Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time Dean builds a nest he’s six, going on seven. His dad loves to retell the story at family get-togethers. Dean’s not embarrassed about it anymore, it’s obvious John adores the memory, and even if the slight teasing–after the fact–did make nesting during his teen years a bit more awkward, it’s never entirely stopped him.

“You should have been there,” John always starts the same way, and that's Dean’s cue to roll his eyes and find somewhere else to be before he dad throws an arm around his shoulder and makes him sit through the retelling. “I was so proud. His first nest, it was so cute.”

He doesn’t escape this time. They’re standing on the back deck, Dean’s beer is cool against his fingers, as John deliberately gestures at him with the grill tongs, tucking Dean against his side with an arm draped around Dean’s shoulders. At this point, Dean could tell his dad’s version of the story word for word, but he lets his old man go about it anyway, smiling shyly at the way John cups the back of his neck, scent full of pride and love.

“I shoulda known, I always tell Mary, DON’T I ALWAYS TELL YOU, MARY! ” John shouts, and Mary, who’s currently chasing Cas and little Emma around the backyard, gives him a small wave–like she does whenever John tells this particular story. “Eh,” he grunts at her lack-luster response, turning back to Dean. “Anyway, when Sammy was born we shoulda known then that Dean was an Omega. The way his eyes lit up at the sight of little Sam all wrapped up in his swaddlin’ cloth.” John sighs, the warm coffee scent of his happiness wrapping Dean up in memories of his childhood.

Ω

The batman blanket is the first thing Dean’s six-year-old brain tells him is important, pulling it from his bed he drags it into the living room. Dean stands for a long time just clutching it to his chest, unsure of exactly what he’s trying to do, but needing to do something. Looking from his dad’s worn leather recliner to the comfortable overstuffed cushions of the living room couch, he wavers. While the recliner smells the most like dad, it’s not big enough, but the sofa, being larger, smells too much like everyone. Like all their scents jumbled up together, Dean can only faintly make out his dad. And right now, Dean needs the comfort of his pack alpha’s scent.

Sammy’s sick. He’s been screaming for days; and Dean can’t help, can’t do anything. He sees the lines around his mom’s eyes and picks up on the fatigue in her scent. The sour milk smell of Sammy’s distress follows Dean like a shadow. It makes his skin crawl, and he feels stretched out.

Dropping his blanket, Dean rushes up to his parents’ room and pulls the little hand-knit throw off the foot of their bed. Dragging it to his nose he inhales the deep, rich scent of alpha, of dad, and the softer fainter scent of his mom before he scoots back downstairs. His dad loves this blanket, often complaining that the down comforter mom prefers is too warm for the summer months. Dean tosses the knit throw on his Batman comforter before rushing off to the laundry room.

Two hours later, Dean’s got some of the couch cushions from the couch stacked neatly on the floor in the small space between the sofa and the recliner. His Batman blanket is draped from one arm to the other, making a canopy between the furniture, while the knit throw is neatly spread out over the cushions on the floor. It’s bunched up on one side where it drapes over Dean’s pillow, from his bed. Woven into the folds are two of his dad’s work shirts from the dirty laundry, the large stuffed Scooby Doo plush from Dean’s room, both of his dad’s pillows from his bed, a towel from the bathroom, and four soft little teether toys from Sammy’s room.

Standing in front of the fort he’s built, Dean sighs, the itching on his skin fading. Now he just has to wait. Scooting over to the foyer, Dean hunkers down by the door, leaning against the frame. He can’t help but glance over his shoulder every now and again to make sure the fort is still standing. It is. He’s done a good job.

Sammy is finally quiet upstairs. The sound of his sad little cries and the scent of upset pup mellowing, under the gentle hum of Mary’s voice as she sings. Dean releases a slow breath. He has no idea how long he’s been sitting there, waiting for his dad to come home, but he’s suddenly starving. It’s then he realizes the flaw in his plan.

Jumping to his feet, Dean rushes to the kitchen. Pulling a chair over from the table he climbs up onto the counter and opens the cupboard. Dean grabs his favorites: a package goldfish, three granola bars, and a bag of beef jerky–which he’s not supposed to eat but knows his dad really likes. Tossing everything onto the floor, Dean climbs down and heads to the fridge. He grabs two juice boxes, and after hesitating for a moment, one of his dad’s beers. Gathering up his bounty, Dean shuffles over to the fort.

He’s adjusting everything back into perfect order, putting the TV remote within reach, when he hears the front door open. Upstairs Sammy starts to scream again, and Dean can hear his mom trying to hush the pup. In a panic, he runs for the front door, crashing into his dad’s leg before he’s even completely in the house. Instantly the scent of grease, and oil, and fresh morning coffee fills Dean’s nose ripping a soft noise from his throat.

“Dad…” Dean whispers, a tiny whine. Anxiety rushes through him, bringing back the itchy feeling. He grapples for his dad’s hand, pulling the keys and cooler from his fingers and setting them down before he reaches up with both hands and tugging. “Dad…” he says again, pulling, pulling, but John is sturdy and solid, and confused as he looks down at Dean, then up the stairs.

John glances from Dean to the stairs again, like that’s where he wants to go; like he’s going to leave Dean alone, standing between the living room and the foyer, and Dean’s panic deepens. He whines deep in his throat and does something he’s never done before; Dean drops his cheek to his father’s hand, rests it on his broad, warm knuckles, and begs “Alpha.”

“Dean, baby,” John says, dropping down to one knee immediately. His fingers run through Dean’s hair, stroking over his cheek. “What’s wrong, Champ?”

He can’t talk, he can’t tell his dad he’s scared. That he feels wrong. That his insides are all squirmy and his skin feels too small. He’s the big brother, he’s supposed to be strong and reliable. He’s not supposed to make a fuss. He’s not supposed to want to curl up in blankets and pillows and snuggle like a baby. He’s big now, a big kid, a big brother. But he doesn’t feel that way, he feels small and scared. John’s eyes flick around the room, his nose wrinkled from Dean’s distress, and then his face smooths out, a small smile pulling at one side of his mouth as he meets Dean’s eye.

“Did you make that for me, Dean?” John asks, his voice low and soft, chin tipping to point over Dean’s shoulder. “Did you build a nest for me?”

Dean pouts, tugging on his dad’s hand again. “It’s a fort!” he grumbles, pulling his dad until John climbs to his feet and lets Dean lead him to the pile of blankets and pillows, snacks, and drinks.

Humming softly, John pulls off his jacket and slides out of his boots, setting them off to the side. “A fort huh? Did you build this awesome fort for me, Dean?” He asks, his smile spreading. Dean feels great and puffs his chest out, his chin lifting, pride and happiness swell through him so hard he giggles.

“For us!” He corrects, before ducking down and slipping inside. It’s cool and quiet under the blankets and it smells like him and dad. Dean crawls on his hands and knees in a little circle, adjusting things before poking his head out and grinning up at his dad. “Do you like it?”

“I love it! Can I come inside?”

“Yeah!” Dean scoots over to make room. He feels like he’s going to burst for a completely different reason. The stress that’s been building inside of him for days now is pushed away under a wave of contentment. He’s happy his dad likes the fort. Honestly, it’s a really cool fort. A safe fort. It smells right and it's soft... and cozy, and even if it’s a tight fit for the two of them, that's okay because it means that Dean gets to snuggle up under his dad’s arm. He gets to be draped in warmth and comfort and the soothing scent of his alpha.

