That River in Egypt 1-7 of 21
[fanfiction] Dean / Cass
canon divergent AU from 15x19, Dean being Dean
- 1 -
“Mistakes were made,” I mumbled into the warm back of the stranger I was naked in bed with. I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that my head was gonna explode, so I decided not moving was the best option.
The warm body shifted.
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” I hummed, hand running down an impressively toned tummy, enjoying the feel of soft skin over hard muscle.
My partner let out a contented sigh, and I found my hand moving lower.
Fingers moved through coarse hair before idly stroking.
“Dean,” she breathed out, but there was something not quite right.
I started stroking with more intent, feeling her thicken. My breath started escaping in heated pants.
“Dean,” she moaned, and there was definitely something not right.
My eyes started to flutter open, pain shooting through my head.
The familiar feel of memory foam under me, the dark lighting of the bunker...
My hand slowed.
I would never bring a stranger here.
I would never bring a...
I let go, skittering out of bed like a frightened child.
“W-who...” I started to stammer, but I already knew the answer.
Women didn’t usually have low, gravelly voices.
Or dicks, for that matter.
Cass sat up, looking at me with a weird mix of confusion and arousal.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” I blurted out, continuing to back away from the bed until I hit the wall.
“Do what?” he asked, his voice coming out almost like a growl with how rough it was.
“Uh… you know, uh…” I trailed off, before squeaking out, “why are you in my bed?”
Cass frowned. “Do you not remember last night?”
“Not really, no.”
His frown deepened. “Dean.”
I stared at him helplessly, feeling his disappointment in me like it was a physical thing.
“You assured me-” he started to say, then shut his mouth and looked away, clenching his jaw.
Oh, fuck, what had Drunk Dean done? Because Hungover Dean had a headache and a pissed off naked angel in his bed with no idea how any of this had come to be.
That wasn’t entirely true.
I was trying to tell myself that there was a reasonable (a.k.a. non-sexual) explanation for all this, but…
There were flashes.
There were also a number of used condoms tied off in the trash can.
Jesus Christ.
“We didn’t…” I tried.
“We did,” he replied flatly.
“Okay, but we didn’t…”
“We had sex, Dean.”
“Okay, but… why?”
Cass threw the covers aside and got out of bed, gathering up his clothes from the floor.
He was pissed.
Also, he was very naked.
Not that I was noticing how fantastic his ass looked as he bent over to grab his shirt.
The guy was in great shape; who wouldn’t want to look like that? That’s all I was doing, experiencing a little body envy and all that. The burgers and the booze hadn’t been kind to my waistline lately, but Cass could put away anything and still look amazing.
You know, amazing in an objective kind of way.
In the blink of an eye, Cass was fully clothed, and I finally realized that I’d been naked the whole time, too, which had been fine when we were both naked, but now that it was just me, it seemed kind of awkward.
I subtly rested my hands in front of my junk.
Couldn’t really hide the love handles.
Not that Cass would notice. Or care.
Except that we apparently had sex last night, and regret seemed to be the opposite of why he was pissed.
Cass was attracted to me.
Cass thought I was fuckable, love handles and all.
It was kind of a nice thought, besides that fact that it was terrifying and something we just needed to not bring up ever again.
Because this was definitely not going to happen again.
I’d been drunk, and I was always flirty when I was drunk, and one thing had led to another, but-
“I’m leaving, Dean.”
I was startled out of my denials by reality. “What?”
“I do not stay where I’m not wanted.”
“You’re wanted!” I blurted out, then immediately backtracked. “Sam-”
“Dean,” he said, and oh boy, was he disappointed in me.
“No, look man, I didn’t…” I trailed off, having no idea where I was going. “Let me get dressed and uh take a few Advil, and then, you know, we can… talk?” I suggested, trying not to cringe too hard at the word.
“If you can fit me into your busy schedule,” he said coldly.
“It ain’t like that,” I complained.
“I didn’t mean to inconvenience you,” he continued, relentless.
I ran a hand over my face, trying to get my shit together. Then I realized I’d left the family jewels on display.
“I’ve had it in my mouth, Dean,” Cass said, sounding very unimpressed.
I blinked at him slowly.
He shot a look towards my crotch area before letting his eyes drag back up my body to meet mine. He raised an eyebrow, still frowning.
I had one of those flashes, and it involved Cass’s mouth stretching wide and blue eyes staring up at me, and that just wasn’t something that I should be thinking about. Ever. It wasn’t hot. It absolutely wasn’t. Fuck. Change the subject. “Did you like it?” I blurted out, and then wanted to kick myself.
He squinted at me like I was an idiot. “Yes.”
“Oh, uh…” I trailed off. “Did I?”
“Yes,” he said, exasperated, because yeah, okay, who wouldn’t like a mouth on their dick? A mouth’s a mouth and all that.
Something occurred to me.
“So did I…” I hesitated. “What did I… do?”
There was that squint again. “You ejaculated.”
I sputtered at that word picture. “No, uh, no, I mean… to, ya know, pay you back.”
“No money was exchanged.”
I was pretty sure he was fucking with me now. “I’m asking if I…” I trailed off, making a vague blow job gesture near my mouth.
“No, you did not sing karaoke.”
“Castiel.”
“Are you asking for a… ‘play-by-play’ of our sexual encounter?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah, sure, that’s one way a puttin’ it.”
Cass sighed loudly. “I performed fellatio on you. I found it enjoyable. You enjoyed it to the point of ejaculation. Then you proceeded to ‘jerk’ me ‘off’. We both found it satisfactory.”
“Oh,” I said. ‘Satisfactory’ wasn’t very high praise. Then again, repaying a blow job with a hand job didn’t seem very… gentlemanly. “I didn’t…”
Cass waited for me to continue.
“I mean, that’s it?” I asked, rubbing my hand along my jaw. I’d thought it was kind of sore, but that was probably my overactive imagination, trying to create boogeyman where there were none.
“No.”
Now it was my turn to wait for Cass to continue.
He did not.
“Ya gonna keep me in suspense here?”
“Do you really not remember?” he asked with a frown.
“I uh….”
He stared harder. “Sam? The nachos?”
“What the hell does Sam have to do with it?!” I asked nervously.
“We had fallen asleep, and then Sam dropped the plate of nachos in the kitchen,” Cass explained, which explained nothing.
Except…
The crash startling me awake.
Cass laughing as I suggested stealing Sam’s nachos.
Sam yelling at us groggily, friggin’ lightweight that he was.
