Wicked ways

It was quite a normal Thursday morning at the mall, which meant there were only a handful of people around. That suited Castiel well, since he had never been that keen on either shopping or crowds. He had a hard time understanding how one could wander aimlessly for hours, fiddling this and that, touching and picking, testing the weight of pans, pots, sheets or cantaloupes. It didn't seem to have any point. Usually, he tried to do his business as quickly and efficiently as possible, in and out, strictly abiding to his shopping list. This time it was going to be different, though, because he needed a new coat.

Buying clothes was possibly the dullest thing Castiel could imagine. Subjecting himself to nosey shop assistants, trying out different outfits just because, and getting all sweaty and annoyed in the changing room was a far cry from his idea of fun. Clothes were for covering and protection; they needed to be pragmatic and efficient. Why would he be interested in the latest fashion or seasonal trends or, God forbid, special outfits designed to enhance the charms of your gender designation? If he had to choose between practicality and fashion, he would pick practicality over looks anytime, designations be damned.

He wondered idly if he could overlook his lack of coat yet another week, but then decided to be reasonable. It was getting chilly and he really needed warmer clothes. Sighing, he entered the clothes shop, inwardly bracing himself. To his surprise, the shop assistant was a professional, no-nonsense woman who didn't pry his designation or try to offer him alpha-approved clothes. He wanted a coat so he asked for one, and was presented with a handful of overcoats: a deep blue woollen jacket (not a good color), a long, black coat (too long), and a beige trenchcoat that immediately looked pleasing. It was long but not too long, it had deep enough pockets, sleeves that covered his knuckles, the color was practical, and probably wouldn't show every little speck of dirt.

Happy with his purchase, he continued on to his groceries. He was in need of some basics, like tea, coffee, sugar, flour, vegetables, and probably some beef too. Once again, he grew irritated at the companies for producing family-sized packages and forgetting the ones who lived alone. Castiel was actually a pretty good cook, but there was no point cooking only for one. Sometimes he indulged himself with preparing a more complicated meal, but usually he didn't bother. Food was nourishment and fuel, something he needed to keep going. Like clothes and sleep: it was a necessity.

It didn't take him long to find everything he needed, because the shop was familiar and his list a short one. He was by the sugar/honey/artificial sweetener section debating internally whether to choose fair trade sugar or organic cane sugar, when it hit him: the scent. It was like browned sugar and raw cocoa, mixed with cinnamon and lavender and something Castiel couldn't define, but found irresistible delicious. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath as discreetly as possible, and his mouth watered. He had never scented anything even remotely so compelling, and he couldn't help but try and find the source.

He opened his eyes and peeked around. No-one in sight. Well, that was confusing. With a scent that powerful the omega it belonged to should have been near. He took couple of hesitant steps to look behind the shelf. It was an early morning, which was why there were only a handful of customers in the store, and none of them seemed like the obvious source of the scent. The people closest to him were a family of four: a father, a mother, and two sons. They were standing by the produce section, arguing heatedly over some seasonal vegetables, mother and younger son visibly on the winning side. It was a nicely domestic scene and Castiel would have happily kept looking, hadn’t that irritably tantalizing scent tickled his alpha brain.

As Castiel stared, the older boy turned slowly around to look at him. He was exceptionally beautiful with sand-colored hair, full lips, and emerald-green eyes. Castiel's eyes widened. There was no doubt he was the reason Castiel's head was spinning, his heart was hammering, and why he could barely stand on his shaking legs. The boy commented something to his parents and started walking towards Castiel, who was like a deer in headlights, hopelessly waiting for the crash.

The boy moved with an easy grace. He walked straight past Castiel who nearly stopped breathing when the boy's arm brushed his. It seemed like it was almost intentional, but he must have been wrong. Up close the boy's scent was even more intoxicating, and Castiel realized he was getting hard. Oh dear Lord, he was about to sport a massive boner in a grocery store in broad daylight for a twink of an omega. The boy was so young he must have presented just recently, so what was he — fourteen? Castiel nearly groaned. This was so, so, so wrong. He leaned his temple slightly against the shelf, closed his eyes, and clutched the handle of his shopping basket, trying to make his erection disappear by sheer force of will. It didn’t.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Castiel startled and turned around. It was him.

"So, whaddaya think?"

"Excuse me?" Castiel breathed.

"Raw or refined?" Asked the boy, holding a package of sugar in each hand, quirking an eyebrow at Castiel.

”I— I don't know. I think it's up to what you prefer," Castiel stammered. His mouth was dry and he had a hard time thinking straight. The boy's scent enveloped him in a musky cocoon and his pants were getting uncomfortably tight.

The boy smirked. "Oh, I know exactly what I prefer," he commented and kept a level eye on Castiel. "I think I prefer it raw," he said and winked.

To his horror, Castiel could feel his knot beginning to expand and the scent of his arousal starting to mingle in the air. The boy's nostrils flared minutely and he grinned.

Castiel dropped his groceries and ran.

"Dean, stop!!" A kid's voice rang through Castiel's open kitchen window. "Mo-om! Dean took my book and doesn’t give it back.”

"Stop whining, bitch. Come and get it — if you can…"

Oh, the house next door was sold then? It had been on the market for a while, but, for some reason, it wasn't very appealing to buyers despite its lush, if a bit overgrown garden. Castiel on the other hand thought the house was charming in its shabbiness. If he had been in a need of a bigger accommodation, he would have gladly purchased the building himself. As it was, he was more than happy with his small two-bedroom house. It was practical and efficient, and well suited for its single occupant.

"Dean, you're a jerk and an ass," the first voice complained. The notion was followed by bright laughter.

"Boys, language," a female voice chided. "Wouldn't want to give our new neighbors a bad first impression, right?”

Castiel could hear somewhat half-heartedly mumbled apologies and smiled. It would be nice to have some life in the neighborhood. He knew that not all people were that enthusiastic about kids moving in, but he didn't mind. It wasn't healthy if the population was too homogenic; a little diversity was refreshing. He finished washing the dishes, dried his hands in a kitchen towel, and walked out to welcome his new neighbors. He got a glimpse of two boys running behind the house to check out the yard, while the parents stayed in the front unloading a van parked in the driveway. The mother was quite pretty with blue eyes and wavy blond hair, the father being broad-shouldered and dark. The both looked up when they saw him approaching.

"Hello there," Castiel greeted. "Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Castiel Novak, I live there, right next door,” he smiled, pointing back to his house.

The father straightened to his full height. An alpha, Castiel could smell, and a strong one.

"John Winchester," the alpha said with a deep voice and held out his hand to Castiel. "My wife Mary. Our boys ran behind the house to escape the unloading." The handshake was firm and evaluating, and Castiel felt he was assessed by John’s piercing stare.

"Nice to meet you, Castiel," Mary greeted. She had a friendly aura around her and her warm scent suited her demeanor well. Castiel instantly liked her.

"So, an unmated alpha living alone," John commented brusquely. "How come?”

Castiel shifted, feeling slightly uncomfortable, although he could sense John didn't mean to offend him. The question itself wasn't that uncommon and he had gotten used to it, but he was never very eager to offer the explanation, even though he wasn’t ashamed of himself.

"John!" Mary shushed, embarrassed. She turned to Castiel with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, he didn't mean to be rude. This all is just so new to us! Our eldest recently presented as an omega and it's been a whirlwind ever since. Who would have guessed having an omega pup would turn our lives around completely!”

Castiel nodded. That explained a lot about John's attitude and slightly aggressive posture. "No need to apologize, ma’am,” he reassured. ”I can understand why you are on your guard. As for my situation — yes, I am an alpha and I live alone. I've never been fortunate enough to acquire a life partner." He kept his explanation short as usual. His past was a need-to-know basis only and his new neighbors didn't need to know.

John gave him a level stare and, after a few seconds, grumbled, "Fair enough." He turned his head slightly and bellowed, "Boys! Show some manners and get your asses here ASAP!”

Mary rolled her eyes at her husband, but there was an affectionate air to it. Castiel stifled a smile and raised his brow at John’s language instead. It was quite obvious where the boys got their language from. It took a couple of more bellows from John to coax the boys from the backyard. Castiel was engaging in small talk with Mary about the location of the town library when he heard the sound of running. Castiel turned to greet the boys and his heart nearly stopped.

Shit. His new neighbor happened to be the tempting omega from the grocery store. 

Castiel couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, trying to find a way to get comfortable. But no matter what he did, he felt like he was followed by green eyes and surrounded by an alluring omega scent. He groaned in frustration. The afternoon with his new neighbors had gone by in a haze, with him trying desperately to act like a normal human being instead of a perv with a massive hard-on. In the midst of it, he had learned that the enticing omega's name was Dean and he was, in fact, fourteen years old. The younger son, Sam, was eleven and still unpresented, although all signs pointed at him to be a beta.

The Winchesters had been in shock when Dean had presented as an omega. They had fully expected him to turn out as alpha like his father and, therefore, his first heat had been a complete surprise. They had been even more surprised when they had been visited by a representative of The Omega Internal Affairs Association. Dean was the first Winchester omega in generations, and his parents had no idea what to expect. They had been dumbfounded to find out that the OIAA would supply them a monthly allowance to ensure that Dean's education and expenses were met, as well as a hearty sum of cash to purchase a steady home for their family. After years in shabby rentals and trailers, Mary and John had been overjoyed to finally have a chance to offer their boys a house of their own.

It was only understandable that John would be extremely dubious of every alpha near his son. In a society run by omegas, he was in a challenging spot both as a father and a guardian of one. Omegas were crucial for reproduction since it was growing harder and harder for females to carry and deliver a full-term, healthy child. In fact, it was really a miracle that the Winchesters had two healthy sons. In order to ensure the survival of the fittest, omegas were offered full health care services and all alphas were meticulously screened and tested for mating to guarantee the best genetic combinations. In theory, alphas had the freedom to choose any mate they wanted, but in reality they had to apply for a mating permission from the OIAA if they wanted an omega, even if the omega in question was willing. Mating with betas wasn't as controlled, and since bonds between betas and omegas were nearly unheard-of, no proper protocol was ever created.

When Castiel had told John he hadn't had the fortune to acquire a life partner, he had been telling the truth. It wasn't the whole truth, though. His physical health was not exceptional but good enough, and his genetic tests were all clear. The problem was the analysis of his mental health and alpha-abilities. Alphas were presumed to express certain character traits, and Castiel had failed that spectacularly. He had no territorial traits, he wasn't particularly competitive, and he hadn't strived for a well-paid and respected job. He had never prided himself as traditional, aggressive and posturing alpha, which had seemed to be a serious offense in the eyes of the OIAA. Apart from his knot and scent, he was practically a beta — like he had been told, repeatedly. He didn't humor himself by dwelling on the less pleasing names he had been called over the years. On top of that, there was that unfortunate activism phase some twenty years back. Marching for PETA and environmentally sustainable fuel wasn't that appealing in an alpha curriculum.

All in all, an omega was way beyond Castiel's hopes. To his utter mortification his body didn't agree. All it had needed was a whiff of Dean as he had run to the Winchester driveway, and Castiel had been sporting a quite respectable erection in his pants. Dean had stared at him with his green eyes, a small smile playing on his lips, and Castiel had gotten very busy thinking about his nanny naked so as to not ravish the boy right there.

He still couldn't fully understand how he had made it through. He had agreed to help the Winchesters to move in, carrying their neatly labeled cardboard boxes to their appointed destinations. John had stayed suspicious while Mary and Sam had chatted away, with Dean being seemingly demure, but betraying he was faking with well-timed winks that left Castiel flustered. There had been more than few uncomfortable moments in the stairway, when Dean had asked Castiel to carry boxes to his room and then had given him an outright obscene display of his swaying hips when he had climbed the steps to show the way. Castiel had blamed the heavy boxes for his red face.

Somewhere along the way, Castiel had told the Winchesters that he spent the majority of his time at home since he was a translator of old biblical scripts, which had earned him a raised brow and a snort from John. Sam, however, had been thrilled. He had practically begged his parents for permission to visit Castiel as soon as possible to check out the volumes Castiel had. Dean had rolled his eyes at his nerdy brother, but he had later given Castiel a calculating look that had made him very nervous.

Castiel could tell the family had been interested in why he was unmated, but they hadn’t inquired after it, for which he was grateful. It had been over a decade ago when he had requested the permission to mate an omega, and the ruthless letter of rejection still stung. He had gradually accepted his solitude and was quite content with it. But now he found himself wondering — and almost immediately stomped the feelings down. He was far too old, and Dean was way, way too young from every perspective, even if Castiel was formally accepted as an agreeable mate.

Unfortunately, this happened to be the moment when his alpha brain decided to take over.

He awoke when he came in his pajamas like a horny teenager, with his knot throbbing and his cock pulsing in sync with his heart. His head was filled with images of a young omega, flashing green eyes, and a limb body bent in half, with Castiel pounding him to the mattress with abandon. Castiel groaned and buried his head in his pillow. God, he was almost forty and he was completely gone for an omega who wasn't even remotely legal. He was so screwed — Dean was young enough to be his son, for crying out loud! But still he couldn't help it: his body had obviously decided he was compatible with the boy and was forcing the biological responses through with considerable force.

He decided to wait it out and, in the meantime, just avoid Dean. He felt like a stalker of the first degree when he started to monitor the comings and goings of the Winchester family, and especially Dean. He also felt like an idiot since the family was quite nice and he would've gladly spent more time with them. But he couldn't risk it with his alpha hormones going haywire over Dean's proximity. So he was careful and never went out if he saw them — in fact, he avoided even lifting the curtains to steal a peek at Dean, no matter how tempted he felt.

His resolve lasted whole two weeks.

By then he was almost literally climbing the walls. Resigned, he decided to leave the security of his home for a brief visit to his favorite tea shop. He grabbed his bag and keys and opened the door to see Mary Winchester.

"Hello, Castiel!" She greeted, smiling happily. "We haven't seen you for a while and, well, we were getting worried.”

Castiel was a bit taken aback. Why would they worry about him? "Um. I was ill. Stomach flu," he lied, not very fluently.

Mary didn't seem to mind, though. She was a little flustered and obviously wanted to ask something.

"Can I help you?" Castiel inquired. "You are standing on my porch, after all.”

Mary huffed a laugh. "Well... you remember the day we moved in?" As if Castiel could forget. ”Sam's been pestering me about possibly visiting you to check out the books you have. I was wondering if he could come over this Saturday, if you are available? Just for an hour or two, and you’d be free to kick him out any time. He's very interested, smart, and knows how to behave himself. He's already impressed his new teachers and absorbs new things like a sponge.”

Castiel was oddly touched. He knew his work had an audience, but no one had shown any interest in his limited library before. He smiled and told Mary that Sam would be most welcome, and was free to stay as long as he wanted.

Of course, he should've known Sam wouldn't come alone. The minute he opened the door to Sam and Dean, he knew he was in trouble. Sam bounced in like a rabbit on hyperdrive, while Dean sauntered behind him with a cocked eyebrow and small grin. As Dean passed him, Castiel took an involuntary, deep breath and was instantly dizzy with Dean's scent. This was going to be uncomfortable.

It was the most delightfully awful two hours of his life so far. Sam was adorably enthusiastic about every volume Castiel had and flooded him with endless questions of biblical lore. Castiel was genuinely pleased to answer and soon realized he was enjoying Sam's company a great deal. Meanwhile, Dean wandered around picking idly things and putting them down, checking out the kitchen and living room, backyard, and, as Castiel would later find out, his bedroom.

When the predetermined two hours were up, the doorbell rang to announce Mary's return to collect her sons. Castiel invited her in to have some tea in the kitchen and they ended up sitting at the table and chatting idly as the boys continued hauling through Castiel's library. Mary told him more about their 'pre-Dean sad little life,' as she humorously called it, and tried to pry info about Castiel's life. She seemed honestly baffled why he was unmated and, while Castiel danced around the subject, he noticed Dean listening intently. He felt slightly flustered under the dual assault of blue and green stares, but ended up explaining vaguely about his not-so-ideal alpha characteristics. Mary was polite enough to drop the subject, and, in his relief, Castiel missed Dean’s narrowed stare.

Eventually, Mary sighed and checked the time. "I'd like to stay longer, but I think we need to leave. We still have a hellish amount of boxes to unpack, and I have to run to the store to get the rest of the books OIAA representative told us to get for Dean to read. Now we only have to find a way to actually make him read." She rolled her eyes, exasperated. "What does it take to make a teenager read something?" She raised her voice a little and added, "Comics don't count, Dean!”

She was answered with an indignant huff from the living room.

Castiel chuckled a little. "Sometimes all it takes is the right book.”

Mary smiled. "Well, I won't hold my breath waiting. Dean's always been more about actions anyway, but that's just how he is."

Castiel nodded and tried hard not to think about actions.

He was still trying to redirect his thoughts when he felt a warm body press into his back and was assaulted with pure Dean again. He was instantly affected and was fervently happy that, first, John wasn't present and, second, females didn't have as keen a sense of smell as alphas and omegas. His initial reaction was to close his eyes and inhale, to savor the blissful scent. Fortunately, he did have enough wits about him to open his eyes immediately, and was relieved to note that Mary was more interested in Sam's whereabouts than in Castiel's gut reaction to her underage firstborn.

Dean, for his part, didn't miss a thing. He leaned minutely forward, breath puffing Castiel's cheek. "Mind if I borrow this?" he asked and waved a book in front of him.

Castiel was unable to utter coherent words and nodded mutely instead.

"Awesome!" Dean chimed and tucked the book under his arm.

He sat at the table and smiled at Castiel, who kept staring. Dean didn't seem to mind but stared steadily back at him with an amused grin. Castiel had an inkling there might be something going on, but since his people skills were far from smooth, he was at a loss as usual. What he did notice, though, was Mary watching him, and he decided he had forgotten his very important appointment which was in, oh, about fifteen minutes.

They said their goodbyes and, after a lot of whining from Sam and quite an eye-rolling from Mary, Castiel promised the boys could come back to get some more books if they felt like it. Sam was ecstatic, Mary a little pained, and Dean had a small smug smile on his face. When the Winchesters left, Castiel realized he didn't know which book Dean had borrowed from him.

He was deep in thought as he went through motions of cleaning up and making preparations for the next day's meal. At some point, he caught himself scenting the residual of Dean's smell and mentally shook himself. He should take care of that as soon as possible and, with that decision, he vacuumed the downstairs with scented air fresheners. It helped only a little.

When Castiel went to bed that night, he thought he still smelled Dean. As he pulled the covers from his bed and was attacked by Dean's scent, he suddenly realized why. It didn't take him long to find the pink panties under his pillow. He stared the garment for a good while, mind whirring as he pondered the implications of his discovery. Dean had been in his bedroom. Dean had hidden his underwear in his bed. Dean had been in his bed. Dean — in his bed. He groaned, suddenly achingly hard and he hastily uncovered his cock and fisted himself with furious pace, pressing Dean's panties to his nose to fill his senses with Dean. It took him an embarrassingly short time to come all over his bedding, and the combined smells of Dean and himself filled him with deep contentment.

Until he realized he had just jerked off drooling over a teenager's underwear.

It was disturbing. No matter what Castiel tried, he couldn't forget Dean. It was like the boy had somehow crawled under his skin and made a comfortable nest in the back of his mind. A week after the encounter with the panties (which were securely tucked under his mattress), he found himself making decisions with a little Dean perching on his shoulder, commenting his groceries, his surroundings, the books he wanted to read and the TV shows he tried to watch. Dean was an itch he longed to scratch, but what he knew was nothing but huge trouble.

First, the age difference. However he tried to reason, there was no way around it. He couldn't deny his absurdly strong and visceral attraction to the omega, but the truth was Dean was a child. A very, very beautiful and seductive and, yes, sexually mature, as he'd had his first heat — but a child nonetheless. In the archaic ages, any presented omega had been free for any alpha to claim but that had changed even before the protection laws. Although Castiel seriously doubted he would've acted on his instincts even if the old laws were still valid, because the age gap was just too big.

Second, his status as an alpha. Under no circumstances would he ever be allowed to mate an omega, even if their age difference wasn't so massive. Castiel had been told quite often he was not breeding material, as his alpha traits were too weak and he harbored un-alpha-like tendencies to soft-hearted and flimsy ideologies. He couldn't fathom why his activist past might matter even a bit, but, since he wasn't the one to dictate the rules, he had no choice but to concede. Time and again, he had wondered if the world would actually be a better place if the OIAA would allow other than pig-headed, over-masculine alphas to mate. Also, Castiel sincerely believed that the gender traits were far more fluent than the official opinion the OIAA wanted the people to buy.

Castiel sighed. No point pining after the boy. Nothing would happen and nothing should happen.

With resignation, he decided to go for a walk. The nearest park was half an hour away and the weather was nice; sunny but not too warm. Yes, a walk would clear his mind. He tucked some granola bars, nuts, and a bottle of water into his shoulder bag along with a translation he was working on at the moment. He might at least try to get some work done, as he was a bit behind schedule.

It was a nice Sunday afternoon. There were some families out walking, spending quality time together, but Castiel paid them little attention, as usual. He was a quiet, secluded man and enjoyed his solitude — that was the main reason he worked at home: to be able to determine his own schedules and, most importantly, keep his own company. Not everyone had that luxury. But now, as he tilted his head slightly to his side and watched the passing families, he couldn't help but wonder: what would it be like to share his life with someone, to wake up beside someone, to prepare dinner for someone, to fall asleep curled around a warm, familiar body.

He couldn't fool himself though. Alas, as Castiel wondered, he pictured himself with Dean.

Shaking his head at his own blossoming obsession, he walked on. A mate and a family were things he had never indulged dreaming about, and he surely shouldn't start now. It was foolish and would only end badly — with him having either a broken heart or a broken body in a holding cell. But, if he was honest, he realized he had little control over his reactions. There was something about Dean that poked the primal part of his alpha brain, and that made him more than a bit apprehensive. He wasn't quite sure what would happen if he kept spending more time near Dean, but, considering his reactions, it would probably be something major. He should try to avoid Dean, try to rehab his body from the boy, for both their sakes.

Maybe he should travel. He had always wanted to visit Rome anyway.

Lost in his thoughts, Castiel continued his walk to the park. It was a pleasant place to spend time in, with benches here and there, trees and bushes offering privacy while flowers of different shades and shapes were a delight for tired eyes. There was a pond in the corner of the park with a small water fountain in the middle, its constant murmur a surprisingly relaxing sound. By the pond was an actual picnic site with a fire pit, which Castiel thought was a bit excessive, but he wasn't into barbecuing so what would he know? He walked to the picnic site anyway, because the table would offer him a place to spread his papers. The table surface looked relatively clean, but he gave it a superficial swipe with his sleeve, just in case.

He was soon absorbed in his work. As usual, he shut out everything around him and concentrated deeply in his text, to better understand the context and meaning of the script, cataloguing info and listing connotations in his notebook. He absently ate some of his snacks and drank some water, but, other than that, he was completely oblivious to the outside world. Which was exactly why he jumped and nearly pissed himself when Dean pressed his chin into his shoulder and asked what he was doing.

"You come here often?”

It was like a pick-up line and completely inappropriate coming from that gorgeous mouth, those smirking full lip— Castiel gave himself a mental slap. Yes, inappropriate indeed. Dean was just being curious, a teenager trying to be polite and acclimate to a new environment, a new neighborhood. Nothing more. Although panties under his pillow might have been a bit far-fetched to be counted as common courtesy.

"Um. Sometimes. It's a decent walk from home and the park is relaxing. Normally, I work at home because it's easier for me to spread all my papers around the house, not needing to mind the conditions like wind or rain or whether my notes are in the way like they can be in here, on this table..."

Castiel realized he was babbling. It was a new feeling; he wasn't usually this talkative. Dean didn't seem to mind though, he just cocked his head and sat beside him, straddling the bench, his knees almost touching Castiel.