“Are you hungry?” Dean asks, pulling out some of the snacks he’s squirreled away in the folds of the blankets.

“I am! What a good job you’ve done, Dean.” John says, taking a package of jerky. “This is my favorite snack.”

Dean melts, snuggling his face against his dad’s shoulder, hiding a bit in his happiness.”I got you a drink too. I know I’m not supposed to touch them but…” Dean pulls out the beer and hands it over, tucking his face against his knees.

“Well, I think we can make an exception, just this once,” John says, taking the beer and setting it down by his hip. His voice is soft and fond, and Dean leans against his side, feeling the vibrations rumble against him. “You’re a good boy, Dean. You did a great job. This is an excellent fort, son, I love it. I’m proud of you.”

Dean feels sleepy under the praise and sudden draining of his stress. The scent of how happy his dad is makes his eyelids droop, and he yawns under the soothing rumble of his alpha’s voice.

“I didn’t realize how hard this was on you, Champ,” John goes on, running his fingers through Dean’s hair, petting over his neck, and applying gentle pressure before repeating the process again. “You’re always so strong and brave. I know how close you are to Sammy and seeing him sick must be really hard for you. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, but you’re doing a great job.” The knot in Dean’s stomach unclenches. “You’re taking excellent care of your pack.”

John kisses the top of Dean’s head and Dean yawns, snuggling closer. “You make me and your mother so proud.” Distantly the sound of the TV clicks on and another wave of peace washes through Dean. He did a good job, he’s safe, they’re safe. Sammy's going to be ok; everything’s going to be okay.

“John?” Mary’s voice calls from somewhere far away, it's tired and strained. It sinks into Dean’s subconscious and makes him shift, groaning.

“Yeah, in here,” John calls as he pulls Dean closer, and Dean breaths in the soothing scent of pack and family.

“What’s going on?”

“Dean’s nesting,” John whispers, his voice a little choked.

“Oh my goodness.” Mary sobs, “Let me get my camera.”

art by @foxyMoley

Ω

John ruffles Dean’s hair. The heat of the afternoon makes him sweat, and he’s relieved when his dad finally unwraps his arm and turns back to the grill. John stills smells like pride and happiness, no matter how many times he tells this story. It still makes Dean feel good, even if it’s embarrassing.

“Is that the photo that’s hanging in the front hall?” Jack asks.

“That’s the one!” John says, beaming. “Dean’s first nest– sorry, sorry. Fort! Dean’s first fort.”

“Jesus, Dad,” Dean complains, a smile pulling at his lips. He looks over at where Cas is setting out chip bowls and shouts, “Babe, save me!”

“You still make the best forts, Dean.” His mate calls back unhelpfully, and most of their family burst out laughing. Dean’s face burn red.

“I don’t want to know!” Sam says as he steps up next to Dean and hands him a fresh beer. “Let’s keep the nesting habits of Dean and Castiel Winchester a subject of mystery.”

“Ahhh, you old prude.” John says, swatting at Sam, “Nesting is totally normal, and if you ever find someone willing to do it for you… you'll know just how special it is.”

Chapter Text

When Dean turns eleven, the house across the street from him finally sells and a big loud family moves in. There are so many of them that Dean sits for the entire day curled up under his Batman blanket with Sam in his lap, reading books and playing little hand games together, watching the spectacle the other family makes through the big front window.

There’s a moment Dean remembers as clear as day; the moment a dark-haired boy hops out of the big Range Rover and stretches his arms high above his head, flashing the tanned skin of his stomach before dropping his hands and ruffling his own hair. He glances around, bright eyes flashing in the afternoon sun, and Dean doesn't realize how hard he’s squeezing Sammy until the pup whines and pinches his arm.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean mumbles into his soft, fluffy, too long hair; pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“S’ok,” Sam says, patting Dean’s forearm where it’s wrapped around his stomach. “Wanna get snacks?”

“Um…” Dean glances back out the window and his heart thumps in his chest. The boy’s staring towards them, head tilted to the side, and Dean suddenly feels silly wrapped up in his old blanket, and lets it fall from over his head to pool around hips. He sits up, just a little straighter, and snuggles Sam close again... and maybe, he hides behind him... just a little bit. The way his heart beats heavy against his ribs is distracting, almost as much as the other boy's eyes when meets them through the clear glass. Cautiously the kid lifts a hand and curls his fingers in a tight wave.

“Do you know that kid?” Sam asks.

“No… uh, not yet,” Dean says absently, unable to look away as he raises his own hand and waves back.

“Oh,” Sam says staring his own chubby little hand raised in greeting. Then they're both laughing as a larger boy hops from the SUV and shoves the smaller boy. There’s indistinct shouting, and the two end up fighting until the older boy drags the smaller, dark-haired one off in a headlock. “Snacks?” Sam asks again, before bodily dragging Dean off the window bench, and towards the kitchen.

Ω

Four hours later Dean finds himself standing on the front steps of the house across the street, listening to feet stomping and kids screaming. He’s holding a large platter of brownies and his mom is standing next to him holding Sam’s hand.

“Stop fidgeting,” she whispers, and Dean grimaces. He doesn’t want to be here, something big and slimy is twisting uncomfortably in his stomach. He aches to hide, to retreat back across the street and all the way up into his tree house; but he won’t. Dean sticks his chin out, throws his shoulders back, and nods to himself. There is nothing to be afraid of here.

“They have a little boy your age, Dean, you should try and make friends. You’ll be going to school together in a few weeks,” Mary says softly, smiling down at him. “Cassius, Carter, Clarence, um…”

“Castiel.” A low voice draws their attention to the now open door. The dark haired kid from this afternoon stands on the threshold, his face serious. He sweeps his gaze up to Mary, and his eyes are bright and crystal blue; sparkling like gems and Dean doesn’t want to look away. Dean's breath catches in his throat and he fidgets again. “But you can call me Cas.” He holds out a hand and Dean flinches, lurching forward to take it. The tray in his arms, along with the fact that Cas is holding his hand out to Mary, stalls him. Mary glances down at Dean, a small confused smile on her lips as she takes Cas’s hand and gives it a shake.

“Uh, Brownies.” Dean flushes, dropping his gaze only to look right back up at Cas from under his lashes. What the hell is wrong with him? Cas blinks at him, tilting his head to the side like he did earlier in the day and Dean flushes darker, licking his lips.

“Oh, Mary!” The firm clacking of heels draws Dean’s eyes from the staring contest he’s having with Cas.

“Naomi,” Mary says, leaning across the threshold to hug the other woman. “So lovely to see you again.”

“Cassie, don’t leave our guests on the doorstep.”

Cas bristles, his chest puffing out and he stands taller. “Mother,” he grumbles a low growl, and Naomi laughs waving her hand at him, but Dean—Dean feels his stomach swoop like he just went over the first dip of a roller coaster. “I can’t invite another pack into the house.”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Castiel. Mrs. Winchester is my friend from college, don’t you remember me talking about her? And these are her boys, Dean and Sam. They’re our neighbors.” Naomi ruffles his hair, and Cas immediate swats her away, attempting to fix his bed head, his eyes flashing towards Dean who grins reflexively.