Then…
Oh…
No, that couldn’t be….
“After we absconded with the bag of tortilla chips and consumed a large amount, we resumed love-making and performed mutual fellatio on each other.”
“You could just say ‘sixty-nine’.”
“Sixty-nine.”
“See? Much better.”
Cass’s squint seemed to intensify.
Kinda reminded me of his o-face.
Oh, fuck, there were visuals. Lots and lots of visuals.
Cass sighed loudly. “Dean. Get dressed and take your Advil.”
I bit my lip, very confused about how I was feeling but definitely worried that Cass was going to leave mad and never come back again. “So you’re just gonna leave,” I said, and it came out sounding more like an accusation than the plea it actually was.
“Yes, Dean, goodbye.”
I had my mouth open, ready to stop him, but he was already gone.
“Sonuva bitch,” I muttered, starting to hunt around for some clothes to put on before it all seemed like too much effort and I just threw on the dead-guy robe. “Fucking Cass,” I muttered, but suddenly that took on whole new connotations. With visuals.
Nope, nope, nope.
I found a bottle of pain relievers and dumped some in my hand, swallowing them dry before tossing the bottle back on the floor. I dragged myself to the kitchen, found I had no desire to continue moving, and flopped down at the kitchen table.
“You’re an asshole, you know,” Sam grumbled as he came lumbering in.
I tensed. What did Sam know?
“Corrupting Cass like that,” he continued, opening the fridge but then groaning as the light met his eyes.
Oh, Jesus, he knew. He knew, and he was gonna-
“He doesn’t even eat food, so clearly he took my chips for you,” he complained, grabbing the juice and quickly closing the door.
“Who says Cass took your chips?” I asked, feeling like I was on more even footing now.
“The flap of his wings while I was cleaning up the floor.”
“Coulda been a bird.”
“Really, Dean? A bird? In the bunker?”
“Crazier shit has happened,” I said with a shrug.
“Not cool,” Sam grumbled, clunking a cup on the counter.
“He was probably just trying to help you,” I said, going for another tactic. “I mean, eating nachos at 3 a.m., man? Think of your girlish figure.”
“Not cool,” Sam repeated, then ended up spilling half his juice on the counter in a failed attempt to pour it in the cup.
I snorted, but that made my head hurt more.
“Where is he anyway?” Sam asked, wiping the counter with a sponge. “Figured he’d be just as miserable as us this morning after that liquor store he drank.”
Oh, yeah. How this whole damn mess got started.
“So you wanna say that I’m ‘corrupting’ Cass, when you’re the one who got a friggin’ angel drunk.”
“I didn’t think he would take me literally-”
“He takes everything literally, Sam!”
Sam had been sipping his juice slowly like it pained him to swallow, but he took the cup from his lips, looking thoughtful. “Okay, fair enough,” he agreed. “I shouldn’t have carelessly suggested that Cass drink a liquor store.”
“You’re damn right ya shouldn’t of.”
“You seemed to enjoy it.”
Goddamn it, did he know?
“You better send Cass out to buy more Tostitos,” he added.
I mean, all three of us had been drunk off our asses. Some grateful richy rich couple had lavished us with bottles of champagne after we rescued them from the monster of the week, and apparently it really did get you drunk fast, even when you may have previously believed you were no longer capable of getting drunk…
Anyway it was a nice kinda drunk where we were all laughing over anything and everything, and then Sammy said he was going to bed, so Cass said… something about watching… cat videos? On YouTube? So we went to my room and…
Blue eyes staring up at me, mouth stretched wide, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Sam was giving me a weird look.
“Cass’ll get right on those nachos,” I said smoothly. Nothing to see here.
Sam looked at me for a long moment, then shrugged and took his cup to the sink.
He didn’t know. How could he know? If he knew, there’s no way he would play it this cool.
We were safe.
We’d gotten away with it.
Everything could go back to normal.
- 2 -
Cass didn’t come back to the bunker for almost two weeks.
Not that this was anything new; he was always pulling a disappearing act. Though apparently he was texting Sam.
He just wasn’t texting me.
So it was perfectly justifiable that I jumped out of my skin when he appeared beside my recliner in the Dean Cave.
“Hello, Dean,” he said, making my name sound like a curse.
“Hello yourself,” I complained, trying to play it cool like I hadn’t just leapt from my seat and made an unseemly shriek.
“Were you not expecting me?” he asked, sounding a little too sassy for my liking.
“You haven’t been here for weeks!”
“Since we had sex?” he suggested, the sass just sassing up to whole new levels.
“Cass!” I protested, eyes darting around the room nervously even though I knew Sam was out with Eileen.
“I’m sorry, are we still not talking about it?” he asked.
He was definitely not sorry.
“I mean, ya don’t hafta go announcing it,” I complained.
The little shit actually cupped his hands around his mouth and boomed, “we had sex!”
“You’re being an asshole.”
“I feel like that’s my prerogative.”
“Okay, Bobby Brown,” I muttered. “Live your life.”
“Dean,” he said, and it came out long-suffering.
I finally dared to look him in the eye, and that was a mistake.
He looked weary, and I was the one who put that expression on his face.
“I missed you,” I blurted out.
His eyes softened. “I missed you, too.”
“So can we just go back to normal?”
His expression darkened again. “‘Normal’,” he repeated like it was a dirty word.
“What the hell’s wrong with normal?” I shot back.
“I’m not going to pretend that nothing happened.”
“I ain’t askin’ you to.”
“That’s exactly what you’re asking.”
“I’m not…” I tried, and gave up. “Fine, maybe I am. But what’s wrong with that? What’s wrong with how things were?”
He just stared at me, all frowny and disappointed.
I knew that I was messing this up, I just didn’t know how to not mess it up. “Cass,” I said, giving him what was probably an incredibly pathetic look.
He scowled at me, then looked away. “It meant something to me.”
Oh, shit, oh, shit, he was gonna leave. I had to say something, something not stupid or offensive, or he was going to leave and not come back.
I was maybe starting to panic a little.
Or a lot.
“Dean.”
And I had maybe been sitting there not saying anything for a while. My eyes snapped to Cass’s.
He cupped my cheek with his hand and then he leaned in.
Oh shit was he gonna…?
He pressed his lips to my forehead.
That felt… nice.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
He gave me a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, too.”
“For what?” I asked, squinting at him. “Pretty sure I’m the asshole here.”
“Probably,” he agreed, a little sparkle in his eyes. At least we were back to joking. “But I should have… it was wrong of me not to speak to you all this time.”