"So. What do you do with all that paper and shit? I mean, what's your job anyhow?”

Castiel gave him a long stare. Why would Dean want to know about his work? It was probably as interesting for a teenage boy as last years tax return.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, I wouldn't ask if I didn't wanna know. Just tell me, okay? I promise I'll tell you to shut up if it's boring.”

Well. Fine then.

"I translate biblical scripts. Basically, it means I have enormous amounts of texts in Aramean, Hebrew, and Latin, and I translate them to English. It's time-consuming because I have to cross-reference everything multiple times, and, since there are only a couple of professionals with this level of expertise, it's also quite lonely work.”

Before he could launch into the subtleties of translation Dean frowned and interrupted. "If it's so slow and lonely why the hell do you do it? 'Cause of the money?”

Castiel huffed a laugh. "Heavens no, the pay is awful," he said, amused. "But it's enough because I only have to support myself and I don't need much." He smiled. "I guess I just like my job a lot. I can decide my own hours, work as I like, and spend time with my books. That's fine by me.”

"Hmm." Dean looked pensive. "Why are you unmated? Dad said something about you ’not being real alpha,’ but you look real enough to me."

Castiel's inner alpha preened at the praise and was rewarded with a mental slap, again. "Why do you want to know?" He asked, genuinely baffled.

"Why not? I wanna know you and I figured that my dad's not the best source of info. He's got these stupid opinions how everybody should behave, ’omegas like this’ and ’alphas like that,’ yadda yadda yadda. I think it's 'cause he's the only alpha on his side of the family, and all his relatives are betas. So, now he thinks he needs to be posturing and ordering and dominating all the time 'cause 'that's what alphas are.' It's just fucking stupid!" Dean's voice grew more frustrated towards the end, and Castiel got the feeling this was an old argument in the Winchester family. He had a sudden urge to gather Dean into his arms and kiss his worries and bitterness away. He tried talking instead.

"Don't be too hard on your father. I'm sure he only means well and tries to do the best for your whole family,” Castiel said carefully.

"Right. More like best for him,” Dean snorted. ”He's always been like that, controlling everything and deciding things for us. Mom doesn't care and Sam's too young, but I hate it. It was bad before and now it's only gotten worse." Dean didn't need to say what 'before' indicated; Castiel understood just fine.

"He used to train me, you know, teach me how to hold my own in a fight, and basically how to be a badass alpha 'cause that's what everybody thought I'd be. Now — he wants to know where I am and with whom, what I eat and when, and now he's even talking about mates." Dean practically snarled. "As if I would let him choose me a fucking mate.”

The words fucking and mate made interesting things happen to Castiel’s insides. He furiously tried to ignore them.

"Talking about food, are you hungry? I've got some snacks if you'd like," he asked, trying to change the subject.

Dean's face perked up at the mention of food and he grinned. Castiel was very pleased to be the reason of Dean's happy face and turned to offer Dean his two remaining granola bars. His inner alpha purred at the omega accepting food provided by an alpha, and was again rewarded by a mental slap. Castiel was growing a bit tired of it.

Dean ate both granola bars and drank rest of the water. "You didn't answer me," he reminded between bites.

"About what?" Castiel tried to evade, although he knew perfectly well what Dean meant.

Dean looked him with narrowed eyes. "Don't try shittin' me. You know what.”

Castiel sighed. The idea of explaining his flaws to this gorgeous omega felt very unpleasant, as his alpha brain would've liked nothing more than to express his excellence and positive traits to impress and court a possible mate. As if Dean would be his possible mate or even let Castiel court him. But you are already providing for him, his treacherous mind hummed smugly. And that was exactly the reason why Castiel should tell Dean why he wasn't considered fit for mating.

"The way our society sees it, your father is right. I'm not a 'real alpha' as I have not been accepted as a potential mate by the OIAA. I was screened in my twenties and, even though my genetic and physical tests came out just fine, my... dubious character has efficiently stopped any hopes of mating I might have had." He couldn't keep bitterness out of his voice. He still felt unfairly judged and his resentment to the OIAA was quite evident.

"Well, fuck the OIAA," Dean said with a feeling. "And what's dubious in your character anyway? Besides the thing with scrolls," he continued, pointing at the papers on the picnic table with a smirk.

Castiel gave him an amused huff. "Books and education can never be dubious, young man." Dean's look spoke volumes. "But... yes. My dubious traits. Well. I'm not a very obvious, standard by-the-book-alpha. I have never been interested in competition, neither in my personal nor professional life. I'd rather stand aside and negotiate than try to dominate things to go my way. I'm not very aggressive in any field of life and have never been interested in traditional alpha jobs." Castiel shrugged and added drily, "In addition to that I've also campaigned for animal rights and environment, which seem to be as anti-alpha as you can get.”

Dean didn't look very convinced. "That's just… Stupid."

Castiel raised a brow.

"I mean, that's not all there is, right? Besides, how can you decide if someone’s a good mate just by checking if he's up to a fight? Why does it matter anyway? Shouldn’t the whole character count, not just the willingness to beat someone up?”

Castiel felt oddly warmed by Dean anger. No-one had been offended by the OIAA's definition of him before. It felt... nice. Confused by his own reaction, he turned to watch the pond and clear his thoughts.

He heard a small cough and, when he looked at Dean, the omega wouldn't meet his eyes. "Have you tried— I mean, did you ever—”

"Want to mate? Yes." Dean looked at him sharply. "It didn't work out. I applied for a permission to mate an omega, and was quite adamantly refused. I haven't tried again.”

"Refused? That sucks rocks.”

Castiel shrugged again. "It was long time ago. It was... unpleasant, but I got over it. I've learned to live alone and I’m quite content with the way things are.”

Dean gave him a long, thoughtful look. ”Why?"

"Why what?”

"Why haven't you tried again?" Dean inquired.

Castiel thought for a while, although the answer was quite obvious. "I didn't think there was any point. I was refused." Never met anyone worth trying — until now, his brain helpfully added without his permission. "Besides, I'm getting too old to mate," he added lightly, attempting a joke (which it was not).

"No, you're not," Dean protested. "Too old, I mean. Age is just a number anyway.”

Castiel smiled gently. "Dean, I'm thirty-nine. That's above the ideal mating age for an alpha.”

"I don't care," Dean said stubbornly. "I don't care about the stupid OIAA tests, I don't care about proper alpha traits or dubious characters." He turned to look Castiel straight in the eye, holding his stare firmly. "I think you're a real alpha. I think you're cool and I like you. I wanna spend time with you and get to know you." He leaned closer and whispered, "And I know you want that too.”

Suddenly Castiel was attacked with Dean's scent again. It must have been there the whole time, but it had been subdued, like a familiar, soft blanket wrapping them in a warm bubble. Now, it was back in full force, and if Castiel hadn't already been sitting he would've dropped on his knees. He was filled with raw want as his alpha instincts tried to take over, and it took all his willpower to stay still.

"Dean, I'm twenty-five years older than you. You are practically a child," he reminded the teen, gripping the bench so hard his knuckles were white.

"I told you: I. Don't. Care,” Dean breathed in his ear. "And I'm not considered a child anymore, as you well know." He gave Castiel a soft kiss on the neck and leaned back. "I know what I want and I'm used to getting what I want."

Then he got up and turned to walk away, only to turn back as an afterthought. "Oh, I've got your book, here." He tossed the book to the picnic table on top of Castiel's papers. "I liked it,” he grinned and walked away.

Castiel was struck speechless. This was not happening. He must’ve been hallucinating. He had just had a serious conversation with this twink of his wet dreams, had practically started courting him, and then got kissed by him. And now he was sitting in a park, on Sunday afternoon, staring at said wet dream's backside (again), with a throbbing erection (again), surrounded by happy families having quality time.

What a life he had.

This is bad, Castiel thought later when he walked home. Really, really bad.

He had honestly believed he had reached andropause and had been rid of his biological urges. He couldn't even remember the last time he had masturbated before Dean, because his body had never given any indication it needed that. He had been twenty-seven when his mating request with Balthazar had been rejected and, after that, he had basically given up. It had taken years to court Balty and, even in the end, when they had finally filed the request, he hadn't been sure it was what they had wanted. They had liked each other a lot, but it was a pale comparison to the hurricane of emotions he felt for Dean — and it had been only three weeks.

And, after Balty, there had been no-one. Not that Castiel actually minded, as he had never considered himself a very sexual being. He liked intimacy, but, more than physical release, he craved companionship, someone to share his life and dreams with. He had tried dating years ago, mostly because his family had practically forced him to, not because he wanted to. Needless to say it hadn’t gone well. Apparently he had been too soft, too gentle, and too nice for those who had wanted an alpha, and his scent and knot had driven away those interested in betas. And, if he had happened to come across an individual who was after a platonic relationship based on intellectual attraction, it had usually ended when Castiel had admitted he probably would like to have intercourse at some point, thank you very much.

So, basically he was an alpha living as a beta in celibacy. Sometimes the world could be a confusing place.

Maybe his body was suffering from extreme sexual frustration and was short-circuiting for any omega who showed even a remote interest to his person. If he masturbated furiously, he might get over his obsession. But, considering that his sexual fantasies comprised solely of a certain green-eyed omega, he wasn't so sure excessive wanking would actually revert his condition. With his luck, he would more likely end up having serious burns on his cock.

Castiel sighed. He had no idea what to do. At the moment, it seemed the only rational part in this mess was his brain, and that counted only if he could quarantine his alpha into a remote corner of his mind and threaten it to shut the fuck up. Chances that it would actually work looked slim, though. The more he spent time around Dean, the more his alpha surfaced. The kiss Dean had given him this afternoon hadn't helped at all, because Dean had planted it (Accidentally? On purpose?) precisely on the scent gland, efficiently frying Castiel's brain in the process. His neck still tingled and—

Oh. Shit.

Dean had scentmarked him.

It must have been an accident, surely? Castiel desperately hoped it had been purely coincidental, while his alpha brain highfived in triumph. What an earth had Dean been thinking? Why would he mark an old man, who was officially declared unsuitable for mating, to be off limits to any other omega? Because that what Castiel was, now. Scentmarked alphas were off limits as long as the mark was renewed, because the marking omega's claim was absolute. It didn't really matter the mark was made by a twink who had barely had his first heat; a claim was a claim and that was it.

On some level it made Castiel very proud. For first time in twelve years, he was claimed, which meant he wasn't hopeless. Dean had claimed him in less than a month, whereas Balthazar had taken his time and made his claim only just before their mating request. Castiel touched his neck carefully and smiled. He wanted to declare his good fortune to the world, to tell everyone he was claimed, that someone wanted him.

And then he remembered he was claimed by a teenager, an underaged, barely presented teenager, who couldn't possibly know what he was doing. Most likely Castiel was acting as a practice piece, a secure and safe live dummy with whom Dean could play without fear. Usually teenagers played with each other though, but maybe Dean had chosen Castiel because he was the new kid on the block and didn't really know anyone yet?

But if that was the case, why had Dean said what he had? Why had he argued he didn't care about their age difference (Twenty-five years, dear Lord!), or the fact that Castiel was already tossed out from the mating pool. Why had he said he liked Castiel and wanted to get to know him? And why, oh why had the damn boy kissed him?

Castiel deftly avoided the most important question: What had Dean meant when he had said 'I know what I want, and I'm used to getting what I want.'

The next couple of weeks went without an incident, unless you counted the nearly nightly wet dreams Castiel kept having. He had never been this saturated and sexually frustrated at the same time, and it was frankly annoying — not to mention he was running out of clean sheets quicker than he could wash them. He kept playing Dean's words and actions in his head, trying to figure out what was going on. He soon realized it was futile, since it turned out he was far more fluent in Aramean and Latin than Dean.

The Winchesters had settled in nicely. Sam liked his school and his teachers obviously adored him, while Dean was having harder time. It seemed like every time Castiel met Mary while he was picking up his post or taking out the trash, she would complain about his eldest with exasperated fondness. Dean wasn't keen on school, and he had difficulties staying still and act like the demure omega he was supposed to be. It had been easier when everybody had thought him as an alpha, but omegas didn't get the same freedom of speech and action as alphas. Castiel huffed in amusement at the thought of Dean as demure. His teachers clearly had no idea what they were dealing with.

Dean's father wasn't settling though, Castiel noted. John was a proud man who wanted to be able to provide for his family by himself, and it was quite apparent it grated him that the daily money came from the OIAA, rather than his honest alpha work. Castiel didn't know the specifics of the Winchester family’s past, but it must have been a rough going. From what he understood, a steady home had been Mary and John's lifelong dream, but John probably would've wanted to be able to make it on his own merit. They were very happy with the situation now, of course, but something told Castiel that John was bitter.

It didn't help that he hadn't been able to secure a job yet. Work was scarce, especially for an alpha with a lower education like Dean's father. Mary had been hired as an assistant to the local kindergarten almost as soon as they moved in, and the situation made John feel inadequate. That might be one more reason why Dean was so frustrated with John's behavior. When you cannot control your life you control others’, whether they want it or not.

But with Dean's temper, there were bound to be clashes. Castiel had already heard bits and pieces through his open kitchen window, raised voices and banging doors. He had noted how Dean stormed out to take a walk and how John retired to the porch to nurse his nerves with a scotch. At times, their family life seemed to be quite tumultuous, which was why Castiel was very, very surprised when he was invited to Thanksgiving dinner.

He had never been one to celebrate annual holidays, because his family had considered them dull and common. And while he lived alone, he didn't actually have a reason to celebrate. Toasting a lone turkey leg all by himself was a bit too sad, even for him. He did enjoy seasonal scents and decorations though, and had made a habit to take long walks around the neighborhood just to savor the holiday spirit.

The dinner was going to be awkward. He hadn't met Dean since the day in the park, and was feeling at a loss of what to do. Should he avoid Dean? On the other hand he had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to behave at the dinner. Was it going to be formal? Informal? Was he supposed to bring something? Was there going to be singing? Castiel hoped not; he was a hopeless singer, completely out of tune. On second thought, it might also make him a good comedy option.

Turned out, the dinner was excellent and very much informal. Mary was a wonderful cook and Castiel had made the perfect choice by bringing a bucket of flowers, a bottle of red wine, and a package of pumpkin-flavored fudge. The latter profited him with an enthusiastic squeal from Dean and his eventual almost-fistfight with Sam, when Dean refused to yield even a bite of the fudge to anyone else. Castiel smiled contently and stored the info carefully for later use.

The turkey was the best Castiel had ever tasted and all the side dishes were delicious too. Sam was a bit self-conscious about the ethical questions about turkeys, but he was soon shouted down, and reverted into silent sulking. But, other than that, everything was going smoothly. Well, until Castiel felt a warm hand caressing his right thigh and slide slowly towards his crotch, and he nearly choked on his wine. He glanced to his right and saw Dean studying his plate with great interest and a small quirk of a smile. He was very glad Mary was a make-from-a-scratch kind of a chef since the house was full of wonderful smells that would hopefully cover his arousal. For a while. Maybe. Please?

"Castiel? Are you alright?” Mary asked, concerned. ”Not choking on a bone, are you?"

Dean snorted, but his hand stayed on Castiel's thigh, a warm pressure that demanded his whole attention.

"Uh. No. I accidentally inhaled some wine, I'm fine now,” he reassured and tried to keep his composure. It was difficult with Dean's hand creeping up, squeezing, and sliding.

It was an absurd situation. He was sitting at a table, having Thanksgiving dinner with his neighbors, chatting small talk with Mary and John, and listening to Sam's grumbling about sustainable choices for turkey, while a teenage omega was massaging his groin under the table. It was terrifying, annoying, and unbelievably arousing.

"So. Castiel. What have you done to our Dean?" John's voice was gruff and gave nothing away.

Castiel blanched. ”Wh—" he gulped. This was it. He was going to die.

"He's been vigorously devouring those OIAA-appointed books ever since he borrowed that book of yours. What was it anyway?”

Castiel looked at Dean for help. He still had no idea what the book had been — he had been a bit distracted both when Dean borrowed and returned it.

"Vonnegut. Cat's cradle. T'was good." Dean's voice was bored and face smooth as his hand continued its journey on Castiel's thigh.

"And now he's reading like he's been doing it forever. I don't know what you did, but thank you,” Mary said with a wide smile.

Dean's hand stopped. "Gee thanks, mom. Just 'cause I didn't make a big deal out of it before doesn't mean I was some illiterate monkey before Cas's book.”

"Honey, that's not what I meant—” scolded Mary gently as Sam piped, "Jerk, you totally were!" from the other side of the table.

The boys fell into their familiar bickering while Mary rolled her eyes and John went to pour him and Castiel a glass of scotch each. Dean lifted his hand from Castiel's thigh when he went to help his mother to sort out the dishes, and Castiel instantly missed his touch. It turned out to the best though, as John invited Castiel to the living room to finish their drinks. Would have been awfully uncomfortable to get up from the table with a raging hard-on.

The living room was an adequate size room with a sofa, two recliners, coffee table, and a small bookcase. The furniture had a used feeling around them and they were very obviously recycled, but Mary had done a wonderful job upgrading them with blankets and decorative pillows, and, to Castiel, it looked like a very appealing and homey place.

John sat in a recliner by the bookcase and pointed for Castiel to sit down in the other one. He did, feeling a bit nervous. The easy air from dinner table had dissolved and left Castiel feeling self-conscious and fidgety. He sipped his scotch and grimaced at the burn on his tongue. John gulped half of his drink down with a flick of a wrist that spoke of long practice.

"Have you ever wanted to do real work?"

The question took Castiel by surprise. He was a bit offended but, instead of snapping an answer, he breathed in deeply and considered a moment how to respond.

"I think my work is real enough," he commented mildly.

John harrumphed and drowned his glass. "Really? What's real in old books?”

Castiel cocked his head and studied John for a while. Ah. No luck on the job hunting, then.

"Old books tell stories and, through stories, we learn. Unless you know what's happened in the past you cannot understand the present. Humankind has always recorded their living history in stories, whether they were written down or passed on as spoken heritage. And, while stories change through times, the core usually stays the same.”

He could tell John didn't buy his explanation when he snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, history. But you translate texts from the Bible. You can't honestly claim them to be true.”

Castiel rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. "John, biblical texts are a representation of the world that time. Like fairy tales, they are not meant to be taken literally, for Heaven's sake." He heard Dean huff a laugh at the pun and suppressed a smile. "Anyway. They are interesting, because the world back then was very different from the one we live in. And I like the puzzles the translations present; it's challenging."

"Historical books are interesting, yeah,” said Dean by the window behind him. "Saw this old Asian book last week on sale, Kama Suma or something. Had nice pictures. Bought it," he added airily.

Castiel inhaled the scotch he was sipping. Dean reading Kama Sutra? Oh, he was going to die, but perhaps not by John's hand.

But John wasn't done yet. "Not a real alpha's thing, books and literature. We'll make sure to choose Dean a proper alpha mate when the time comes.”

"Um. Yeah but no,” Dean commented flatly.

"What?" John asked suspiciously.

Dean sighed with exaggerated patience. "Dad, you can choose all you like, but you're not making the decision. The decision belongs to the omega, which is me, by the way. The OIAA can refuse a mating request, but even they cannot force a mating. So, yeah but no.”

"That's bullshit!" John argued, embarrassed at being corrected by his son. "Omegas can't decide that, it's too important.”

"Right, 'cause we're so soft-minded and delicate. Can't possibly take the responsibility of our own lives, can we?" Dean shot back.

"That's not the point.”

"Yeah, it is. That's exactly the point. We're being controlled at every other aspect of our lives, starting by our own fucking hormones ("Language, please," Mary reminded from the kitchen), and this is the only thing you can't control. Suck it up, dad.”

Castiel could see that John was furious. His face became redder and redder, and his hands pressed into fists. He shot up from his recliner and took several stiff steps towards Dean before he was able to stop. Castiel noted his own posture had become tense and his alpha was growling, ready to jump between John and Dean, ready to protect its omega.

"Way to go, dad. Ready to prove your point with violence, like a real alpha." Dean's tone was mocking but his stance was slightly nervous, as if he wasn't sure how his father might react. John took a couple of steadying breaths, before storming out of the house. A while later, they heard the engine roar to life as John drove off.

"Nice one, Dean,” Sam commented from the kitchen door. He had probably heard it all and there was a disapproving frown on his face.

"What? Dad was being an ass again. He'll be back later, like he always does,” Dean grumbled, but his posture deflated a little.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Based on John's reaction, this might have been the biggest confrontation between father and son so far, but it wasn't the first time John drove off after an argument. He felt like an intruder and decided it was time to go home. He put his glass down to the coffee table and stood up, only to meet Dean's green eyes.

"Now, pie,” Dean said with a voice that broke no arguments. Castiel tried anyhow.

"Are you sure? I thought it was time for me to go home.”

Dean waved his hand impatiently. "Yeah yeah. Can't have a Thanksgiving without pie. Now come on!" He grabbed Castiel's wrist and dragged him to the kitchen to join Mary and Sam. Dean's hand was warm and insistent, and Castiel had no other choice but to follow, feeling both bewildered and immensely pleased at the same time.

In the kitchen they were served large pieces of pumpkin pie with whipped cream (and for some completely mysterious reason, a slice of cheddar for Dean), and they ate in silence, savoring every spoonful. Dean made obscene noises while eating and Castiel tried to imagine the most unpleasant medical procedure possible to avoid another embarrassing moment with his rebellious manhood. It almost worked.

After they had finished, Castiel helped to clean up. While he was wrapping the remaining pie in a plastic cover sheet, Dean clumsily hugged his mother.

"M'sorry," he mumbled in Mary’s neck.

Mary sighed and stroked his hair gently. "Honey, it's not your fault. Your father has a temper and so do you, and you're bound to clash every now and then. Too bad it had to be at Thanksgiving." She kissed his son to the forehead and added drily, "But you could ease up picking at him on purpose, you know.”

Dean smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, maybe. But what fun would that be?" He added with a grin and escaped Mary’s embrace.

Castiel couldn't help a small laugh. "You have an interesting definition of fun, Dean.”

"You have no idea,” Dean smiled innocently and slowly tipped his head to the side.

The implications of a bared neck were not lost on Castiel who inhaled sharply and turned to give a flustered thank you to Mary for the lovely evening. He tried to refuse the multiple containers with leftover food, but eventually resigned and graciously accepted turkey, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cornbread, and a helpful slice of pumpkin pie to go. Dean complained about the pie but was shushed by his mother who reminded him that there were still two whole pies in the fridge.

Before leaving, Castiel thanked Mary again. She dismissed his thanks by simple shake of her head.

"No, thank  you. It was nice to have you here, even if the evening had a bit of a rough ending,” she sighed. "Sorry about John. He's still trying to come to terms with not being the sole provider of the family. Him and Dean... they love each other very much, but hell if they didn't also know how to set each other off. And, if it's really true what Dean said, about the omega making the choice—” she huffed a non-humorous laugh, ”—well, then we'll be seeing a lot of conversations just like that one.”

"I think you should check the books Dean has,” Castiel suggested. ”The omega books I mean," he hurriedly added. It might not be a very bright idea to make Mary read Dean's Kama Sutra. "I know I'm not an expert, but I believe the legal data needed will probably be found there.”

Mary gave him a warm hug of goodbye before turning to clean out the rest of the leftovers. Castiel stacked his pile of containers and walked to the door, followed by Dean.

"Thanks for the tip, by the way, " Dean said when he saw Castiel out. When Castiel frowned in confusion, he rolled his eyes and said in a deep singsong voice, "Books and education can never be dubious, young man." He stood on his toes, nuzzled Castiel's neck and kissed him, exactly at the same place as he had in the park. "Turns out history books and education can be really interesting and necessary after all," he murmured and pecked Castiel on the nose with his index finger before returning inside.