“Mary is fine, dear.” Dean’s mom says with a smile.

Naomi invites them inside, and they head towards the breakfast nook. Sammy sprints right out the back door towards a large swing set and Cas leads Dean into the massive kitchen.

“I hate when they do that,” Dean whispers, and Cas nods solemnly.

“Me too.”

“Want a brownie?” Dean asks, holding out the tray. Cas seems to waver until Dean says, “I made them myself. They have walnuts and chocolate chips.”

“You made them?” Cas asks, his chin dipping, his eyes dragging over Deans face as he steps a little closer. Dean stands a little taller, tipping his chin up in defiance, holding the tray between them.

“Yeah, you got a problem with a guy who bakes?” he says, and a little part of him knots up real tight at the thought that maybe Cas doesn’t think dudes should be in the kitchen…

“No,” Cas says, and his voice dips low again. He meets Dean’s eyes for a second before looking at the tray in his arms and says, “I garden, you should do what makes you happy.”

Cas steps in, and slowly peels the tinfoil off the tray, plucking out a brownie and shoving it into his mouth. Dean holds his breath as Cas chews, watching as Cas’ eyes slip closed and the corners of his mouth tick up in pleasure. Dean flushes when Cas hums his approval, and he doesn’t understand why. When Cas licks his lips chasing a bit of chocolate, Dean turns away quickly and sets the tray down on the counter.

“Can I have another one?” Cas asks, stepping closer. His eyes are too bright and too focused on Dean. Dean can’t look at him.

“Y–yeah, course…”

“Oh my,” Mary giggles from where she and Naomi are seated at a small table just off the kitchen. Dean’s head snaps up and he takes a quick step back from where he’s standing almost brushing arms with Cas. When had they drifted so close together?

“Oh my, indeed ,” Naomi says, and her gaze is far more calculating than Mary’s is.

“Mother,” Cas drolls, frowning at his mom, even as he takes another brownie, shoving it into his mouth like an act of defiance.

“Castiel.” Naomi parrots Cas’ dry tone, and both women burst into laughter.

“These are very good, Dean.” Dean doesn’t know why the praise makes him feel warm inside, but it does.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says, taking a brownie for himself and one for Sam. “Uh, Sam’s been begging for one of these for a while, maybe we could…”

“Go outside?” Cas finishes for him, his blue eyes narrowing at his mother.

“Yeah,” Dean says, his head dipping shyly.

Cas is so cool, that’s all. He's the coolest guy Dean's ever met, aside from his dad and Uncle Bobby, of course. But Cas? He stands up to his mom, he’s not afraid to take up space, he's tall, taller than Dean, and his eyes are so clear. That's all, that’s all this is; Dean convinces himself as he follows Cas out into the backyard. Cas’ strides are long and confident, and Dean sighs at the way he walks with a little shuffle in his step.

“Do you play sports?” Dean asks, and Cas glances over his shoulder.

“I’m going out for baseball when school starts up again.”

“Oh yeah?! Me too!”

Ω

“Dean! Dean, where are you going!” Mary shouts as Dean tumbles down the last few steps on his butt, again, four pillows clutched in his arms. He has no idea what he’s doing but he needs all the pillows, all of them. His scans the living room and decides he needs that afghan too. He shuffles over and struggles to pick it up, sighing as his fingers curl around it.

“Dean, honey, you should be getting ready for school tomorrow.”

“I know, I know mom but I…” Dean shifts from one foot to the other, glancing around and giving a low whine from his throat. “I just, I gotta. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mary presses a kiss to his forehead. “The treehouse?”

“Yeah, yeah. There.” Dean nods and dances impatiently on the balls of his feet.

“Cas meeting you?” Mary asks, running her hands through his hair, scenting him. Dean feels calmer already, and a bit embarrassed. He and Cas have been inseparable since the brownie incident. Dean’s never had a best friend before, and Cas sorta fills something in him that he didn’t realize was missing. It’s been one of the best summers of his life and it feels weird to have it come to an end.

He shifts, looking down at the pillows in his arms. He doesn't want to share Cas’ attention. He doesn’t want to go to school and introduce him to all the other kids. He doesn’t want Cas to find someone he likes better than Dean.

“Um, yeah… we, um. We’re gonna watch a movie. He’s bringing his laptop.”

“Ok, not too late though, school tomorrow.”

Dean bites his bottom lip, the anxiety kicking up all over again. “Yeah, yep. I know, thanks Mom.” He smiles, rushing past her. He doesn’t have long, Cas is going to be here any minute. He wasn’t going to do this at all, but quite suddenly he needed to .

He sprints across the big backyard towards the giant Beech tree. This is his third trip and it should be his last. His heart thunders in his chest as he propels himself up the rope ladder while struggling with the pillows and afghan; sweating in the humid fall air. He’s got six blankets, eight pillows, and a number of cushions from the outdoor furniture that he’s covered the floor with and then draped the blankets over. There’s an overturned milk crate at one end of the small square room for the laptop, and Dean plumps up the pillows so he and Cas can lean against the opposite wall while they watch the movie.

At the last second, a sudden wave of hysteria comes over him and he throws himself down onto the cushion and blankets and rubs himself against them. He burritos himself in one of the blankets before spreading it back out again then grabs a pillow and drags it along his neck and the underside of his jaw. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he sets it back down, glancing around. He doesn’t even know if there's any point to all this; if it will smell like anything yet, but it feels good to do it. Dean isn’t even sure he has a scent at this point, but trying to mark this space as his, making it comfortable for Cas, soothes something wild and new inside of Dean.

“Snacks,” Dean groans suddenly, smacking a hand against his forehead and crawling for the trap door. He’s pulling it back just as it’s being pushed up, his stomach dropping in dread that he’s too late and Cas is already here, but it’s only his mom. “Mom!”

“Sorry honey, but I thought maybe…?” She lifts a little basket, stuffed full of chips and cookies and a few juice boxes. Dean sighs, his body relaxing as he reaches for it. His mom scans the small treehouse, her eyes blinking rapidly. “Oh Dean, it’s beautiful. He’s going to love it.”

Dean’s spine stiffens, even as warmth rushes over his skin. He glances around, suddenly embarrassed. It’s cozy, perfect for watching movies. He couldn’t let Cas up here to sit on the hard floor, even if that’s what they’ve been doing it for weeks now. Tonight's special, their last night before school starts. Cas had quietly confessed that he was kinda nervous; that he hates starting at a new place. That’s all. That’s why Dean’s made the treehouse extra comfortable. His mother sniffles, and Dean groans.

“Moooooom!” He rolls his eyes, patting the top of her head. “Thanks, but you should go now,” he takes the basket and scoots back, “Thanks, bye, Mom. Thanks! Bye!”

“Okay, ok I’m leaving. I’m sure he’s going to love it, sweetheart.” She blows him a little kiss, and Dean groans again, feeling increasingly stupid. His mom drops the hatch and he hears the rope ladder creaking.

“Oh! Hello, Castiel.” Mary’s voice drifts up to the little window.

“Good evening Mrs. Winchester.”

“Mary, dear. How many times do I have to say it?”

