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They’ve been… dating? …fucking? …doing whatever it is they’ve been doing, for six months. Dean likes to think he’s starting to understand Cas a little better, what makes him tick. That’s why he waits until after sex, when Cas is still coming down from the high and is settling into a nice post-orgasmic bliss to bring up the annual Sandover Christmas party.
“Pardon?”
Cas is staring at him blankly, and any other time Dean would feel triumphant for managing to stump him. Not right now, though, not with his stomach twisting itself in circles and a vaguely nauseous feeling crawling up his throat. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous and he hopes it doesn’t entirely show on his face.
“Do you, um… do you wanna go? With me?” he adds, like Cas would be going with anyone else.
“To an office Christmas party?” Cas asks skeptically.
“It’s not just one office, it’s three different companies hosting it toge- you know what, not important. Do you wanna go?”
“It’s not exactly my scene.”
Dean swallows, his throat making an audible click. He gets where Cas’ skepticism is coming from. Honestly, the thought of pot-smoking, perpetually barefoot, pseudo-philosopher Cas interacting with any of Dean’s coworkers makes him want to laugh. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t even be considering this. But this Christmas party is anything but normal, and Dean really doesn’t wanna go alone.
“There’s free food,” he says, because when all else fails, appeal to Cas’ baser instincts. “And an open bar.”
“Are you sure you even want me there?” Cas asks. “I might embarrass you.”
Dean bites back the automatic, ‘Of course you wouldn’t’. Truth is, Cas might act kind of weird and he’d definitely stand out, but Dean doesn’t find that prospect as scary as he would have just three months ago. But Cas bringing it up makes Dean think that maybe he’s afraid of it. Even someone as confident as Cas has to have their limit on how much scrutiny and judgment they can take. Dean can’t ask him to go through that just to appease him.
“…You’d probably get bored,” he admits. He forces a smile. “I just wanted to see you in a suit.”
Cas grins. “I could arrange that.” He leans in, fingers gently tilting Dean’s jaw so he can press a few soft kisses against the column of his neck. “And you should definitely call me over before you take yours off.”
Dean ducks his head, capturing Cas’ lips with his own. Cas sighs into the kiss, and then he’s moving, smoothly swinging his leg over Dean’s and settling in his lap without breaking their kiss. He grinds down and Dean groans as the action has his over-sensitive cock stirring.
“You’re insatiable,” he mutters, pulling away from Cas to catch his breath.
Cas’ grin widens and he nips at Dean’s lower lip. “You love it.”
Dean can’t deny that so he just hums noncommittally, relieved that he can let himself sink into the heat of the moment rather than dwell on what’s ahead.
Dean considers briefly inviting someone else with him to the Christmas party but he dismisses the idea as soon as he has it. If he can’t go with Cas, he’d rather not go with anyone at all. Besides, the point of inviting Cas was to have a date with him, in case…
Well, in case he runs into Michael.
Dean feels like an idiot for even caring. He never used to be this person, who can’t stand being single when they meet an ex. But the way Michael treated him fucked him up, and Dean doesn’t want him knowing just how much. He doesn’t want him knowing that it took him months to even think about sleeping with another person and that when he did, he almost let him slip away because he was so afraid of getting hurt again.
Showing up without a date feels like admitting to all of that, even though Dean is in a relationship. He needs to be able to show Michael that he didn’t ruin him for other men.
But, no. He’s alone, stomach flipping at just the thought of meeting Michael again, his perfectly-tailored suit pinching in uncomfortable places. He didn’t even eat before coming here, too busy fretting and too nervous to really feel hungry, and his suit still feels tight on him. He’s put on some weight in the past months, and even though Cas has assured him it just makes him more desirable he sure as hell doesn’t feel like it right now.
If Dean were less dedicated to his job, he’d turn around and go straight home. But this party isn’t just about drinking and having fun; it’s about networking. There’s a lot of important people in this room, people Dean’s gonna have the chance to talk to for another year. So he takes a deep breath, plasters on a fake smile and, ignoring the nervous feeling still festering in the pit of his stomach, walks over to greet Mr. Adler.
It’s over an hour before he spots Michael. Dean’s almost forgotten about him when their eyes meet from across the room, and it’s like the floor drops from underneath him. For a moment, he stands frozen on the spot, every instinct screaming at him to run.
Before he can act on that, Michael starts walking towards him. Dean swallows, eyes darting around for some nearby source of alcohol. The nearest waiter carrying champagne is several feet away and as much as Dean’s dying for some liquid courage he’s not gonna let it show.
He doesn’t quite manage to smile when Michael reaches him but it’s close enough. “Mr. Engel.”
If Michael is at all affected by Dean’s greeting, he doesn’t show it. “Good evening, Dean.”
Awkward silence settles between them. From the corner of his eye, Dean sees the waiter walking a little bit closer, and his hand twitches at his side, dying to reach out for a glass.
“Are you here alone?” Michael asks.
Cutting straight to the bone, then.
“Yep.” Dean clears his throat. Should he say that his boyfriend couldn’t make it, or would that sound forced? Can he even refer to Cas as his boyfriend to Michael, when they’ve never even defined their relationship like that? “You?”