So. Dean had re-claimed him. Just like that. On the Winchester's porch. In public, actually, since anyone walking by could've seen them. And Dean had bared his neck to him. And Dean had Kama Sutra and thought it was interesting... Castiel felt hot and cold and feverish as he hurried back home, threw the food containers onto the kitchen table and ran to his bedroom. He scrambled to find the panties as he fumbled his fly open with one hand. He was hard, almost ready to pop his knot but he took his time, sliding his hand along his shaft, scenting Dean's panties at the same time.

He pictured Dean there with him, Dean's hand caressing him, Dean's warm fingers circling his cock and sliding slowly up and down, carefully, as if doing this for the first time. He fisted himself hesitantly, playing this make-believe in his head, drowning his senses in Dean's scent. Imaginary Dean was on his knees in front of him, his smaller hand just barely reaching around Castiel's girth, wandering and exploring, moving from the tip to the knot, careful, gentle, prodding the eagerly expanding flesh under his touch. His let his grip slide smoothly to the glans, thumb caressing the pre-cum and smearing it around the shaft.

”...Dean," Castiel groaned.

The Dean of his fantasy cocked his head slightly as he repeated the movement and Castiel groaned again. It felt so good so good so good... His Dean picked up the pace a little, making wonderful twists with his wrist and thumbing the leaking tip every now and then. Castiel's breath hitched and his hips bucked to the touch. The dream-Dean smiled and started giving him more, rougher, faster, until Castiel was panting and craving for release. When he felt the heat starting to build up, coiling to get released, fingers clamped around his cock, just above the knot, and gripped tight. Castiel whined and trembled as his orgasm was forced back, and he gulped mouthfuls of air to steady his heartbeat.

And then the Dean of his fantasy started again.

The actions were repeated two more times, and by then Castiel was a moaning, sweating mess writhing on the bed. When he finally came, it was with a powerful convulsion, shouting Dean's name in the empty bedroom.

Life was slowly settling into pre-Christmas frenzy. Castiel observed, somewhat puzzled, how normally perfectly sane people succumbed into madness one by one, hunting decorations and crafting cards like it was the last thing on earth. Castiel enjoyed shopping less and less, because the hideous synthesized carols gave him a pounding migraine. But he had to endure in order to get some food, so he really had no choice.

It seemed the Winchesters were facing Christmas with determination. During his daily walks, Castiel noted how the decorations seemed to multiply daily, expanding from the porch to the front and backyard. To be honest, it wasn't quite clear which one of the Winchesters was most into it. Castiel could only imagine what the insides of the house looked like.

He hadn't seen Dean at all since Thanksgiving. He only hoped things were not too strained between John and Dean, and that Dean wasn’t, in fact, grounded. It probably wouldn’t be beyond John to ground his son just because he spoke his mind, but, to Castiel, that would make John petty. And, as much as Castiel liked John, he also despised petty people.

The answer came a week before Christmas in form of Sam ringing his doorbell. It was a crisp Friday evening, with the temperature dropping rapidly and the smell of winter in the air. Castiel went to open his door and was baffled to see Sam with a backpack and a stack of books. When Castiel opened the door, he briskly walked in.

"Hi Cas! Mind if I bunk here for the weekend? Dean's in heat, dad's away, and mum is sinking into some kind of a Christmas lunacy. I'm supposed to have my finals next week and I can't study in that nuthouse. Do you have any idea what's it like to listen to your big brother moaning through the night? You have any food? I'm starving. Oh, fresh oranges—”

Sam continued his babbling, leaving Castiel standing in front of an open door, mouth agape, trying to work out what— why— when— WHAT?

"Are you going somewhere for holidays?" Sam asked, peeking from the kitchen, his mouth stuffed full of orange. "Sorry, should've asked for permission. I love oranges, but mom's a bit allergic so we don't get them often.”

Closing the door, Castiel smiled and waved his hand in the general direction of kitchen. "No worries, eat them all if you like." Sam's face split into a huge smile and he darted back to the kitchen to peel another one.

"Does your mother know you're here, Sam?" Castiel asked, walking after Sam. Sam nodded, mouth too full to actually answer. "Okay then. Well. Yes, I suppose you can stay here. I mostly work on weekends and have no appointments coming up, so.”

Feeling a bit out of his depth, Castiel fussed around the kitchen. He had no experience with pups as he had obviously never had any of his own. Fortunately Sam was already eleven and perfectly capable of voicing his opinion about food and sleeping arrangements. Speaking of which…

"Where would you want to sleep? My house is quite small and all I have to offer is a mattress on the floor of my study or the sofa here in the living room. Sorry." He apologized, slightly embarrassed.

Sam smiled. "I really don't care. I've had my own room only for a couple of months, ever since we moved here. We didn't have a steady home before, you know, we lived in cheap hotels and then for a couple of years in a trailer when our dad tried to get a job. Me and Dean used to share a room or a bunk for years, and now it's a bit odd to have an actual room to myself." Sam paused for a while. "So yeah, sofa or mattress, either is fine by me.”

Castiel was silent. Mary had brushed the subject of their past once or twice, but she had never given out details of how their life had been before Dean had presented as an omega. Sam's comment was not a surprise, though — even though the money from the OIAA had given the family the opportunity to purchase the shabby old house, they didn't have the money to repair it or even buy new furniture. The Winchester's home spoke volumes of deeply ingrained poverty, but also of pride, warmth and love. Regardless of the lack of money, theirs was a happy home.

"Would it be okay for you to sleep on the sofa then? My study is quite stuffed and honestly it would be an awful lot of work to clean it up to even get the mattress the space it needs,” Castiel asked, hoping Sam wouldn't mind.

Sam grinned. "Sure, Cas! Don't worry about it, really."

Castiel smiled, relieved, and went to find an extra blanket and pillow. Fortunately his sofa was big enough for Sam to stretch out comfortably, even though he was quite tall for a boy of eleven.

"Is it okay to call you Cas?" Sam asked worriedly when Castiel returned with the beddings and put them on the armrest, ready for Sam to use. "I just thought that since Dean does, it's okay for me too.”

Castiel looked up, surprised. "Um. Yes, of course. I don't mind." He hadn't really noticed it but yes, Dean had called him by the nickname, not by his full name almost from the start. And he really didn't mind. His full name was a mouthful and he was strangely pleased Dean had given him a new one to use.

And yes, Dean. Who was at home and in heat, as Sam had said. That explained why Castiel hadn't seen him for a while. The Winchesters had probably sealed him in his room, after taping his windows shut to prevent any scent from escaping. Dean, writhing in bed, moaning in the throes of his heat, wanting release, with slick—

No. No no no no. Castiel's alpha growled and paced, wanting to run to its omega, to claim and mate and breed, and Castiel wondered if it was possible to get a house arrest to your inner animal.

"I think he's okay,” Sam said, and for a moment Castiel thought his heart was going to stop. Then he realized he hadn't spoken aloud, but Sam had merely continued his own path of thoughts.

"I wonder what's it like. The heat, I mean," Sam pondered. "It doesn't seem like a fun business. Actually, it sounds like it hurts. I hope I'm not gonna be an omega. Although I wouldn’t wanna be an alpha, either.”

Castiel didn't know what to say so he made a noncommittal sound of polite interest.

Sam huffed and thought for a while. "I think it's restrictive for both. Omegas have this hormone thingy, they're expected to mate and make pups and it's like that's all there is. And alphas are supposed to be posturing and aggressive, and provide and protect, and their lives just curl around omegas if there's one nearby. Maybe betas have the best shots in life, you know? Free to be what they are, not affected the mating pheromones and all that. Yeah, I'd like to be a beta.”

"I don't think it's that simple,” Castiel said carefully while putting a kettle on to make some tea. "I mean, your father and I, we are both alphas and we’re completely different. Being an alpha doesn't mean you have to act certain way.”

”Honestly? Between you two I'd rather be like you, Cas. But don't tell dad.”

"I won't, scout's honor," Castiel swore somberly with his hand on his chest, and Sam grinned back.

They continued on lighter subjects as they brewed tea and made some sandwiches for supper. Castiel was lucky enough to locate a jar of peanut butter and some jelly, and Sam was content to make his own sandwiches. Later, Castiel helped Sam to make a bed and bid him goodnight, and reminded him that he was free to read whatever he liked during his stay.

The weekend went by fast. Before Castiel even realized, it was Sunday evening and Mary was ringing his doorbell to take Sam home. She thanked Castiel over and over again, and Castiel told her it was nothing, over and over again. Which was true, it was nothing. He had enjoyed Sam's company very much, his sharp observations and quick mind. Sam was way older than his years indicated and was going to be an exceptional person when he grew up. Nevertheless, he was surprised when Sam gave him a tight hug before he walked out of the door. The hug left Castiel all warm and mushy. It was the Christmas spirit, he decided.

With Dean's heat over, the Winchesters gave themselves completely to the holiday spirit. Castiel watched from his kitchen window as John and the boys hauled in a massive spruce and hung even more decorations to around their yard. The whole house was a blinking mass of lights and it actually started to disturb Castiel's sleep. Not that he would ever tell it to the family, their Christmas was way more important than a weeks of sleeping badly.

Mary had invited Castiel to spend the Christmas eve with them, but Castiel had politely declined. He felt the things were still a bit strained between John and him, and, with Dean's heat barely over, he really didn't want to tempt himself. He gave the family an assortment of fudge (which made Dean very happy) and got a bottle of mulled wine in return. He thought he would light a couple of candles, read a book, or just enjoy his wine and a calm Christmas eve.

Dean had other plans.

When his doorbell rang, Castiel had already drank a glass of wine and had a pleasant warmth tingling his cheeks. When he opened the door to Dean and his residual heat pheromones, the warmness turned into full flush.

"Hi Cas,” Dean said smiling softly. "Can I come in? I've got you a present.”

Castiel nodded mutely and stepped aside to let Dean in. The omega had something in his hand and he glanced at Castiel as he walked to his kitchen. Castiel closed the door and hurried after him. Dean's scent was stronger, more mature and sensual than before, and Castiel closed his eyes when he inhaled and reveled in the essence of Dean. When he opened his eyes, Dean was looking at him, green eyes slightly amused. Castiel flushed and averted his eyes. He shouldn't scent Dean, it wasn't right. But by God, he was right here and he smelled divine!

"Sam said you like to drink tea so I got you this," Dean said a bit gruffly and shoved Castiel a package of quality loose-leaf tea. Castiel felt flattered and shy as he accepted Dean's gift. Then he realized he had nothing to offer back. Mortified, he confessed as much to Dean. His alpha was devastated at failing its omega and, for once, Castiel didn't disagree.

"Oh, don't worry. I've got it covered,” Dean said with a wry smile and walked to the living room. He asked Castiel to sit as he fussed with something, and Castiel thought he wanted to ask for more books but didn't exactly know how. His musings were stopped short though.

"Okay Cas, hold this," Dean ordered and stuck something in Castiel's hand, lifting it up.

"Is it necessary to hold my hand up?" Castiel inquired, having no clue what was going on.

”Yes," Dean said curtly. He walked around the sofa to stand before bemused Castiel who still sat on it, hand held high. Dean watched him as if pondering something and then he promptly climbed on Castiel's lap, straddling him.

Castiel gasped. ”Dean—!"

He was cut short when Dean cupped his cheeks in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth. It was a sweet, gentle kiss and Dean took his time. He nipped Castiel's upper lip and Castiel obeyed, opening under Dean's mouth, letting him in. Dean kissed him for a long while, and when he finally let go, they were both out of breath.

Dean caressed Castiel’s lips with his thumb, and Castiel could only stare, speechless, eyes wide open. With a smirk, Dean glanced up to his still elevated hand.

"Mistletoe. Merry Christmas, Cas." 

Because Castiel was a reasonable, grown man, he did the only thing imaginable: he fled.

After the kiss on Christmas eve, Dean had climbed off his lap and left. It had taken Castiel a good while to realize he was still sitting on the sofa, hand held high, clutching the mistletoe and staring in bewilderment at the door. He had lowered the mistletoe to his lap and stared at it, still not believing what had happened. He had lifted his hand to his lips and gently brushed them, tasting Dean and remembering the touch of his lips.

Dean had kissed him, full and proper. Why?

He had slowly gotten on his feet and made his way to his bedroom. Gently, carefully he had placed the mistletoe on his nightstand, sat on the bed and tried to think.

Dean had claimed him, twice, and then kissed him. That was a fact. It had seemed like Dean had known what he was doing, although Castiel couldn't understand the reason why. It was ridiculous and dangerous to think that Dean would actually want to mate him. Why would a gorgeous, beautiful and spirited young omega want to bind himself to an old alpha who wasn't even considered a proper mate? Dean would have suitors lined up as soon as it was made known he was looking. Castiel didn't belong in that line.

He couldn't lie to himself though. If he had the opportunity, he would gladly mate Dean and pledge his life into making Dean feel like the most precious thing in the whole world. He was completely, totally, and utterly besotted with him, and had no idea how to go back to the way things had been before.

Because that's what had to be done. No matter what he felt, no matter what he was ready to do, this had to stop. He had to end it before it was too late or, well, too late for Dean at least. Castiel could already tell it was too late for him, but he could still make the difference for the young omega. Dean shouldn't suffer from Castiel's shortcomings, he should be making himself ready for young, dashing suitors who could be what he needed while being OIAA-approved.

It would hurt to let Dean go. It would hurt a lot. Not that Dean ever was his per se, but unfortunately his mind had already started molding itself to Dean, now considering him a mate, and the withdrawal would be torture. But not as painful as it would be if he let this go on. So off it was, away.

He packed enough clothes to last for a couple of weeks, along a sufficient number of unfinished translations to occupy his mind with. He checked his house, locking and securing doors and windows, drawing blinds halfway to prevent possible peepers to see inside. He had no plants to look after but he made sure to clear out the trash and empty his fridge to prevent unpleasant odors. He had forgotten it once, and the welcoming smell had been quite ripe when he had returned from his trip.

He didn't dare to actually talk to any of the Winchesters, but left a note in their mailbox instead, informing that he was leaving town for a while and would be very grateful if they could check that nobody broke into his house, thank you. He didn't leave a phone number, mainly because he didn't have a cell, and because he had absolutely no idea where he was going.

So, he fled.

He called a cab to get to the bus station and randomly picked a bus. As long as it got him away from Dean, it was enough. He could just as well take a ride to the next town, check in to some cheap motel, and book a room for two weeks. He had no wish to play tourist and go sightseeing whatever there was to see during Christmas/New Year's time anyway. He wanted to curl up in a bed and pretend the hollow ache in his chest was not his alpha side going through rejection and withdrawal from a mate it never had.

Eventually, he had to return. It was late January and, because the cheap hotel he was staying in had zero insulation, he was afraid he'd get arthritis and pneumonia if he remained there any longer. Besides, he was running out of things to wear and he had grown tired of washing his underwear in the motel's bathroom sink. He idly wondered if this was the kind of life the Winchesters had led, before. 

The stunt had done nothing to his feelings, though. He was not off of Dean, but missed him with a fierceness that hadn’t lessened even a bit during his self-appointed exile. He had gotten almost no work done, since he had, in fact, been curled in the dingy motel bed, trying to forget the scent of Dean, his lips and his warm weight on his lap when he had kissed him. It was like Dean had seeped into his every pore and engraved himself so deep into Castiel that only death could separate them.

Resigned, Castiel headed back home. There was no point staying away, because the separation obviously accomplished nothing. He could just as well try to get through the withdrawal in his own bed. At least he could be warm and have clean clothes to wear.

It was almost midnight when his cab pulled in front of his house. The whole street was silent, no lights on any windows. Just as well, he didn't exactly wish for an audience when stumbling home with his bags, crumpled and tired to the bone. He didn't look actually rested so his story of an ex tempore holiday wouldn't be quite believable. He could maybe say it had been a family emergency, but then he would have to actually talk about his family, and he wasn't sure he wanted that.

His home smelled stale and dusty. He was hungry, but, of course, there was no food in the fridge because he had emptied it before leaving. He dropped his bags unceremoniously on the floor, deciding to sort them out in the morning. After raiding the pantry, he found some old crackers and ate a few, gulping a glass of tepid water to help them down. Half asleep he shuffled upstairs, not bothering to undress before getting to bed.

When he lay his head on the pillow, he noticed the mistletoe resting on the nightstand. He squeezed his eyes shut, turned to his other side, and tried to sleep.

The bleak morning light creeped into Castiel's bedroom, matching his sour mood. He knew he had to get up eventually, but the idea of it was far from pleasant. He turned on his back, stared at the ceiling with weary eyes, and thought hard what to do.

Obviously, he had to keep on working. Luckily the biblical translations weren't on a deadline and, as one of the few professionals on his field, he was fortunate enough to have a long leash on his schedule. He should probably also catalogue his research volumes and finally sort out his study to have some actual order in the room.

Yes. He should do that. But first, he should get up, shower, and do some shopping to refill his pantry.

He did exactly that, reveling in the hot shower and enjoying the delightful water pressure after the depressing encounter with the motel shower. After getting dressed, he did his laundry, happy to have a machine to do the job. It was enlightening to do the washing by hand, but he wasn't eager to repeat the experience anytime soon.

He was in the kitchen brewing tea for breakfast when the doorbell rang. It was Mary.

"Morning, Castiel," she said with a hesitant smile. "Sorry to bother you so early, but I noticed your blinds being up and guessed you got home last night. I'm on my way to work and thought to drop you these." She handed Castiel a plastic bag.

"It's your mail. I know it's a bit rude to handle your neighbor's mail without permission, but I thought you might want to have the mailbox emptied in your absence.”

Castiel felt warmed by her gesture of goodwill. He smiled, grateful, and stepped from the door. "Would you like to come inside? I've got some tea but nothing else, I'm afraid," he added apologetically.

Mary chewed her lip and then came in. "Maybe one cup... I'm probably going to be late anyway.”

Castiel led her to the kitchen and poured her a cup. It was the brand he had got as a Christmas present from Dean, a very good quality as it turned out.

"I hope you are alright,” Mary said, watching him over her mug. "You left in a hurry and, quite frankly, you look awful.”

Castiel put his mug down and pinched the base of his nose. "It was... a personal matter. I don't really want to talk about it, if you don't mind.”

Mary nodded and, for a while, they were silent, drinking their tea.

After a while, Mary said quietly, "Dean missed you." She was watching her tea, not looking at Castiel, who swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I missed him too," Castiel said. "All of you, of course," he added, realizing his blunder too late. Mary raised her eyes to meet his and Castiel dared not to look away.

"Is there something I should know?" Mary asked carefully.

Castiel let out a shuddering breath. "Mary, I swear by all that's holy, I have not pursued your son. Please, believe me.”

She looked at him, long and hard before nodding. "I know. I might be a little slow, but I'm not blind. I know my son and I think that, by now, I know you too." She drank the rest of her tea, put the mug carefully on the table and stood up.

"In any case, I think it would be for the best if you didn't see him for a while. I enjoy your company but I don't think John—” She stopped and sighed. "It's difficult for him.”

She turned and said, gently, "Thank you for the tea, it was very good. I'll see myself out. Goodbye, Castiel."

He stared at the kitty-decorated mug on the other side of the table, where Mary had left it. Of course it was for the best. To continue this infatuation was madness, and keeping up the tiny hope of reciprocated feelings meant begging for trouble. Mary was very kind to warn Castiel off personally, and, for that, he was grateful. It did nothing to ease the feeling of his heart being carved out of his chest with a spoon, though.

He drank his tea, which was long time cold. There was nothing he could do, except to go on with his plans of working and sorting out his study. If he drowned himself in chores, he might be able to forget the conversation never happening.

But first, groceries.

He walked to the store, blind to his surroundings, went through the motions of mechanically picking out his standard selection of cereal, coffee, tea, sugar, honey, milk, vegetables, and bread; and paid for his purchases routinely, never bothering to check the total. He walked home in a haze, all the time hoping to be inside, behind the secure walls of his house. After getting inside, he put his groceries away, absently ate some bread, and then climbed the stairs to his study.

The study was an awful mess. Castiel had not had any real kind of order in his work for a long time, and he got to work with forced enthusiasm he didn't actually feel. He poured himself into sorting his files, first by myth and age, then alphabetically and chronologically, going through every stack and pile of papers on the floor, the table, and the shelves. After setting the papers straight he assembled the Ikea binders and boxes he had bought about three years ago, and filed his papers neatly, naming the containers on the go.

He was about to start sorting his bookcases when he looked at the time. It was 8 p.m. He realized he had been cleaning for seven hours straight, and he was ravenous. He stuffed a surprising amount of paper waste in a garbage bag to take it out to the garbage bin later, and left the study. He could continue tomorrow.

Eventually, it took him three days to clean the room. In the end it was in perfect order, his books sorted alphabetically inside themes, his papers all filed and catalogued, his desk dusted and the hardwood floor swiped. It was a nice, cosy office all neat and ready.

Too bad his mind was not.

The doorbell rang insistently, as if someone leaned on it. Castiel was rather tired and unfocused when he clambered to open it, otherwise he would've caught the scent in time. As it was, he opened the front door to the exquisite sight of Dean.

"Howdy, Cas!" Dean piped brightly. "Brought some pie." Dean did, indeed, have a delicious-smelling pie with him, a real honest-to-God home-baked apple pie. Castiel was certain neither of the two delicacies should have been on his porch.

”Dean— what are you doing here? Where are your parents?”

"Oh, they went with Sam. Some nerdy science fair thingy in his school, don't give a rat's ass. Now, where are your plates? You have any ice cream?" Without further ado Dean strolled in and headed straight to the kitchen.

Alarmed, Castiel hastened after him. "Dean, I really— You shouldn’t— Why are you here?”

Dean turned around to give him a look that clearly asked if Castiel was a bit slow. "Cas. My mum baked like dozen pies for my birthday and there's only the four of us eating. It's a friggin' shame if a pie goes to waste. Now, the plates?”

Castiel felt faint. This was a really bad idea. "Dean, you need to leave. Now. Please.”

The boy looked offended. ”Why?"

"Do you know how terrible idea this is?”

"Well that's just rude. You know, I like you and you… you definitely like me," he grinned.

Castiel felt trapped. He needed to get Dean out or confine himself behind bars, or perhaps both. The boy's scent hung heavy in the air and he felt his cock give a very interested twitch. Mary's warning flashed in his mind, but it was like Dean's proximity wiped it clean.

"Look. Dean. I'm flattered by your compliment, I really am, but— This isn't right. I'm an alpha and you are an omega and we are both unmated. You shouldn't be here without supervision, it's not safe.”

Castiel tried desperately explain, to do the right thing, to convince Dean to leave, while his inner alpha was growling and nearly breaking free.

”No."

"What do you mean, no?”

"No. I'm not gonna leave just 'cause you're scared." Dean crossed his hands across his chest and glared at him, a stubborn set on his jaw.

"I'm not scared!" Castiel sputtered. Which was true. He wasn't scared, he was absolutely terrified. Terrified of himself, of Dean, of this attraction that shouldn't exist and that definitely shouldn't be encouraged.

"Yeah right." Dean snorted. "You're scared as hell. That's why you ran away after I kissed you, didn't you? What are you afraid of anyway? Me? You? Us?" He cocked a brow, challenging Castiel with his confident posture.

"Us? There is no 'us'. There's you, an underage omega, and me, an unfit alpha, that's all." Castiel said testily. "What am I to you? An old man, a live dummy to test your pheromones and pouts, and toss away when you've had your fun?”

Castiel's heart nearly broke at his words and at the emotions — surprise, hurt, anger — flicking on Dean's face, but he had to do this. He had to hurt Dean to save him, to make him leave and never come back. It was the right thing to do, no matter it hurt like hell.

"You fucking idiot!" Dean snarled and stalked closer to Castiel, who backed away from him.

"I told you back in the park that I know what I want and I know how to get what I want. Well, guess what?" He drew a deep breath and jabbed Castiel in the chest, and he took another step back.

