Fic Summary: Chronicling the D/s relationship between Sam, Dean, and Cas. Domestic AU, boys unrelated, human!Cas, wincestiel, BDSM, crack, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

Warnings: This work describes a working, consensual D/s relationship between three men. Though there are power exchanges, all parties agreed to their respective roles and are consenting adults. This work contains aspects of BDSM which include but are not limited to: bondage, dominance, discipline, and submission.

A/N (edited as of July 2012): This is a multi-chapter snapshot into Cas, Sam, and Dean's lives. I may post continuing chapters set either in the future or the past, but for now it's just a snapshot.

Arc Summary: Cas has lived with Sam and Dean for several months, but trouble still abounds when he takes Sam out without Dean's permission. Angst and fluff follow.

Thanks to TheGlassAuthor and SeaKat for being awesome betas, and Ginge, whose constant encouragement and general awesomeness has been unparalleled.


The Promises We Make


Dean gave the small glowing dashboard clock a death stare. 11:37pm. Where the fuck were they? If smoke could pour from a person's ears, it would have been billowing out of his in tanks. His hot breath could have melted the steering wheel around his fingers and gone on to the rest of the engine, if he didn't need both to drive. If you could call what he was doing 'driving.'

Pushing the engine at full throttle, Dean roared around a New Age, aerodynamic piece of metal as if it had been standing still. He didn't catch the snouty man's incredulous stare – he cared about very little at that moment besides locating two people who were, though unaware of it at the time, in deeper-than-Hell trouble.

His phone lay sprawled on the passenger seat, still glowing from when he'd tried to call Cas' cell. He'd tried Cas and Sam's cell phones with such a rage that a tiny voice in the back of his mind warned him that breaking the phone wasn't actually in his best interests. Fuck, he wanted to break something. He swerved a minivan without a thought, dirty highway water spitting at him resentfully, and searched his mental map of the city for the umpteenth time.

They weren't at the supermarket – where he'd supposed they'd been until they hadn't picked up either of their phones for half an hour – or the hospital – which he'd worriedly called to a very bored-sounding receptionist who'd confirmed that neither of them had checked in with mortal wounds – or the library. They could be at one of the parks. But why would they be there? At… quarter to midnight.

Dean sped across an overpass swathed in tall evergreens, heading to the rec center with little idea where else to look. Where else could they be?

At quarter to eleven, Cas and Sam had supposedly left the Auvergne Restaurant & Bar where Sam worked, and gone… who knows where. Like the aftershock of an earthquake, Dean had searched in an ever-widening circle outwards from the restaurant-epicenter, his worry increasing tenfold at every empty-of-Sam-and-Cas establishment he came across. Thankfully, the streets were relatively empty so late at night so he took liberties he wouldn't have otherwise, flooring it and switching lanes like lines were only suggestions.

He grabbed his cell again and hit '1' – Sam's speed-dial – channelling his anger into the grip he had on the small phone and just barely focusing on the road. It rang once. Twice. Three times. Come on, come on

Dean ground his teeth hard enough to hurt his jaw – when Sam picked up.

"'Ello?" A snort and giggle accompanied Sam's slurred greeting.

"Sam!" Dean cried incredulously. Sam giggled again and said something muffled. The pounding of music and the clink of glasses told Dean what he really didn't want to know. "Sam, where the hell are you?" he growled, too furious to care that Sam might be drunk and liable to hang up any second.

"We're at 'bar, Dean. Where're you?"

Of course they were. Dean felt his pulse spike.

He could hear a laugh that sounded suspiciously like Cas' in the background, and then an accompanying one from Sam. Dean's upper lip twitched.

"Sam, you there?" Dean ground out, attempting to keep his voice level.

"Yeah, Dean! You should come over here; me and Cas are having an awesome time."

"Sam, Sam, listen to me, okay? What's the name of the place? I need to know, right now." He just hoped it wasn't on the other side of the city. He wanted to beat Cas' ass into oblivion sooner rather than later. And, fuck, what had Sam been drinking? He sure hoped Cas fucking knew that if Sam was drunk now it wouldn't be long before he passed out. And Sam didn't deal with being passed out lightly. Not that Dean ever let him get fucking passed-out-drunk in the first place, but back when they were getting to know each other there had been a few close calls. This was not going to be like that if he could help it. Aside from the obvious obligations being Sam's dom implied, the last thing he wanted was for Sam to get into trouble on his watch.