“Oh.”
He ran his thumb down my cheek before pulling his hand away.
His hand was kinda big. Solid. Comforting.
Not that I wanted to follow after it.
“I was hurt, but… I understand,” he finally said, and he looked guilty now. “The things you said when you were intoxicated were simply ‘the alcohol talking’, and I should not have taken… advantage of you.”
What the hell had I said to him that made him think I wanted to have sex? With him? Multiple times?
And yet as much as I wanted to claim that I didn’t remember anything, okay, that was actually a complete lie.
Dean Winchester didn’t get blackout drunk. And I’d had plenty of time over the last couple of weeks to think about that night.
About how I’d thrown myself at Cass.
I want you, I’d whispered into his ear when all we’d been doing was watching stupid animal videos on YouTube.
There was no spark, no cause, no reason at all, just me being drunk and horny.
And Cass, drunk as he was, had tried to stop it.
Cass, with his feelings.
Cass, who was completely unused to being drunk, being out of control, had pushed against my chest, said something along the lines of, I don’t want this if you don’t feel the same, and then…
Well there was no use dwelling on it, right?
Yeah, Cass, yeah, me, too…
Lying to an angel. I was going to hell.
Again.
‘Lying’.
Nope, nope, nope, we just needed to forget this whole thing and move on.
“Look, man, it’s cool,” I informed him magnanimously.
His gaze narrowed.
“I got an extra brew,” I said, reaching into the cooler next to the couch and pulling it out. “The Untouchables is on,” I added, gesturing towards the TV which I’d been watching before Cass had shown up. “Movie night?”
Cass didn’t answer for what seemed to me like an uncomfortably long period of time.
The bottle started to sweat in my hand as I continued to hold it out to him.
“Dean, do you understand that I want you sexually?” he finally asked.
I tried to come up with something clever to say, came up blank, and I was pretty sure my face was beet red. “Yeeessss?”
He breathed out a loud sigh. “That doesn’t bother you?”
“…nooo…?”
“So sitting next to you, watching a movie together will not make you uncomfortable?”
Now that one I could answer. “Of course not, Cass. You’re my best friend, and ain’t nothin’ gonna change that, okay?”
He looked like he was having some kind of war inside of himself, but he finally took the bottle from my outstretched hand. “You’re my best friend, too.”
And everything went back to normal.
- 3 -
“How the hell does this keep happening?” I groaned incredulous.
Cass growled something unintelligible into my back, his arms wrapped tightly around my middle.
Thing was, I knew exactly how it happened.
You’re not drunk, Dean?
I ain’t drunk, Cass.
You seem vaguely inebriated. I do not wish to have sex without full consent.
Then use your mojo to sober me up, Jesus.
And I had continued to do with my hand exactly what I’d been doing previously, sober as a judge.
“Go back to sleep,” Cass mumbled, kissing the back of my neck.
It gave me goosebumps.
Fuck.
“Gotta pee,” I said, shoving out of his hold and throwing my feet over the side of the bed.
Naked again.
I grabbed my robe and made my exit as quickly as possibly, slamming the door behind me in my haste.
Goddammit, how had this happened again?
We’d been watching The Golden Girls for chrissakes. And yeah, I’d had more than my fair share of that bottle of bourbon, but Cass? Really? I mean, was my right hand not sufficient? I needed a dude to jerk me off? Was I that friggin’ lonely?
No, that wasn’t what was going on.
I wasn’t going to think about what was going on.
Instead, I peed.
Then I realized that I’d left Cass in a panic.
After I had promised him…
He was going to be so mad at me.
He was going to leave.
He was absolutely going to leave.
I was running down the hall before I could really think about it. “Cass!” I called as I threw the door open again.
He was sitting on my bed, fully clothed now, trench coat and all, and looking just about as pissed as I expected.
“Hey, there, buddy,” I said, not knowing what to say now that I was actually here.
“Hey, pal,” he replied, dripping with sarcasm.
“Look…” I tried.
“I think you’ve made yourself quite clear, Dean.”
I chewed on my bottom lip. “Cass, c’mon, man…”
“Fool me once, shame on you,” he said, shaking his head. “Fool me twice, and I am the one who is shamed.”
“It’s not like that.”
“What is it like then, Dean?”
“I dunno, man,” was all I could come up with.
“I see,” Cass said, standing up brusquely.
He was gonna go and he was never gonna come back.
My hand was gripping his shoulder tight before I’d even told myself to move. “Don’t go,” I said, which might have come out a little like begging.
Cass didn’t soften at all. In fact, his eyes turned hard as steel. “Have you been having sexual relations with me so I won’t leave?”
“What, no,” I said incredulously, my hand still gripping him tight and trying to save myself from perdition. “Why would you think… I’m not… I don’t think I’m… am I…?”
“I don’t know, Dean, are you?” he asked, unrelenting.
“No,” I decided. Sleeping with Cass so he wouldn’t leave? That was a little extreme.
So why was I sleeping with him then…?
Look, that wasn’t important. What was important was smoothing things over and making sure this never, ever happened again.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you-”
“You did.”
I stopped mid-speech and swallowed. “Yeah, but-”
“I can barely look at you,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as his eyes flicked away from mine.
Oh, shit.
No, no, no.
“I’m sorry,” I whined pathetically. How could I make him understand?
I didn’t even understand.
“I’m sorry, too,” he said, brushing my hand away and moving past me.
All I could think of was that stupid fight, why does that something always seem to be you?, Cass walking out of the bunker while I just sat there. Stood there? Leaned there.
What did any of that matter?
“Don’t go!” I blurted out. Again.
Cass sighed loudly but stopped with his hand on the doorknob.
“I dunno what’s up with me, okay?” I tried to explain, stepping closer to him. “I dunno why we keep ending up in bed together, but what I do know is that you’re important to me. I can’t… I need you, Cass. I need you.”
“That all sounds rather selfish to me,” Cass ground out, not looking at me.
And that punched me in the gut, because as much as I acted like a selfish douchebag, in reality I…
I held back the sob that seemed to come out of nowhere. “I hate how I treat you,” I whispered. “It’s fucked up,” I tried to explain, my voice cracking. I took a breath, trying to push it all back down.
Cass’s head tilted in profile, still not quite looking back at me. “I understand, Dean. It’s because I allow you to treat me this way.”
A tear escaped its way down my face. I quickly rubbed it away, not wanting to deal with it. With what it meant.
