was Castiel back next to him, his hands in his hair again, there nose tips touching in little Eskimo kisses again, a real kiss this time, to show him that he loved him.

How could he be so stupid? Of course Castiel wouldn't understand. He was signing only the bad words, the ones that would leave room for error and misunderstanding. He had thought that Castiel didn't swing that way, thought that until he saw Castiel's face when he called it a mistake and at that moment just knew that there was something more to it.

He tried to take it back, tried to take it back and fix things but Castiel had just grabbed a bag and walked out the door. His phone had rung three times in the past ten minutes and he wasn't answering. Not anytime soon, not ever if he got his way.

Dean drifted off to sleep somehow and rose is a cold sweat, nightmares that hadn't plagued him in almost a year running through his mind.

It was miserable the next day. He trued to call Castiel but remembered he didn't have a phone. He tried to call Gabe but he wouldn't pick up. He tried to call Sam, but he was at school.

He thought of getting out of bed, of gong to see if he was staying at Sam and Gabe's, but Dean couldn't even leave the house, never mind his bedroom. He couldn't even think of leaving the room, not even the bed, not nothing. He couldn't think, his thoughts revolving around Castiel and the hurt in his eyes, the pain in his face.

Him leaving.

Dean's nightmares revolved around Castiel that night.

It was two days before someone knocked on his door. Dean actually ran out of bed, hoping that it was Castiel, that maybe he was back. Instead, when he opened it, he got a punch to the face.

Dean landed on his bottom, too dejected to actually get up, to hurt and feeling horrible to look up. But he already knew who it was.

"I trusted you with my baby brother's heart and you smashed it?" Gabriel yelled from above him. "Seriously Winchester I thought you were better than that. I guess I was wrong."

He heard Sam's voice come in after that, but Dean was just looking at a bottle of spices that Castiel had let drop the night before their fight. He stared, stared at the label, at the smudges of other food on it. That was Castiel's favorite spice. He liked to put it in everything.

"… let me talk to him. There has to be more to this Gabe. Please," Sam said.

Gabriel huffed and then spat out, "Fine. But I swear to God if he doesn't have a good reason for sending him home in hysterics and tears…"

Dean's ears perked up at the word 'home'. So Cas was at Gabe's. But no, this was his home.

"This is his home," Dean said distantly.

Gabriel's attention snapped to Dean, still sitting on the floor. "Not anymore, you jackass. He's staying with me."

Sam shushed him after that and sent him out. He then knelt by his brother and said, "Dean, man. How did you do this?"

"I screwed up Sammy," Dean said. "Just like with Cassie, just like with Lisa and Ben. I panicked, thought he wouldn't like it, like me, be freaked out. I said it was… I said it was a mistake." Dean looked up into Sam's dark hazel eyes imploringly, feeling so lost. "Sammy, how could I ever… he was the best thing that ever happened to me. The best thing. I- I…"

"You love him," Gabriel said.

"Yeah, I do," Dean said. The Winchester boys looked up and to the doorway where Gabriel was standing, half leaning against the doorway, bumping it with his phone. Unbeknownst to them all, dialing the house phone. He shook his head, extending a hand and helping Dean to his feet. "Sorry about that," he then muttered.

Dean just shook his head. "Don't be. I deserve worse."

"No you don't!" Sam exclaimed. "Dean, neither of you could tell the other how they were feeling. You don't speak the same language and signing to each other can only go so far! You messed up. You don't deserve to be beat to the ground because of it."

"Yes I do!" Dean yelled back, actually crying now, surprising even Gabe. "Damnit Sammy, yes I do. I-I hurt him and I didn't mean to, wasn't supposed to. He's probably better off without me."

Gabe shook his head. "You could talk to him," he suggested. "He-he won't talk to either of us, but, I-I can translate for you, make him listen. I can-"

"No," Dean said tired. "I'm… I'm just gonna find someplace else."

Sam's eyes widened. "You're leaving?"

Dean nodded. "I think… I think its best. He can have his place back. I can't even look at the place without thinking of him. Just give me a couple months to find a new place Sammy, and then it's all yours."

Castiel heard the phone ring once and then twice, and then he somehow convinced himself to get out of bed and pick it up. It was Gabe. He ignored it.

Whatever it was that was there to say got picked up on the answering machine.

Castiel didn't care.

He went back to bed.

A few months passed. The whole in Dean's heart grew. It stretched and he didn't sleep, nightmares plaguing his dreams, heartache plaguing his consciousness. He only thought of Cas, their time apart making him love him all the more, the fact that Castiel hated him making him cry at night all the harder.

When he finally found an apartment on the other side of town, he was wasted and barely had enough of a voice to call up Sam and say that he was moving within the week.

And then he went back to misery.

Castiel finished his English As A Second Language course at the top of his class. He could speak fluently now, although he had been told by several classmates, including a scary man named Uriel, that he sounded quite stiff when he spoke.

Castiel couldn't care less. This just meant that now, he could apply for bigger and better jobs.

But Dean was always on his mind and if he were being truthful with himself, he only went through the class because of Dean. He cried himself to sleep at night thinking of Dean, made it through the day on only the thought of Dean, Hell, if there wasn't anything Dean related around, he was not interested and didn't participate.