“At least once more, Mrs. Winchester.” Cas insists like he always does, and Dean smiles listening to him.

“Oh goodness, you’re so precious. Have fun now. Be good.”

“Um, uh, of course?” Cas says, a bit perplexed and Dean flushes, rushing to the little window.

“Cas! C'mon! Movies! I got snacks!”

“OH! Do you have brie and bacon chips?”

“What?” Dean scrunches his nose, “No! Where do you even get that, dude, gross?”

“I had them in the UK,” Cas calls back as he starts to climb the rope ladder. Dean retreats from the window to open the trapdoor. “They're really good, don’t knock it till you try it!”

“I’ve got sour cream and onion.”

“I mean it’s not the same but I gue… wow, ” Cas breathes, his head popping into the treehouse. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing, eyes fluttering closed, and Dean watches him sharply, an odd tension at the base of his spine. Cas licks his lips, a small smile on his face before he opens his eyes again. “This is so cool,” he says, looking from Dean to the nest and back. “Way better than sitting on the floor.”

“That’s what I thought!” Dean smiles, relaxing, taking the laptop so Cas can pull himself into the treehouse. The first thing he does is face plant directly into the pillow Dean rubbed his face all over.

“Man, I don’t know what kinda fabric softener your Mom uses, but it always smells so good ,” Cas mumbles, pulling his face out of the pillow and glancing at Dean.

Dean scrambles to set up the laptop, the heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck, “I’ll uh, I’ll ask for you. I... I don’t know either.”

“Yeah, please.” Cas sighs, rolling over and snuggling into the blankets and pillows, the one he’s been sniffing held snugly between his arms. “Sometimes you smell so good... I wanna come over and hang out on laundry day. I asked my Mom to talk to your Mom about the brand she uses and she just laughed. Can you believe that?”

“That’s rude,” Dean says, clicking along on the laptop, keeping his eyes turned away.

“I know!” Cas says, and Dean glances over his shoulder to see Cas sigh, shoving his nose into the pillow again.

“Batman or Iron Man?” Dean asks, voice softer than he intended.

“Iron Man,” Cas smiles, his nose wrinkling. “We watched Batman last week.”

“Oh… yeah,” Dean says. Cas reaches over for a bag of chips, popping it open and tossing a few into his mouth.

“Come on!” Cas shifts, making room next to him for Dean. The pillow he's been hoarding gets pushed behind the small of his back, as he says, “Mom says I have to be home by ten.”

“Alright.” Dean grins and hits play, then crawls in next to Cas, snuggling down in the blankets and pillows. Cas hands him a bag of chips, and they spend the rest of the evening curled up eating, and making commentary on the movie.

Ω

“Dean, baby.”

There’s a sharp tug on his toes, and Dean sucks in a breath as he surfaces from what was a really good dream. He blinks, looking around, the side of his face sticky with drool.

“Dean. Wake up, Champ.” His Dad’s voice is soft as he pulls on Dean’s sock covered toes again. “It’s real late.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah, bud.”

“What?” The pillow under his chest shifts and Cas grumbles darkly, growling low in his throat as he throws an arm around Dean’s neck and pulls him down again. Dean yelps, flailing and blushing, and Cas blinks open one eye, the rumble growling louder until it chokes off suddenly. His eyes fly wide with shock a mirrored expression on Cas' face as Cas scrambles back from where he’s been wrapped around Dean.

art by @foxymoley

“Mr. Winchester!” Cas chokes, clambering to Dean’s side. “It's uh, not what it looks like?” he says weakly, his face pinching as he looks to Dean for help.

“Fell asleep!” Dean adds, his brain clicking on, slow and sluggish. John just laughs, his brows lifting.

“I can see that,” he says, then turns his gaze to Cas. “And exactly what do you mean by ‘it’s not what this looks like’, son?” he asks, fingers tapping along the mouth of the trap door.

“Uh, n...nothing?”

“Uh-huh,” John says with a smirk, “That’s what I thought. It’s well past time for you to be home, Castiel.”

“Oh shit… I mean…” Cas spares a glance at John before turning back to Dean “Uh, see you tomorrow, Dean?”

“Um, yes, yeah. Dad said he’d take us to school in the Impala.”

“Woah really?”

“Really,” John says with a smile, “Now come on your Mom’s called twice already.”

“Oh, damn,” Cas curses, snatching up the now dead laptop. “Thanks, Mr. W. Bye Dean!”

“Bye…”

John climbs down the ladder to make room for Cas, before climbing back up and squeezing through the trap door to sit with his legs dangling down.

“How ya' doin’ kiddo,” John asks while Dean tries to straighten up, folding the blankets. He needs something to do with his hands, a distraction, he feels... off, but not in a bad way, just kinda, sluggish.

“I’m ok... yeah. How are you, Dad?”

“I’m good Dean, thanks,” John says with a huff. He reaches out and takes hold of Dean’s hands, stilling them.

“You and Cas are pretty close, huh?” John asks, and Dean knows there’s more to it, that his Dad is digging.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend,” Dean counters with a shrug, pulling his hands away to fold up another blanket.

“Just your friend?” John asks, his brows lift as he takes the stack of folded blankets Dean hands him.

“Yeah Dad, what else would he be?” Dean glances at his dad, hefting as many pillows into his arms as he can, just for something to do. He’s not sure why these questions are making him feel nervous.

“I don’t know, maybe your boyfriend?”

“Ew, Dad gross!” Dean laughs, “I'm, like, not even presented yet! I don’t really wanna think about that stuff, okay! All I wanna do is be the starting pitcher for the baseball team this year.”

“Ah, well, that's alright. Plenty of time, and, just so you know, I like him,” John says tossing the blankets down to the ground and taking a stack of pillows from Dean, tossing those out too. “If what your old man thinks still matters, that is.”

“Of course it matters, Dad,” Dean says with a soft smile, “...and I like him too. Just...” Dean shrugs, “Not like that, not right now.”

“Right-o kiddo, now get inside and wash up for bed. Mom’s complaining that you stole her good pillow.”

“Oops..” Dean grimaces, “I did. I took them all, didn’t I? Sorry…”

“Hey,” John says, reaching out and laying a firm hand against the back of Dean’s neck, making sure Dean meets his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize for what your instincts are telling you is the right thing to do. Alright?”

“Okay…” Dean manages, a little shy.

“Maybe we will take you to the store and pick up a few more blankets and pillows; this way you'll have your own stuff when you decide you wanna nest.”

Deans’ ears burn with embarrassment when his dad calls it a nest, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he takes a deep breath, and nods once, firmly. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.”

“I bet we could clean out that hall closet for you? Set everything up in there so it’s always in the same spot?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, alright.” Dean nods a rapidly expanding balloon of warm filling up in his chest.

Together they gather up the rest of the supplies, leaving the outdoor cushions behind, and head back towards the house.

“You know, now that you’re getting older…”

“Daaaaaad…”

“I’m just saying, things are going to start to happen to your body.”

“ Oh...mygod, Dad!”

“It’s perfectly normal…”

“ Nooo !!!!” Dean wails, running for the back door.

“We’ll talk about it later then!” His dad shouts after him, voice cracking on a laugh.