"I want you. I've wanted you since that day in the grocery store, and I don't give a shit about your age—,” another jab, ”—or mine, or your so-called inferior alpha traits. Fuck my parents—,” another jab, ”—and fuck the OIAA." He jabbed Castiel fourth time and, after backing the whole way from kitchen to living room, Castiel sat heavily on the sofa, mouth agape and eyes wide.

Dean stood before him, breathing heavily, eyes blazing, hands clenched in fists, and cheeks flushed, and he was the most wildly beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen. If Castiel hadn't been enthralled before, he sure as hell was now. Everything stopped for a while, and then he had his lap full of angry, gorgeous omega.

Dean kissed him furiously, nipping, licking, demanding, and possessing Castiel's lips like they belonged to him. He cradled Castiel's neck with his hands, caressed him and stroked his chin with surprising tenderness. Castiel was so taken aback that he surrendered to Dean completely, closed his eyes, savoring Dean, his mouth, his taste, his weight on him. It was heaven.

When Dean lifted his head slightly to catch his breath, Castiel took him by the shoulders and gently pushed him up, away.

"Dean, please. No. This is wrong. We can’t—”

"Shut the fuck up, Cas," Dean interrupted and bent back to kiss him again. There was less frenzy, but just as much hunger and want, and this time Castiel couldn't hold back.

He wrapped his arms around Dean, hugged him tight, and kissed back with all the pent-up lust he felt. He drew his tongue across Dean's upper lip and Dean moaned, opening under him, letting him in. He tasted wonderful and Castiel took his time to explore his mouth, studying and memorizing it, every curve and arc, relishing the warm wetness. His hands were wandering on Dean's back, rubbing little circles on the small of his back, sliding over the planes of his hips and the curve of his ass. He could feel Dean's jeans getting damp with his slick slowly seeping through the fabric and he groaned at the feeling. He was achingly hard and, through his jeans, he could feel that Dean was too.

Dean bent his head to bare his neck and Castiel's arousal surged. He wanted — God, he wanted so much to bite that neck, to claim his omega and mate him but he couldn't. He pressed his nose to Dean's neck to fill his head with his scent, and nuzzled and licked the sensitive skin of the scent gland. Dean groaned and pressed his head to Castiel's neck, scenting him back. He was gently rocking on Castiel's lap, the movement causing delicious friction to his leaking cock and Castiel's hips bucked to the movement.

It was so good and so wrong doing it there, on his sofa, curtains open for anyone to see. But Castiel couldn't care less. Dean was on his lap, rutting against him, rubbing their clothed cocks together and soaking slick through his jeans, and it drove Castiel out of his mind. He couldn't help himself and slipped his hand under Dean's belt, sliding down the bare skin to the wet heat. Dean gave a strangled sound and pushed back, seeking out pressure and touch, and shivered as Castiel's middle finger slipped down his cleft, circling his hole. Castiel kept his hand still, didn’t push in, letting Dean use his hand as he wanted instead.

They were both panting as they moved together, forgetting the world around them, instincts taking over, alpha and omega, holding each other tight. Dean came with a shuddering groan, going stiff on Castiel's lap and then collapsing, leaning heavily on his shoulder with his forehead. Castiel was only seconds behind, not minding a bit he just came in his pants like a teenager.

Maybe it was proper, considering his partner was a teenager.

It was a sobering thought.

Dean chuckled, breathless, and lifted his head to look Castiel in the eye. "Wow. We're so doing this again,” he grinned.

Castiel took his hand away from cradling Dean's ass, turned his head away, and sighed. "Dean, we can't. We shouldn't have done this in a first place. You'll get in trouble.”

Dean frowned and ducked his head, searching for Castiel’s eyes. "Hey. What's all that about? What trouble?”

"Your father—”

"My dad won't smell shit. I'll go home, take a shower, and sprinkle some turpentine on my jeans before they get home. Don't worry, Cas."

Dean smiled and kissed him softly, a gentle caress on his lips. Castiel couldn't help but to feel guilty and didn't kiss him back. He drew breath and opened his mouth, but Dean took his chin between his fingers and gave him a hard stare.

"Don't you dare to apologize 'cause I'm not sorry. This was the best birthday present ever.”

Of course, things went to hell after that. Only ten minutes after Dean had left, Castiel heard a door slam shut, then his name was shouted, and there was loud banging at his door. Resigned and apprehensive, he went to open the door and was shoved inside by enraged John.

"The hell you think you're doing?" John growled, his hand pressed into fists and his face in angry lines. "Dean's a kid for fucks sake! You think I didn't smell you all over him? You've got some nerve, really." He shoved Castiel again, and he stumbled, nearly falling.

"John, stop!" It was Mary, holding John back, talking him down before he could blow into a full alpha rage and do something he would regret. Castiel stood still, averting his eyes from John's, head bowed and shoulders hunched. He had nothing to say, no way to defend himself, nothing to justify his actions. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

It never came.

Instead, there was Dean.

"Dad, back the fuck off!" Dean barked, furious, placing himself between Castiel and his father. He had slick and come drying on his jeans and he looked fucked out and absolutely stunning.

"Dean, that excuse of an alpha took advantage of you! Now, move!" John snarled, not really looking at his son, but focusing solely on Castiel.

Dean snorted. "The fuck he did. Cas wouldn't take an advantage of a housefly, let alone me. I consented.”

His parents turned to him as one. "You what—” "Dean, honey—” they said, stumbling over each other.

Dean didn't move or relax his protective stance in front of Castiel. "Yeah, I consented. I started it, in fact. And since I'm fifteen and sane...ish, I can actually give my consent, even if I'm not of proper mating age yet." He bared his teeth to his father and snarled. "So don't you fucking dare touch him.”

John stared at his son, clearly not believing a word. "You're not serious. You—him— You've got to be kidding, Dean!”

"M'not. It's in the books, look it up, dad. I choose, I consent. That's it." He turned his head to look at Castiel. "You okay, Cas?" he asked softly. Castiel could only nod.

Mary sighed. It was quite obvious she wasn't surprised by the events. "Sweetheart, he's twenty years older than you.”

Dean shrugged. "Twenty-five, actually. So what? I like him. A lot." He glanced at Castiel and blushed. It was adorable and Castiel gave him a shy smile.

John didn't approve any of it, and he grabbed Dean's hand and yanked him away from Castiel. Castiel forced himself to stay still as his alpha nearly broke to the surface to tear John's throat open for touching its mate.

"This is ridiculous. We're going home. Now!" John snapped, and tightened his grip when Dean tried to protest. He turned to Castiel, "You. Leave him alone," he growled. And then he turned and dragged Dean away with him.

Mary sighed and glanced at Castiel. "I'm sorry, " she said, but Castiel only shook his head.

"Not your fault," he said softly.

And then they were gone.

Castiel was left standing where he was, come drying in his khakis, wondering if things would ever be right again. 

To say that things were strained, was a huge understatement.

If they happened to be getting their mails at the same time, John wouldn't look Castiel in the eye, grinding his teeth and looking angry instead. Mary would nod curtly when she passed Castiel, but wouldn’t talk to him, either. And Dean — Dean was most likely grounded and not allowed outside alone. Whenever Castiel saw him, he was accompanied by one or both of his parents, never permitted to talk or even get near Castiel. In fact, the only member of the Winchester household who spoke to him at all was Sam, and even with him the communication was only short 'hellos' and 'how-are-yous.'

Castiel wasn't entirely sure if Mary and John would call the authorities after Dean's claim, but he was almost positive he would be visited by both the CPS and the OIAA. Probably. Most likely. Why wouldn't he? He had made a move he didn't have permission to make, and usually that came with consequences.

His head was a mess and he was unable to concentrate on anything, hence, he cleaned. His study was in order, which was why he poured himself into cleaning everything else. He removed the comforter and sheets from his bed, vacuumed the mattress from both sides, aired his pillows and blanket, and vacuumed and washed the hardwood floor, before making the bed with fresh linens. He then proceeded to the little corridor, wiping the floor and dusting the corners where walls and ceiling met and where the cobwebs always appeared, no matter how often he cleaned. When he finished, it was past midnight and he was emotionally and physically exhausted.

The next day, he continued with the bathroom. He scraped every possible surface with a Miracle Sponge, including the spaces under the sink and behind the toilet seat. He used vinegar and baking soda to get rid of the calcification in his shower and to clean the toilet seat. He arranged his few bottles of soap and threw away the ones that were almost empty or that he never used.

After the bathroom was done, he started polishing banisters and vacuuming the steps on the stairs. There was good amount of sand ingrained in the carpeting and he spent hours meticulously getting it all out. And who would've known there would be so many fingerprints on the banisters! When he toppled on his bed that evening, he realized he had forgotten to eat.

The next morning, he staggered into the kitchen, feeling achy all over. It was then when he noticed the pie. It was still on his kitchen countertop, neatly wrapped in plastic, waiting to be eaten. He stared at it and it all came rushing back: the scent, the taste, the feel of Dean. He sat down heavily, groaned and pressed his head in his hands. If he wasn't sure about it before, there was no question of it now; he was in love with Dean: with his wit, his eyes, his body, his scent, everything.

He peeled the plastic off of the pie and sniffed it to check if it was still edible, which it was. He cut a slice and ate it in the lonely silence of his home. It was a very good pie, but he had known it before the first bite. Mary was an excellent cook, after all.

After finishing his pie, he continued his cleaning mission in the living room. He emptied his bookcases, wiped the shelves and sorted his books into an alphabetical order. Then he vacuumed his sofa and armchair, as well as the floor both in the living room and the entryway. He washed and waxed the floor, and was very pleased with the outcome as the hardwood clearly had needed the treatment.

He remembered to eat, this time. He made some pasta and cut another slice of pie to have with his tea. As he sat and ate, he thought about what Dean had said. 'I choose. I consent. That's it.' It sounded so simple and straightforward, but, of course, nothing ever was. Dean was only fifteen, how could he be so sure? Maybe he had bluffed, to save Castiel from the beating he surely had deserved from John.

But it hadn’t been the first time Dean had made a reference to his omega-books, which couldn't be a coincidence. Maybe Castiel should check it out, just to make sure. He would have to go to the library as he didn't have an encyclopedia of omega affairs in his collection, and no internet to do a web search. Yes, he should do that. But first, he had a house to clean.

After four days of compulsive cleaning, his house was shiny and impeccable, a true Martha Stewart-home. His head was still a mess.

January turned into February without Castiel noticing. He hardly paid any notion to outside world, other than getting his groceries once a week and his mail every now and then. Days melted into weeks, while Castiel dove into his work, shutting himself in his study with a pot of tea and piles of paper. He counted time not by his calendar, but by pots of tea, packs of cereal, and jars of honey. He never made it to the library to check out Dean's claims.

The mistletoe was still on his nightstand, though. Every night he decided to get rid of it in the morning, but he never did.

When the doorbell rang, it took Castiel completely by surprise. No-one had rang the bell since— Well. He glanced outside and noticed it was dark. He had no idea how one more day had gone by again. He shuffled to the door and rubbed his eyes absently.

It was Sam. He had a backpack and a stack of books with him, and he looked a bit nervous.

"Um. Hi Cas. I know things are— I thought—” He drew breath and rushed, ”Dean'sinheatagaincanIpleasestayhere?"

”What?"

”Yeah."

"What day is it?”

”Tuesday."

"No, I mean—” Castiel stopped and rubbed his face again. "Come in, Sam." He stepped away from the door to let Sam in and closed it behind him.

Sam walked past the kitchen to the living room and dumped his things on the sofa. He turned slowly around and asked, "What did you mean by 'what day is it' if Tuesday was the wrong answer? Did you mean, like, the actual date?”

When Castiel didn't answer, Sam whistled. "Whoa, you did. Dude, you've got it bad." He shook his head slightly giving Castiel a Look. "It's March fifth. Tuesday. And about seven p.m. The President is Obama and we're currently in the US. Anything else?”

”Oh," was all Castiel said. Fifth of March. Good to know.

"Cas, what's going on? You look like shit and Dean's been fighting with dad ever since his birthday. Mom looks sad and dad gets all red and huffy if I ask about you.”

Castiel turned his head and closed his eyes. "It's... complicated." He walked to the kitchen and asked, "You want some tea? Sandwiches? I haven't eaten yet, so you can join me if you want." He prepared the supper with unhurried moves, dreading the moment Sam would come to the doorway. Very insightful, that pup. Frighteningly so.

"Are you two in love?”

Castiel stopped cutting the bread and lowered the knife to the counter. The question was as blunt as you could expect from Sam, but he was also genuinely interested. Castiel bowed his head and swallowed. "I can only speak for myself but yes, I do love Dean. Very much," he said hoarsely. It was the first time he had said it aloud.

Sam nodded. "Thought so." He sat down and started to make himself sandwiches with peanut butter and jelly. "That's what they fight about, you know. You." He continued spreading peanut butter on one slice and jelly on the other, with careful movements, like even layers were the most important thing in the world. "Dean says he loves you and wants to mate with you. Dad thinks you're both insane." He lifted the bread and pressed them together, jelly to peanut butter. "Mom doesn't say a thing, but I think she's on your side." His sandwich ready, Sam gripped it with both hands and looked up. "I'm on your side, too.”

Castiel was struck speechless as he watched Sam calmly eat his sandwich, as if he hadn't just turned Castiel's world upside down. Dean loved him? Him? Castiel?

”But— how— why—”

"Dude, don't ask. I don't know. I'm eleven." Sam said flatly, gulping down a glass of orange juice Castiel mutely offered him and hopping off the chair.

"My school starts at nine. I think I should be off to bed soon. Where do I sleep, on the sofa again?”

Castiel shook his head in attempt to return to the land of the sane and normal. "Um. I've cleaned up my study, you can sleep there if you like. More privacy.”

He showed Sam the way upstairs to the study and went to get the spare mattress, pillow and blanket.

"Cas, all your stuff is in alphabetical order!" Sam exclaimed from the study.

Castiel huffed a laugh. "Well. Yes. I clean when I'm stressed. You should see the kitchen cabinets." In his maniacal cleaning fit, he had re-organized his whole kitchen, labeling everything neatly with a sharpie and a label writer, before sorting everything by food groups. In alphabetical order, of course.

Sam rolled his eyes, muttering something about OCD and too much organizing not being healthy. When Castiel gave him a flat stare, he grinned and commented airily, "You know, they say that when your life is in chaos and you don't know what to do, it's easy to pour all that frustration into something simple, like cleaning. When you sort out your things you can pretend sorting out your brain, too.”

Sometimes it was very, very easy to forget that Sam was only eleven.

Sam stayed with him until Saturday. Of course, he wasn't there the whole time because of the school, but in the evenings they would eat dinner together and then play cards or read, or Sam would ask him endless questions about his work. It was very domestic and Castiel liked it a lot.

He would've gladly spent more time with Sam, but, naturally, he returned home as soon as Dean's heat was over. Castiel was sad to see him go, because he had grown very fond of Sam over the past months and it seemed like Sam liked him too.

Before Sam left, he rummaged for something from his backpack and shoved it at Castiel. "Dean wanted you to have this," he said. "Don't ask, I've no idea what it is.”

As it turned out, it was a book. An OIAA book, to be specific: 'The Omega Affairs: A Complete Guide To A Life As An Omega.' The pompous title was a bit misleading, because the book was actually quite thorough and written with enough wit to make it interesting, but with more than sufficient amount of legalese to make it a comprehensive, all-inclusive survival guide. It was clear that it was for limited audience only, the kind of a book you had to prove you were an omega to purchase. Castiel had heard rumors of them, but the actual knowledge was on a need-to-know basis and, as an alpha, he had no business of knowing.

He brewed a new pot of tea and started to read.

With the pages scribbled with notes and underlinings, it was obvious that Dean had already read it. It soon became clear to Castiel that Dean did, in fact, know what he had said, and he had been acting exactly by the book the whole time. He had pursued Castiel, claimed him and then kissed him, and initiated intimacy only after his fifteenth birthday, which was considered the appropriate age for omega to consent, if not yet to mate.

As it was true that omegas needed permission from the OIAA to mate, they didn't actually have to mate, if they didn't want to. Which meant that the OIAA could prevent the mating, but couldn't force it. In fact, forcing an omega to mate was considered extremely serious offense and would lead to dire consequences. But forced matings were almost unheard of because omegas usually had a large number of very willing alpha suitors to choose from, hence there was no need for forcing.

On the other hand, it was also almost unheard of for omega to refrain mating altogether, as mating generally led to elevated social and financial status. Omegas who refused to mate tended to end up unmated for the rest of their lives. In the rare cases it happened, the omega in question was usually either zealously religious or exceptionally career-oriented.

Interestingly enough, if an omega was claimed and mated, the OIAA wouldn't do a thing. Forcing a bond-break was extremely dangerous for both parties and, even if it did work, the risks for mental injuries were high. And if the omega was pregnant, bond-break was never even considered, although the mated pair would be under strict monitoring and readily separated at the slightest doubt of mistreatment.

Castiel had no idea there could be a situation where the OIAA's metaphorical hands were tied. But the more he thought of it, the more it made sense. Keeping that information meant keeping the omegas safe. Were it public knowledge that you didn't actually need a permission to mate an omega... The implications were horrendous. It would be like regressing to the archaic times, when omegas were kept like slaves, barefoot and pregnant, their only purpose in life to be a hole to fuck and deliver.

Castiel shivered. No matter how rigorous the OIAA was in the matter of the mating permits, it was still far better than the alternative. He stood up to stretch his legs and drank a cup of tea, waiting for his head to clear and his thoughts to calm down, before continuing wit his reading.

Most of the book consisted of everyday instructions: what to expect when in heat; how to handle your heat (Castiel read that section with great interest, a bright blush on his face); when to see a doctor to get the government-sponsored heat suppressants and birth control; where to get legal aid if confronted with harassment or discrimination; what to expect when you expect; how to lactate; how to interpret the early signs of menopause... The amount of information made Castiel's head hurt.

He was in the middle of a passage describing the nutritional importance of colostrum, when it hit him: Balthazar could have mated him had he really wanted it. As an omega, he must have known that the OIAA would not interfere after the pair was mated and bonded, but, after the rejection letter, Balty had just apologized to Castiel and said there was nothing more they could do. They had parted ways soon after that, Balty eager to be on his way and Castiel left behind, rejected and refused.

It hadn’t been just the OIAA who had thought him an unfit to mate; to Balty he had been unworthy as well. After all these years, the realization still hurt and Castiel had to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing for a while. Had he known... well, he wouldn't have done a thing. It wasn't his way, never had been. And, if he had mated Balthazar he would have never met Dean. Of the two losses, the latter would have been the major one.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind tried to tell him that the book was important, that it was a message from Dean. Castiel ignored the voice but took the book to his bedroom anyway, to read further before going to sleep. Because, books and education could never be dubious. 

With time, the relations between Castiel and the Winchesters became easier, although he was still not permitted to see Dean or even talk to him. John still glared at him, but Mary's smiles were back, and Castiel found himself utterly relieved. He hadn't realized how much the family had come to mean to him when he was estranged from his own. He wasn't invited over of course, but he didn't mind. It was enough that they didn't hate him or at least didn't want to bludgeon him to death. At least he was able to return Mary the tray of the infamous apple pie.

As spring slowly arrived, Castiel moved his organizing mission outdoors. There was only so much polishing he could do in his little house, and outside he had a garden full of mess to sort. And it was a mess, because Castiel had never really paid attention to his backyard in these past ten years he had lived there. His backyard was a sorrowful combination of neglected lawn, weeds, and twigs, and Castiel was eager to face the challenge.

He removed the top layer of the soil with a shovel, meticulously digging out the weeds and occasional rocks. He had ordered a couple of garden-disposal bags for the garden garbage, because he had no way of getting rid of it by himself, what with not having a car or even a driver’s license. After dumping all the garbage into the disposal bags, he sprinkled all-purpose fertilizer all around, before spreading the load of new compost soil he had ordered and watering it thoroughly before getting ready for bed.

In the following morning, getting up turned out to be excruciatingly difficult, as he had strained and completely worn out muscles he didn't even know he had. He took a hot shower, which helped a little, and went downstairs to make some breakfast. He had placed an order to the local garden store for plants couple of weeks earlier and was expecting them to arrive shortly, before noon. He had prepared the backyard as instructed, and all he had to do was wait for the delivery and get to work.

Working in the garden was surprisingly therapeutic. Castiel's mind calmed down and his whirling thoughts settled when he dug his hands to the soil to plant the bushes, cherry saplings and the turf. When he was done, he felt deep satisfaction, happiness and pride. His backyard was tiny but now it looked very nice indeed.

The elderly lady from across the yard had been observing his activities the whole week. While Castiel was trimming the newly planted hedge, she came over, peeking curiously at his accomplishment.

"Nesting, are you, Mr. Novak?" She asked with overly innocent voice.

Castiel was too baffled to comment.

"I've noticed you have been very busy in the house and now in the garden, too. Have some special friend in mind?" Her eyes were alight with curiosity and flashed triumphantly as Castiel blushed.

"I. Um. Ah. Just maintenance..." Castiel stammered.

”Yes, yes, of course. Who is the lucky lady? Or lad?" His neighbors voice trailed behind him as he practically ran inside.

Nesting. God. Obviously.

He had thought he was 'OCD' like Sam had said, reverting to his old coping mechanisms like he always did when he was overly stressed. It hadn't occurred to him that, this time, it might be something else. He had been cleaning his house inside out, sorting and organizing, putting everything in order, and now he had been renovating his garden, to give it a chance at last. He thought he was spring cleaning. With considerable obsession, yes, but anyway.

Of course he was nesting. He was trying to prove his worth as a provider and a protector, displaying his ability to take care of his home, and to show his future mate he was a good, reliable alpha. He leaned his back against the kitchen wall and slid to the floor. Even though it wasn't even a least bit funny, he rested his head back and started to laugh. Here he was, an unmated alpha at almost forty, polishing his home to a shine and fixing his garden, attempting to impress an omega of fifteen with a damn cherry tree. He sighed and rubbed his face.

Oh, hell.

It was late April, when he had a pleasant surprise in form of a visit from Mary. Castiel was watering his backyard (which was doing nicely) and, because of the sound of water hose, he didn't hear the doorbell. However, Mary must have heard the noise from the back of the house and come to look for him.

"Hello Cas— wow!" She breathed. "I never knew you had a garden like this. It's beautiful!”

Castiel felt pride swelling inside him. He knew his little garden was beautiful and was going to be even more so, when the plants had grown to their full bloom. His tiny backyard was lined with hedge from three sides, with cherry trees on the far corners and bushes of various sizes and kinds as well as beds of flowers planted in neat benches. There was a small wooden patio as an extension of the house, with a sunshade, a small table and two chairs. Yes, it was very, very nice.

"Thank you, Mary. I think I did quite well," he said, pleased with himself.

"You did this? All of it?" Mary was stunned.

Castiel nodded in answer. He wasn’t surprised at her reaction; gardening wasn't usually considered as a very alpha-like activity. From the corner of his eye, he could see the nosey neighbor lady peeking not-so-subtly from her yard, and Castiel had a sudden urge to direct the water hose towards her and see how fast a granny could run. He didn't, of course, but the thought made him smile faintly anyway.

"I should come and ask you for gardening tips someday,” Mary chuckled." Our backyard is bigger than yours and in pretty good condition, but I have absolutely no idea what to do with it. It would be nice to have something else than just grass growing there.”

Castiel was done with watering and carefully managed the hose to its proper place. He sat down under the sunshade and beckoned Mary to join him. They sat in silence for a while, Castiel waiting patiently for Mary to tell her reason to come over.

"How have you been, Castiel?" She asked gently, tipping her head a little.

"I'm..." Castiel trailed off, unsure of how to answer. Okay? Managing? Alive? Because the truth was he ached all the time, no matter how much he cleaned or planted or worked. The hollow longing for Dean hadn't lessened over the months; it was a steady hurt just under his sternum. It was the first thing he noticed when waking up and the feeling he fell asleep with.

