Standing Together

Chapter 116

A/N So maybe the Patriots didn't win the Super Bowl last year, but they won this year and it's 100% because that was Dean's team and he won it for them in spirit.

"Cas, time to get up."

Castiel groans and buries his face in his pillow.

"Believe it or not, that was not getting up," Dean says.

Castiel whines softly.

The bed dips, and Dean puts a hand on his boyfriend's back. "Cas, you gotta wake up. Lucifer's expecting us in half an hour."

"That gives me 29 more minutes to sleep," Castiel mumbles.

"No, Cas, it means you gotta get up now," Dean says.

"No."

Dean stands up, and Castiel is left in suspense until he feels hands on his feet, which he instinctively kicks around. He doesn't think much of it — what else would Dean expect when he decided to tickle him? — until his foot hits something, and Dean lets out a loud "Ow," sounding more annoyed than hurt.

Castiel sits up, looking at Dean with a raised eyebrow. "What was the 'ow' about?"

"Oh, nothing," Dean says, exaggerating his indifference. "Just that I think you broke my fucking finger."

"No, you broke your fucking finger," Castiel says. "You started it."

"Well, fuck you then," Dean says, but he's over it as soon as he finishes speaking. "Anyway, get up, get dressed, and then meet me in the kitchen."

Castiel cocks his head to the side, watching Dean leave without a word. That's slightly ominous. What does he have planned?

He tosses on his Twist and Shout outfit — jeans, a button-up sweater, and a white shirt underneath. It looks pretty freaking ugly, but, unfortunately, it's how he wrote the character.

He smells the pancakes before he sees them. Dean is leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he waits. He smiles when he sees the boy, and reaches behind himself to hand him a plate.

"When did you have time to make these?" Call asks as he grabs the plate, careful not to drop the silverware carefully balanced on top.

Dean shrugs. "I woke up early. Needed something to do."

"Well, thanks." He sits down at the table and cuts off a small piece of pancake. "Delicious."

"Glad you agree." Dean picks up a pancake and folds it like a taco, then dips it in Castiel's syrup.

"Um, excuse you," Castiel says, hitting his hand away. "That's my syrup."

"Not anymore," Dean says teasingly. "Oh, hey, I never told you about Cain, did I?"

"I kinda assumed you weren't going to," Castiel says.

"Would you like me to not tell you?" Dean asks. "You're not missing much."

"Of course I want to know," Castiel says. "I'm a gossiping gay. This is my culture."

Dean chuckles. "'Gossiping gay.'" He sits down in the chair across from his fiancé. "He basically just apologized for if I ever thought he was rude."

"Well, he was pretty rude, so..."

"Yeah, apparently that's all his brother's fault," Dean explains. "I guess Crowley's not my biggest fan. He thinks he would have gotten better college offers if I didn't have to show him up every time we were on the field together."

Castiel scoffs. "He hates you because you're better at football than him?"

"I mean, I kinda get it," Dean says. *I guess he needed a scholarship as much as I did. He didn't get one, and he couldn't go to college. Same with Cain."

"Wait, that's their problem?" Castiel shakes his head in disbelief. "They really never thought to mention it? I easily could have paid for them to go to school."

"Well, you might have trouble getting Crowley to college," Dean says. "He got arrested. Assault, or something like that."

Castiel gapes at him. "Seriously?"

Dean shrugs. "Guess he hasn't changed a whole lot since high school."

"Do you know if Cain is going to the party?" Castiel asks.

Dean shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I'm going to ask if he still wants to go to school," Castiel says. "And, honestly, it makes me feel better to know that Crowley's in jail, and that I don't have to feel obligated to help him out, too."

"Amen to that," Dean says.

There's a few moments of silence, and Castiel continues eating his pancakes. Who gave Dean the right to cook this well?

"Are we going to talk about last night?" Dean asks finally.

"No."

"Okay, not the answer I was expecting," Dean says.

Castiel just shrugs.

"Just, tell me if I made the right call," Dean says. "Because it's going to bother me until I get an answer."

"Mm," Castiel hums, knowing it's not an answer and perfectly satisfied with that. How is he supposed to know if Dean made the right decision? How could Dean expect him to know if he wants to have sex?

... that question made a lot more sense in his head.

"Alright, fine, be that way," Dean pouts. "Meany."

Castiel just sticks his tongue out at him.