Chapter Text

The first time they don’t spend all summer together Dean is fifteen. He’s been accepted into a pretty prestigious baseball camp, while Cas opted to do some fucking stupid nature retreat. He coulda got into the baseball camp. Cas is the best first basemen, the best. Dean always feels better when he pitches, knowing that Cas has his back, literally and figuratively. But he wanted to commune with nature... or some shit like that. Like nature camp's going to get him into a good college.

Dean realizes he is irrationally angry about them spending their summer apart when he slams into the house and throws his gear bag on the floor. even he realizes that's not like him, his gear is expensive and he usually takes really good care of it. His mom comes out to ask him what’s wrong and Dean is so full of emotions that he full out snarls at her, teeth and all. He feels guilty about it later, or at least he would have, if he hadn’t blacked out right then.

He comes to sweating and groaning. His mom’s voice is soft and low as he pries his eyes open. He can’t really understand what she’s saying, but he catches a few words anyway.

“Presented, yeah. Omega… and your’s? …. I see, not yet huh?....  I thought they’d go together…. Me too…”

She’s standing a few feet away from his bed talking on the phone, there is a water bottle tucked in the crook of her arm, and Dean is, quite suddenly, dying, of thirst. He means to call out for his mom; he swears that’s what he intends to do but what he actually says is something entirly different.

“Cas?” his voice croaks, his mouth is dry and painful.

“Oh Nao, I gotta go… I’ll – I’ll call you back soon. Okay, yeah. You too... bye…”

“Hey baby,” Mary says squatting down next to his bed. She runs her fingers through his damp hair, and he sighs. The action is beyond soothing, Dean leans into it as best he can. “How are you feeling.”

“Hurts,” Dean moans, curling in on himself. He’s hot, burning, but even so, he tugs the blankets tighter around his shoulders, and there are a lot of blankets. Vaguely, Dean remembers getting up and stumbling to his ‘blanket closet’, gathering as many as he could carry and piling them up onto his bed before burrowing down underneath them. The weight is amazing against his heated skin. It helps with how thin and stretched out he feels; keeping him pressed down, holding him to the mattress while his body trembles.

“Thirsty…” he grunts, wiggling one hand out from his cocoon to reach for the water bottle his mom's holding. She hands it over with ease, and he starts to chug. It’s crisp and refreshing, and it washes through him like ice with each swallow.

“Do you know what’s happening, baby?” Mary asks, her voice soothing and sweet.

“Presenting… Not a baby,” Dean says. His arms feel weak as he bends to put the water bottle on his nightstand.

“No, you’re not a baby anymore, Dean, but you’ll always be my baby.” She smiles, and Dean tucks his head to the side. “Do you know what this means?”

A cramp rolls through his stomach and Dean whimpers pulling his arms into the blankets to wrap them around his hips. He knows, of course, he knows. He’s an Omega. This is his first heat.

“Can I still go to camp, like this, now that I’m…?”

“Oh, Dean. Of course you can. Just because you’re an Omega, doesn’t mean anything is going to change. I’m just happy this happened now, before you left, so we can take precautions while you’re away.”

Dean nods, and the motion makes him queasy. He groans as another cramp takes him, whining loudly. His skin crawls, itches, tiny pricks of pain ripple over his skin like ant bites. His back feels swollen, like there is a balloon pressing against his spine from the inside that needs to pop, because as soon as it does, Dean will feel better. He just knows it.

“Mom…”

“I know sweetie. You’ll feel be okay soon.” Mary pets through his hair gently, humming like she did when he was a child. Dean groans, the cramps make him curl tight around himself, bringing his knees up by his chest. “Don’t fight it, honey. Try to relax into it.”

There are a few moments of agony before the cramp subsides and Dean’s mind begins to come back to him. “This sucks,” he frowns reaching for the water again and finishing off the bottle. he hands it to his mom and she smiles knowingly.

“It’s not all bad, but yeah, sometimes it sucks.” She pats his head again, swiping at the sweat that's gathered along his brow. “I’m going to get you some supplies... and something that, I think, will hopefully your first time be a little easier.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Remember, don’t fight. Try to relax. I know it’s hard, but it helps.”

Nodding Dean groans as his mom leaves. The pressure curls low and hot in his stomach, changing somehow, sparking a different kind of pain. It's not something bad, not really, but it's different. It’s more like the feeling he gets when he’s had to pee for a long time and finally gets to go. It sends shivers over his skin. Dean’s eyes slip closed, and he focuses on it. Breathes through the trembling breaking in waves over his body, the hairs on his arms and legs raise and he groans. He has no idea how long he’s like that, but eventually, he falls asleep.

“Dean… Dean?”

He doesn’t open his eyes, he can’t, the pressure pushing along his spine is so intense he can't focus on anything else. It's hot and big, and he can’t open his mouth or he might deflate from it.

“Ok, baby. I’m putting some water on the nightstand.” His mom's here, she’s back, and suddenly Dean doesn’t want her here. Her scent is not as comforting as it was before, because there’s something better. Something heavy, and spicy. It curls through his senses, and Dean wants to rub himself against it. “Okay, Dean?”

“Okay,” Dean croaks.

“Take this, honey. It might help…”

The fabric his mom tucks into his next by his head is soft and cool, and completely drenched in that dark, musky scent. Dean moans pressing it against his face, sliding it over his nose until he finds the spot that’s most saturated in the intoxicating smell. His mouth waters for the first time all day and he huffs in deep lungfuls of that scent. He’s dying for a taste; he needs it. Completely of its own volition, his tongue swipes out, suddenly too wet with saliva, and licks the fabric. Flavor bursts in his mouth like ambrosia and before he knows what he's doing he's pushing it passed his lips, shoving into his mouth; sucking on that spicy scent until it infuses his very being.

“Oookay." Mary says, and there's amusement in her tone. "I’ll check on you in a few.”

The door clicking closed doesn’t even register to Dean as the pressure against his spine expands. He rolls onto his side, whimpering, rubbing his face against the fabric, drinking in the scent, coating himself in it. It’s good, so good, and then suddenly, it’s too much. Dean’s eyes fly open, and he gasps, pulling the cloth from his mouth as the pressure in his back gives in one dull pop. His skin tingles, his nipples ache, and slick pours from him for the very first time. His stomach rolls with cramps and his thighs spasm painfully, but then, everything is softer, duller, less angry.

Grimacing Dean rolls to his back, his shorts and the blankets under him are soaked but he doesn’t care. For now, his slick is warm and he’s so tired. Blankly, he stares up at the ceiling, his heart rate slowing, his whits returning. Dean knows he’s still leaking; a steady trickle from somewhere deep inside of him. It’s an odd feeling, and he fights the urge to clench down, knowing that it’s pointless. Nothing will stem the flow once it’s started.

Thinking back, in this moment of clarity between cramps, Dean remembers his health classes. How carefully the teachers had gone over each different presentation, unsure as to how their students would present. Made them all, red-faced with embarrassment, takes notes and quizzes and give presentations. It was mortifying, but because of that, Dean knows his first few heats aren’t meant for breeding. That the slick he’s producing now is more for cleansing, maturing, growing, than anything else, so he’s not aroused. Thankfully. Actually, he feels kinda gross. At this point, Dean can’t imagine feeling sexy during a heat, but somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows that as his body acclimates to his new hormones, that will change. It will be less about maturing and more about finding a mate; building a family of his own.