Mary looked at him, understanding in her eyes. "If it's of any consolation, living with Dean has been a complete hell. I've never seen him so determined and headstrong about anything. Although I probably should have known... When he sets his mind on something, he usually ends up getting his way,” Mary sighed with fond exasperation, shaking her head.

Castiel didn't dare to react but kept himself carefully still. That sounded almost like Dean was fighting for him.

"At least he's on suppressants now, which makes all our lives easier. And you won't get bothered by Sam intruding on your privacy every three months.”

Castiel's face fell. "Sam's not intruding at all, Mary. He’s a very bright kid and it's always a pleasure to have him visit.”

"I think that could be arranged. Sam's very eager to come here too — he says your library rocks,” Mary grinned. Then she hesitated a little. "His birthday is next Saturday, May second. Would you like to come over?" Her voice was genuine, but there was tightness in her eyes, and Castiel didn't really have to think about his answer.

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have a meeting with my publicist." Which he did, so it wasn't even a lie. "Thank you for inviting me," he added softly.

Mary nodded, relief showing in her eyes. She stood up to take her leave. "It was nice seeing you, Castiel," she said warmly. And then with an oddly mischievous smile she added, "By the way, Dean seems to be missing an omega-book of his. Real shame if it was permanently lost, don't you think?”

And again, Castiel was struck dumb by a Winchester.

Castiel heeded Sam's birthday even though he couldn't attend it in person. It didn't take him long to purchase a gift card to the local bookstore, but he figured it was a bit impersonal. It would be nice to give Sam something else, too.

He considered it during his flight to Boston, where he was to meet his publicist. The trip itself was a total waste, a huge exploitation of natural resources, and a stupid show of the publisher's status. Castiel was certain everything could have been managed on the phone instead of the hours-long flight, a meeting, a night in a hotel, and the flight back. Of course, all his expenses were covered, but it didn't change the fact that, to Castiel, it was utter vanity. But, since he was forced to go to Boston, he might as well take advantage of the situation and visit the Harvard Book Store.

After the tedious and pointless meeting accompanied by pre-packed sandwiches, he took a cab to the bookstore. He pondered long and hard whether he should buy Sam a canvas bag, but decided to go for a bookmark instead. He did buy a typewriter logo canvas bag for himself, though, just because he thought it was cute and he happened to have a thing for typewriters.

When he saw the mugs, he hesitated. He wanted to buy Dean the one with the text "Caution: Hot and Literature,” but didn't dare as it would've probably been considered presumptuous. After an agonizing five minutes of internal debate, he bought it anyway. He didn't actually have to give it to Dean, did he?

He slept miserably in his air-conditioned hotel room, the ache in his chest even worse than before. It was as if the distance between Dean and him was causing him physical symptoms, which should have been impossible. They were not mated, had not even had proper sex, and they had actually been separated from each other for a good while. Castiel decided it was all in his mind.

The Mind, as it is, was a treacherous thing. Castiel got to experience the full blow of his own at 3:30 a.m, when he gasped awake, groaning and humping his mattress. Turned out that it wasn't the brightest idea to think about having sex with Dean just before going to bed, as his body decided to have a party without his consent. As he spurted all over his sheets, he gave a fleeting prayer for forgiveness to the poor maid who was forced to deal with his mess in the morning, and then he came again.

After the mindblowingly dull flight home, he was more than happy to sag to the back seat of the cab, eagerly wanting to get home. He was anxious about his garden, which was silly since he had been gone only for two days. But still. Nurturing the plants meant a lot to him. Of course, his backyard was just fine but he went and checked his plants anyway. You couldn't be too careful, what with all the pests and everything.

He pondered for a long time whether to take Sam his present in person, or to leave it in the Winchester mailbox. Eventually, he decided to be brave and on Sunday, May third, he was ringing his neighbor’s doorbell, for the first time since the Thanksgiving. He glanced at his side and saw the black car in the driveway. He swallowed nervously, because he had no idea what would happen if John was the one to open the door. Fortunately, it was Mary. Castiel politely declined the invitation to come inside and asked for Sam instead.

While he waited, he noticed Dean sitting on the living room sofa. The early May sun shone through the window, right into him, and, to Castiel, it was like Dean was embraced in golden light, his hair glowing like a halo around his head. He was glorious, beautiful, perfect. An angel.

And not his.

He tore his eyes from Dean and turned his attention to Sam, who was blissfully happy about his present, declaring Castiel his favorite person of the year. Mary rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

"Nothing for me?”

Without him noticing, Dean had gotten up from the sofa and was leaning on the wall, pouting at Castiel.

Castiel was confused. ”I— I wasn't aware—”

"It's not your birthday, jerk,” Sam said, not bothering to look at Dean.

Dean grinned. "True. I've already got my birthday present," he said and gave Castiel a bright smile and a wink. Castiel blushed heavily, while his inner alpha purred, pleased.

"Ewww, Dean. Gross!" Sam complained and retreated upstairs making gagging noises. Mary tried to stifle a laugh and failed spectacularly.

The easy atmosphere dissolved as John came from the kitchen, a disapproving frown between his eyes. He gave his son a glare which pretty much achieved nothing, but earned an eye-roll from Dean.

"Castiel," John said stiffly.

"John," Castiel answered with a nod.

"Dad," Dean continued with a mocking tone.

John narrowed his eyes. "Don't start," he warned.

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Dean grumbled before turning back to Castiel. "Hi, Cas,” he said with a soft smile.

"Hello, Dean.”

A lot could be said with just a few words.

Summer came with a rush, and, with June, came the heat. At some point Castiel's elderly neighbor, Mrs. Penderson, mused the heat wave must be the worst for ages. Castiel was in no position to argue. The weather was suffocating, like a blanket that pressed around them, making it difficult to move, difficult to think, difficult to breathe. Castiel was worried for his garden (and, consequently, his water bill), and hoped his hard work wouldn't be in vain.

In the stifling heat, sleeping became almost impossible. Castiel had several electric fans, but they made no difference, moving the humid heaviness from one side to the other. The upstairs of his house was unbearable as the hot air went up, and opening windows proved useless. After the firs week, he had abandoned his pajama shirt, and contemplated getting rid of his pants too, but decided against it. It wasn't because he was shy; he just didn't like to sleep naked.

After three weeks of oppressive heat, Castiel was sure he would spontaneously combust if he walked too near his wall. As if by some miracle, his garden was alive, but, unfortunately, the heat had been too much for poor Mrs. Penderson. Castiel hadn’t even known her first name, but she had been a nice, gentle woman, and definitely hadn't deserved heat-induced heart failure. That night, Castiel went to bed with a feeling of deep sadness, hoping Mrs. Penderson was now in peace (and comfortable).

The smell of smoke woke him up with a start. Even before Castiel had completely awoken, he knew: the Winchester house was on fire.

He jumped from the bed, not bothering with his shirt, and rushed out in his pajama pants, bare-chested, and without shoes. He heard sirens in the distance, which meant someone had already called the fire department, but, as Castiel ran to the burning house, he knew they were going to be too late. The building was old, and, after weeks of drought, it had lit up like a tinderbox. It was engulfed in flames by the time Castiel got to it.

He felt pure panic surge through him, making his heart clench and head swim. Dean, Mary, Sam, John, Dean, Dean DEAN! Castiel didn't realize he was shouting, and, when he did, he didn't care. His alpha was going insane with its mate burning alive, and, before Castiel knew, it he was running towards the front door. He didn't feel the heat on his skin or the cinder under his feet; all he knew was panic — find — protect — Dean.

Before he reached the house, he saw forms staggering out. It was John, carrying Sam, and dragging Dean behind him. They were coughing and covered in ash and soot, tears flowing freely down their cheeks because of the stinging smoke, but they were alive. Castiel searched the space behind John, but couldn't see Mary. To his horror, he understood she was still inside.

He stopped as John's eyes locked with his. A flood of emotion surged between the alphas, anguish — panic — horror — protect, and the animosity between them was instantly forgotten. The moment was over in a heartbeat and then grim determination settled over John's face.

John nodded slightly at Castiel, lowered Sam to stand in front of him, kissed his hair and Dean's brow, and then shouted, "Dean, take your brother and go to Castiel. Go. Now!" He pushed the boys from him and ran back to the flames, never looking back.

The boys stood frozen, staring into the fire burning away their lives. Castiel crossed the short distance between them, and dragged them away from the heat before dropping on his knees and taking the boys in his arms. Sam was sobbing while Dean stared mutely after his father. John had barely gotten inside, when they heard a deafening crash and a swooshing sound, as the building collapsed and the flames shot upwards.

Castiel heard a voice scream "Dad! Mum! Dad!" and felt Dean struggling against his hold, as he tried to run after his parents. Castiel watched the roaring inferno and knew there was nothing to be done. Mary and John were dead.

He didn't know how long they sat on the ground, the boys slumped in heap and him kneeling, hugging them close, trying to offer them a little piece of stability, an anchor in the madness their lives had turned into. The acrid smell of smoke and fear hung heavy in the air, and Castiel made futile attempts to soothe the latter by murmuring soft nonsense to them and gently caressing their hair.

At some point, the trucks of the fire department had arrived and were trying to control the fire. After three weeks of drought and stifling heat, the Winchester house was a lost cause and the firemen put all their efforts into keeping the surrounding houses safe instead.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Castiel wondered idly whether his house would be intact or not. It didn't feel important as his alpha's only concern was to keep the boys, my omega, safe and near.

When he noticed a man walking towards them, his instincts flared to maximum. The man — a beta, Castiel smelled through the smoke — was young and dressed in red uniform (paramedic, Castiel's mind noted) and he walked briskly, looking Castiel straight in the eye as he reached out for Dean. Castiel's hackles were up in a second as he pulled the boys closer, flashed his teeth, and snarled, "Don't. Touch. Them.”

The beta was nonplussed and tried again, obviously annoyed to be hindered from doing his job. Castiel felt more than heard a deep growl rumbling in his chest as his alpha was rapidly surfacing. He bared his teeth at the man, keeping his protective stance over the boys. If the idiot didn't stand down, someone was going to get hurt, and it wasn't going to be him or the boys.

"Anderson, off," he heard a soft but commanding voice. Still growling, he turned his head slightly and saw a woman slowly walking to the man. Her eyes were averted and her hands were open on her sides.

The man was clearly annoyed. "Mills, I've got this. I'll just— ”

"Yeah, you'll just, what? You realize you're crowding over a feral alpha protecting a pup and an omega? So unless you want to die, I suggest you back off, now." Her voice was calm, but underneath, it was pure steel. The man blanched and his eyes widened in shock as he realized the danger he was in. Slowly, very slowly, he backed away and Castiel followed him with his eyes, flashing his teeth in contempt, satisfied to see him go.

Castiel saw slight movement from from the corner of his eye and sharply turned his head to look at the woman. He kept his stance over his proteges as he stared her with narrowed eyes, ready to defend and protect.

The woman had raised her hands slightly but otherwise was completely still. "I'm Jody, I’m a paramedic," she said with a calm, reassuring voice. She kept her eyes averted and bared her neck to Castiel. "I know you want to get them away from here, but I need to check their vitals before I can let you leave. Is that okay?"

Castiel could smell the woman — Jody — was not a threat. He nodded sharply and stood up, staying in touching distance, ready to act if necessary.

Jody was pointedly calm. She made no sudden moves, kept her hands visible and neck bared as she walked to the boys and knelt in front of them. When Castiel tensed, she stopped.

"I need to measure their blood pressure and pulse, temperature and oxygen levels. I'm going to use this equipment—” she put the necessary items on the ground one by one, ever so slowly, never looking at Castiel, ”—and I'm going to explain everything I do. May I start?”

Castiel nodded his permission and let Jody do her job. She was very good, very calming as she talked the boys through the check-up, always making sure she had their — and Castiel's — permission to proceed. Castiel watched her, never letting his attention waver, closing off the clamor around them. She made no attempt to check in on Castiel, because she knew he would probably tear her limbs off if she tried.

When Jody was ready, she shuffled backwards on her knees, slowly packing her things up, all the time explaining what she was doing.

"Everything seems to be okay for now, so I'm giving you permission to leave. But I recommend that you go to the hospital for a full check-up in a couple of days, just to be sure." She got to her feet carefully. "Thank you, alpha,” she said, acknowledging his status, and then backed up a few more steps before turning and walking away, unhurried, her hands still visible.

Castiel huffed and helped the boys up. Cradling Dean under one arm and Sam under the other, he started to lead them toward his house. The fire department had been able to save it, he saw, and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if his garden was lost. Eager to get into the safety of his home and to escape the smell of smoke, death and loss, his senses missed the movement behind him.

When a hand grabbed his shoulder, his vision went red and he reacted on pure alpha instinct, shoved the boys behind him, as his hand shot to the throat of his attacker. He snarled viciously, all teeth bared, ready to tear his opponent to shreds. Through the red haze, he heard someone shout "Cas, stop!" but he had no idea what that meant. Then there was a warm body pressing against his bare chest, and insistent hands took hold of his head, gently guiding his nose down, to a neck, to a scent, to the scent of an omega, of his mate, of Dean... His alpha rage slowly receding, he dropped the whatever-that-was-squirming-on-his-hold and wrapped his arms around his Dean, breathing in the calming scent of his omega in big gulps.

After a moment, he realized Dean was stroking his hair and murmuring ”—it's okay Cas, let go, calm down, I'm here Cas, we're fine—” to his neck.

When he was finally able to lift his head from Dean's neck, he saw they had acquired quite an audience, but they were giving a wide berth to the obviously protective alpha. The man he had almost killed was slumped in front of him, coughing and holding his throat, fortunately very clearly alive.

Castiel's eyes darted around, taking up his surroundings, his alpha very, very near the surface. "Sam?" He asked gruffly and heard a muffled "...yeah" from behind him. He reached out blindly and grabbed Sam to get him into his embrace, his other hand still tightly around Dean's waist, Dean's face buried in his neck.

It was Jody, again, who took care of everything.

"I hope this little display has now pointed out to everyone that you do not fucking touch a feral alpha unless you have a death wish. And Donovan—” she turned her gaze to the still coughing man ”—you can count yourself lucky that the omega was able to calm his alpha down. Otherwise we'd be picking your remains from the trees by now.”

She took a calming breath and turned to Castiel. "Alpha, I apologize. Nobody was trying to attack you or your proteges or prevent you from leaving. It was a stupid move from a stupid man, and he has learned his lesson." Jody's look spoke volumes and the man, Donovan, kept still. "He's our new CPS contact and was trying to ask you some questions before you go.”

"What questions?" Dean asked, not lifting his head from Castiel's shoulder.

"Who's your emergency contact, where are you staying—”

"Don't have one, we're staying at Cas's. If that's all you've got then shut the fuck up and let us leave." Dean was trembling with the shock, and Castiel's patience was wearing thin.

Jody must have seen it because she smiled tightly and nodded. "Yes, that's all for now. You live nearby?" She asked Castiel and nodded, when Castiel pointed out his house. "Someone will come to check in on you tomorrow or the day after. Thank you, alpha," she said with an air of finality and stepped aside.

The crowd parted before them when Castiel guided Sam and Dean away from the embers of their past. He was finally taking his omega home, but this was not the way he had wanted it to happen. He heard murmurs around them, but was too tired to care. He needed to get Sam and Dean inside, into safety.

He was tense until they were securely inside. The boys didn't seem to notice the change in their surroundings, and followed blindly wherever Castiel led them. Gently, he guided them upstairs into the bathroom, turned on the shower and, using his alpha voice, told them to wash up and change into the spare pajamas he brought them. He washed his hands, not bothering to change yet, and went to check his bedroom. It was clean with two days old sheets and he decided that, for the moment, it would do.

With the boys clean and in fresh pajamas, he made them eat a slice of toast and drink a glass of orange juice each, to keep them hydrated and their sugar levels up. Then, he guided them to his bedroom, tucked them in as they were shivering despite the heat, and told them he would be downstairs if they needed anything. They were asleep before he closed the door behind him.

He took his time showering and cleaning the ash stains from the bathroom tiles before putting on fresh clothes. When he passed the mirror, he noticed his eyes were bloodshot and there were black shadows under them. His brows were singed and there were tiny burns all over his torso. He remembered he had been bare-chested and was absently glad he wasn't more scalded.

Sam and Dean's pajamas were badly scorched and smelled heavily of smoke, but he didn't dare to throw them away without asking them. So, he merely put the garments in a plastic bag and left it waiting by his bedroom door. They could sort it out later, if the brothers wanted.

He went to the kitchen and brewed himself a pot of tea. No point trying to sleep anyway, since it was almost morning and his body was still battling the aftereffects of his adrenalin surge and alpha rage. He sat at the table, nursed his tea, and looked out of the window at the burnt-down home of the Winchesters, wondering what would happen next.

It was 8:50 a.m. when it started to rain. Castiel was still sat in the kitchen, his tea long gone cold. The rain started slow, but, in less than ten minutes, it had turned a full-blown downpour, painting the landscape grey and washing away the soot from the burned site.

One day, Castiel thought tiredly. One day earlier, you fucker, and Mary and John would still be alive. But there was no-one listening, no-one to blame or demand explanations from.

At least the rain would help the firefighters to secure the fire site.

He heard steps from the stairs and, by smell, he knew it was Sam. He stood up to start preparing some breakfast, although he suspected Sam wouldn't be very hungry. Castiel made him some hot chocolate anyway, just to keep his hands busy.

Sam was silent, standing by the window and looking at the firemen scurrying over the ruins of his home. He accepted the hot chocolate with a nod and kept on staring out the window.

"What's gonna happen' now?" He asked quietly.

Castiel rubbed his face. "Honestly? I have no idea. I guess CPS will be called in since you don't have any living relatives and Dean isn't old enough to get custody of you. And I imagine the OIAA will be interested as well, since there's an omega involved.”

Sam sipped his chocolate for a moment. Then he frowned and turned to Castiel. "Why couldn't we stay here? I mean, you're a family friend, you have steady income, and a house. Not to mention the thing between you and Dean.”

Castiel stared. Trust Sam to voice the obvious. But—

"I don't think it's that simple. Were it up to me, I'd love to have you here, but there are other things to consider." He said carefully.

"Hmm," was the only answer from Sam before they were interrupted by doorbell.

Castiel checked the time. 9:45 a.m. Who could it be? Surely the paramedics wouldn't come back this early. Frowning, he walked to the door and opened it to an alpha in a suit.

"Victor Henriksen, the OIAA," the alpha said curtly. "May I come in?”

It wasn't exactly a question, and Castiel felt his alpha snarl in irritation at the uninvited alpha giving him orders in his own home. He reigned himself in though, stepped aside, and invited the OIAA representative in.

"Castiel Novak. Coffee? Tea?" He asked politely.

"Coffee, thank you. Black, no sugar.”

Castiel pointed Henriksen to the direction of the living room as he went to the kitchen to make said coffee. Sam had finished his hot chocolate and was curious about the visitor.

"OIAA," Castiel mouthed, and Sam answered with a slight widening of his eyes and a breathed ”Oh."

Castiel poured Henriksen his coffee and took it into the living room, Sam trailing behind him.

When Henriksen saw Sam, he stood up from the sofa and politely offered his hand to shake, saying, "I'm Victor Henriksen from the OIAA. I'm here to discuss the situation concerning your brother. You can call me Victor." His tone was gentle but firm, an alpha who knew his business.

Sam shook his hand and watched him suspiciously. "Since when has the OIAA sent alphas to do their work?”

Henriksen was clearly surprised, but recovered quickly. "There are a few alphas working in the OIAA. Usually we step in only in exceptional circumstances, like this. Normally all OIAA meetings are handled by betas and omegas or females." He smiled. "You're an observant kid, aren't you," he said and ruffled Sam's hair.

"Oi! Paws off my brother, dude.”

Castiel had tensed when Henriksen had reached out to Sam and had missed Dean coming down the stairs. Henriksen turned to Dean and his demeanor changed. He was more formal, more composed, more alpha. Castiel was instantly on edge.

"You must be Dean. I'm Victor Henriksen, your OIAA contact. I'm very sorry for your loss.”

"Yeah, okay," Dean muttered gruffly and walked to Castiel. When Henriksen bid them to sit down, Sam sat on the sofa beside him and Castiel sat in the armchair. Dean stayed at Castiel's side, leaning into the armrest. Henriksen raised his brow slightly at the move, but didn't comment.

"How are you here already?" Dean asked, not bothering with the polite small talk.

"Yes. I know it seems odd,” Henriksen smiled a small one. ”We have records of every registered omega and— well. Let's just say we have daily check-ins into our administrative databases to ensure everything is okay. If something happens, we are ready to react on very short notice. That's how I'm here.”

Sam still looked suspicious and Castiel's alpha was scanning the suit-clad alpha for possible deception and threat. His conscious mind told him he was overreacting, but his alpha didn't give a shit.

Dean snorted. "So you're like carrion birds, right?" His posture was defiant but Castiel could sense how nervous and tense he was. He wanted to wrap his arms around Dean to comfort him, but he knew it wouldn't be a good idea.

Henriksen's eyes flashed. "No, we are not. I'm here to sort out this mess, to make sure that you, as an omega, are protected and looked after." His eyes shifted to Castiel, who bared his teeth at this insolent, posturing alpha, who dared to question his morals in his own home. He only realized he had started to growl, when Dean stepped between them.

"Okay, enough with the alpha posturing," Dean snapped and Castiel instantly obeyed. What was wrong with him? He had gone all feral the last night and now he had bared his teeth at an OIAA representative? He must be out of his mind.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he muttered and hung his head. Dean gave him a tight-lipped smile before turning back to Henriksen.

"I'm protected and looked after. Anything else?”

"I think I'm going to need a little more than that, Dean." Henriksen said carefully.

"Like what?" Dean snapped, still standing slightly between Henriksen and Castiel.

"Why don't you sit down and we'll talk," Henriksen said mildly. Dean cocked his brow, stepped back to Castiel's armchair and sat on the armrest.

"M'sitting. Talk.”

Henriksen bent to retrieve his satchel and Castiel thought he saw a ghost of a smile flicker across his lips. When he looked back at Dean, his face was perfectly smooth again.

"First, I'm going to ask you a bunch of questions. Some of them might seem stupid or intrusive, but they are a part of the procedure. You are allowed to read the papers and make corrections, should you see it necessary. After that, we'll talk about how we're going to fix things for you. Okay?"

Dean nodded curtly.

The questions started off easy: where Dean had been born born and when; where he had lived; had he ever been abroad; did he know any relatives from either of his parent's sides (like distant cousins or such); how did he do in school; how old he had been when he had presented as an omega, and so on and so forth. Castiel knew the easy questions were meant to get Dean to relax. It worked relatively well because, at some point, Dean had started to lean on his shoulder. If Henriksen noticed, he didn't react.

Then Henriksen put his papers down and looked straight at Castiel. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave the room now, alpha. I need to speak Dean alone."

Addressing Castiel by his secondary gender instead of his name was a clear indication where the conversation was leading, and Castiel didn't like it at all. He was about to protest when Dean turned his head and muttered, "It's okay, Cas. I'll yell if I need you.”

Castiel nodded, tight-lipped, and got up. Without sparing a glance at Henriksen, he walked to the kitchen, ignoring Sam who was very much trying to make himself invisible. If Sam was allowed to stay behind, good. One more set of ears would probably be for the better, anyway.

It was almost noon and Castiel started to prepare lunch to keep himself occupied. He decided to make a simple lentil soup, which needed only a little supervision and would let him keep an eye on how things were in the living room. From what he could see, everything was alright — even though Dean snorted a loud "Fuck you!" at some point. It made Castiel smile.

The soup was simmering on low heat, almost done, when Henriksen walked into the kitchen with a pen and a notebook. He complimented the scents of his cooking, and Castiel graciously accepted the sentiment.

