Chapter Text
Dean comes in from outside, the temperature difference taking it’s time to sink into his skin. He gets to the table, eyes locked on Jack. Jack looks up from his massive pile of pancakes and gives Dean a hesitant smile, so much smaller than it normally is that it snaps Dean's heart clean in half.
“Jack,” He says, warm and a little fragile, despite his best efforts, “Let’s uh. Can we talk? After you’re done eating?”
Jack blinks. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, bud I just—“ There’s a million ways this won't be enough. But at the very least he has to spell it out. Say the words he means. “I want to apologize to you. I was rude to you back there. You were just worried about me. Especially after what happened to your dad—“ Dean gestures to where Cas is sitting. Was sitting. Dean blinks. “Where’s Cas?”
Jack is looking at him, awed. Embarrassed. Not quite paying attention to his question, caught up in Dean’s earlier statement. Dean turns to Sam, who's doing a bad job hiding his surprise. Dean raises his eyebrows emphatically.
“Oh, uh. I thought he went after you..?” Sam’s voice is soft, confused.
Dean shrugs and shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nah. He didn’t come out there.” He turns back to Jack. “Point is. Let me know when you’re good to talk, okay?”
Jack starts wolfing his pancakes down and Dean laughs a little. Lays a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t rush. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”
Sam’s sniffling into a paper napkin, branded with the red and yellow Danny’s logo. Dean rolls his eyes. Jack’s grin is back up to blinding, and Dean hasn’t even made his actual apology yet.
Right. This was the start, anyway. The start of being good enough.
Dean squeezes Jack’s shoulder, rubs with his thumb. “Which way did Cas go?’
Sam gestures in a vague direction and rubs at his eyes.
“Come on, Sam. You’ve seen worse than this.” Sam rolls his eyes at that.
“Jerk.” There it is.
“Bitch.”
Jack gasps a little. Inhales the pancake wrong. He’s already finished two since Dean came back inside. A man after his own heart. Nephil? Kid.
“That’s not a good word, Dean.” Jack says, grave.
Dean leans in, conspiratorially, “Don’t repeat it in front of the other two.”
Jack nods, the same severity that was in his voice now in his actions. His eyes are dancing. Sam rolls his again. Dean heads out to find Cas.
The men’s washroom door has already swung shut behind him when Dean wonders if maybe he should have just waited at the table. Sam would have probably broken down completely if Dean had tried to say anything. And Dean wasn’t prepared to spend an hour sitting next to Cas, dead silent while—
Someone was retching. Dean felt his throat ache in sympathy as he rushes over to the only closed stall. He knocks on the door and hears a groan. Cas. Dean jiggles the handle.
“Cas. It’s me. Let me in, dude.” Another groan. It was not welcoming. Dean sighs. Leans his head against the stall before remembering how gross Denny’s bathrooms are and jerks back. His forehead left a greasy mark against the metal. “I know you’re pissed, but let me help.”
Nothing. Some rustling. The sound of Cas spitting into the toilet. “Let me help, Cas.”
The stall door swings open. Cas is on the floor, breathing heavily. He’s got his coat half ripped off and tie yanked loose. His eyes look hazy but angry. Pissed off at the world and his fate and the bile that he leans back over the toilet to pour out of himself.
Dean winces and hits the ground beside him, not giving his bad knees a thought until they protest under him. His puts his hand on Cas’ back and the guy flinches.
“I’m just gonna help you get outta your coat, man.” He says it quiet, low. Cas holds out his arm and Dean pulls the coat the rest of the way off. Cas leans his head against his forearm, panting. Dean winces, thinking about the germs in the place. But Cas is really out of it, and he can always shower.
Dean folds the trench and puts it in his lap. He leaves his hand on Cas’ back, shirt a thin barrier between their skin.
“What happened?” Dean asks, when Cas finally stops retching.
Cas opens his eyes a little, still blurry. “Ate too much.”
Dean hisses through his teeth and nods, “That’ll do it.”
Cas shoots him a surprisingly lucid glare. “I was hungry.”
“I know.” Dean says, quieter than he means to. He reaches up, pauses. Brushes Cas’ sweaty hair off his face. Rakes his fingers through the thick brown strands; they stick up in a strange angle. Dean has a flash of memory. Heat and light and thunder as Cas strolled into his life, unflinching and alien.