Dean sighs, thirst pricks the back of his throat, and his legs are starting to itch where his slick has saturated through his shorts. He’s glad he’ll only have to go through this once every three months. Embarrassment zings through him, and he groans, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s going to need supplies.... toys, and he’s going to have to get them with his parents.

Ohmygod.

Rolling over Dean grumbles, smooshing his face into his pillow. His cheek slides along the fabric his mom handed him earlier, and he tugs at it. The scent on it is much fainter than he remembers. There are wispy hints of spice, but not the full-blown assault on his senses that it held earlier. Curious, Dean pulls it out from under his head and his embarrassment erupts ten-fold. It’s a baseball jersey, still smeared with dirt and dust, and on the back, emblazoned in tall red letters is the word: NOVAK.

Ω

Baseball camp is awesome.

Dean doesn’t get to see Cas before he leaves, but he makes sure that his mom promises to wash the jersey before she returns it. Dean’s petty sure he’s never going to be able to look at Cas in uniform the same way ever again. He makes a few really great friends at camp, and no one seems to mind that he’s an Omega. It helps that he’s still growing just as fast as he was before he presented. Most people assume him to be an Alpha, aside from how soft and soothing his scent is. And the fact that he definitely has a scent now. It’s a little different to each person who comments on it, though they all agree it’s pleasant. Which secretly makes Dean feel really good.

It honestly doesn’t become a problem until sometime in mid-December. He’s been working with his parents and counselor on controlling his scent, how it relates to his emotions, and how it can affect the people around him. And, for the most, part it’s been easy, but today, today is rough. He’s just finished his second heat, and he's still coming down from it a little. He’s tired, and agitated, his skin is still too tight, and there is a slight headache pounding away at the base of his skull.

To compound things, he’s starting to get aroused during his heats now. Not through the whole thing, thank goodness, but still, it's starting and it makes Dean feel small and lost and lonely. It’s not like it’s strange, though, being almost sixteen, for him to be aroused, it’s just different during his heats, more intense. Like there is something he's missing; something he needs and can't find. It's frustrating, Dean hates it. He hates feeling like he lost something and can't remember where he put it, but with an erection. It's confusing and it sucks, but not more than this right now. This is one thing he's absolutely sure about; he would rather be anywhere than standing out in the freezing cold waiting for the school bus at the ass crack of dawn.

“You’re late,” Dean huffs, his breath rising from his lips.

“I overslept,” Cas groans, rubbing his palms over his eyes before dragging his fingers through his hair.

“You never do that,” Dean says sniffing, the air is so cold his nose hurts.

“I know!” Cas practically growls which makes Dean finally look over at him.

He’s bouncing from one foot to the other, rubbing his bare hands together before running his palms over his arms. He’s in a thin tan jacket.

“Where’s your hat… scarf… What are you even wearing? What were you thinking!?”

“I know, I know!” Cas groans, his voice trembles, “I wasn’t thinking. My head feels all foggy… I just grabbed the first jacket I saw and ran!”

“You’re an idiot,” Dean grumps.

“I know,” Cas bemoans, and Dean’s never heard him sound so pathetic. “I’m cold! Be nice to me...”

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Dean’s unwrapping the thick, hand-knit scarf from around himself. With a flick of his wrist, he snags Cas around the neck and pulls him a step closer so he can loop the scarf, two, three times around his friend.

“If you’re sick, stay home.” Dean says at the same time Cas says, “What are you doing?!”

“I can’t believe you sometimes,” Dean grumbles, pulling off his hat and shoving it over Cas’ head, tugging it down far enough to cover his pink-tinted ears. “Who leaves the house in the middle of the winter in a jacket like this?”

“Dean…” Cas mumbles, the scarf wrapped high up around his nose and mouth, his rose-tinted fingers curling into the fabric.

“Hush!” Dean scolds, plucking his mittens off and grabbing one of Cas’ wrists, then the other, to shove his frozen hands into Dean’s mittens. “Idiot…” Dean mumbles, flipping up the fur-lined hood of his parka and shoving his hands into the thermally insulated pockets.

art by @foxymoley

Cas remains quiet, blinking his big blue eyes, and because of the scarf, Dean can't tell what his expression is doing. Cas steps close to him, bumping right up against the back of Dean's shoulder and whispers, “Thanks, Dean. This is really nice.” And then, seemingly as an afterthought and in a much lower octave “Smells good…”

Warmth curls low in his stomach and spreads through Dean's body, slow and liquid like. His jacket feels too warm, his clothes too tight. Dean knows that part of this is instinctual. That he’s known Cas for so long and taking care of him is just like taking care of his own pack. Well, that’s how it usually feels. Right now though, as Cas breathes deep and slow through Dean’s scarf, his eyes closed, leaning slightly into Dean’s space, it’s much more intense. Dean fights the urge to lean back against Cas; to drape his arm around the broad expanse of Cas’ shoulder and curl him against the residual warmth Dean’s heat has left burning under his skin.

“On or off, boys!”  Sheila, their bus driver shouts, snapping Dean out of his stupor.

“On! On!” he scrambles forward and yelps, jerking back as the strong hand suddenly gripping his upper arm tugs him roughly. “Cas?”

“Dean! Sorry… I… I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s cool, buddy. Can I have my arm back?”

“Yes!” Cas’ eyes go wide as he snaps his hand back like he’s been burned. “Yes... Sorry.”

Skipping up the steps, Dean gives Sheila a fist bump before scooting back towards the rear of the bus. Three seats from the very back is Dean and Cas' usual spot, but today Cole is slouched there, across their seat. He even has his leg kicked out, foot dangling in the aisle.

“Move, Cole,” Dean sighs, draping his arm over the back of the seat in front of his seat, his seat that Cole is currently stinking up. Because yeah, now Dean can smell Cole, even if he’s a beta, and his scent annoys Dean, almost as much as Cole annoys Dean.

“Fuck off Winchester. Omega’s sit in the front of the bus.”

“Cole, don’t be a dick.”

“Not cool, man.”

“Sexist prick.”

“Just move, Cole.”

Dean smirks, he doesn’t even have to say anything, the other kids hiss their disgust at Cole’s backwater ways. He just arches he brow and waits.

“Just sit someplace else!” Cole snaps.

“Look, I’ve been sitting in this seat for the last two years; it's my seat. I like it, now you can either get up and move, or I can make you move.” Dean says nonchalantly; he’s not really bothered. The bus lurches forward and rumbles off down the road. He knows Cole will give up eventually and move.

“What’s going on?” Cas grumbles staggering up behind Dean. His arms come forward as the bus jolts, and he grips the seats on either side of Dean, bracketing him as he looks over Dean’s shoulder. “Cole, move. That’s our seat.”

“Fuck you too, Novak. You guys don’t own the bus. Take this little Omega freak and go sit in the front where you belong.”

“Cole!” one of the other student's hisses.

“I’m going to report you when we get to school.”

“BOY’S TAKE A SEAT!” Sheila shouts from the front.

“Yeah, boys take a seat!” Cole smirks.