"There is something I need to ask you too, Mr. Novak." Ah, back on names then. "According to the eye-witnesses, you went into a full-blown alpha rage last night. Would you like to explain what happened?”

Castiel licked his lips nervously. "The boys were passed into my care by their father, after he had gotten them out of the fire. I— I felt protective and my alpha surfaced. There was a— confrontation with a new officer, and I reacted on instinct. The female paramedic was the one who got it all sorted out.”

Henriksen tapped his pen on his lips, thoughtful. "It was reported that Dean used his scent to calm you down. Is that true?”

Castiel swallowed. "Yes. He pressed my nose to his scent gland and talked me out of it.”

Henriksen nodded and a smile tugged the side of his lips. "Has some nerve, that boy." He narrowed his eyes at Castiel. "Have you ever forced yourself on him?”

"No!" Castiel exclaimed, shocked to the core.

Henriksen harrumphed. "At least your answer was more civilized than his." Then he sobered. "Have you ever used your alpha voice on him?”

Castiel closed his eyes. "Yes."

He smelled the pheromones flare from Henriksen as he snarled, using his alpha voice, ”When and why?”

"Last night, after I brought them here. I took them to the bathroom and told them to shower and change. It wouldn't have been proper for me to wash them, and, after the shock, I wasn't sure they could have been able to do it without compelling." He opened his eyes and looked Henriksen in the eye. "It was the first and only time in my life that I've used my alpha voice.”

Henriksen stared him long and hard before nodding slowly. "Alright. Thank you. I think I'm done for now."

He walked back to the living room, packed away his pens and notebook, and collected the question forms from Dean. "Are these acceptable?" He asked and waited for Dean's approval before packing them into his satchel too.

"This is my card, call if you need anything," he said, passing Dean his business card. "I'll report back to the head office and return to you later. Unfortunately, I cannot give you a specific date, so please, stay in the area." It was a clear warning, informing them that they were under supervision.

"Dean, Sam, once again, I'm sorry for your loss. Mr. Novak, good day. I'll see myself out.”

Later, as he served himself and the boys the soup, Castiel thought long and hard about the implications of Mr. Henriksen's visit.

The Fourth of July was just around the corner, but, for obvious reasons, none of them were feeling especially festive. Castiel had offered to take them to watch fireworks in the park, but they had declined, and he hadn’t pushed them. They had decided to stay indoors instead, to make some pizza from scratch, and perhaps play cards.

Two days after the fire, they had made the trip to the hospital. While Castiel had been given only a superficial checkup, Sam and Dean had gone through a more thorough examination, combined with blood samples and PEF-measurements. They had decided to wait for the results at the hospital, instead of a trip home and back, and had ended up having a rather dubious hospital lunch. Sam had taken a spoonful of the soup and flatly refused to eat more, and even Dean had left half of his order unfinished.

At the end of the day, their test results had been okay, and, as if by a miracle, they had had no burns. Apart from sore throats the brothers were good. They had been given written instructions of how to observe possible symptoms indicating smoke inhalation problems, as well as contact info in case of an emergency. On their way out, they had briefly met Jody, who had been very glad that everything seemed to be well. Castiel had made a point of complimenting her for her excellent performance at the fire site, which earned him a blush from Jody and a glare from Dean.

Victor Henriksen was a cloud over their heads. They didn't talk about him or speculate about what would happen, having more than enough on their plates already, trying to scrape together some semblance of normalcy. But it was there, an oppressive presence seeping into their skin. The man had seemed genuine enough, but it was more than obvious that his opinion was crucial for the future of them all.

"Don't you wanna know?" Dean asked, a week after Henriksen's visit.

"About what?" Castiel glanced at Dean over his book. They were in the living room, Castiel in his armchair, and Dean draped over the sofa. Sam was in the bedroom, supposedly reading, but more likely taking a nap. He had been withdrawn and sleeping a lot more than before, which was understandable.

"About what he asked me.”

Castiel lowered his book to his lap, and cocked his head to look at Dean. He lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, pointedly not looking at Castiel, dressed in Castiel's clothes, again. Castiel had taken them to the mall to buy some necessities, and they had also gotten donated emergency packs of clothes from the community, but Dean still preferred Castiel's shirts and sweatpants. It made his inner alpha very, very pleased.

"I thought you would tell me, if you wanted. I didn't want to pry.”

"He asked about you. And us.”

"I guessed as much," Castiel said calmly and closed the book.

"He asked about my heats. How many I've had, and if I'm on suppressants. When I told him my suppressants had been lost in the fire, he gave me a new box. What kind of an alpha goes around with a box of heat suppressants in his pocket, anyway?”

"The well-prepared kind, I'd assume." Castiel said and was happy to be rewarded with a snort of laughter. Making Dean laugh, or even smile, had become his daily mission.

"Well, yeah. Anyway. He asked if we'd ever been ’intimate’—” the air-quotes were quite obvious, ”—and I asked him to specify. Did you know that my birthday present is labeled as 'non-penetrative-sex' in their papers?”

Castiel blinked.

"So. Um. I told him about the claiming, the scent marking, the kissing, and the humping. He wanted to know if it was all on me, or if you'd started any of it. Told him no. He asked if you've ever forced me or used your alpha voice on me, and I told him to fuck off.”

"It's not exactly true, you know, the alpha voice thing." Castiel said quietly, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor.

Dean sat up quickly. ”Oh?"

"After the fire, when I brought you here, I used my alpha voice to get you and Sam to shower and change. I couldn't do it myself, and I had to get you cleaned up. I'm sorry." He looked up to see Dean's surprised face.

"So that's why I felt so weird. I thought I was in shock, but. Well." Dean’s lips turned to a smirk. "You could've washed me, though. I wouldn't have minded," he quipped.

Castiel blushed and dropped his head into his hands. ”Dean—”

"Oh, shut up, silly." Dean snorted, and lay back on the sofa. He was quiet for a moment, and Castiel thought he had finished talking.

"But, yeah. The Henriksen guy asked about your intentions about me. I said that I couldn't speak for you, but that my intentions were, are, very clear." Dean’s tone was dead serious as he turned his head to look at Castiel intently.

Castiel was speechless.

Dean got slowly up from the sofa, walked to a wide-eyed Castiel, and knelt in front of him. He reached his hand out to stroke Castiel's cheek softly before cupping his face, and Castiel instinctively leaned to the touch, closing his eyes. He heard a faint rustling before Dean's lips pressed to his, drawing him into a gentle, loving kiss. There was no hunger, no lust nor frenzy, just warm tenderness that spread to encompass Castiel's whole being.

When Dean parted from the kiss, he rested his forehead on Castiel's, his hand still caressing his face.

"My alpha," he murmured softly, and Castiel thought he would burst.

Which was, of course, the moment for Sam to bounce down the stairs.

"Eww, guys, get a room!" He moaned, and stopped abruptly as the thought hit him. "Actually, you should! I could move my things to the study, and Cas could bunk with you, Dean." He gave them a shit-eating grin that was completely out of place on the face of a twelve-year-old.

"Shut up, bitch," Dean said, giving his little brother the finger while he got up, and moved back to the sofa. Castiel sat still, his face flaming red, not daring to look at either of them.

"Yeah yeah, whatever," Sam said airily. "Cas, we need internet.”

Well, they didn't switch rooms, no matter how good an idea Sam thought it was. The main reason was that they would be in trouble the size of Texas if Henriksen found out, and Castiel's head was still teetering from the kiss in the living room, as well as from Dean's claim. He did notice, however, that neither Sam nor Dean were particularly flustered about the interruption.

The sleeping arrangements were a cause of constant bickering, though. Or at least for Sam and Dean, who protested loudly to Castiel for giving up his bedroom. Castiel thought it was only logical: his bed was big enough for the brothers, and they were already familiar with sharing a bed because of their time in cheap motels and trailers. He was perfectly happy in his study, because there was more than enough space for the mattress, now that it was properly organized.

Sam and Dean felt they were robbing Castiel his bed. Castiel said they were ridiculous, and they accused Castiel for being a bossy, pigheaded alpha, which he readily admitted. The argument was eventually dropped when Castiel pointed out that if the authorities allowed the brothers to stay, they would be expected to occupy the master bedroom. The reminder of the proverbial sword over their heads sobered things up quickly.

It was Monday, July Sixth, when Mr. Henriksen from the OIAA returned.

"Good morning, Sam, Dean. Mr. Novak." Henriksen was all business, turning up at 10:00 a.m. sharp. He was again clad in a well-cut suit, with satchel and all. Castiel pointed him to the living room, and went to prepare some coffee. Black, with no sugar.

When he returned with the coffee for Henriksen and a mug of tea for himself, Henriksen had already spread his papers on the coffee table.

"So," he said, absently taking his coffee from Castiel. "I've consulted the head office, and we have a couple of options how to proceed." The seating was identical to Henriksen's first visit: him and Sam on the sofa and Castiel on the armchair with Dean sitting on the armrest, lightly leaning on Castiel's shoulder.

"If I understood correctly, Mary and John had no insurance, right?" Henriksen glanced at Dean, who shrugged.

"I think so, yeah.”

Henriksen nodded. "In that case, the OIAA offers to cover all the expenses of the fire, in order to keep you both out of financial trouble.”

Dean and Sam gasped and looked at each other with wide eyes. "You're kidding," said Dean, turning back to Henriksen.

"I'm not." Henriksen stated. "But. The OIAA cannot cover a deposit for a new house, as you both are minors, and as it's already been done once. Which brings us to the real problem.”

"...That is?" Dean prompted impatiently.

"The question of where you'll live.”

"There's no question. We'll stay here," Dean said with an air of finality.

Henriksen cleared his throat, and his eyes flickered to Castiel, before returning to Dean. "It might not be that simple.”

Dean leaned slightly forward and narrowed his eyes, annoyed. "And why's that?”

Henriksen pressed his lips together, but, before he had a chance to say anything, Castiel said quietly, "Because of me.”

Dean's head whipped around. "The fuck?”

"Mr. Novak is right, of course." Henriksen said calmly. "First of all, he is an unmated alpha and you, Dean, are an unmated omega."

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered, "...oh, really!"

Henriksen ignored him. "Your significant age difference makes the situation... delicate, not to mention Mr. Novak's past.”

Dean groaned. "Not this shit again. I've been over it with Cas and I argued about it with my parents. I really don't give a fuck about the age difference or Cas's history, and neither should you.”

Henriksen raised his brows slightly at the outburst, but otherwise his face was a polite mask.

"What are the alternatives?" Castiel asked quietly. He ignored Dean's glare and Sam's betrayed expression. It was important to know of every option, no matter how unpleasant they might seem.

"Foster care for them both, preferably in the same family if possible. Or foster care for Sam, and omega-exclusive boarding school for Dean.”

"Fuck you—!” "No way—!” The brothers exclaimed as one.

Henriksen stayed calm and looked at Castiel. "Of course, the latter alternative is not what we'd recommend, since we don't want to separate you. It would be needlessly cruel, after everything that's happened.”

"Which leaves the options of them staying here, or moving to a new foster home." Castiel said, holding Henriksen's gaze.

Henriksen nodded. "Yes." He stood up and straightened his jacket. "If they are to stay here, I need to check your home. Standard policy," he reassured Castiel.

Castiel's alpha seethed at the intrusion to its territory, but he gave a tour of his home politely enough. Henriksen had already seen the downstairs of course, which left them only the upstairs to inspect.

After checking the master bedroom and the study, he turned to Castiel and asked, "Only two bedrooms?”

Castiel swallowed his urge to snap, and commented flatly instead, "I've been living alone for a decade, Mr. Henriksen. There hasn't been need for a third bedroom.”

Henriksen gave a noncommittal sound and pursed his lips. "And how exactly were you going to decide who sleeps where?”

"It's already been solved: the brothers sleep in the master bedroom, and I'm using the study.”

"They share a bed?”

"Obviously," Castiel said dryly. "It would be very impolite to put the other on the floor, don't you think?”

Henriksen narrowed his eyes at Castiel's attitude, and he sighed. "I thought about buying a bunk bed, if they were allowed to stay. It would give Sam and Dean their own spaces to sleep, but it wouldn't take as much floor space as two separate beds. I'm perfectly content sleeping in my study.”

"Besides, it's nothing new to us," said Dean behind them. The brothers had followed them upstairs, and Castiel was a bit surprised they had been quiet so long.

"Yeah, we're used to sleeping in a same bed, in motels and trailers," Sam piped up.

"You are, aren't you?" Henriksen said. "Well, I think I'm done here," he said, and took the stairs down to the living room and sat on the sofa. Castiel, Sam, and Dean followed him, unsure of what to think.

"There is yet one other thing to consider,” Henriksen said, and turned to give Sam a pointed look.

Sam rolled his eyes and grumbled, "...yeah, I'll be outside, then," and stomped through the back door to sit on the patio. Castiel sat back into the armchair, and Dean assumed his position on the armrest.

Henriksen watched them for a while, and, right about when Castiel started to feel fidgety, he said, "So. You two.”

Castiel felt like a scolded child, and Dean stiffened beside him. Henriksen kept watching them, and Castiel could sense absolutely nothing from the other alpha.

"That thing you did, Dean, calming down a feral alpha with your scent, isn't usually something a teenage omega is able to do to a mature alpha. From what I heard, Castiel here was going for a kill."

It didn't escape Castiel that Henriksen called him by his first name.

"And the fact that Castiel reacted almost instantly is also quite remarkable. Your move was either very brave or very stupid, but I think everyone's happy it worked.”

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. It felt right, so I didn't even think about it. I just reacted," he mumbled, uncomfortable.

Henriksen nodded his head for a while, seemingly in deep thoughts. "Reactions like that are most often triggered between bondmates, but you are not mated." The unsaid 'yet' hung heavy in the air. "For some reason, you already seem to share a profound bond, and I think forcing you apart would cause unpredictable consequences.”

"Okay, in English?" Dean asked in a nervous voice.

"In English: I think the wisest course of action is to let you stay, for now. But—”

Henriksen's voice was drowned by a triumphant "Yay!" from Dean, which caused Sam to barge back inside.

"But you'll be monitored, and I'll be checking in on you once a month.”

Sam and Dean were whooping in joy, and there was a slight smile on Henriksen's lips. Castiel couldn't believe his ears. The boys were allowed to stay — Dean was allowed to stay! He closed his eyes and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in. He wanted to embrace Dean and never let go, but of course he couldn’t do it.

"Now, about money,” Henriksen said, all business again. "Dean's monthly allowance will be directed to your bank account, Mr. Novak, if you could please fill in the necessary information." He shoved a form at Castiel to fill. ”Due the circumstances, it will be raised, of course. And, should you choose to go to college later, your fees will be covered by an OIAA stipend."

Castiel's eyebrows shot up and Dean's jaw dropped.

"Um," was all Dean could muster.

"As for Sam... Unfortunately, we cannot cover his monthly expenses but we've already contacted CPS and Social Security and forwarded them the necessary information, and everything should be in order. I know you are only twelve, Sam, but if you need assistance with your college stipends in the future, you can contact the OIAA for advice.”

Although Henriksen's face stayed as a polite mask, his smugness about the three dumbfounded faces was quite obvious. This was definitely not what they had expected when they had met Henriksen for the first time.

"But... why?" Dean asked thickly. "Why are you so eager to help so much?”

Henriksen gave him a genuine smile. "We're not faceless bureaucrats, Dean. We actually care.”

With pretty much all said and done, Henriksen gathered his papers and packed them into his satchel.

"Thank you, Victor." Castiel said, when he saw the alpha to the door. If Henriksen noticed that Castiel used his first name, he didn't react.

Turned out that living with two teenagers was an experience in itself. First of all, the food vanished from the kitchen almost as soon as Castiel carried it in. He had had no idea anyone could be that hungry, but he was a fast learner. Shopping for groceries once a week soon turned to twice a week, and then to every other day. Castiel also had the revelation of the real meaning of family-packs and and bigger pots.

And then, there was the laundry: who would've thought that two minors could produce so much dirty laundry, when all their clothes could fit into two duffel bags?

The internet, and everything it included, was as familiar to Castiel as the practice of Siberian overtone singing. That was: not familiar at all. Sam dragged him to a store with lots of computers, boxes and shiny things, and babbled at the salesman about hard drives, touch screens, gigabytes and modems, and Castiel thought the boy had suddenly developed the gift of speaking in languages. When the salesman asked his opinion about some gadget, Castiel gave him a flat stare, informing him that he was the checkbook and possessed no knowledge of any importance. For some reason it made the beta clerk laugh.

They left the shop with a laptop, a modem, a router, and about three miles of cable that would’ve probably made a nice scarecrow for the garden. They had also bought three cellphones, at Sam's insistence, as he demanded Castiel to get his own. Castiel had argued valiantly but had eventually lost, to the endless mirth of the salesman. Sam had been a little beside himself by the total, but Castiel had comforted him not to worry. His wages were not high, but he had a quite bit of savings, and he was more than happy to use his money for something that made his new family members happy.

He did draw the line at a television, though.

When they returned home, it was to find the Impala in Castiel's driveway. Turned out that the OIAA had towed it to Castiel's property, as they had thought (correctly), that Dean would like to have a palpable memory of his father. The Impala’s tires were melted and her paint had been partly bubbled away, but the body was still in reasonably good condition. Dean was leaning his elbows on the car, his head bowed and eyes closed, as if in silent prayer. He didn't react when Sam and Castiel reached him. Sam stopped by his brother before going inside, and, after a brief hesitation, Castiel gently put his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"I miss him," said Dean, not looking up.

"I know.”

They stood silently together for a while. Then Dean sighed, tucked himself under Castiel's arm, and they went inside.

The house of the late Mrs. Penderson was sold in late July. Castiel and the brothers watched with great interest, as the building was covered in scaffolding, and a crew of gardeners took over the yard. It was quite clear that the buyers were wealthy, as the house was completely renovated from the inside out.

In late August, right before school started, the new occupants moved in. The Miltons were an alpha-omega family with three pups and a curly-coated retriever. The alpha, Randall, worked as a senior executive of a reasonably successful IT company, which enabled his omega, James, to stay home with their pups. Michael was nineteen and already in college, Anna was fourteen and about to transfer to the same school Sam went to. Their youngest, two-year-old Hester, had been a complete surprise to her parents, and was the subject of their enthusiastic doting.

Michael had a room in his college dorm, but wasn't planning on moving before everything was in order in the new family home. His parents were very proud of their firstborn being an alpha, despite the fact that it was quite common if the first pup of an alpha-omega pair was male. When Michael spotted Dean for the first time, he was instantly hooked and started to court him. Castiel seethed in jealousy, his alpha ready for a fight of dominance over its omega, but he did nothing. Michael was very intelligent, polite, and good looking, with a quick wit and an easy smile, and he was young.

In short, he was everything Castiel was not.

On one Saturday morning, after taking a shower, Castiel stood in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at himself. He was an average-sized alpha, not exceptionally tall nor short, and he was built like a runner, with lean muscles and hidden strength. He had a permanently messy bunch of dark, almost black hair, framing a face with perpetual five-o'clock stubble, and lips that had been said to be too sensual for an alpha. His eyes were piercing blue with a slight frown between them. Someone had once said they made him look fierce and avenging, whereas Castiel only thought they made him look confused.

His chest was nearly hairless, with a soft, almost invisible fuzz. He could see tiny burn marks peppered across his torso, a reminder of the Winchester fire and of how he had ran out to save Sam and Dean, his shirt forgotten. His stomach was flat and there was a dark line from his navel to his crotch. A happy trail, he believed it was called.

He tilted his head slightly as he looked down. He had never really considered his cock before. It just... was. He had no idea what his member was when compared to other alpha cocks, because he really had no reference. The latest cock his had been near was Dean’s.

At the thought of Dean and cocks, said organ twitched. Castiel watched with curious fascination as his cock gained tumescence, and, out of purely scientific interest, he started to think more about Dean. He thought of Dean kissing him, straddling him, claiming him, and watched, eyes wide, as his cock grew hard in a couple of seconds, and jutted proudly upwards. He had no idea if Dean would like his cock, but his cock definitely seemed to like Dean. A lot. His alpha roared in satisfaction at the frankly quite impressive erection, and Castiel wasn't sure if he should roll his eyes or shyly agree. He decided to get dressed instead.

He wondered what Dean saw, when he looked at Castiel. Did he see the same man as Castiel did, or someone — something else?

Mr. Henriksen made his next visit, unannounced, shortly after the Miltons had moved in. He asked some questions from them all, checked the house again and then wanted to talk to Dean, alone again. Castiel didn't pry, because he figured that Dean would tell him if he chose to, and because he sort of guessed the nature of the questions anyway.

If Henriksen noticed the lack of bunk beds, he didn't comment on it.

When the school started, Sam was naturally overjoyed. He had no trouble slipping back to the routine of getting up early and doing his homework. Sam was still subdued, but going back to school was good for him.

Dean didn't show equal signs of enthusiasm, and expressed his utter boredom via endless text messages to Castiel. It made Castiel amused as well as frustrated, because he didn't know how to use his phone to answer Dean. And he couldn't just call him during class, even if Dean tried to coax him to do it.

Dean was bored, and, as Castiel was soon to find out, bored Dean was an inventive Dean.

In one Thursday in September, Castiel came home from shopping, hauling three bags of groceries inside, when he was hit by the scent of an unfamiliar alpha. He dropped the bags and stalked to the kitchen, only to see Dean and Michael sitting at the table, drinking soda and laughing, heads pressed close to each other. Dean looked relaxed, his face split in a wide grin, and Michael was openly admiring him. Castiel felt a black, slimy clutch of jealousy grip his insides, and he hastily returned to his groceries. In his retreat, he missed Dean glancing in his direction.

Castiel drew a couple of deep breaths before hollering, "Boys! I'm home!"

He was answered with a muffled "Bedroom!" from Sam and a bright "In the kitchen!" from Dean. He gathered the bags and made his way to the kitchen, acting surprised to see Michael sitting at the table. The young alpha wasn't leaning toward Dean anymore, and, instead of open admiration, his face showed a polite smile.

"Hello, Mr. Novak," Michael greeted, extending his hand.

Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly. An alpha extended his hand only to his superiors and seniors, and by his gesture Michael obviously treated Castiel as Dean's father figure. Not sure whether to be offended or flattered, Castiel decided to accept the offered hand and shook it firmly.

"Hello Michael. How's college?”

"Boring, but I was expecting it. It seems that Dean and I have the same amount of affection for stiff-necked teachers and poorly planned lectures. Tragic, really, how much complete waste is included in our courses." Michael rolled his eyes theatrically, which earned a fond chuckle from Dean.

Castiel's vision turned reddish at the sudden surge of jealousy. He started preparing stew for dinner, and got into the process of mincing garlic with more force than was exactly necessary. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dean talking quietly with Michael, at times huffing a laugh or snorting in indignation. He was desperate to know what they were talking about, and despised himself for it. He shouldn't pine after Dean, but be happy for him instead. Dean had caught the eye of a poster-boy alpha, after all.

After Michael left, Dean wandered back to the kitchen. He seemed slightly absent-minded and Castiel wondered why.

"Michael seems nice," he said nonchalantly, while adding broth to the pot.

"Hmm," Dean hummed.

Castiel didn't know how to react, so he kept on stirring the stew, chewing his lip. When he glanced at Dean, he was looking back at him, slightly amused.

"Cas, are you jealous?”

"No!" Castiel sputtered. He definitely wasn't, why would he be? Okay, maybe he was, a bit.

Dean snorted, shook his head, and went to the living room. Castiel wasn't quite able to meet his eyes during dinner.