Cas looks at him and there’s strands of the expression around his eyes… that empty-needing-filled that Dean could now truly recognize from when he first pulled back from kissing him.
“Cas.” Dean hasn't moved his hand. He pushes through Cas’ hair again and the man lets his head be tilted with the pressure, eyes drifting shut.
“Dean.” He murmurs, barely moving his lips, eyes trapped with Dean’s, warm and aching. He rubs his thumb over the curve of Cas’ ear. Dean wants to fill him up.
Dean inhales, deep and desperate. The arcid after-scent of vomit lingers around them and it pulls him out of his trance.
“Okay, Cas. Let’s get you cleaned up.” It takes a moment to stand. His joints are unhappy with him for this one. He slings Cas’ trenchcoat over his arm and holds out his other hand to help Cas to his feet. Cas takes it without a second thought.
Dean hauls him up and brings him to the sink, flushing the toilet as they go. Cas lets go of his arm, but his fingers trail. They stand by the sink together, the mirror taking up the whole side of the bathroom wall. Dean looks up and sees them both reflected there, painted washed out white in the fluorescents. Cas’ looks vulnerable in his shirtsleeves, a hint of skin laying under the fabric, clearest on his shoulders.
And Dean wants.
“Cas… Can we talk?” He looks up, meeting Dean’s eyes with a raised brow. He bends down and fills his cupped hands with water from the sink. Swishes the water around in his mouth, looking more and more solid. His eyes are clearer when he straightens again. He takes the coat from Dean’s hands.
“About what?”
Dean blinks. Were they… really not on the same page about this?
“I… kissed you awake, Cas.” Cas glances at him a moment. Then goes to the paper towel dispenser, drying his hands. Dean waits as Cas throws out the crumpled ball and starts heading for the door.
“What is there to talk about.” His voice is almost... bored.
“Uh?” Dean reaches over to where Cas is pulling on the handle and shoves the door closed, “A whole hell of a lot? I...” He pauses, before taking the dive, “I need you, Cas.”
Cas gives him a sharp, cold look, but leaves the door closed. “Dean. I understand that kissing a man is an— an ordeal for you. But it isn’t a problem for me. You know that. If that’s something you want to work through, I’d suggest not doing it with someone you're co-parenting with.”
Dean blinks.
“This is about Jack?” He asks, hesitant.
Cas huffs and looks away a moment before turning back and meeting Dean’s eyes. “It’s a lot about Jack, yes. It’s also about not experimenting with your sexuality by using someone who's in love with you.”
“In lov—?“
“Dean. I’m not subtle. And I’m not ashamed. You were the kiss that woke me for a reason. But I don’t have any expectations of you— and frankly it would be a very bad idea to try anything with you.”
“Anything?” Dean asks. Cas softens a little, but he still opens his mouth and says:
“Yeah, Dean. Anything.” His hand cups Dean’s face, fleeting. Warm.
Then he’s gone. Cas pulls the door open, strong and steady. Dean’s pressure trying to hold it closed worth no more strength than a gnats, buzzing.
Dean stands in the bathroom. He’s been in so many quiet rooms lately, just standing. Trying to absorb. Trying to understand.
He stands there a while. His food is cold by the time he comes back to the table, whipped cream on the waffles melted and runny. The bacon has congealed in its own fat. He picks at the fruit cup Sam slides his way and says nothing the rest of the meal. Everyone finishes pretty quickly, they’ve been eating a lot longer than Dean. Des comes back over and offers to box up Dean’s waffle but he makes a face and shakes his head, asking for the bill.
And then they go home.
Cas goes to his room and Dean goes to his own. He takes out his phone. He deletes the screenshot. He has his answer. How awful must he be for Cas to love him but still not want him?
Dean conks out in his bed.
And that’s that.
***
There’s a knock on his door the next morning. Dean sits bolt upright. He can feel the pillow creases on the side of his face, deep. He passed out hard for eighteen hours and hadn’t moved.
But now his mind was running a mile a minute, full of what he could possibly say to Cas to make him understand.
He flings open the door and Jack is standing there, hands tucked into his pockets rocking from back to front on his toes.
Dean blinks and does his best not to let his disappointment show in his face. “Jack!”
“Hey Dean.” Jack smiles, a little hesitant, “Would now be a good time to talk?”