Dean was in his every waking thought.

Which was why he wasn't expecting what happened the day he chanced across the house phone. There was only one message and it seemed very old and barely anyone used the house phone now, since Gabe had insisted that now that Castiel knew how to speak English, he needed something to be able to speak with. But still, it was one message and he almost didn't listen to it, but thought better of it and did anyway.

There was a beep and then some white noise before Castiel could make out what was being said with his new English skills. And he couldn't breathe.

"…screwed up Sammy." That was Dean's voice. "Just like with Cassie, just like with Lisa and Ben. I panicked, thought he wouldn't like it, like me, be freaked out. I said it was… I said it was a mistake." Dean sounded horrible, lost. And it was only then that Castiel realized that he was talking about their fight. He couldn't breathe, not really. "Sammy, how could I ever… he was the best thing that ever happened to me. The best thing. I- I…"

"You love him."

Castiel's eyes widened. Oh my God. That was Gabriel. Gabriel saying that Dean loved him.

"Yeah, I do." And Dean confirming it.

Oh my God Dean loved him. It had all been a misunderstanding because they couldn't speak properly with one another and- and Dean had been confused, unsure of how Castiel was going to respond to waking up pressed to him intimately like they were going to have sex or something.

He couldn't blame the guy for freaking out.

And he had refused to speak with any of them.

Oh no.

Castiel listened back p the conversation still playing.

"… neither of you could tell the other how they were feeling. You don't speak the same language and signing to each other can only go so far! You messed up. You don't deserve to be beat to the ground because of it."

That was Sam and Castiel was routing for him, because he was so right.

"Yes I do!" Dean yelled back, and Castiel could hear the tears in his voice. And damn was it breaking his heart that he had caused this. "Damnit Sammy, yes I do. I-I hurt him and I didn't mean to, wasn't supposed to. He's probably better off without me."

No, Castiel thought. No I'm not Dean. No, I love you Dean.

"You could talk to him," he heard Gabriel suggest. "He-he won't talk to either of us, but, I-I can translate for you, make him listen. I can-"

"No." Dean sounded tired. "I'm… I'm just gonna find someplace else."

Castiel's stomach dropped. Oh. No.

"You're leaving?" It was Sam. Castiel was feeling the same dread.

"I think… I think its best. He can have his place back. I can't even look at the place without thinking of him. Just give me a couple months to find a new place Sammy, and then it's all yours."

Castiel froze as they kept speaking, but he didn't listen.

I'm just gonna find someplace else.

Can't even look at the place without thinking of him.

Give me a couple months to find a new place Sammy, and then it's all yours.

Castiel grabbed his new car keys and ran.

Dean finished stuffing the last few boxes into the Impala's trunk. Sam had been begging him not to go until he had told him to just leave. They hadn't told Castiel yet, and wouldn't until Dean was long gone, just one last wish from the eldest Winchester.

He got into his car and drove.

Castiel almost lost his license and he figured that had to be a record somewhere, only having it for a week. He parked outside the apartment building and ran inside.

He took three steps at a time, skidding to a stop, running through the halls, smashing their door open to….

Find nothing. It was clean. And empty. Old posters of even older bands no longer littered the walls, there was no beer or pizza or pie in the fridge and the smell of Dean was not there any longer.

And Castiel just broke down and cried.

The drive home was horrible. It didn't seem like home anymore. It just seemed temporary. And Castiel knew that he couldn't stay much longer. Not with Dean… not with Dean gone.

Castiel parked and trudged into the house, aware that Sam and Gabe were out, that he was alone.

In all senses.

Castiel tossed his keys down onto the table and sat down, his head in his hands. When he heard a creak of floorboards, he only groaned, expecting Sam or Gabriel to say that Dean had moved.

But he already knew.

Instead, he got a, "Cas?"

Castiel's head flew up and came face to face with Dean in a Metallica tee, jeans with holes in the knees and black sneakers. He was looking down and away and biting his lip and OH! all Castiel wanted to do was kiss him and tell him he was sorry.

Dean looked like he hadn't gotten sleep in a while. Castiel was probably a mirror image. Dean ad probably started having nightmares. Castiel's insides twisted at the thought of Dean screaming in the night with no one there to talk to or comfort him.

No one there to hold him.

"Um…." The eldest Winchester said. He shook his head. "Sorry. I know you can't understand me but… I'm leaving. I bet that Gabe and Sam already told you but." He shook his head. So no one had told him that Castiel could in fact understand and speak the English language? Well this ought to be fun. "God, Cas, I never meant… I never meant to hurt you. And I made a mistake in saying you were the mistake. Because you were the best thing ever. The best. I was pretty screwed without you. Believe me, I had to live without you before I met and after." He laughed cynically and Castiel stood up, walking closer, careful to hold his tongue.