Michael returned on Sunday. He sat on the sofa beside Dean, entertained him with easy jokes, tales from the college, and memories of a trip to Paris. Castiel sat on his armchair and pretended to read a thesis about the interpretation of the color pattern on angels wings according to the Renaissance Catholic texts. It might have been an interesting read, if Castiel hadn't been tormented by the revelation of how he could never chat as effortlessly as Michael. He felt a tight pressure coiling behind his sternum, and decided he needed some air.

He took a walk in the crisp September afternoon, contemplating how he would get over this. Because no matter what he felt, no matter if Dean had said he wanted him, no matter if Castiel was ready to die and kill for him, he had to get over this. Dean had finally met a proper alpha, an exemplary young candidate to mate and bond with. Michael could offer Dean all that Castiel could not, and, for that reason, he had to stand aside and let Dean go. He had to work the black goo of jealousy out, bleed it out until it was no more. Too bad he couldn't use Windex as brain bleach.

He walked and walked, rolling the thoughts of Dean and Michael in his head, trying desperately to get into right headspace. When he finally dragged himself back home, Dean was sitting in the kitchen, waiting for him. He gave Castiel a long, calculating look before getting up.

"Michael asked me out," he said calmly.

Something snapped inside Castiel. He moved in a flurry, slammed Dean against the kitchen wall and growled, "He can't have you," before pressing a possessive, hard kiss on Dean's lips.

He pushed against Dean with the whole of his body, pinning him in place and locking his hands to his sides. He devoured Dean with his mouth, mumbling "mine, mine, mine" under his breath, not even realizing it himself. His alpha was making its claim and, for once, Castiel didn't object.

When Dean whimpered under him, he froze. He lifted his head in slow motion, and then jerked himself off from Dean, realizing what he had done. Dean's eyes were hooded, his pupils dilated. His lips drew to a slow, sated smile as he murmured, "Hello there, alpha.”

Castiel gave Dean a wide-eyed look of horror and stuttered, ”Dean— I—” He got no further, because Dean fisted his hands on his collar and yanked him back.

"Oh, no. No you don’t," Dean warned, before he attacked Castiel's lips.

Castiel shuddered slightly and melted.

After the kitchen incident, things were a bit odd. They all knew something had changed, but none of them was eager to be the first to say it out loud. Dean and Castiel danced around each other, not really knowing what to do, although they knew exactly what they wanted to do. They took turns opening their mouths, as if to say something, and then snapped them shut. They gave each other lingering looks when they thought the other wasn't looking, and Sam muttered something about eye-fucking, which Castiel didn't quite understand.

Eventually, it was Sam who snapped.

"This is just ridiculous!" He moaned the following Tuesday, with all the righteous indignation a twelve-year-old could muster. He cursed under his breath as he stomped away to move things back and forth between the bedroom and the study, while Dean and Castiel sat in the living room, watching each other in bewilderment.

After a while, Sam came downstairs and stood in front of his brother and his friend.

"Right. I'm done. I'm so done. I moved my things into the study, and Cas's things back to the bedroom." He glared at them both before climbing back upstairs. The study door slammed shut, and then there was just silence.

"Oo-kay. That was awkward," muttered Dean, rubbing his neck.

Castiel swallowed. ”Dean—"

Dean glanced at him briefly and smiled shyly. "Seems like you're gonna sleep with me, then." Castiel blanched, and Dean hurried to correct himself. "I mean, sleep with me, not sleep with me. You know— like— Whatever. I'll make some tea.”

Castiel stared after him and wondered if it was okay for an alpha to have a panic attack. Meanwhile, his inner alpha was practically purring at the prospect of actually sharing a bed with its omega.

They went through the motions of tea and teeth brushing, and changed into their pajamas in different rooms: Dean in the bedroom and Castiel in the bathroom. Castiel considered minutely knocking on the study door and bidding Sam goodnight, but he soon thought better of it. Sam had seemed pissed enough to, in fact, punch him in the nose, and he'd rather not have a nosebleed while sharing a bed with Dean for the first time.

He entered the bedroom (His bedroom? Their bedroom?) shyly, not entirely sure he was actually allowed inside. Dean was already in bed, curled on his side, his back to Castiel. Castiel watched him for a while, wondering if he was awake or dreaming. And then Dean turned his head, rolled his eyes, and told him to get the fuck to bed.

Castiel climbed in carefully, leaving a wide space between himself and Dean. He lay on his back, his hands stiffly on his sides, barely daring to breath, and wondered if he would be able to sleep at all. He heard Dean sigh before the mattress jostled a little.

"Turn to your side, Cas. No, the other side. Okay.”

Castiel obeyed literally blindly, keeping his eyes shut. Then Dean snuggled to spoon against his chest, reached back to grab Castiel's hand, and placed it on his chest, lacing their fingers together.

"Mmm... much better," he mumbled, and sighed.

Yes, much better. In a sudden burst of bravery, Castiel pressed his nose on Dean's neck to scent him properly and, before he even realized it, he drifted off.

In the morning, Sam was almost able to hide the smugness on his face, but not quite.

They continued sharing the bed, getting comfortable with each other's closeness and scent. Michael came to visit Dean once, to remind him of the movies he had invited Dean to, but left in a hurry, an odd expression on his face. It wasn't until later, when Castiel realized that Michael must have smelled Castiel all over Dean. He wondered briefly if the Miltons now thought they were neighbors of a freak. Then he flatly remembered the whispers that had surrounded him after his alpha rage at the Winchester Fire. The Miltons probably had been thoroughly briefed in the matter of their weird neighbor already.

Mr. Henriksen paid another unannounced visit in the middle of September, asking Dean his questions and checking the house. He didn't comment on the sleeping arrangements, or the change in Dean's scent.

Castiel was getting nice and comfortable in his life with his ward and almost-but-not-quite-mate. And then Dean calmly informed him that he was going off the suppressants.

”But— If you go off your suppressants, you'll go into heat!”

Dean rolled his eyes, as if Castiel was a bit stupid. "Yeah, I know Cas. That's kinda the point, don't you think?"

They were laying in bed, on their sides, facing each other. Castiel stared at Dean, not quite believing what he had heard.

"Cas, if we're gonna mate and bond, I have to be in heat. You know that. And I'm not sure how long the OIAA will let us be in peace. Bonding is the only way to make sure we'll be together.”

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed. "Dean, it's not— I’m—" He took a calming breath. "It's not that I don't want you, but I'm worried. You're still underage and, even though you can consent, it's still dubious.”

He sat up on the bed and watched Dean somberly. "Then there's another thing. You do realize that because of our quite significant age difference, there's the thing with... biological compatibility?" He blushed slightly, but kept his eyes fixed on Dean’s.

"Meaning?" Dean prompted.

"You are a teenage omega who presented only a little over a year ago. I'm a fully mature alpha twenty-five years your senior. It's going to hurt when I knot you. A lot. And we cannot bond unless I knot you,” Castiel said bluntly.

Castiel saw Dean flinch in the dim-lit room. "Yeah, I sorta thought so. But it's not like we have other options, right?" Before Castiel could open his mouth, he lifted a warning finger. "Nu-uh. Not a word. Now, come're, I wanna sleep.”

A week after Dean went off his suppressants, his heat hit. Castiel could smell it the moment he opened his eyes: a seducing, sweet scent, calling his alpha to mate and breed. He followed his nose to the kitchen, where Dean was making himself breakfast. His cheeks were flushed and he had a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, but otherwise he was still coherent. Castiel's cock gave an interested twitch at the sight.

Sam realized the situation the moment he walked into the kitchen and saw his brother.

"Eww. Okay. I'll get my things and go to Brady's. Call me when you're done, but no details, please." He ate his breakfast in a hurry, grabbed his backpack and some spare clothes, and scooted out. "Happy mating, jerks!" He hollered before slamming the door shut.

”Bitch," Dean muttered absently. His eyes flickered to Castiel's before sliding away.

Castiel saw Dean was nervous. Of course he was. He was fifteen and rapidly descending into the mating heat with an alpha twenty-five years his senior. Dean should be scared shitless.

They could still back out.

"Dean, we don't have to do this. I can leave—”

"No." Dean had his stubborn face on. "You know as well as I do that we've got no choice. You've smelled my heat, and there's no way your alpha's gonna let you leave."

"Are you sure?”

"Yeah. We've been through this, remember?”

They had, but Castiel remained slightly uncomfortable. He could feel his alpha drawing to surface, eager to be let loose on its omega. Although he wanted to mate and bond with Dean, he still wasn't sure Dean really knew what he was up to. Mating was for life, and, if Dean went through this, he would be permanently tied to Castiel. Castiel was ready to spend the rest of his life with Dean, but what if Dean found him unsatisfactory, unworthy? What if—

"You're thinking too much," Dean commented, mouth full of toast. "Gimme some coffee."

And Castiel did.

He let Dean finish his breakfast in peace and went to prepare the bedroom. He opened the windows to let in some fresh air before removing the beddings. He used a fitted plastic sheet to shield the mattress, made the bed with new linens, and stacked towels on both nightstands and rolled blankets to the side in arm's reach. He placed bottles of water and orange juice, along some fruit bars, in a basket beside the bed and, blushing, a tube of aloe cream in the drawer. Satisfied, he closed the windows and went downstairs.

Dean was done with his breakfast and waiting for him. His scent was stronger, and Castiel felt his cock stiffen. Dean's nostrils flared at his arousal and he stood up, walking to Castiel, who stood still at the doorway. Dean pressed into him, and Castiel felt he was already hard.

"You smell amazing," Dean murmured, rubbing his nose on Castiel's neck and sliding his hands under his shirt. His lips grazed Castiel's neck, and Castiel shivered at the sensation. Dean chuckled and went to kiss and lick his neck and jaw, nipping little markings with his teeth. Castiel groaned and wrapped his arms around Dean, burying his nose on his neck to fill his lungs and head with Dean's scent.

Dean was rocking his hips against Castiel's and the friction of their still-clothed cocks was almost unbearable. Castiel slipped his hand under Dean's sweatpants, absently noticing he wasn't wearing any underwear, and cupped Dean's ass in his hand. Dean bucked and Castiel's hand slid down his cleft to his already leaking hole. Dean keened as Castiel gently rubbed and circled his entrance, teasing out more slick, and making Dean tremble on his feet.

Dean leaned back slightly to tear off his shirt, and the movement caused Castiel's finger to slip inside. Before Castiel had a chance to adjust his hold, Dean clenched around his finger, coming to his pants with a hoarse moan, and slumped against Castiel's chest.

"Fuck, I'm easy," Dean slurred and huffed a laugh, his heat temporarily subsiding.

"You are a horny teenager in the early stage of heat. Comes with the territory,” Castiel commented dryly, holding himself back. It wouldn't do to knot Dean against the kitchen wall, at least not the first time. "Bedroom, perhaps?”

Dean was still boneless from his orgasm, and Castiel promptly lifted him up, easily supporting his weight with his alpha strength. It felt right, natural, to carry Dean upstairs to their bedroom.

He wanted nothing more than to throw his omega onto the bed and start fucking him with abandon, but instead he gently eased Dean down to stand in front of the bed, lowered his hands and took a step away. Dean tensed as he saw the bed, and his eyes cleared as he took in his surroundings and the reality of the situation dawned him.

He drew a shuddering breath and turned to Castiel. "Okay... right... yeah... Let's do this."

Castiel still wasn't sure. "Dean, it's going to hurt. You are still so young.”

Dean licked his lips nervously. "Yeah, you told me. But it still needs to be done, right?" He dropped his come-stained pants down, stepped out of them, and slowly backed onto the bed. "Come on, Cas.”

Castiel was trembling. His alpha was barely contained, snarling to get free and ravish its beautiful mate. But he wanted to be sure. He needed to give Dean a chance to back out.

"Are you absolutely certain? Once I start, I can't hold back. I will knot you, and I will do it, even if you try to get away." It sounded hard, but it was the truth.

Dean blanched a little, but pressed his lips together in a thin line. "Yes." He lifted his eyes to look straight at Castiel, gaze clear without the feverish glaze of the heat, and said with a steady voice: "Mate me, alpha.”

That was it.

Castiel ripped his clothes off in a rush, threw them behind him, and stepped to his omega. Dean sat on the bed, staring at Castiel, his heat coming back with full force. His scent was heavy in the air, and Castiel was drunk on it. His cock was fully erect, standing proudly, throbbing with want and Dean's proximity. Dean's eyes were drawn to it.

"It's... big,” Dean breathed, wide-eyed.

Castiel preened along his alpha at the praise and the evident arousal. Dean reached a hesitant hand, and Castiel let out a moan at Dean's soft touch on his cock. He didn't let Dean dwell on it, because he had more important things to do. Dean would get his chance to make an acquaintance with the alpha’s cock later.

He climbed onto the bed, pushed Dean onto his back, and pressed him down with his body to get as much skin contact as possible. He felt Dean rut up against him, and placed his hands on his hips, keeping him still.

"Not yet. Patience, my love."

Dean's eyes blew wide at his growled endearment, and Castiel made a mental note to declare his love to Dean more often.

Castiel set on the task of worshiping Dean in earnest. He started from the neck, kissing the scent gland and Dean’s pulse point, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline to his mouth. Because Dean had the most gorgeous mouth in the living history, he paid serious attention to it, re-learning every curve and arc of his lips, and the hot cavern of his mouth. Dean's tongue met his, and they moaned together as they explored each other.

Castiel continued his journey, travelling down Dean's body, peppering his throat and chest with kisses. Dean arched his neck beautifully, submitting completely to his alpha. For a second Castiel was tempted to bite his pretty omega there and then, but then he remembered what he was doing. This was about Dean, he would get his chance to claim when he knotted Dean.

When Castiel's tongue licked over Dean's nipple, the omega let out a strangled cry and buckled under Castiel. Oh. Castiel repeated his move again and again, making Dean pant, sob, and leak pre-cum and slick all over. Dean's eyes were heavy-lidded, his cheeks tinted with blush, and he looked totally debauched and utterly glorious.

Castiel abandoned Dean's nipples for the more interesting direction of his groin, but remembered to brush his fingers over the sensitive buds every now and then. Castiel pressed his nose to Dean’s groin, reveling in the heavy, musky smell of arousal and Dean, and wondered if it could be bottled. He nipped the soft skin of Dean's inner thigh and smiled at the sounds it drew from him.

Dean's cock was smaller than his, of course, but to Castiel, it was the most enthralling sight in the world. It was straining toward Dean's stomach, dribbles of pre-come glistening along its length. Castiel's mouth watered, and he licked along the underside, placing a gentle kiss on the top. Dean's breath caught; whimpering, his hands sought something to hold on to. Castiel looked up to watch him. His beautiful omega was coming apart under him, and it made his heart swell. He reached out to take Dean's hand, and then he swallowed him down in one motion. Dean arched on the bed and gripped Castiel's hand tight as he groaned his name. Dean's cock was hard and heavy on Castiel's tongue, and he found out that he liked it very, very much. He sucked gently, and was immediately rewarded with a keen and a shudder, as Dean came in his mouth.

"M'sorry," Dean mumbled after a while, in a lull of his heat.

Castiel frowned. "Why?"

Dean glanced away, embarrassed, and it wouldn't do. Castiel was painfully hard and leaking, but Dean was more important. He reached out to cup Dean's cheek, and turned his head to look him in the eye.

"Dean, why are you apologizing?”

Dean chewed his lip. "You do this, and— It's just for me. There's nothing for you—”

Castiel interrupted him with a kiss. "There's everything for me. There's you. I can touch you, make you feel good, give you pleasure. I can watch you come undone and I know it's my doing."

He emphasized his words with kisses to Dean's lips, chest, hips, thighs, ankles, wrists, and navel. Dean watched him with a stupefied smile, and drew him on top of him, kissing him with fervor. It soon turned from kissing to claiming, and when Dean started to grind his hips against Castiel's throbbing cock, he had finally had enough.

"Turn around. Will be easier— first time—” he growled, and flipped Dean around onto his hands and knees.

Dean was panting, his face flushed and eyes glazed, in full heat now. Castiel pressed his lips to his hole, lapping the slick and rumbled, pleased. Dean quivered and moaned, and pressed his ass against Castiel's face, wanting to be filled. Castiel lifted his head and grazed small marks on Dean's back with his teeth, while he gently pushed a finger inside Dean's wetness. He rubbed and stretched, soon adding a second finger to work his mate open and pliant for his cock. Dean trembled under him, canting his hips to give Castiel better access. When he hit the little bundle of nerves, Dean gave a strangled shout and came, clenching gloriously around Castiel's fingers. He growled and bit the skin on Dean's hip, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a long-lasting mark.

After giving Dean time to even out his breathing, two fingers became three, and then four, before Castiel pulled them out and rose to his knees. Dean whimpered at the loss, but Castiel assured him that he was getting plenty in a second. He lubed his cock with Dean's slick, lined himself up, and started slowly push inside.

Four fingers were nothing compared to Castiel's girth, and he felt Dean clamp down around him. He stilled, rubbed Dean's back and hips, and murmured reassuring nonsense to get him to relax. When he did, Castiel pushed another inch. He took his time, gripping Dean's hips with bruising force, making himself to go slow, even though all he wanted was to pound into Dean with abandon. When he was fully seated, he stopped and whimpered at the tightness and heat, admiring the obscene sight of Dean's hole stretched around his cock. He heard Dean taking sharp intakes of breath, and reached out to gently stroke his cock to get him to relax.

When Dean made a small gyrating move with his hips, Castiel knew it was alright to move. He started with shallow nudges, giving Dean time to adjust, gripping his hips to prevent either of them from going too fast. Bit by bit he moved more, and Dean's pants turned into moaning, and then keening, as Castiel found the right angle to his prostate. Soon Dean dropped all pretense of trying to meet Castiel thrust by thrust, concentrating on staying on his elbows, as Castiel finally started to pound into him in earnest. He was growling a low rumble, his alpha triumphant to finally claim and mate its pretty omega.

When his knot started to swell and catch onto Dean's rim, he heard Dean's breath hitch.

"No no no no, it hurts Cas, it's too much, no, Cas, please!" Dean whimpered, panicking, and tried to get away.

Castiel couldn't let it happen. He wrapped his hand around Dean's stomach to hold him still, and, reaching his other hand across Dean's chest, he lifted him to sit on his lap. With the combined efforts of his hips, hands, and gravity, he pushed in with a grunt, simultaneously biting down on Dean's neck.

Dean screamed when Castiel's knot was forced inside, expanding and locking them together. It was a pitiful, heartbreaking sound and, as their bond flared to life, all Castiel could feel through it was pain — pain — pain. Dean was thrashing and sobbing on his lap, babbling, "Hurts, too much, Cas please, hurts!” as Castiel held him in a vice grip, his cock pulsing another load of come inside his young mate.

When his head cleared a bit, Castiel tried to soothe Dean, keeping him still and rubbing his stomach

"Please, Dean, don't move love, it'll only hurt more, Dean, please stop," he whispered, nipping and licking the bond bite.

Little by little, Dean's panic subsided and he stilled, not trying to actively get away anymore, but he kept trembling and breathing harshly, very clearly still in pain. Castiel guided him to lean against his chest, dipping Dean's head to rest on his shoulder. He held his mate more tenderly now, caressing his chest and stomach, reaching down to stroke his cock to life, wanting to give Dean some reminiscent of pleasure after the brutal first knotting. Lovingly he moved his hand, picking up his pace with care, all the while kissing Dean and whispering how good, beautiful, and precious he was. When Dean came, it was with a sob, pulsing over Castiel's hand and clenching around his cock, still buried deep inside Dean. Castiel groaned into his neck, spurting another round in rhythm to Dean's climax.

Still holding Dean, Castiel moved them to lie on their side, careful not to tug the knot. He reached behind him to pull the blankets over them, and, snuggling as close to Dean as he could, buried his nose in his neck. The first knotting would tie them together for a long time, and he wanted to make Dean as comfortable as he could. Dean had already passed out, still trembling, although the panic and pain were almost gone from the bond. Castiel could only hope that, eventually, Dean would be alright, and that the mating wouldn't prove to be too traumatic for him.

"I love you," he whispered, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

At some point during their sleep, Castiel’s knot had receded, and his cock had slipped from Dean's hole. When Castiel stirred, he was still spooning his mate, his nose buried in the soft smell of his omega, and his cock snugly fitted in the warm wetness of Dean's cleft. Through their bond, he could tell Dean was already awake, his heat lingering before the next wave would hit.

"Is it gonna hurt as much every time?" Dean asked quietly.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself. "It shouldn't, the first time is supposed to be the worst," he said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, so sorry Dean. You wanted to stop and I— I didn't let you. I forced you, and I hurt you." He swallowed. "I will never touch you again, if you don't want me to.”

He felt Dean's surprise and— hurt? flash through the bond, before he turned around to face Castiel.

"What? Why wouldn't I want you touch me?" Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but Dean pressed his finger to his lips, silencing him. "Nu-uh. Not a word.”

He wiggled himself closer, fitting his leg between Castiel's, and placing Castiel's hand on the small of his back. "For an educated alpha you're really stupid sometimes, you know?”

Castiel didn't and, therefore, only stared.

"You warned me, remember? You told me it would hurt like a sonovabitch, and you gave me the chance to back out. You told me you wouldn't be able to hold back, and I still said yes. I consented, Cas, it was my choice. And I've seen you go all feral, so I had a pretty good idea what to expect." Dean's voice was tinged with amusement, and, even though Castiel could detect no regret through their bond, he still felt awful.

His anguish must have resonated to Dean, because he kissed Castiel softly. "I regret nothing. I chose you,” he whispered and gently stroked Castiel's cheek.

When he didn't answer or meet his eyes, Dean's tone turned worried. "What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be loved?”

An involuntary sob escaped from his lips and he raised his eyes to meet Dean's green, concerned stare.

"I don't understand why,” he whispered brokenly.

"Cas, for fuck's sake, honestly!" Dean groaned in exasperation. "What does it take to get this through to your thick alpha skull?" He pushed himself to sit up on the bed, agitated. "When I saw you at the grocery store, I thought you were awfully cute, trying to decide what sugar to buy. I wanted to be near you then, and when I walked up to you, I almost jumped you 'cause you smelled so fucking good. Yeah, I know I'd just presented, but I'd never smelled anything like you before. And when you came to help us with moving in, and I realized we were neighbors, I thought I was gonna die.

"I liked you a lot from the start. I liked how you talked; how you walked; how you cocked your head when you were confused, or saw something interesting. I liked your house with your strange books; and your trenchcoat; and your tea; and how you blushed when I winked at you; and how it felt to kiss you.

"I was so proud when I claimed you, 'cause I couldn't figure out why you were unmated. You were — you are awesome! When dad forced us apart, 'cause he thought he knew what was best for me, I thought I was gonna lose you. I bribed Sam to pass you the book, to let you know I really wanted you, and that we had a way to make it work. And I know my mom knew what I did, but she never said anything.

"After the fire, you were the only thing that made me feel safe. You were there for me and Sammy, ready to kill for us, so fucking badass alpha that I was ready to roll around and let you mount me right there, in front of the whole neighborhood. And later, when we shared the bed, you didn't make a move even though you wanted to, I know.

"You've never tried to boss me around or push me into anything. You're always so polite and concerned, and so fucking careful I can't even— You let me be what I wanna be, and you never ask anything in return. You think you're not worthy, but to me, you're everything.

"I don't give a shit about other alphas, I just want you, Cas. And now I've finally got you.”

Castiel had pushed himself into sitting in front of Dean while listening his confession. He was awestruck, dumbfounded, and humbled by Dean's outburst. He had never thought anyone might feel that way about him. He felt tears brimming in his eyes, and he didn't give a flying fuck about the phrase ’real alphas don't cry.’

He reached a hesitant hand out to Dean, as if he was a mirage that would dissolve if he dared to touch him. Dean smiled and leaned forward to meet his him, and closed his eyes with a sigh when Castiel cupped his cheek. A feeling of deep contentment radiated through the bond, and Castiel rested his forehead against Dean's. They sat for awhile, enjoying the feedback loop of mutual contentment, satisfaction, and love in their fresh bond.