“Yeah. Absolutely. Yes.” Dean nods, still a little off-balance. “Where would you like to—?” He makes a vague hand gesture. Jack gets it.
Jack tilts his head, “Anywhere is fine! Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Ah, I don't know. Sometimes I wanna be outside for big talks, a little easier to breathe.”
“Oh!” Jack nods and tugs and Dean’s sleeve, “Well let's go then! It’s a big talk for you too, right?”
Dean binks. He should stop being surprised by Jack’s insight and empathy by now. “Yeah, kid. A bit. We can handle it together though, huh? Can’t be harder than beating god.”
He slings his arm around Jack’s shoulders and the kid lets out a bright burst of laughter. They head outside.
It’s a nice day. They wave at Sam who’s coming back from his run. They walk a little into the woods, find a spot with a fallen tree.
“Do you remember when we went fishing?” Jack asks after some quiet.
“Yeah.” Dean nods. Smiles, trying not to remember the rest of that day. “That was fun, huh?”
Jack nods emphatically. “I had a good time.”
“Good.” Dean says. Tries to figure out how to broach this. Well, there’s one surefire way to get the ball rolling. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
He tilts his head again in that particular way he inherited from Cas.
“You have three dads, and… And I’d really like to do a better job at being a… a fourth for you. If that’s something you would want.”
Jack frowns deeper. “Dean… You… Yeah, I have three dads but… Lucifer isn’t one of them. Aren’t you… already my dad?” His voice is vulnerable. A little lost.
Dean resists swearing. Clumsy. “You want me to be?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
“Okay.” Jack says, unsure. “Is… is that everything? Are we done our big talk?”
“Ah. Not quite.” Dean looks at his hands. “I should never have pulled a gun on you. Ever.”
“Oh. That’s alright! You were—“
“It was not alright, Jack. I never want you to feel unsafe and… At my hands? At the end of my own gun? That’s something my dad would do. Not what any of yours should be doin’. You’re safe with me. And I'll prove that to you again, I swear it.”
Jack grabs at Dean’s hands. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Jack's sunny smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
And then Dean’s crying. He looks up and grabs Jack into a hug so the kid doesn't have to see. But holy shit. Jack wants him to be his dad.
They stand in the forest together and finally Dean draws back, ruffling Jack’s hair. Jack grins up at him from under his messy locks. That’s his boy.
That’s his son.
“It wasn’t scary at the time ‘cause… uh. No soul. You know,” Jack says, a quiet admission. Dean nods. Jack keeps talking, “But later it… made me think you didn’t love me. And that you wanted us both gone. And it… it was a bad thing to do.” Jack’s eyes flick up to Dean’s, double checking that it was something he was allowed to say. Since their triumph over Chuck, Jack had become a little less sure-footed. A little more hesitant. More tied up in asking for permission. He’d seen some of the consequences of keeping secrets and running off on his own. They’d work on it. “It was the fate of the world. And I’ve done some bad stuff.”
Dean’s heart goes out to him. Guilt like that isn’t easy to erase, or even ease. Hell, Dean was still carrying his own, decades after the fact. “ Yeah, well. You’re a Winchester. You gotta believe the good you’ve done outweighs the bad. That’s the only way any of us get outta bed in the morning.”
Jacks looking like he’s holding the most fragile and precious bird egg in his hands, face so open and awed. “A Winchester.”
“Yeah, kiddo.”
Jack laces his fingers together and rocks back and forth on his feet a little, toe to heel. “Would you… could I ask you..?”
“Go ahead, Jack.”
“Would you hug me more often? I like it. It makes me feel loved.” Dean lets out a huff that’s trying to be sarcastic, but he wraps Jack up in a second hug in as many minutes.
“Whenever you want. Not during a fight for our lives, ideally but—“
Jack nuzzles his forehead into Dean’s chest and lets out a soft sigh. Jesus. Dean leans his cheek against the kids head and stands there in the sun with him, marveling at the warmth of a second chance.
That Jack would hug him, even when he stinks like he does…
It’s really nice. Dean pulls back eventually, and Jack hums a little and wobbles his head the way he does when he’s pleased with something.
“It’s not all on you, Jack. But… Let me know if I hurt you again, yeah? I’ll do my best not to, but—“
“—But sometimes you get mad.” Cas finishes for him. Dean’s eyes lock on Cas instantly. When the hell did he get here? Where did he come from?