“I’m indulgent with you,” he continued, “in a way that no one else in your life is.”
I caught the sleeve of his trenchcoat, clutching the material between my fingers.
“I think you need it, but you don’t know how to accept it,” he said. “Love, compassion, sincerity. These things, they all… ‘rub you’ the ‘wrong way’. You reject them even while you’re reaching out for them, longing for them.”
I tasted blood, realizing I’d bitten my lip so hard it was bleeding.
Cass turned around, his eyes finally meeting mine. “And I’ll let you do it every time,” he said sadly, thumbing over my lip and healing the cut, “because I love you, Dean.”
I wanted to tell him to stop. That he deserved better. He wasn’t stuck with me, he could let go and move on and I kissed him instead.
And instead of telling me to fuck off, Cass used all that angelic strength of his to lift me off the fucking floor and take me back to bed.
- 3 -
I’d figured out the problem.
“We’re in the Dean Cave,” Cass observed from his chair next to mine.
“Yes,” I agreed, not looking away from the TV.
“We always watch Dr. Sexy in your room,” he pointed out.
“Sometimes it’s good to change things up.”
Cass seemed to accept that at face value. He stopped bugging me about it, anyway.
And here we were, a couple of dudes sharing some pizza and some beers, watching TV, and not having sex. As two dudes usually did.
See, it was obvious now.
No one else ever came into my bedroom. Sure, Sam stuck his nose in if I was sleeping late or if I was playing my records too loud for his delicate womanly ears, but he never actually came in. We didn’t hang out in there. A bedroom was a man’s sacred space. It was a space for a man and the person he was about to have sex with. Er, woman. The woman he was about to have sex with. Well, when talking about me personally. Other dudes might have sex with men. I had sex with women. And okay, yeah, the two (do we go by days or number of orgasms because then it was five) times with Cass. But that was because he was in my sacred space when he shouldn’t be.
Sacred space was not a euphemism.
Anyway, problem solved, everything was back to normal.
“This episode is less plausible than usual,” Cass commented.
“Really? Are you a medical professional now?”
“I don’t need to be to know that no hospital would allow a surgeon to operate on his own brother when he has a potential head injury from being in the car accident with said brother which caused him to need surgery.”
“Just don’t think about it,” I said, waving off his very boring criticism. “Look at the sexy doctors and enjoy.”
“The plot is distracting me from the sexiness,” he complained.
“Oh my god, you’re the guy who watches porn for the plot,” I groaned.
“I always find the plot difficult to follow,” Cass said, turning his squint on me. “The leaps of logic that the characters make rarely follow an understandable path.”
“I think the path is ‘we wanna bang and any flimsy excuse will do’.”
“I still find it most perplexing.”
“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t help my grin. “You’re supposed to get off to it, not write essays about it.”
“I’m just trying to understand…” he started, then trailed off, his expression going completely confused. “Why is Dr. Sexy taking his shirt off in the middle of an operation?”
“Don’t question it, just enjoy,” I assured him. I sure was.
“You realize that the admiration you feel for Dr. Sexy is actually lust, right?” Cass asked, staring at me hard.
“What, no,” I protested, though for some reason I still couldn’t quite remove my eyes from those pectorals.
“I think you would find a sense of peace if you just admitted it,” Cass said with a shrug.
“What’re you, the closet police?” I grumbled.
“Are you in a closet?” he shot back.
“Shaddup,” I muttered, sinking deeper into my chair.
He did so.
I tried not to think about it and instead focused on all the important action happening on the television. All the hospital monitors were beeping and alarming and basically going nuts, so Dr. Sexy was about to do Something Drastic to save his brother.
Fuck, he was hot with no shirt on, body sheened in sweat as he dared to do the operation that everyone said was impossible.
“I have a crush on Dr. Sexy,” I muttered.
“Thank you for telling me that,” Cass said, smiling at me warmly before turning his eyes back to the TV. “Dr. Wang is more my type.”
That jolted me upright. “You have a type?” I asked incredulously.
He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I suppose it is more a turn of phrase. People I am attracted to certainly vary with their physical and mental characteristics.”
“But you’re into Dr. Wang?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows at him.
“She is… assertive and driven, yet has a vulnerable side that she tries to keep hidden which I find… endearing,” he decided with a nod.
“And she’s got nice tits.”
Cass sighed loudly.
“Are they not nice?” I asked.
“They’re lovely,” he assented. “I just wish you wouldn’t boil people down to their physical attributes.”
“She’s a character on a TV show, man…”
“So you don’t do the same thing to the waitress at the diner? The clerk at the gas station? The ‘damsel in distress’?”
“We’re talking about how you wanna bone Dr. Wang, not fighting the patriarchy or whatever,” I complained.
“Sorry, dude,” he muttered sarcastically. “She’s so hot, I desire frequent intercourse with her.”
“Don’t be lame,” I protested.
“My legs are fully functional.”
I threw a pillow at him.
Cass just glowered as it bounced off his head.
I snorted.
“At least I don’t want to ‘bang’ that imbecile shirtless doctor in cowboy boots.”
“He’s a brain surgeon!”
“A terrible one,” Cass muttered. “He always disregards appropriate scrubbing procedures, he speaks to other doctors about his patients in defiance of HIPAA, he has sexual relations with interns in closets-”
“Maybe you’re just jealous.”
He huffed out an annoyed sound.
I waggled my eyebrows at him.
His glare got very… sexy.
I swallowed.
Whatever, sometimes I found dudes attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything.
In fact, the fact that Cass was very attractive didn’t mean anything at all.
“Dean,” he growled at me, and it sounded like a warning.
It was now undeniable that I was getting hard.
Which made no sense and was stupid.
Why did Cass now equal sex to my brain? Well, no, not my brain. The other brain.
God fucking dammit.
“Dean?” he repeated, but it was softer now, a question.
“Do you like guys and girls?” I asked, because who the fuck knows.
He hesitated before answering. “You mean sexually?” he finally clarified.
I just nodded my head. Me and words weren’t friends right about then.
“I don’t really consider genitalia a concern, so I suppose the simplest answer to your question would be ‘yes’.”
“Oh,” I said. I nodded. Then I shook my head. “But you’re an angel.”
“…and…?”
“Isn’t that a, ya know, a big sin and all that?”
“Dean, God was similarly unconcerned with gender,” Cass said. “And also, Chuck is an asshole.”
“Oh,” I said. It took a minute. “And hell yeah he is. Fuck that guy.”