“Not exactly.”
“Here with Rachel?” Dean guesses. He’s proud of himself for sounding at least somewhat casual.
Michael actually laughs. It’s the same laugh Dean fell for almost three years ago, and he’s relieved to note that it doesn’t cause so much as one flutter in his chest. “No, we ended our relationship quite a while ago. I am here with my fiancé.” He looks around, raising his hand in a come-hither gesture. “Adam!”
Dean’s heart sinks to the floor. A young man – Adam, apparently – is approaching them, smiling brilliantly at Michael. He says something to him, softly, but Dean can’t even hear his voice over the sound of his own blood rushing past his ears.
“Dean Smith, this is Adam Milligan,” Michael says, and even though he’s gesturing between them he’s only got eyes for Adam.
Adam raises his hand in greeting, and Dean takes it on autopilot. He wets his lips, searching for something to say other than what the hell.
“Pleasure to meet you,” he finally manages to say.
“You too,” Adam says, looking infuriatingly genuine. “How do you know Michael?”
“We used to work together,” Michael answers smoothly. “Back when I worked at Sandover.”
Dean recoils slightly, feeling like he’s just been slapped. It’s true but it’s so far from the entire truth it might as well be a lie. Is that all he is to Michael? A former coworker?
“Uh, yeah,” he mumbles, thrown off balance and furious at himself for feeling that way. He hadn’t thought Michael had this kind of power over him anymore but apparently he’s just as pathetic as he was a year ago. “Before he left us for Shurley & Rhodes.”
He wants to bite down on his tongue as soon as the words have left his mouth (could he have chosen a more awkward way to word that?) but Adam and Michael both just chuckle politely.
“I suppose this,” Adam says, gesturing at himself and Michael, “has to be kind of a shock.”
Under-fucking-statement of the century.
Dean grins humorlessly. “Kind of. Last I knew, Michael wasn’t out.”
He can tell his comment surprises Adam – he probably wasn’t expecting Dean to know Michael was gay. Vindictively, Dean hopes he’s gonna follow up on that once he gets Michael alone.
“I led a different life back then,” Michael says. He steps closer to Adam, putting his hand on his waist, and Dean kind of wants to throw up at the loving look the two of them exchange. “But once you meet the right person, hiding just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.”
Dean’s gonna throw up.
“That’s… great,” he says weakly. Adam and Michael still haven’t taken their eyes off each other and ridiculously enough, Dean feels like he’s the one in the wrong. Like he shouldn’t even be here, intruding on their happiness with his baggage. “I, uh, I gotta… go,” he finishes, unable to think of an excuse.
Adams says something that might be ‘nice to meet you’ but Dean honestly isn’t listening anymore. He makes a beeline for the nearby waiter, grabbing two champagne glasses from his tray and throwing them back one by one.
“You might wanna slow down there,” the waiter says.
Dean ignores him, setting the empty glasses back down on the tray and heading for the bar. He needs something stronger than champagne.
It only takes two drinks before the bartender cuts him off and Dean decides to head home before he makes an ass of himself. He didn’t drink that much but he drank fast and he’s starting to really feel it.
He calls for a taxi, which thankfully arrives within a few minutes. Now that his free-flowing booze has been cut off, Dean can’t get out of here fast enough. Unfortunately, with at least a twenty minute drive ahead and no drinks to distract him, Dean starts dwelling.
‘Once you meet the right person’.
Dean had spent weeks telling himself there was no such thing for Michael. That that was why he’d treated Dean like a dirty secret, constantly assuring him that he’d come out eventually but now just wasn’t the right time. It was never the right time, of course, and now Dean has irrevocable proof that it wasn’t because Michael wasn’t willing. Dean just wasn’t the right person.
And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? It took Dean ages to move on from that kind of thinking but it turns out he was right from the start. He was never anything more than a fuck buddy to Michael.
He sniffles, running a hand over his face as he tries to regain his composure. God, but when has he ever been the right person for someone? His relationship with Michael was especially shitty but it was hardly an anomaly. Dean has always attached himself to people who don’t want him the same way he wants them. Until Cas, anyway.
Dean’s heart stutters, a horrible thought occurring to him. Can he even say that? He wasn’t even able to refer to Cas has his boyfriend tonight because they’ve never defined their relationship that way. Or in any way at all. Has Dean been reading too much into things again? For all he knows, they’re not even monogamous. Maybe Cas is out fucking someone else right now.
Hell, he wasn’t even secure enough tell Cas the real reason he wanted him at this godforsaken party.
The car pulls over, shaking Dean from his thoughts. He pays his fare and gets out of the cab, shooting the driver a shaky smile when he eyes him worriedly. He can’t blame the guy; he must look like shit right now. He feels like shit, anyway.
There are lights on in the apartment when he gets inside. Dean stops on the doorstep, staring blankly into the living room where Cas is sitting on the couch, watching TV.
“You’re home early,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Uh.” Dean clears his throat. “Yeah,” he says, trying to sound like he didn’t just almost burst into tears in the back of a taxi. “Party was kind of boring.”