And despite that Cas had theoretically been in charge, Dean was still accountable for giving him that responsibility. Why he had in the first place was beginning to gnaw at him. He would need to have a serious chat with Cas before the night was up, if the man was still vertical then, anyway.

"Yeah, Dean, it's—what? No, it's not, yeah, he's asking for the—" another laugh, "—Yeah, we're at 2119 Agronomy Street. That's a funny name for a street, isn't it, Dean?" Sam giggled.

Dean took a deep, slow breath. That fucking was on the other side of town.

"I'll be there in a few minutes, alright, Sam? Stay where you are and don't go anywhere." Dean waited until he heard a slurred "Sure, Dean," before exhaling tensely and hanging up. He glanced over his shoulder at the deserted freeway, throwing the cell onto the passenger seat again and pulling the Impala around in a u-ey.

It took him twenty-three minutes to get to the Plexi – by which time the anxious burbling in his stomach had solidified to something akin to cooled lava – and less than two seconds to walk into the crowded bar and spot his – now very drunk – sub, and boyfriend.

To Dean's horror, Sam and Cas were talking to two scantily-clad young women who looked like they had just stepped out of a bad '90s movie.

None too gently, Dean walked up and put a hand on Cas' shoulder, squeezing hard. Cas jumped.

"Dean!" Sam's face lit up like Sunset Boulevard on a Friday night.

"Dean—" Cas said. He flinched when he saw the fire burning in Dean's eyes.

"Hi, ladies," Dean threw Sam a disapproving look before giving the girls a sickeningly sweet smile. "I'd like a word with my friends if you don't mind." He shouldered his way in front of them, showing them his back.

"Hey, excuse me, buddy, but we weren't finished talking to—"

Dean turned around, a disturbing and suddenly feral grin on his face. The blonde who had interrupted him grimaced and took a step back, reaching her arm out to the brunette at her side. The other woman stared at Dean, glancing behind him at Sam.

"Hey, Dean, they didn't mean anything by—"

"Cas, shut up," Dean said serenely before turning towards the girls. "I'm sure you weren't, but unless you want me to call security over here to take a good, thorough look at your IDs, then…" Dean watched their faces flicker and then harden into resentful sneers.

"Suit yourself," the blonde hissed and then brightened, looking around Dean to Cas. "See you later, Cassie."

The brunette waved and blew a kiss at Sam, "Sammy."

Only just stopping himself from getting into a fight with a woman, Dean took a very deep long-suffering breath, and turned back to Sam and Cas.

"Cas, just what exactly are you doing?" he thundered, plucking the beer bottle from Sam's loose grip and depositing it on the counter in disgust. He gave Sam a quick once-over, checking for bruises or lipstick stains or anything else he really didn't want to see on his sub. Cas stared at the floor, his mouth open and his lower lip quivering as he attempted to say something.

"Dean, Dean," Sam bubbled into the silence, tugging on Dean's shirt, "Me an' Cas have been having a super great time, why didn't you come sooner? Dean, sit down, it's—"

"Sam," Dean bit out, taking Sam's arm and pulling him up. Sam stumbled, caught himself, and ducked his head.

"Dean, I—"

"Do you know how much trouble you're in, Sam?" Dean growled into his ear.

Sam swallowed and looked around helplessly.

"Dean, don't." Cas got up and held out a hand, "Relax; don't get mad at Sam, he—"

"Cas, do you think this is okay?" Dean hissed incredulously, his eyes electric. "What were you thinking?" He couldn't help the disappointment that took over him then. Cas had taken Sam to a bar without telling him. He laughed to himself when Cas couldn't say anything. "Tell me right now or I swear to God—"

Cas looked up suddenly, his face a rolling thundercloud.

"Dean, I went to pick Sam up and he said he'd gotten a promotion. I wanted to celebrate. It was only going to be for a few minutes and then…" Cas trailed off as Dean's annoyance swiftly ballooned into rage.

As Dean listened to what Cas was saying, a jumble of emotion flooded him. A fiercely protective part of him roared that "celebrating" without his permission was not okay and there would be hell to pay for everyone involved. Another, more personal side, was proud of Sam for getting a promotion. And yet another dark corner of his conscience was confused as to why Cas would do this kind of thing without telling him. Taking Sam to a bar might actually have been all very well and good if Cas had just let him know. But he hadn't. Why hadn't he?

The very fact that Cas had gone behind his back in the first place was a wound on Dean's pride as a dom. Cas might be his boyfriend and have a relationship with Sam as well, but Sam wasn't Cas'. Sam was Dean's, and if Dean said that Cas couldn't take Sam anywhere without his permission, then he damn well couldn't.