Cass sighed, giving me a fond look. “It’s okay, Dean.”
I didn’t ask what was okay. We didn’t need to talk about this anymore, or how it pertained to me.
Instead I reached over and tugged on Cass’s sleeve.
He studied my face.
I pulled a little more insistently, and he immediately gave in, moving towards me. I looked up at him, standing over my recliner, and tugged again until he leaned down and I could rest my hand against his stubbly cheek.
Cass’s eyes stared into mine, asking a question.
I guided his mouth to mine, making sure he didn’t have to ask twice.
Cass seemed very into it, until he wasn’t, pulling back abruptly. “Sam…”
Why in the hell was he saying my brother’s name while kissing me-
Oh, right.
Sam was still up, nerding in the map room, and was known to stick his nose in the Dean Cave when he was bored.
“Meet me in my room,” I decided, giving him one last thorough tonguing to make sure he didn’t make any detours.
“Okay,” he agreed, sounding kinda breathless, his stare a little glassy.
I grinned, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. “See you in five.”
Cass appeared in my room in exactly five minutes, and proceeded to take me apart.
The next day we had sex in the Impala.
The day after, we had sex in the cheap motel we were staying in while Sam was out interviewing witnesses.
Apparently, my bedroom wasn’t the problem.
- 4 -
“I need to get laid,” I decided.
Sam gave me a funny look over the shopping cart he was pushing around Walmart.
“Sorry, Donna Martin, are you still waiting for marriage to lose your V-card?” I asked, tossing the jumbo box of condoms into the cart.
“Really, a 90210 reference?”
“If the skirt fits,” I said with a shrug.
Sam sighed loudly. “I’m just wondering why you need to get laid so bad when apparently you’ve already gone through like thirty condoms since we were here last month.”
“What, are you keeping tabs on how many rubbers I go through now? Things with Eileen that bad that you gotta live vicariously through me?”
“Whatever, dude,” Sam scoffed at me.
I threw in another box of condoms just to be an ass. And also Cass and I were probably gonna use them. I mean, we could use them separately. Like independently. With chicks. I had taught Cass all about safe not-involving-angel-blades sex, and he was ready to take those lessons out into the wild.
So Cass would have sex with women. Or dudes. Whatever, I didn’t judge. And I would have sex with women. And we could go through two large boxes of condoms. And annoy Sam by buying even more condoms next time we were shopping. This was a win-win.
“I see you got the cherry-flavored ones,” Cass murmured from where he was suddenly lurking behind me.
I didn’t jump out of my skin due to years of practice and turned very slowly to face him, glad that Sam was already in the next aisle. “Wha?” I asked intelligently.
“I prefer them to the non-flavored ones,” he explained with a nod of approval.
“But you don’t… taste things?” I tried.
“Yes, but I like the way they feel in my mouth.”
“…oh,” I said, trying not to have sexual thoughts in the middle of a Walmart.
“I’d like to try different flavors, too, though,” he mused.
“Uh-huh.”
Cass squinted at me. “Are you alright?”
“Peachy,” I squeaked. “Where’s Sam?”
“He’s in the hair-care aisle, trying to decide on a hair mask,” Cass said, his eyes glowing as he searched for and located my brother.
That was kinda hot, too.
Fuck.
What was wrong with my brain?
Cass was not hot.
Well, no, okay, fine, objectively he was an attractive dude. If you were into dudes.
Which I wasn’t.
Except, you know when I was.
Fine, I was into Dr. Sexy.
Patrick Swayze.
Gunner Lawless.
This list was getting long but I couldn’t leave out…
Harrison Ford.
But who wasn’t? Every dude had a man crush. It was a thing.
Does every dude fuck their best friend?
Suck his cherry-flavored dick?
I needed to get laid. That was what this was.
“We’re going out tonight!” I declared to Cass.
He shrugged disinterestedly in response.
So a few hours later we were parked at a bar, drinking beers and scoping the room.
“The chick in the low-cut top is definitely checking you out,” I informed Cass.
He glanced towards her, which made her blush and look away. He turned back to me with that same disinterested look he’d gotten when I’d suggested this whole thing. “That’s nice,” he deadpanned at me.
“Dude, c’mon, have you seen that rack?” I complained. Cass got all the good attention and he didn’t even appreciate it.
“I’m more interested in your rack,” he said, taking a bored pull from his beer.
“I don’t have-” I started to sputter and stopped myself. Now was not the time, because a woman in a very short skirt had just walked into the bar, looking like she was on the prowl. “Okay, things just got interesting.”
Cass rolled his eyes. “Can I go home yet?”
“Whaddya mean, go home?”
“I mean that I have no intention of watching you shamelessly flirt with that young woman,” he informed me.
“Uh, dude, that’s why we’re here,” I protested.
“It’s why you’re here,” he corrected me. “I just came along to enjoy our date.”
“I’m sorry, our what now?”
“Our date,” he repeated, not explaining at all.
“We came here to pick up women,” I tried explaining.
“No, you ditched Sam, took me to dinner, then took me to a bar for a ‘nightcap’,” he told me, and actually that was a fairly accurate description of our night.
So there hadn’t been a lot flirting with the ladies. It was still early, and there just hadn’t been that many women of interest in the bar, so Cass and I had been talking, playing darts, and doing other best friend stuff.
It seemed like a date, but that was just ‘cause… uh, the women, right, there were no women to flirt with, so we were flirting with each- I mean so we were hanging out with each other like usual. And yeah I took him to a diner first, ‘cause bar food was crap, and yeah I paid, because I always paid because Cass didn’t have any money. And I stole some of his fries off of his plate and he did that eye flash thing to try and get me to stop, but it kinda turned me on and we played footsie under the table, but it was all very platonic, non-gay footsie.
You knew it was non-gay, ‘cause here we were now, ready to pick up some women.
Well, I was ready.
Cass could do whatever he wanted.
So I told him so.
He stared at me for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he seemed tired. “So you would like me to have intercourse with a woman?”
“Or a dude, whatever, I don’t judge.”
I could actually feel his eye roll.
“Fine,” he said.
I had been opening my mouth to argue, but now I was just confused. “…fine…?”
“Yes, fine,” he said, pushing out of his seat. “That woman earlier seemed prepared to mate with me.”
“Jesus Christ, Cass, don’t call it mating…”
“I will call it whatever I want to call it,” he said, picking his drink up off the bar and sauntering away like he was some smooth, attractive dude who was good at picking up chicks.
This was fucking ridiculous.