Jack trots over to Cas, hugging him, too— something almost birdlike in the light-quickness of the movement. “It’s okay! Things are fine!”
Cas holds Jack’s gaze, as if double-checking the validity of his statement.
Jack beams at him, “Dad and I were just having a talk!”
Cas binks, “But I was in the—“ He breaks off and his eyes fall to Dean, confused and scrunched. Then realization cracks across his face. “You mean Dean?”
“Mhm.” Jack nods, “Should I call you something different?” He cranes his body around to make eye contact with Dean, “So I don’t mix all of you up? Three dads is a lot of ‘dad’s. Maybe Sam will want something else too!”
“You should run that by him,” Dean smiles, “As for me… whatever you want, kiddo.” He snorts, “You could call me Momma and I wouldn't have a problem.”
“Oh, I like that!” Jack is laughing with enough joy that Dean realizes he has just doomed himself to forty years of being called ‘Momma’. He can’t find it in himself to resent that.
“Well, Momma it is then.”
“Momma.” Cas repeats notes of surprise in his voice. Maybe not just that… There was something else in that tone, too.
“Can I go ask Sam what he wants to be called?” Jack asks, waits a moment and then clarifies, “Are we done our talk, Momma?”
Dean laughs, “Yeah, we’re done. Let me know if you wanna talk more about this stuff, okay?”
“Alright.” Jack squeezes Cas again, tight and fast. He darts in and snags one from Dean right after before running off. Dean can feel the moment lingering in his throat. Woof. He thinks to himself, watching Jack and his lumpy brown knit sweater careen off between the trees. I love that kid.
It quiet for a few moments as Jack’s footfalls fade and the snapping of twigs dies down. The birds have started to slowly sing again when Cas finally opens his mouth.
“What was all that.” Cas asks, manner fully shifted, arms crossed and his voice cold. This chill from Cas was getting exhausting when Dean was trying over and over to change things. Own up to his mistakes. Apologize.
Dean swallows down the affront at Cas’ instinctual doubt, “I was apologizing to him, Cas. Do I need your permission to apologize to my kid now or—“
“So now he’s your child.” His tone is haughty. Dean meets his eyes and finds Cas looking down his nose at him, the start of a disbelieving snarl on his lips. Dean wants to scream and start snapping branches in half.
“I know I said some stupid shit, Cas! That was part of what I was apologizing for! Obviously, Jack is family—“
“Not that obvious when you’re pointing a gun at him and telling him otherwise—“
“Yeah! I fucking know! I was apologizing to him! I should never have done any of that! It was fucked up of me! I treated Jack like shit! You think I don’t know that? I don’t want to ever make him feel like that again. I don’t want to be like—“
He cuts off. Cas looks him dead in the eye as he dispassionately finishes Dean’s sentence.
“Like your own father. Go on, Dean. You don’t want to be him? I believe you can make that choice. But remember—“ Dean’s gritting his teeth, bust Cas looks like this is pouring out of him with no trouble at all, “John started from love too. He started from family and protection. It perverted him because he let it— and he treated you and Sam the way he did because he wasn’t strong enough to be humble.To be truly loving. To be kind as well as your father.”
Dean’s angry. He’s hurt. He’s shocked Cas can talk about this so openly, so factually.
“That’s why I was apologizing.” Dean says, voice low.
Cas softens. “That’s it? That’s the only reason? To be a good father?”
Dean furrows his brow, “Yes? Why else—?”
“Not so you could fuck me?”
Dean’s mouth hangs open. “So I could what?”
“Fuck me, Dean. That was one of the problems I brought up when I rejected you. Your treatment of Jack. You didn’t do this to make me reconsider my position—?”
“There are so many things wrong with what you’re saying—! I said it because Jack deserved to hear it!”
“So it wasn’t so you could—?”
“Cas I swear to god if you say ‘fuck me’ again—”
“—Fuck me.”
Dean snarls. Strides closer to Cas, fury making his joints stiff and his hands hot, “You think that’s what I want Cas? That I want to fuck you—?”
“Evidence points in that direction, Dean. Yes.” Cas bites back, matching Dean’s energy and stepping to meet him, stopping a couple of inches from Dean’s face. “I know it’s a harrowing image for you—“
“Oh come on—!“
“—But other men have beaten you to it—“
“—Are you seriously bringing up your tinder hook ups right now—?”