He wants to go over, to lie down on the couch with his head in Cas’ lap and let him soothe his worries away with his presence. Instead, he heads into the kitchen and cracks open the liquor cabinet. He’s pouring himself a generous portion of whiskey when Cas comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s midsection.
“That boring?” he asks wryly. He presses his lips into the crook of Dean’s neck. “Pour some for me.”
Dean obeys, nausea stirring in his stomach when Cas holds him even closer, kissing a line up the column of his neck. When Cas’ hand lowers, fingertips slipping under the waistband of Dean’s pants, he flinches away, jarring the table and causing the two whiskey tumblers to spill.
“What-” Cas pulls away and Dean wants to cry. As much as he doesn’t feel like sex right now, the thought of Cas pulling away from him completely is even worse. He hides his face when Cas leans against the counter next to him, trying to catch his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Dean shakes his head mutely, putting the whiskey bottle down. He should tell Cas to leave but he can’t bring himself to say the words. He turns around but Cas grabs his arm before he can move away.
“Dean?”
“Do you even like me?”
The words tumble out without permission. Dean wants to take them back as soon as he’s said them, wants to grab them out of the air and stuff them down his throat, forcing them deep inside some hidden part of him along with all his other insecurities.
“Of course I do,” Cas says. “Where’s this coming from?”
“‘Cause I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t,” Dean continues, instead of shutting up like he really should be doing. “I’m hardly a catch.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cas says, but it’s so quick and the words sound rehearsed to Dean.
“I’m always bitching at you to use an ashtray and quit leaving your underwear on the floor.”
“You’re tidy, there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I make you watch reality shows with me.”
Cas shrugs. “I kind of like Project Runway.”
Dean sets his jaw. “I’m always on some stupid diet and I won’t let you eat what you want when you’re here.”
“You do tend to take those diets too far,” Cas admits. “But I don’t mind watching myself around you, I just wish you’d indulge yourself more.”
“Maybe I indulge myself too much,” Dean shoots back. “I’ve been gaining weight.”
“I’ve already told you I like that.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Dean says, throwing his hands in the air. He’s feeling less depressed now and more just frustrated at Cas’ insistence on defending him, like he hasn’t secretly been thinking all those things for months. “I’m boring, Cas. I go to sleep at eleven PM and I schedule my outfits a week in advance. Who does that?”
“You do,” Cas says. “I like those things about you. I like you.”
Dean blinks. In all the months they’ve known each other, he’s never heard Cas be so openly sincere about anything. It’s a little strange but mostly it just makes his heart ache.
“Why would you doubt that?”
“I, uh, ran into an ex,” Dean admits. It doesn’t feel as embarrassing to admit as he would have expected. “We dated for a couple of years but he was never willing to come out. Not that I pushed him to,” he adds hastily, “But he kept saying he would. Then he dumped me for a beard, and now he’s not only out but he’s also engaged.”
“Dean…”
Dean gives small, watery laugh. “I always felt like he was ashamed to be seen with me but I told myself it was just his issues, not that something was wrong with me. But apparently there is something wrong with me. Why else would he have treated me like a dirty secret, when he’s fine with being out in the open with this guy?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Cas says firmly. “The guy sounds like a dick.”
“He is a dick,” Dean agrees. He pauses, feeling honestly pathetic to be even thinking this, but since he’s already airing all his insecurities he might as well. “But I loved him. Why wasn’t that enough?”
Why wasn’t I enough?
He’s caught off guard when Cas grabs his shoulder and pulls him into a crushing hug. Before he has the sense to hug him back, Cas pulls away just a few inches and kisses him soundly. Dean moans brokenly into the kiss, hands flailing a bit before he settles for grabbing Cas’ hips, pulling him flush against him.
Cas breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead against Dean’s. “You deserve better than what he gave you.”
Dean swallows, blinking away the tears suddenly threatening to fall. “I’ve never seen you this serious,” he tries to joke, uncomfortably aware of how hoarse his voice is.
Cas hums in acknowledgment. “I can be serious when the situation calls for it. Although I generally try to avoid it.”
“No kidding,” Dean says. He feels a little better already, less raw. “…Michael was why I wanted you at the Christmas party.”
“What?”
“My ex,” Dean clarifies. “I wanted him to see I’d moved on.”
“To me?” Cas snorts. “I’m sure that would have impressed him.”
“Have you seen you?”
“I do have a pretty nice ass,” Cas admits.
“You have a nice everything.”
Cas laughs, tugging Dean in for another kiss. Before their lips can touch, he leans away again, tilting his head. “Wait, so you really wanted me at that party?”
“I asked you to come, didn’t I?”
Cas shrugs. “I figured you were just being polite. You didn’t even deny it when I pointed out I’d embarrass you.”
Dean feels like an idiot. “Only because I thought that was your way of saying you didn’t wanna go. I would have loved to take you.”
“To rub me in Michael’s face.”
“And see you in a tux,” Dean adds.
“Next year, then.”
Next year. Implying that they’ll still be together then. That Cas isn’t going anywhere, even after Dean went and poured every insecurity he’s ever had over him in a half-hysterical fit.
He smiles, the first genuine smile of the evening. “Next year.”