Cass flashed those baby blues at the chick in the low-cut top, and all the sudden she was inviting him to sit next to her, and they were talking easily, and she kept leaning forward to give him a nice view, and he was looking, I could goddamn see him looking, and I was…
...proud…?
Nope, that definitely wasn’t what I was feeling.
I was pretty sure I was seething.
Well, two could play at this game.
Except instead of getting out of my seat and going to flirt on my own, all I could do was watch Cass and this nameless chick.
Why was she touching his arm?
Why was he laughing?
Was he really going to go home with her?
It irritated me.
Obviously because Cass was getting lucky and I wasn’t.
Cass could fuck whoever he wanted.
It was fine, I didn’t care.
In fact, after one more beer, no make that a shot, I was going to get up and flirt with Short Skirt.
“Dean,” a voice growled in my ear.
“Huh?” I said, my reaction time weirdly slow.
“Get in the car.”
“But uh, whattabout your date?” I asked, definitely not being jealous.
“You are my date,” he reminded me.
“This isn’t a date,” I protested lamely.
“Get in the car,” he repeated. “I’m tired of these stupid games and I will have you now.”
“Oh,” I said, not relieved at all. “So we’re gonna…” I trailed off, then just mimed a blow job.
“Yes,” he said, irritated and frustrated and exasperated and all the -ed’s.
“Awesome,” I said, slapping some cash down on the bar to cover our tab.
Then I went out to the car and let Cass have his way with me in the backseat.
- 5 -
I woke up warm and safe, which as usual, sent me into a panic.
“Gotta… coffee,” I decided, trying to disentangle myself from Cass’s octopus hold. I’d gotten a foot on the ground even though there was still an arm around my chest, but suddenly I was being yanked back into bed.
“It’s not time to get up,” a voice growled in my ear.
Fuck, Cass had a very sexy morning voice. “You don’t gotta sleep,” I complained, trying to squirm away from him.
“I find that resting with you gives me a feeling of ‘recharging’,” he hummed, worming his way back into my arms and resting his cheek against my chest.
Why did we just fit together like this? “Coffee,” I protested.
“Later,” he assured me, pressing a sleepy kiss into my skin.
“This is non-consensual cuddling,” I muttered. How had I gotten trapped here? Every morning I ran out on Cass, and every morning he let me… which wasn’t as shitty as it sounded. I mean, it’s not like I kicked him out of bed. I just left.
Not as shitty as it sounded.
Anyway, Cass was forcing cuddles on me which was actually pretty shitty, except that he was so warm and huggy and I was asleep.
I woke up irritated, my arms reaching for the warmth.
“I have to go,” Cass apologized, kissing my forehead and easily pulling out of my grip on his arm.
I didn’t whine.
“Heaven ‘shit’,” he explained, and I knew he was quoting me.
“It can wait,” I muttered, still reaching for him.
“I’m afraid it can’t,” he said, giving me a soft smile. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
“What, in a few weeks?” I complained, starting to feel more awake.
“I hope not,” he assured me.
I frowned up at him.
He leaned in, kissing my eyelid.
Jesus, when did we start doing shit like this, and when did I start liking it?
“I love you,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I’ll see you soon.”
My face felt very warm as he disappeared. I tried to settle back into sleep, but the bed that had felt so comfortable a couple of minutes ago just felt empty now.
I decided to finally get my damn coffee, a glance at my alarm clock telling me that it was a lot later than I expected.
Sam caught my scent on the way to the kitchen and followed me in.
“You gonna sleep the day away?” he tried to joke.
Why did he have his serious face on?
Oh, shit, did he know?
Did he know?
He didn’t know.
Did he?
Sam leaned against the counter, all fake casual. “So Cass carried you in from the garage last night.”
How the hell did he know that? We’d been at the bar pretty late, then we’d been in the parking lot for… a while.
Dean, do you think you can come again?
Cass was a persistent guy, I’d give him that. Singularly dedicated.
Anyway, I was exhausted and I fell asleep afterwards, and Cass was a friggin’ angel and all, so it was really no big deal if he… wait, he literally carried me inside? Fireman’s carry or princess style?
I definitely wasn’t going to ask Sam, and he was starting to look at me funny.
Deflect, deflect!
“Jealous?” I shot back.
Wait, what?
No, that wasn’t…
“Of what?” Sam asked incredulously.
“Ya know, of the uh fun times me an’ Cass had,” I said, and dammit, NO. I was losing control of the situation. Need to get things back on track. “Pickin’ up ladies.”
“Cass picked up ladies?” he asked flatly.
“Kinda,” I said. We’d sort of had it out between round one and round two, and it turned out that the chick with the nice rack had definitely been interested, and he had to politely turn her down because he was only interested in me.
Which was weird, but whatever. Kinda nice. Mostly weird.
Cass was a weird guy.
Sam let out a very loud sigh. “Dean.”
“What?” I complained, cradling my coffee cup in front of me defensively.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
Shit, he knew. Why did he always know?
He couldn’t possibly know.
“Doing what?” I asked, leveling him with a hard stare and daring him to say it.
“The drinking, Dean,” he said, exasperated.
“Huh?”
Sam’s frown deepened. “You’re turning into Dad.”
“Wow, Sammy, really?” I asked incredulously.
“You were so drunk last night you let Cass drive Baby and carry you to your bed bridal-style.”
Well, that answered that question.
“Dude, I wasn’t drunk,” I shot back, annoyed.
Sam did not appear to believe me.
“I was in a sex coma,” I explained.
“A sex… coma…”
“An inexperienced young lady such as yourself wouldn’t understand, but when you-”
“It doesn’t change the fact that you were drunk.”
“Um, yeah it does, because Cass won’t even have sex with me if I’m drunk, so-” I screeched to a halt.
“Why would you want to…” Sam trailed off, his brow creased in concentration.
Abort, abort.
How did I get out of this one?
“Cass won’t let me have sex. With ladies. When I’m drunk. Because consent,” was the genius explanation I came up with it.
Sammy still looked like he was doing quadratic equations in his head. Then his eyes widened.
Nope, nope, nope. “That’s why I need boxes of condoms. To have sex with all the ladies. When you’re not drunk you can, you know, go for round two. Or three. With chicks. In their vaginas.”
“Stop talking, Dean.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
Sam sank into the chair across from me at the table. “You and Cass…”
“No,” I said very assuredly.
Sam groaned, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling. “I can’t wrap my mind around this.”