“—And none of them seemed to have any complaints!”
“Of course not, man— look at you!”
Cas is standing there, face hot with rage and eyes bright. This close Dean was reminded the sun was a star and the dots that freckled the sky weren’t cold naturally. Only because of their distance. And in this moment Cas was deep in his own body. Holding himself together within the sinews and the flesh. Strung his being around the bones of his vessel and owned it. Cas was achingly present, searingly bright, warm and shining. Blinding. Cas was the sun.
“What is that supposed to mean.” Cas asks him, voice low. He didn’t move to step back. Of course he didn’t. It was Cas.
“It means you’re fucking hot.” Dean breathes. “How could anyone not want you.”
The skin around Cas’ eyes tightens. Pained. A pang of it swims across his expression. “You never have.”
“I always have.” Dean confesses, finally. “Come on, Cas. The kiss worked on my end too. I always want you. To kiss you. To hold you. To have you.”
“To fuck me?”
“Maybe. Maybe the other way ‘round.”
Cas looks hungry. Looks like he could eat Dean alive. Good.
“You want me to fuck you, Dean?” Cas drags his fingers up Dean’s arm. Dean feels his lids lower. He maintains eye contact with Cas and nods, slow. Deliberate.
Cas leans close. His lips ghost over Dean’s before— Dean pulls himself back. He’s speaking before he knows what he’s gunna to say. Before he can even guess at it.
“It’s more than that, Cas. I want you. I need you because I want you. I’ll ask you every day to stay with me. ‘Cause I need you here. ‘Cause I want you here. It would never be an experiment with you, Cas. I know what I want. I’ve known what I want for months. Wanted you years before I knew it. It’s you. With me. For as long as you want to be there.”
“You…?”
“Yeah. You deserve to hear that, too. I need you. I want you. I…. I love you.”
“Oh…” It’s that same needs-to-be-filled expression.
Dean can’t help himself. He reaches for Cas, holds his face, feels the weight and shape of the skull of the man he loves in his hands. “Can we be together?”
“Dad and Momma…” Cas smiles for the first time in what feels like years. There’s so much warmth in his gaze. Dean feels like he’s doing something right.
Dean nods. Tries to repeat back the words, but finds his voice has stopped working while this close to Cas’ lips and he sort of just... mouths them.
The sun filters down between the leaves and dapple the light brushing over Cas’ face and Dean is in love with him.
“If you take a shower.” Cas says, and Dean snorts. It’s been four days. “And then you’ll kiss me for real. No spells.”
Dean nods, “Okay, babe.”
Cas inhales sharply and rocks up onto his toes, pressing a hurried kiss against Dean’s mouth. He rakes his hand’s through Dean’s short, greasy hair and yanks him down into an easier angle, hot and fast. Dean lets out a noise of confusion that turns easily into a moan as Cas licks into his mouth and starts counting Dean’s teeth with his tongue.
Cas pulls back after, breathing harsh through his nose. Somehow the light is exactly the same, and they are still surrounded by spring greens. It felt like the kiss lasted years.
“What happened to showering?” Dean asks, clumsy. Feeling like he just tumbled out of a dryer— covered in lint and disoriented.
“I changed my mind.” Cas says, primly. A beat.Then he kisses Dean again, fast and efficient.
“I love you.” Dean is woozy.
“Hm. I love you, too.” His eyes are the sky. His voice, thunder. Dean, a planetary body, caught in the inevitable orbit of the sun.
Cas smiles at him in the dapple sun surrounded by pale greens and birdsong. Dean pulls out his phone camera and snaps a new photo. Cas beams at him.
Dean finds out later Sam had spilled the beans to Cas. His brother had seen Dean and Jack wandering out to the forest and had mentioned it to him on the way to clean up. Cas didn’t have the context Sam did of the Denny’s conversation and had chased them down, nervous for Jack.
Cas confessed this to Dean after he got out of his long-awaited shower. He murmured the words into Dean’s skin, clean and feeling like new. Dean laughed along and made a promise to never make Cas doubt Dean’s love for their son ever again.
And that’s a vow he never intends to break. A few years down the line, he makes another to Cas alone, sealed with a kiss and traded rings that Jack hands them, beaming the sunshine smile he inherited from his father and wearing the cowboy boots his Momma picked out for him.