"Since when did I give you the right to take Sam out on your own? Without telling me?" Dean pierced Cas with a glare, trying not to be exactly mean about it, but hitting his point home, "I told you very clearly, Cas, that you were to pick Sam up and bring him home. That's it."

Cas looked up guiltily.

"Instead, you bring him to a bar and get him—"

"Dean, Dean," Sam tugged on Dean's sleeve again. He looked drunk and tired and probably had the beginnings of a headache. "Cas only did it because I told him what happened at work today; it's not his fault. And we were fine…" He looked slightly admonished, if a little sick from all the alcohol in his system. He smiled weakly, leaning partly on the edge of the bar and gripping Dean's arm for support.

Dean fought the urge to be strict with Sam then, knowing he wouldn't react to it well in his state.

"Sam, we will talk about this later. Come on." With that, Dean pulled Sam from the bar and snagged an arm around his waist, getting him to hang on as he headed for the door. He didn't care to hit Cas with everything he had then; they were all tired and he didn't think anything meaningful would really stick. They could all talk in the morning. He just wanted to get Sam home and safe.

"Dean, wait. I'm sor—"

"Yeah, whatever, Cas."

Cas stood beside the bar, Dean's dismissal a slap in the face. He swallowed and pulled a twenty out of his wallet, placing it on the sticky bar along with their half-empty bottles. He watched Dean and Sam leave before he followed after them, keeping a discreet distance as they navigated the parked cars glinting in the moonlight.

He trusted Dean more than himself at that point, but he still needed to see that Sam got to the car alright. He didn't know what he'd do after that. He didn't think he even remembered where his car was. Not that he could drive if he found it; he'd have to take the bus back or something. And if he thought about it, sleeping in the car sounded better than going back to the apartment, for all he'd be wanted there. What if… what if Dean didn't want him coming back at all? Dean could change the locks before he got back and then he'd really be screwed. He'd have to stay at a motel and hope that Dean cared enough to send him his things.

Cas watched with relief as Dean helped Sam into the back seat of the Impala. He imagined Dean whispering comforting words into Sam's ear. Cas wished he could do that, wished he could be the one to take Sam home. Of course he might have had a chance with that if he hadn't betrayed whatever trust he'd earned with Dean. Dean would never trust him with Sam again.

"Can you drive?"

Cas looked up, startled. Dean was looking at him, none too pleased but not as furious as he had been only moments ago.

"Uh, I think I…"

Dean looked away sharply, impatient with his answer.

"Fuck, Cas, at least know what your tolerance level is. Get in the car." He sighed and got in the driver's seat, slamming the door.

Cas stared after Dean, a sudden, small hope fluttering in his insides. He suppressed it quickly, not quite believing that Dean was giving him even the smallest of chances at redemption, but not wanting to screw it up if he was.

Realizing that he wasn't doing himself any good by making Dean wait for him, Cas scrambled into the backseat as well, not wanting to push his luck by sitting in the front. Plus, he felt slightly safer in the back, away from Dean. He would have to face him when they got to the apartment, but, for now, he could just be content knowing he was at least close to Sam.

Arms wrapped around himself, Sam glanced to him with a small smile, as if apologizing for Dean. Cas couldn't bring himself to return it. He didn't know how Dean wanted him to act around Sam, and, though he desperately wanted to return Sam's gaze, he didn't dare. He hated himself for it when Sam looked away, hurt.

The engine thrummed to life and Cas was looking tensely out the window when he heard the crinkling of leather and then felt Sam's head on his thigh. He froze, slowly glancing down to see Sam shifting on the seat beside him, curling into a loose fetal position. Sam sniffed and sighed. Cas looked up quickly, seeing Dean watching him in the rear-view mirror. Dean didn't say anything, only turned his eyes back to the road.

Cas swallowed, glancing back to Sam. Though he didn't want to admit it right then, with the threat of Dean's fury looming overhead, he loved being near Sam. He loved it then, even when he had caused such damage in the last few hours alone. He smiled reluctantly, feeling a soft satisfaction settle into his tense limbs. After a moment, as they pulled out of the dark parking lot, Cas put a hesitant hand on Sam's hair. Sam quivered and pushed into Cas' hand like a cat, humming contentedly. Cas gently braided his fingers in Sam's silky chestnut hair, sliding his hand to soothingly rub his neck. He didn't say anything, simply held Sam, as the glowing lights of the city passed by.