“There’s nothing to wrap around,” I said firmly. Certainly not my thighs around Cass’s waist. Which had been happening a lot lately and I didn’t really know how to feel about that, but now was certainly not the time to unpack all that.
Sam breathed in deeply and let it out slowly.
I suddenly felt… shame? Or that Sam was ashamed of me? Was that what this was? Well, Sammy had always been ashamed of me, just more for the non-politically correctness and the alcohol and the gambling, less the sexuality thing.
He seemed to read my mind, sitting up straight and quickly sputtering out, “hey, you know I’m weirded out that it’s Cass, not ‘cause Cass is a dude, right?”
“I uh…” I trailed off, not sure how to respond.
“I mean, I know he’s been in love with you forever and all, but I always thought it was unrequited?”
“Hey, no reason to bring up the L-word,” I said, feeling supremely uncomfortable. “Unless we’re talking Jenny Schecter,” I attempted to joke, but it was starting to feel harder to breathe for some reason.
Sam’s eyes went all puppy dog. “I’m sorry, I’m being an ass. I’m really happy you told me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” I said, looking around the room at anywhere but that sympathetic face.
“Okay,” he agreed in that pacifying way of his that meant he didn’t believe me at all. “Just know you can always talk to me? About anything?”
“Thanks, Dr. Phil,” I said, standing up and taking my mug to the sink. I washed it and then put it in the dish rack to dry.
Sam was still sitting at the table, wagging his little puppy dog tail at me.
I got out of there as fast as I could.
- 6 -
“Is it truly worth being upset over?” Cass mused, stroking his fingers through my hair.
I was sitting on the floor between Cass’s open legs while he sat on the couch. It was weirdly comfortable, especially with the hair stroking and all.
Also, it was easier to talk when I didn’t have to look into his eyes.
“I’m not upset,” I explained. “I’m… whatever, it shouldn’t have come out of my mouth.”
“Well I’m glad that he knows,” he said, nudging my cheek with his knee.
“He doesn’t know anything,” I growled. “He thinks that we’re fucking.”
“We are fucking, Dean.”
“No, but like he thinks that we’re a couple.”
“We are a couple, Dean.”
“What?” I asked incredulously. “We are not a couple.”
“Oh.”
I was definitely not going to turn around to see what kind of look was on his face.
Which was a mistake, because it was probably smug as fuck.
“So why are we sitting like this?” he asked, that smarminess leaking through every syllable.
“Whaddya mean, why are we sitting like this?”
“I thought physical proximity paired with intimate touches was something only shared by couples.”
“This is hardly intimate,” I tried to protest.
Cass took his touch away.
I swallowed down a whine. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.
“Something wrong, Dean?”
“Shaddup,” I muttered.
He scraped his fingers through my scalp again, giving my whole body a pleasant tingle, and then he was tugging gently, guiding the back of my head to rest on his thigh.
Dammit, I was looking right into his eyes.
“Shall I do this for Sam?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. The strokes of his fingers had gotten slower, more deliberate. “As an expression of our friendship, since apparently this form of touch is completely platonic.”
I glared at him. “Don’t be a smartass.”
“Then stop telling me that we’re not on a date, that we are not in a relationship, that you don’t feel the same way about me…”
I looked away from him.
His fingers paused, resting in my hair. He tapped my chin with his free hand.
I let my eyes meet his again, but it was under protest. “Why do you gotta make such a big deal about everything?”
“Because it’s a big deal to me,” he said, and I could see the hurt crinkling around his eyes.
“Cass,” I sighed, not wanting to deal with All This.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, looking vulnerable.
I assumed that he meant the whole hair-stroking thing, but he could have been talking about anything from drinking the last of the coffee without brewing a new pot, to his recent habit of picking me up off the ground because he was too impatient to wait for me to walk to the bed.
Anyway, the answer was mostly the same.
I shook my head.
A little smile tugged at the corner of Cass’s mouth, but he didn’t look happy.
I was just the worst piece of shit sometimes.
I sat up, turning to face him better. “Let’s go for a drive or something.”
Cass’s head tilted to the side, his expression that of a perpetually confused angel.
“We can maybe swing by the movies, see what’s playing?” I suggested, waiting for understanding to dawn.
It took a little longer than I hoped, but when it did, Cass’s smile seemed to light up his face. “I’d like that,” he agreed, not even mentioning the D-word.
I decided to change since we were going out, so I upgraded my holy jeans for slightly less-holy jeans, and tugged on a clean t-shirt.
“You look nice,” Cass said as we walked to the garage.
He just said it so casually that it made me tongue-tied. “Thanks,” was all I could manage to get out.
I wasn’t going to return the compliment. Not that Cass didn’t look nice, because he kind of looked amazing out of the trenchcoat and into his own jeans and t-shirt, but there was absolutely no reason to tell another dude how ‘nice’ he looked, even if he…
“You look good,” I murmured into Cass’s ear before strapping on my seatbelt and keeping my eyes laser-focused in front of me.
Cass seemed pleased, and we could all just leave it at that.
I let him pick the movie, which was probably a mistake, because of course he picked a chick flick no matter how much I tried to teach him the ways of having good taste in movies. But it was kind of a weird chick flick with a surprising amount of action, and it was more about mothers and daughters than about romance, which wasn’t anything I could relate to, but it was kinda interesting despite the theater being mostly empty.
Cass and I got the last row to ourselves, so it didn’t feel so weird to keep my arm over the back of his seat, or to share my coke with him even though it only had one straw.
No one was watching us.
No one cared.
Cass was watching the credits with the same delighted expression he’d had plastered on his face through the entire movie.
I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.
His smiled widened.
As we walked back towards the lobby to toss our trash, I let the back of my hand brush against his.
It was the stupid movie’s fault.
“I really enjoyed it,” Cass said cheerfully, pushing the empty popcorn cup into the trash.
“It didn’t suck like I thought it would,” I agreed.
“You could just say that you liked it.”
I sighed, holding the door open for him. “I liked it,” I admitted with a roll of my eyes.
“See?” Cass said, looking pleased.
“Whatever,” I muttered. I pulled my keys from my pocket and unlocked Baby.
“It is not ‘whatever’, Dean, it is ‘yes, Castiel, you’re right’,” he said, doing an impression of me that was really just his regular voice and a frown.
“Ha,” I replied, sliding into the front seat.
“I know you,” he continued to complain as he sat down next to me, strapping on his seat belt. “I know the things you don’t allow yourself to like.”