It didn't take long for Dean's heat to spike again. He captured Castiel's lips into a lingering kiss that quickly turned hungrier and more insistent. Dean crawled into Castiel's lap to straddle him, and Castiel fleetingly remembered the end of January and their moment on his sofa.

It was far less brutal and rushed, their worst frenzy having been consumed by the first knotting, but it was passionate, intimate, and loving instead. Dean lifted himself to his knees to let Castiel guide his cock inside. When Dean hissed at the intrusion, Castiel froze, suddenly afraid he had irrevocably damaged Dean. But Dean, his gorgeous, unbelievable, wonderful Dean, just rolled his eyes before sliding down his cock, agonizingly slow, with a low groan. They stopped kissing soon, burying their faces in each other's necks, holding each other tight. Dean wrapped his legs around Castiel, crossed his ankles behind his back, and pressed them even tighter together.

When his knot started to swell, Castiel tried to pull away, but Dean pressed down, gripped him tight, and whispered to his ear: "Give it to me, Cas." And, because Castiel couldn't deny Dean anything, he did. He pushed his knot inside and came with a strangled sound, sobbing Dean's name, and holding on to him like his life depended on it.

When Castiel was coherent enough to lift his head, he kissed Dean softly, so softly. Noticing his omega was still hard, he took Dean over the edge with gentle touches, causing his knot pulse again. Afterwards, he dragged himself up to lean against the headboard, pulled his knees in, and gathered the blankets to cover them. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it allowed Dean to lean back into his legs and rest, as they were still tied. And, it allowed him to watch Dean, which was almost as good as sex. Almost.

He lost count of how many times they had sex during Dean's heat. Turned out that the aloe cream was, in fact, necessary — for both of them. The side effects of a young mate, it would seem. Not that Castiel would complain.

When Sam returned, he wrinkled his nose and made gagging sounds to alleviate the grossness of the situation. But he also gave them both tight hugs, and told them that he was so-so-so-so happy for them both, and wasn't it good they had switched rooms in the first place? Dean rolled his eyes, but Castiel saw he was pleased by his brother's reaction.

Intellectually, they had known that Sam approved of their relationship, because he had been the one to literally push them into each other's arms. Still, Castiel couldn't deny that he was relieved to actually see and feel the acceptance. He considered Sam as a very dear friend, the little brother he never had, and his opinion meant the world to Castiel.

The only downside was the fact that Mary and John weren't there. It was quite clear that Mary had known what had been going on, since she had accepted Dean's plot to smuggle the omega book to Castiel. And John had accepted Castiel, to some extent at least, when he had transferred the responsibility of his sons to him during the fire. Castiel liked to think they would have been okay with him and Dean bonding, but it troubled him that he didn't know it for sure.

Dean proved to be quite insightful and adept at interpreting his feelings through their bond.

"What's bothering you?" He asked a week after their mating, cradled in Castiel's arms, after they had settled into bed.

"Your parents.”

Castiel could sense Dean's frown. "Um. They're dead. How can they bother you?”

"It bothers me that they are dead, Dean. I wish I had had the chance to know them better.”

Dean was silent for a while, and Castiel let him. He stroked Dean's chest absently, just to soothe his mate and let him know he was there, in case Dean wanted to talk.

"I miss them,” Dean said quietly.

"I know.”

"It's... I dunno." Dean made a frustrated sound and shifted a little. "It's like I've got this hole in my chest, like something's missing, and I can't get it back. Sort of like the ache I felt when you left. But it's different. Sometimes I forget it's there, and then something reminds me of mom or dad, and the pain's back, and I can't breathe.”

Their bond flooded with sorrow and anguish, and Castiel held Dean tighter. He wanted to take away Dean's pain, to make everything better, but he knew he couldn't.

"Tell me about them.”

"Like what?”

"Anything. Everything.”

Dean stilled for a moment. Then he breathed in deeply and started to talk. He told Castiel about his mother, about her voice and her laughter, her smell, her hair, her apple pie, her touch, and her funny crooked toe. He told Castiel how her mother had liked to listen to Ella Fitzgerald while cooking, and how she had used to sing the same songs, when taking a shower. He told Castiel about his dad, about his gruff demeanor that had hid his mischievous sense of humor, and how it had made his mom roll her eyes at him. He told Castiel, how hard his dad had worked to provide them, and how he had always found a way to make things right, even though they really weren't. He told Castiel, how his dad had wanted him and Sam to have a better life than him, and how he had said he had been proud of them.

He told Castiel, how he had seen his mom and dad hug each other, when they had thought neither of the boys were there to see. And how they had stolen little touches and kisses every now and then, always coming back to each other even after a fight, and how they had smiled at each other.

Dean told Castiel, how much he missed his parents, and how he had never told them that he loved them. And then he cried and cried, and Castiel held him and kissed his neck, and he told Dean that they had already known. He cradled Dean in his arms until he fell asleep, wishing he could always act as the barrier between Dean and the world and shield him from pain and sorrow.

In the morning, Dean was emotionally exhausted. Castiel let him sleep late, and called his school to inform them that Dean was sick. He made pancakes for breakfast, and let Dean indulge in as much of maple syrup as he liked. Neither of them mentioned the conversation from previous night, but, after cleaning his plate, Dean gave Castiel a deep kiss, and whispered, "Thank you.”

When the neighborhood found out about their new relationship status, it was a small scandal. Especially Mrs. Horton, the uptight lady from across the street, was appalled. She called Castiel a pedophile behind his back and a freak to his face, and treated Dean with pity and sympathy. Castiel had pretty much guessed that was coming, but Dean was furious. He almost spat on Mrs. Horton when she proclaimed she was calling the OIAA in "to deal with this shameful business." Instead, Dean handed her Mr. Henriksen's business card, and asked her to call his "personal OIAA-alpha." Mrs. Horton wasn't amused.

In truth, they were worried about Henriksen's reaction. The alpha had implied he knew what was going on, but it was one thing to imply it and another to see it in reality. Dean's omega book clearly stated that breaking the bond would be dangerous for them both, and risking the life of a fertile omega wasn't something the OIAA would do lightly. But they didn't know for certain whether the OIAA would actually let them stay together. Only pregnancy would ensure it, and, despite their vigorous efforts, Dean hadn't bred from their mating heat. Castiel thought it was probably for the best, since they hadn't had the chance to have a serious talk about starting a family.

Not that Castiel didn't want pups. He was slightly uncomfortable around them, but he usually found them agreeable enough to experience more positive than negative thoughts. He also knew that he would adore any pup Dean would carry, and he was absolutely sure Dean would be as gorgeous when breeding as he was now. But since Dean himself was still so young, it would be very unwise to start a family right away. Pregnancy would also seriously hinder Dean's schooling, which wasn't something Castiel was ready to do.

Besides, Castiel wasn't even sure that they would be able to stay in the area. The whispers surrounding them had gained strength and had, with Mrs. Horton's efforts, grown into epic proportions. In any other situation, Castiel would have been very flattered, had he not been offended and slightly scared instead.

Surprisingly enough, it was the Miltons who stood up to help. Being the only other alpha-omega pair in their neighborhood, they were the only ones who were able to understand the attraction and the mating drive between an alpha and an omega. Their neighborhood didn't perhaps approve of Castiel and Dean’s mating, but they were smart enough to shut their pieholes when they realized that the Miltons had chosen their side.

Of course, discussion was a bit strained at first, what with Randall and James trying to get over the fact that they wouldn't be Dean's in-laws. Turned out that Michael had been quite infatuated, and had actually started planning for a future with Dean, and smelling Castiel all over Dean had been a shock for him. Michael had moved to his dorm at the college shortly after he had realized the truth about Castiel and Dean's relationship.

Castiel sincerely hoped that Michael would find an omega of his own. The young alpha was a remarkably amiable man, and in other circumstance, Castiel was pretty sure that they would've liked each other. He felt bad for Michael, as he had obviously been used just to spike Castiel's jealousy, and he asked his parents to deliver their apologies. Dean grit his teeth stubbornly, but had the shame to sound genuinely sorry for misleading their son. Neither Randall nor James were exactly impressed, but fortunately, they understood enough to let it lie.

Sam, of course, found a way to use the situation to his advantage. He made an excellent representation of the alpha/omega bonds at school, using Castiel and Dean as reference material. He did ask permission beforehand, and Castiel had complied immediately. He had the utmost trust in Sam to present the subject with respect, and to help his classmates to understand better the alpha/omega dynamics. Practically his whole class was still unpresented, and the subject had their undivided attention. It was no wonder that Sam came home with an A+.

Dean muttered something about a nerdy jerk, but Castiel knew he was, in fact, fiercely proud of his little brother.

The Thursday two weeks after Dean's heat, the doorbell rang to announce Mr. Henriksen, OIAA. The alpha walked in and stopped in front of Castiel and Dean. He took one sniff (not bothering to be discreet about it), pressed his lips together in a thin line, and walked into the living room.

"We can skip the coffee this time, Castiel," Henriksen said shortly as he sat on the sofa.

Castiel nodded and sat on his armchair, Dean again on the armrest. But this time Castiel's arm was around Dean. There was no real reason to try hiding their bond, because Henriksen had already smelled it on them.

"I got an interesting call from one of your neighbors." Henriksen's tone was clipped, and he watched them with serious eyes.

Dean and Castiel glanced each other. "Yes, we think we know from whom and about what," Castiel said, disdain quite evident in his voice. He was very glad that Sam was at school, and not present.

"'Pedophile, freak,' and 'child molester.' Those were the words describing you, Castiel. Dean was called a 'poor boy, a vulnerable victim,' and a 'broken, innocent child.’"

Dean couldn't help but huff an unbelieving laugh. "Oh, fuck me. Turn it around, and you'll get a more accurate description."

Henriksen raised his brow.

"Cas is the 'poor, vulnerable victim,' and I'm the molester." Dean chuckled and Castiel's lips pulled to a small smile.

"I see,” Henriksen mused, and sat quietly for a while. Then he sighed. "Damn, I lost the bet.”

Dean and Castiel gaped at him like he had suddenly sprouted wings from his ears.

"Sorry, what?”

"I had thought that Castiel here was a lot more uptight and reserved, and would stall the mating longer." He grinned. "Young man, you really are something, aren’t you?”

The imaginary wings grew bigger and turned purple.

"Did you really think that your situation was so unique?" Henriksen asked gently. "You're not the first alpha-omega pair to fall victim to your biology. Yes, your age difference is a lot bigger than usual, but it's nothing we haven't dealt with before. The actual uniqueness is the strength of your bond, which was obvious from the start.

"If you're concerned about the OIAA separating you, you can stop now. You are evidently biologically compatible, and, with a bond this strong, the separation would be extremely painful. Besides, it would most likely jeopardize your chances for healthy pups later on.”

When Dean blushed slightly, Henriksen tilted his head questioningly.

"Oh," was all he said.

Dean blushed brighter. "I'm not pregnant,” he grumbled. "But it's not like we didn't try!”

Castiel dropped his head to his hand and groaned, mortified. "Dean, love—”

"What? He's from the OIAA, it's not like he hasn't talked about heats and preggers before.”

Fortunately, Henriksen suddenly developed a slight cough that took their attention, and he asked for water that Castiel gladly provided him.

"So, about pups." Henriksen started unceremoniously, when Castiel returned with a glass of water. "Are you planning for a family?”

Castiel ducked his head, unsure of what to say. He felt the bond flash with nervousness and hope, and he raised his head to look at Dean. Dean glanced at him shyly, and said with a small voice, "I'd like to. Later, I mean.”

Castiel felt like his heart would burst. He touched Dean's knee gently, and tried to convey all his love and devotion through the touch and their bond. "I would love to have a family with you, Dean, whenever you feel ready for it. But I'm also okay, if you choose differently.”

Dean smiled at him, hesitantly at first, and then they got lost in each other's eyes, only to be drawn back by Henriksen's cough.

"Right. Well. You not being pregnant yet isn't anything you need to worry about now,” Henriksen flashed Dean a reassuring smile. "You are very young, and it's not uncommon not to conceive from the first shared heat. Anyway, I would recommend that you refrain from getting pregnant for a couple of years, at least. It would allow your body to take its time to mature in peace, helping it to handle the pregnancy better later. Teenage pregnancies are risky, even for omegas. And, while you wait, you could finish school, and even go to college.”

Dean frowned and narrowed his eyes at Henriksen. Even without the bond Castiel could tell he didn't like his life being dictated. Obviously, Henriksen noticed it, too.

"No need to glare, Dean. I'm not here to tell you how to live your life. But as an OIAA representative, I do have some insight into how these things usually are handled best. You could, of course, try to get pregnant right away, but it would probably be quite stressful for you, both emotionally and physically. You've experienced a lot recently, and you are still recovering. Adding the strain of pregnancy would be unwise.

"I don’t doubt your love and devotion towards each other, but it would do you good to let your bond stabilize before you start a family.

"Now that you are a mated and bonded pair, you need to get registered. I've got the forms with me, if you would please fill them out." Henriksen's tone changed into business-mode again, as he rummaged for the necessary papers from his satchel and handed them to Castiel. "And Dean, you are now allowed to get government-provided birth control. Using this card, you can get them from any pharmacy you want.”

Henriksen handed Dean a nondescript, dark blue credit card, with his name and birth date engraved on it. Dean took it and scrutinized it for a while.

"Okay," he said hesitantly. "How do they work? The meds, I mean.”

"You take one at the beginning of your heat, before you begin any... activities. They don't affect your heat cycle or your scent. They prevent pregnancy, and that's all they do. If you happen to forget to take one, and don’t want to conceive, you are allowed the so-called morning-after-pill. But you should know you can only purchase three of them in a row, no more." Henriksen's tone was stern and his eyes were serious.

”Okay," Dean repeated and nodded. "We can work with that, right, Cas?" He turned to look at Castiel, who was gazing back at him, a solemn expression on his face.

"This is not my decision, Dean. It's your body and your choice. Although, I have to admit that I agree with Henriksen. I believe it would be wise to wait for a while and get our lives in order, before considering a family. But I'll do what you want me to do, Dean."

Dean gave him a relieved, bright smile as an answer.

"Well, unless there's nothing else you need from me, I'll be on my way." Henriksen stood briskly up from the sofa, grabbing his satchel. "I'll stop and have a chat with your neighbors on my way to the office.”

He walked to the door, then hesitated, and turned to face them. "Dean, a word, if you please?”

Dean walked to him, a confused frown on his face. Henriksen bent slightly, and said something Castiel didn't hear. Dean turned his head sharply to look at the man and snapped, "You think I'm an idiot?" Castiel felt indignation through their bond, and wondered, what on earth Henriksen had said to get Dean react like that. Henriksen raised a placating hand to reassure Dean, before nodding Castiel goodbye.

When the door closed behind Henriksen, Dean said without turning, "Don't even ask."

Castiel didn't. Dean would tell him, if he wanted.

They never found out what Henriksen said to Mrs. Horton, but she suddenly developed a need to run in the opposite direction every time she saw them.

"We need a bigger house,” Castiel said.

It was October, fall settling in and turning leaves into different shades of yellow, orange, and red. It was strange to think that it was only a bit more than a year ago since Dean had entered his life and changed everything. If someone had told him then, at the store, that he would now be mated to this gorgeous, beautiful, willful young omega, he would have thought them to be raving mad. But here he was, mated and bonded, ridiculously in love with his mate, and acting as a foster father to a frighteningly smart pup. And as it was, in a need of a bigger house.

"Um. Why?" Sam asked through a mouthful of toast and jam.

Castiel huffed. "You sleep in my study, Sam. Wouldn't you want a room of your own, without musty books and manuscripts?

"Have you met him?" Dean barked a laugh from the other side of the kitchen. "Sam loves old, musty books and manuscripts. He's in heaven, believe me. And we're not moving anywhere.”

"Yeah, I don't mind." Sam grinned, and stuffed some more toast into his mouth. "But, I'd like to have an actual bed someday.”

"Oh shit,” Castiel swore and closed his eyes in shame. By doing so, he missed the stupefied looks the brothers shared at his choice of words. ”I've completely forgotten. I'm so sorry, Sam. You've been sleeping on a mattress for almost two months now, and I didn't even notice!”

"Hey, hey... It's okay. Don't blame yourself; you’ve had other things on your mind,” Sam soothed with a crooked smile.

Castiel didn't feel any better. He had been so busy fucking Dean that he had let Sam to sleep on the floor. He shook his head at his own selfishness and decided to correct things right away.

"Right. Grab your coats, we're off!" He proclaimed, and practically ran to fetch his wallet, ignoring Sam and Dean's questions of what the hell was going on?

They ended up in Ikea. Castiel wasn't too fond of the special hell of Swedish collapsible furniture, but it would do for now. Besides, the packages would fit into a cab. They went to choose a bed, a desk and a chair for Sam, and grabbed some kitchen utensils on their way to checkout. Sam tried to protest about the total, again, and Castiel told him not to worry about it, again. Dean was too absorbed with the lobster-decorated kitchen towels to actually care.

Castiel wanted to clear the study completely for Sam to use, but he was outnumbered. At the end of the day, they removed Castiel's heavy wooden desk downstairs, to the corner of the living room, and left the full bookcases in the former study. The living room was going to be a bit cramped, but they thought it was worth it. Sam was overjoyed to have an actual bed and a desk of his own, and he didn't mind at all having Castiel's work-related books in his room.

Dean flatly informed Castiel that he would need no desk, because he would be totally capable of doing his possible future homework in the kitchen, thank you very much. Castiel didn't argue.

"Hey Cas? When's your birthday?" Sam asked curiously from behind ’The Brave New World.’

"Sorry?" Castiel asked distractedly. He was working on a new manuscript and wasn't exactly paying attention to his surroundings.

"I was just wondering. We've known you for over a year now, and you've never celebrated your birthday. We should know, you know, so that we'd know when to buy you a present.”

Castiel leaned back on his chair. "I've never celebrated my birthday. Not really. And you don't have to buy me anything.”

Sam's expression turned into something Dean called 'a bitchface.'  "Yeah, I know we don't have to, but I'd like to.”

"September 26th,” Dean said, walking from the kitchen into the living room. He had two mugs of tea with him, and he placed the other in front of Castiel before sitting onto the armchair with the other mug.

”How—" Castiel started, but Dean interrupted him with a snort.

"What kind of an omega would I be, if I didn't know my alpha's birthday?”

"Damn, we didn't get you anything!" Sam complained, clearly miffed.

Dean sniffed and smiled into his tea. "Oh, he got his present," he said mildly, quirking an eyebrow at Castiel.

Castiel frowned, confused. He started to count backwards, and—.

Oh. Oh.

He looked back at Dean, who smiled smugly and had a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"You calculated it, didn't you?" Castiel gasped. Dean just smiled more widely and took a sip of his tea.

Sam looked back and forth between them, and then, when he realized what it was, he scrunched his nose. "Eww, gross. I'll just get you some tea as a present, okay?" He gagged, before burying his head back behind the Huxleyan dystopia.

Castiel got up from his chair and walked over to Dean. He cupped Dean's face in his hands and kissed him, feeding his love and affection in to their bond. "I love you," he murmured onto Dean's lips, and felt him smile back.

"Happy birthday," Dean breathed, and reached up to kiss him good.

”Um, guys? I'm still here, you know,” Sam waved.

Neither of them deigned to pay him any heed.

EPILOGUE

Dean thought college was boring. It was just a bit more fun than high school, but it was still boring. The reason was, perhaps, that he felt too old to be there, being mated and bonded, while the majority of his class was still single and busy partying. Dean had tried it, the partying, but it didn't fit him. Yeah, he liked the company and the atmosphere, but he wasn't that fond of sweaty, shitfaced drunk alphas crowding his space. He wasn't on suppressants, but he was claimed, with his bond bite clearly seen on the back of his neck. That should've been more than enough to tell the alphas to back off. Unfortunately, it didn't always work.

He and Castiel had been mated for four years now, and he loved Cas just as much as in the beginning — even more, if possible. At nineteen, Dean wasn't the only bonded omega in his class, but he was the only one who had been mated at such a young age. And, of course, his alpha was the oldest. It was always entertaining to watch people's expressions, when he told them about their age difference. Not that Dean minded. He hadn't given a fuck about their respective ages back when they had met, and he didn't give one now, either. 

He still couldn't believe how he'd been so damn lucky. He had been hooked on Cas the minute he had seen him, and it had taken him almost a year to get the alpha to make a move, what with Dean's meddling father and Cas's strict morals. But he had gotten his way, as he always did, and they had bonded on Cas's 40th birthday. Not that Cas had realized it then. But his reaction had been quite enthusiastic and devoted enough, once Dean had spelled it out for him.

Dean pushed past his fellow students, slung his backpack to his shoulder, and groaned inwardly at the weight of the books inside. It was his second year in college, and he still didn't know what to major in, exactly. Cas kept telling him that it didn't matter, but Dean felt like he was wasting his OIAA-stipend, drifting through college without a solid plan. Sam, on the other hand... Sam was something else. At sixteen, he was storming through high school with high scores, determined to get a full ride to Stanford. Sam wanted to be a lawyer and specialize in CPS, something he had wanted to do ever since the fire.

To Sam's great disappointment, he had presented as an alpha. He would've preferred to be a beta, to be free of the hormonal alpha/omega impulses. Dean was fervently happy that they lived with Cas, who was able to talk Sam through his presentation crisis and make him see that he was fully free to make his own choices of what kind of an alpha he wanted to be.

Dad would've liked that Sam was an alpha, though.

Lost in his thoughts, Dean had reached Baby, and threw his backpack to shotgun. After he had gotten his driver's license, he had used the whole summer fixing the Impala, making her drivable again. Through trial and error (and with quite a lot of help from a grumpy old mechanic from town) he had finally succeeded, and he had felt pretty damn proud, driving her for the first time. Cas hadn't gotten it, but he had indulged Dean, like he always did. They had driven for hours, just enjoying themselves, and, after a lunch in a remote diner, they had discovered just how accommodating Baby's back seat was. Sex in the car was almost as good as sex in bed, but then, sex with Cas was always good.

Dean started the car and got ready to drive off from the college grounds. His phone beeped a new text message, and he quickly checked whom it was from.

> HI LOVE COMING HOME SOON+

Dean snorted. After all these years, Cas still hadn't bothered to master the art of text messaging.

> Just left, I'm on my way. Need anything from the store? Dean tapped his answer with a practiced ease.

> MILK BREAD TEA

> Got it.

He went to do the shopping, also grabbing some fruit yoghurt for Sam and a couple of sodas for himself. As he paid for the groceries, he once again remembered he needed to look for a job. It was October, and while the OIAA paid for his college, his monthly allowance would stop when he turned twenty, which was in three months. He knew Cas would support him, but he wasn't that keen on the idea. Problem was, he had no idea where to look, or what he could do.

He mulled over his limited possibilities on his way home. When he pulled into the driveway and turned to retrieve the groceries and his backpack, he heard a car pull over. He glanced up to see a cab in front of their house. Dean frowned. Cas hadn't said anything about guests.

As he watched, a suave man in his late thirties got out of the cab, and stepped on to their driveway. He was clad in black slacks, a grey v-necked shirt and a black woollen overcoat, and he looked so elegant that Dean felt like a frumpy redneck. The man had an absolutely handsome face, with a small beard and steel-gray eyes.

He looked Dean over from head to toe, reinforcing his feeling of inferiority. The man walked to him, and, as he got closer, Dean could smell he was an unbonded omega.

"Hello, sweetheart,” the omega said with a British accent. "Does Castiel still live here?”

Dean could only gape. Why would this unbonded (fucking hot) omega ask for Cas? And how did he know Cas lived here in the first place?

Before he had the chance to question the man, the front door opened and Cas stepped out.

"Hello Cassie," the omega greeted.

Cas stared for a while, before he answered, "Balthazar."