Rolling his eyes Dean half turns, because it’s just not worth it; he’s too tired to deal with Cole this early in the morning. Unfortunately, that gives Cas room to slide forward, placing himself between Dean and Cole. The growl that erupts from his chest is low and rumbling, and dangerous. It's a sound Dean's never heard from Cas before and it makes his knees weak, a sudden flush of heat dances over his skin.

“Dean told you to move, Cole!” Cas snarls, lips curling, the rumble in his chest escalating the longer Cole remains frozen. A small cramp pops in Dean's stomach and he prays he's far enough out from his heat that nothing else slips free. He really doesn't want to analyze what his body is doing right now, so instead, he focuses on Cole and how the color is steadily draining from his face.

Cas' growl, because it really, at this point, can't be anything else, doesn’t cut off until Cole, wide-eyed and clinging to his bag, slides out of their seat and drops back to the very rear of the bus. With a frantic press, he squishes into a seat that’s already full. Cole keeps his eyes down, not looking at Cas, not looking at Dean, but cursing under his breath all the same. He shoves, snapping his teeth at the two kids already in the seat he’s trying to disappear into. The scent of his rage and humiliation is undercut by a healthy, if not surprised dose of fear. Cas keeps staring at him until he ducks his head and presses himself behind his backpack. It's a few stiff moments before Cas is turning his eyes on Dean as if nothing happened, and motioning for him to sit.

Normally, Dean takes the outside and Cas sits by the window, but today Dean quickly slides into the seat, and Cas wastes no time sits down stiffly next to him. He's calmer now and seems completely unaware of the sudden silence at the back of the bus. Cas shifts, apparently trying to get comfortable, only settling when his leg is pressed firmly, from his to knee, against Dean's, pinning Dean against the cool metal side of the bus with slight pressure. It’s good, safe. It settles the swirling butterflies in Dean’s stomach. Cas crosses his arms over the backpack in his lap and sits forward, craning his neck over the seat.

“Ash.” He calls, and Ash snaps around, his cheeks are tinted pink, and his eyes dart away and back again.

“Yeah, man?” He drawls.

“Did you do Crowley’s math homework last night? I had trouble with number twelve, you think could we go over it at lunch?”

“Yeah, dude.” Ash smiles because Cas’ tone is tired and slightly confused again. “That one was hell.”

“Thanks. Man, my head is pounding…”

“You getting sick?” Ash asks, Cas slumps int he seat, huffing out a breath. His shoulder knocks into Dean's and stays there, warm and firm, pressing into him as the bus turns.

“Maybe…” Cas grumps, tucking his nose down into the scarf and closing his eyes.

Ash glances at Dean, his brows lifted, and Dean shrugs casting his eyes back out the window. Normally, Cas is the placid, even-tempered one, so his outburst has thrown Dean for a loop. His nose itches and he fights the urge to sneeze for the entire trip.

Cas’ still a little dazed when they get to school, tugging Dean’s hat lower over his ears as they separate in the main lobby. Most of their classes are on opposite sides of the main building since they have different focuses. Cas stalls mid-stride, he takes three steps forward, then two back. Dean watches the strange dance with mild amusement as his friend struggles. Stomping his foot, Cas gives one of those low sub-vocal growls he's been partial too recently. The kind that resonates warmly, somewhere behind Dean’s breastbone, before Cas' stomping over to him.

“I don’t fucking understand what’s wrong with me today,” Cas snarls, more grumpy than angry, before pulling Dean into a tight hug. The press of his nose is cold along the column of Dean’s neck, and before he can overthink it, Cas is pulling back. “See you at lunch,” he grits out before stomping off.

“What was that about?” Jo asks, appearing at Dean’s side.

“I… I dunno,” Dean says with a shrug, watching as Victor falls in step next to Cas. He tries to pluck Dean’s hat from Cas’ head, and Cas swats at him, pulling the knitted cap down below his ears again.

“I guess we’ll find out at lunch,” Jo says grabbing his arm and tugging “C'mon, we’re going to be late.”

Classes drag. They move like it's mid-summer, slow and languid instead of the crisp and quick, rushing like the sharp winter weather they've been experiencing lately. Dean still feels over warm, his eyes drooping, and he's constantly yawning. By the time he drags his exhausted ass into the cafeteria, he’s sure he’s missed out on something big. His friend group is hunched together over their usual table whispering madly, their heads pressed close, lunches forgotten.

“What's going on?” Dean asks, setting his lunch down and flopping into a seat.

“Dude!”

“You don’t know?”

“Deeeean! Turn your phone on!!!”

“Dang… I thought you’d know before any of us.”

“Know what!” Dean snaps, agitation burning under his skin.

“Cas, man.”

“What happened to Cas? Was it Cole?” Dean’s halfway to standing, dread washing him cold when Victor catches him on the forearm and drags him back down again.

“Nah, dude, it wasn't Cole. You know that scarf Cas was wearing this morning?” Victor starts. Dean nods, a sudden swooping sensation in his stomach makes his mouth go dry. “Well Mrs. Abbadon told him to take it off, and Cas refused! Which first of all, is not like Cas.”

“Yeah, normally he’s a total kiss ass.” Ash prompts.

“Right… So she told him that he could either take off that hat and scarf, or he can get detention.”

“Yeah?” Dean prompts his voice cracking.

“And Cas proceeded to tug the hat down!” Victor laughs, shocked.

“You know how she is, though." There's a general eye roll around the table, Mrs. Josie Abbadon is known for being a hardass. "So, she marches over to him and tries to snatch the hat right off his head! And Cas," Victor takes a breath, his cheeks puffing as he tries not to laugh. "Cas snarls at her. Flat out, lips peeled back, teeth exposed, snarled. I swear if he was presented he would have flashed his eyes too. And then, ohmygod , then he snaps to his feet so fast his chair fell over.”

The entire table erupts into chatter. laughing as they all add some small anecdote to Vic's tale, but Dean feels hollow. “What happened?” his voice scrapes out of his throat, barely audible. “What! Happened!” he snaps, slamming his palm down.

“Dude,” Victor recovers enough to say, “He just passed out, right there in the middle of class. And Ms. A starts grumbling about dealing with hormonal teenagers, and how she should have gone into the forces like the rest of her family.”

Dean blinks, looking between his friend's faces. They don’t seem to care or notice, but it's not right, it’s not normal. What the fuck is going on? He needs to see Cas, he needs to get to him right now. He snaps to his feet, the table shifting as he rises and everyone turns to look at him.

“You guys are fucked up.” He says, all the heat that fled him when he heard something happened to Cas comes rushing back all at once.

“Dude, chill out,” Ash says.

“Dean, Cas is fine.” Jo elbows Ash, before reaching across the table and grabbing Dean’s wrist. “He came around in like a second and was just, really confused. He went to the nurse, and Becky sent him home. I’m sure he’s just got a cold and is probably home sleeping it off right now.”

“You guys are still fucked up,” Dean grumbles, slinking back into his seat and ripping his lunch bag open.

“We know, man.” Victor snorts, throwing a carrot at Ash who ninja swats it at Jo.

“Dicks!” Jo snarls.

Slipping his phone out of his pocket Dean boots it up and message flood in. The device buzzes for a solid thirty seconds in his palm. He clears most of them since from the group chat and recaps the conversation he just had with his idiot friends to click on the most recent one.