“Thanks, Carl Jung, but I’d rather get laid than psychoanalyzed on a date,” I grumbled.
Oh.
Cass didn’t say anything, but I could see that damn smirk out of the corner of my eye.
Couldn’t take the d-word back now, just had to make sure it didn’t happen again.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
It absolutely, positively wasn’t going to happen again.
- 7 -
Sam had found us a case, so we were all sitting in the library, reading ancient tomes about friggin’ centaurs.
“I mean, they’re basically talking horses,” I complained. “Do we really gotta take out Mr. Ed?”
“Three people are dead, Dean,” Sam informed me in his bitchiest tone.
“Yeah, three dude-bro assholes,” I pointed out.
“Perhaps we can find a way to take them back to Thessaly,” Cass suggested.
“See,” I said, gesturing to Sam.
He just rolled his eyes at me, before burying his nose in his book again.
He’d kinda been doing that all night.
It was the first time the three of us were all together since my diarrhea of the mouth the other day, and I couldn’t help but wonder…
Cass caught me looking at Sam anxiously, and he nudged my foot with his under the table.
I’d taught him that move. I did it to him when he was in his head about something.
He mouthed something at me.
I frowned.
‘He doesn’t care,’ he mouthed more slowly.
‘How do you know?’ I prayed at him.
‘We talked,’ he mouthed, like that was supposed to give me any comfort.
“What, so you two are conspiring behind my back now?” I growled.
Sam looked up from his book, shooting a nervous glance between me and Cass.
“Why are you such a dramatic queen?” Cass asked.
Sam guffawed at that.
“It’s ‘drama’ queen,” I groaned.
“That, too,” Cass agreed.
Sam guffawed more loudly.
I did not like this.
I did not like this at all.
I slammed my book shut and stood up rapidly.
“Dean.”
Cass’s voice was soothing, like he was talking to a frightened animal.
Abort.
A strong hand caught my arm as I rounded the table.
“I apologize, my teasing was inappropriate,” Cass offered. “Stay.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something, took one look at Cass, and shut it again.
Interesting…
But I was still in fight-or-flight, and Cass was really friggin’ strong, no matter how hard I nonchalantly tried to escape his grip.
“Dean, the case…” Sam finally put in lamely.
“I think you two nerds got it covered.”
“Yes, but we enjoy your company,” Cass said matter-of-factly.
“Yeah? This ball of sunshine?” I asked.
“I certainly wouldn’t call you that,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “That would be… hot and unpleasant.”
I wanted to make a dirty joke, but I was keenly aware that Sammy was sitting right there.
Which was stupid.
Because I loved making dirty jokes in front of Sam, since he either laughed along with me or was a complete priss and got all put out, which was equally hilarious.
So why couldn’t I…?
“I’m not gay,” I blurted out.
The matching looks of sympathy I received for that verbal diarrhea only served to set me more on edge.
I started backing away. “I’m not,” I insisted.
“No one said that you were,” Cass said gently.
I turned to glare at Sam. “He says it with his eyes.”
“What?” he bristled at me. “Dude, I never-”
“I read ya loud and clear,” I said, glaring harder.
“Dean, it’s Sam,” Cass said, sounding exasperated.
I looked at him, ready to go off, but those damn eyes batted up at me, and then I was turning into a pathetic ball of mush. “Yeah, it’s Sam,” I said in a much more broken tone than I intended.
And Cass got it immediately, giving me the most puppy dog eyes of all puppy dog eyes. “Dean, he doesn’t think any less of you.”
I scoffed at that.
“Is that what you think?” Sam cut in, giving Cass a run for his money on who had the most pathetic puppy dog eyes.
“Whatever, man,” I muttered. “‘Overcompensating’. That’s the word, right? Dean, the giant fairy?”
And Sam looked guilty, proving my point exactly.
I moved to leave.
“I’m an ass,” Sam declared.
“Yeah, well,” I agreed.
“I didn’t… I’m an ass,” he reasserted. “I know we joke around and stuff, but I shouldn’t… there’s just some things you don’t say, and I get that now.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, not sure of how much more of this kumbayah bullshit I could take. “I don’t care.”
Sam and Cass exchanged long-suffering looks.
I narrowed my eyes at them, but Cass was using his angelic strength to tug me into the chair next to him.
“Look, if I had known that you really were-” Sam tried to say.
“I really was what?” I asked, my voice dropping about an octave to Threat Threat Abort Abort.
Samuel did not get the message.
“You know, that you’re-”
I glanced at Cass. “Did you just kick him under the table?”
“No,” he deadpanned at me.
I felt myself start to smile.
“I’m glad that you’re enjoying my pain,” Sam muttered, his face all scrunched up.
It was less about Sam and more about Cass, but he didn’t need to know that. Because yes, kicking people was always funny.
I kind of wanted to kiss Cass, but that would be weird.
“Can you just not make a big deal out of everything?” I settled on.
“How am I-”
“We don’t have to have a Winchester hug-it-out moment over me and Cass fucking, okay?”
“It’s not about-”
“I’m bi, okay? Not gay.”
Sam looked relieved. “Okay.”
“Cass and I don’t do gay stuff,” I explained.
“…what…?” Sam asked, looking panicked again.
Cass sighed loudly.
I ignored them both, flipping open a book.
“No, I’m sorry, you’re gonna hafta explain that one,” Sam complained.
“Do you want the sordid details of our sex life?” I asked, not looking up because I really didn’t want to look at either one of them at the moment.
“God, no,” he said, “but… I mean, you’re two dudes, so…”
“We don’t do butt stuff,” I explained succinctly. That should cover it.
“Um, I’m really going to regret asking this, but um… what do you do then? To have uh non-gay sex?”
“We do dick stuff,” I said, because duh, obviously.
I couldn’t see his face, but I could still feel the contortions he was putting it through before he finally said, “so uh, no, wait, sorry, um… what?”
I had really failed Sammy on sex education, which was kind of embarrassing, but more on his part, because honestly, I’d educated him plenty and he’d just covered his ears and did his best not to listen.
“We do stuff like you do with a chick,” I explained. “Just, there’s two dicks instead of a chick.”
“But the two dicks together are not… gay…?” Sam tried to reason out.
“Exactly,” I said.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.
“It says here that centaurs do not handle their wine very well,” Cass put in.
“So you want us to party with them?” I asked, happy to move away from my conversation with Sam and back to the supernatural.
“Well, it could perhaps serve as a distraction,” he reasoned.
Sam still looked like he was having a coronary, but everything was back on track.