"Cas, I'm sorry. But i-I couldn't leave. Not without saying how sorry I was. I'm not worth you. You were amazing and I just screw everything up. Cassie was an old girlfriend, before I started batting for the other team. I ran on her. Lisa was the same, except she had a son. Not mine," he clarified to himself, as if that were an unfortunate thing and maybe it was, "not mine. But when I had you, I told myself, 'take it slow Dean, he's too special' and then I screwed it up anyways." He was crying now and Castiel was about to go too.

"Cas," he said, "Cas I love you." Castiel was so surprised that Dean was saying it, that he didn't even notice Dean was kissing him till it had happened and there were warm, dry lips on his, just putting pressure.

Dean stepped back, as if he couldn't believe he had just done it. "I'm sorry," he said, then face-palmed. "You can't understand me," he moaned.

"Dean," Castiel said, thinking it was time, "Dean, it's alright."

"No it's n- wait, what?" Dean turned to Castiel. He had a small smile on his face. "What-what did you say?"

"I said that its alright. That I want you to kiss me. That I want you to hold me and sleep with me and stay with me," Castiel said as Dean's eyes got bigger and bigger. He closed the small gap between them and pressed his forehead to Dean's. "I want you talk to me and love me and make love to me," he whispered, Dean's breath and his own mingling.

"Cas, how…?"

Castiel laughed, and it was all breath. "I was learning, learning when we were living together and after we fought I finished. I heard, I heard the message of you all fighting and talking. Gabe must of butt-dialed. But I heard it all. You said you loved me. And you just said it again. Dean I love you, that's why I couldn't understand why you thought I was a mistake, but I understand now and, please don't go, Dean. I heard you were moving and I went and no one was there and you cleaned out all your things…"

Dean was holding Castiel now, his arms around the smaller man's waist, pushing him closer to his chest, just whispering that he loved him and would always love him and only him and wanted just him and he was rocking him and rubbing his back. And Castiel was crying and Dean was cooing to him and hugging him.

"Cas, I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Screw that apartment, I have you and that's all I need babe. Oh God I love you." He hugged him tighter then looked Castiel in the eyes. "I love you," he said.

And Castiel looked into his eyes and repeated, "I love you."

And then, they kissed, really kissed, in a jumble of tongue and saliva and spit and heat and teeth clacking against the other's, lips sucking, noses rubbing against each other, hands grabbing the others body and pulling closer, oh so much closer they could get without the clothes as a barrier, body grinding into each other, with moans that wracked their bodies and reminded them that they wanted this to be special and memorable and in a bed.

So they went back home.

Their home.

Three Months Later…

Last week was the biggest union the town of Lawrence, Kansas has seen in over ten years. Couples Samuel Winchester and Gabriel Novak, and Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak were united in City Hall Friday afternoon. Many people lined the street in support and confetti and rice were thrown as the legally married couples exited the Hall.

It is now known that Samuel and Dean Winchester are brothers and that Gabriel and Castiel are brothers and that they all support each other in their choices. There was a wonderful reception at the Roadhouse on Harvelle Street after the union and both the Scottish and Russian backgrounds of both families was brought out to its fullest.

In all, it was a wonderful meeting and seemed to be heaven-sent itself.

~Chuck Shirley

"We got a column in the newspaper?" Dean asked, after Castiel had read it aloud. He bent down and started kissing Castiel's neck, nice and slow, biting the sensitive flesh by his collar bone, making his breath hitch.

Needless to say, Castiel was no longer a virgin.

"Yes we did. By a Chuck Shirley. Do you know who he is?"

Dean groaned a little and Castiel turned and kissed him, inexplicably turned on. Damn new husbands and their deliciously sexy ways!

"Mmmm. He was…" A kiss. "That reporter-" Another kiss. "That kept bugging us and asking-"A bite and Castiel melted. "…annoying questions."

"Like what?"

Dean sat back. "He asked me what the universal language of love was." There was a glint in his eye.

"And what did you say?" Castiel asked, actually curious.

Dean smiled and gave him the chastest kiss he had ever given him. "I told him that it was a kiss."

Castiel was definitely sure that he didn't want to be in the kitchen anymore. He dragged Dean out of there and into their room, shoving him onto the bed and straddling him as he sat on top of him.

The newspaper lay on the table-top forgotten.

"Surprisingly, can't believe he got into the paper. Oh well," Dean managed to get out before Castiel kissed his chest and he had to moan.

"No more talking," the Novak-turned-Winchester panted. "More doing."

Dean didn't need to be told twice.

Especially now that Castiel was his and his alone and had the ring on his finger and the little hickeys all over his body to prove it.

A year later, after Dean and Castiel Winchester had adopted two children, and Sam and Gabriel one, Chuck Shirley became a world famous author for a book series called 'Supernatural'. Strangely, the names of the Winchesters and their family and friends, both alive and deceased, were in them.

They conceded that it was a good read, though.

So? What say you guys? Took me a day and a half to finish this and i think it was pretty nice.

Dean: I loved it. For once.

Cas: I did also.


Gabe: Wow. that was...

Sam: Kind of sick that she got into all of our personal lives? Yeah. I know.

Me: *stare-turns to Dean&Cas* You brought your brothers?

Dean&Cas: *nodnodnods*

Me:*huggles all FOUR of them!* I LOVE YOU ALL!