------------- Monday, December 18, 9:32am----------------

[9:32am] Cas: heading home, not feeling well. Abba-demon attacks again. X.x

------------- Monday, December 18, 10:18am----------------

[10:18am] Cas: Can you get my homework from Vic? Mother thinks I’m going to be out a few days. T.T

[10:25am] Cas: You know what… maybe just have Vic drop it off… >_>

[10:30am] Cas:  … or I can get it when I come back…. or, never mind.

------------- Monday, December 18, 12:47pm----------------

[12:47pm] Cas: Dean, do you know you smell really good? Do you know that?

[12:47pm] Cas: … so good. Like, all the time. It’s distracting. You’re distracting.

[12:48pm] Cas: Dean…. I like this scarf, it smells like you. It’s soft... like you…

[12:49pm] Cas: I wanna see you, you should come over after school.

“Dean…”

“Dean! ”

Dean’s head snaps up eyes wide as he shoves his phone into his pocket. “Yeah, yes?”

“You ok? You’re flushed?” Jo asks, brows arched.

“‘M fine,” Dean says, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. He grins around his food, cheeks puffed out, and Jo grimaces.

“Gross,” she turns away snagging a carrot off Victor's tray.

“I only let you do that cause you’re cute,” Vic says, and Jo bats her eyelashes at him.

Dean ducks his head, his heart beating hard in his chest. He’s not sure what’s going on or why he feels so much unease, but he’s going to blame the end of his heat––as he does for most things that happen around it now––for the swooping sensation reading Cas’ text messages caused. He jolts when his phone vibrates in his pocket, abandoning his sandwich in favor of scrambling to drag it back out again.

------------- Monday, December 18, 12:55pm----------------

[12:55pm] Cas: Hello Dean, this is Naomi. I’ve confiscated Castiel’s phone for the time being, as I am sure once he’s feeling better he will be rather embarrassed with himself. Be gentle when you see him next. If possible, could you please have your brother bring Castiel’s homework over. I fear he’s not up to seeing you just now.

[12:57pm] Dean: Sure thing Mrs. N. Cas going to be ok? Sam gets home after me since he’s still in middle school I can bring it over though, it’s not a problem.

[12:58pm] Cas: Cas will be fine in a few days, dear. Let’s just have Sam bring it over until Castiel is feeling better, alright?

[12:59pm] Dean: Sure thing. I have to get to class now.

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch period as Dean sends the text. He looks down at his abandoned sandwich, stomach twisting with hunger. “Fuck it,” he grumbles, grabbing it and shoving it into his mouth as he follows Jo and Ash to their next class.

Dean stumbles into his house hours later, exhausted and weighed down with not only his books but Cas’ too. His mother meets him at the door. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she looks like she can’t decide if she wants to be angry or laugh. Immediately Dean runs through his chores, but there’s nothing he’s forgotten, he’s sure of it.

“Uh, hi Mom…” He tries shrugging out of his coat.

“Dean Winchester.” She scolds all the air rushing out of her at once, and Dean stands straighter.

“Y...yeah?”

“Did you, or did you not, build a nest ON your best friend this morning?”

“What?!” Dean gapes, his mouth dropping, eyes bulging. “NO!”

“So you didn’t wrap Cas up in your winter clothing!” She presses, and Dean shifts.

“I mean, I did... but only because that idiot left the house in his stupid tan summer jacket, you know the one he likes! It was share, or listen to him whine about being cold!” Dean’s voice gets weaker and weaker as he tries to defend himself, his face heating as he replays his actions from the morning. How content he’d felt seeing Cas wrapped up in his clothing. How the buzzing under his skin had calmed as Cas stepped close to him while they waited. Properly cocooned in Dean's scent, Dean’s warmth.

“Dean, you wrapped your unpresented best friend up in your post-heat scent!”

“I didn’t realize!” Dean snaps, embarrassed. “He was cold; I wanted to help… I needed to... This is his fault, why aren’t you yelling at him?”

“Oh, don’t worry, he’s not gotten out of this as scott free as you might think.” Mary laughs. “Just… be extra nice when you see him next, okay?”

“Why? Is he ok?”

“ Yes…. ” Mary says, stretching out the word; her eyes are smiling, even if the rest of her face is carefully blank. “And maybe, just, keep your clothes to yourself for a little while,” she calls over her shoulder as she retreats towards the kitchen. “Like, the next few years, at least, for my sake...”

“What..? Why? MOM?!” Dean scrunches up his nose, Mary is shaking her head as she disappears around the corner.

It’s four days before Cas appears at the bus stop again. He looks tired, his face drawn and tense around the eyes, but there's this scent now; it’s hanging in the air around him. Crisp and bright, it tickles Dean’s nose like citrus, and something else, something darker, warmer; that he can’t quite put his finger on. It lays heavily in the back of this throat, coating his tongue so deliciously. He stares at Cas, unable to look away, breathing slowly through his mouth and nose, trying to isolate the scent. It’s not overbearing, it doesn't swamp Dean's senses, instead, it calls to him, softly, subtly, and he's drawn in, like a moth to a flame.

“I… here,” Cas grunts, his voice raspy and low, like Dean’s never heard it before. It makes the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. “I… ripped your... other stuff. Sorry.”

Dumbly, Dean takes the bag from Cas, inside is a new hat, scarf, and pair of mittens. “You ripped my hat, scarf, and both gloves?” Dean asks, his brows lifting.

“Yes,” Cas grits out firmly, his cheeks flushing.

“Really…” Dean presses, “All of them... Ripped...? How did you even manage that?”

“…” Cas mumbles under his breath, turning away and shoving his hands into his winter coat.

The scent of lemon spikes in the air and Dean has the sudden urge to laugh; to reach out and run his palms over the stiff angle of Cas’ shoulders. To soothe him and let him know that everything is alright. Instead, Dean grabs the hat from the bag and shoves it on his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees Cas duck his chin, a shy grin curling over his lips. Dean doesn’t miss the soft sub-vocal purr he makes. It cuts off almost as soon as it starts and Cas stands rigidly like he never meant to make the noise in the first place. Dean grins to himself.

“Thanks, Cas. I like it.”

Cas clears his throat before speaking, but it still comes out low and abused, like he’s been yelling. “Good. I’m glad.” The new scent Dean is starting to associate with Cas curls thick and dark in the air around them, and Dean breathes slowly, savoring it.

Secretly, over the next three days, Dean steals time in the kitchen smelling all of the spices in his mother's cabinet before he finds the exact combination of herbs that make up Cas’ scent. Lemon, Saffron, and Clove. If Dean is suddenly very partial to those scents and flavors, no one says anything about it.

Chapter Text

“Mr. Novak? Castiel Novak?”

Dean can hear the nurse speaking, her voice is soft, distant. There's a faraway beeping and the whirring of a fan but other than that, Dean can't hear anything else over the rushing of his blood in his ears and the frantic thud of his heart against his ribs. Dean’s aware he was pushing his luck when he made that last minute trip to the Student Union. He had an intense craving for Pringles and the three–different flavored–bags of Lays potato chips he already had, just weren’t cutting it. Dean was debating between original and extra cheddar when it hit.

“Castiel, I have a Dean Winchester here; you’re listed on his emergency form….”

There’s a pause in the nurse's voice, and Dean cranes his neck to look over at her. She’s frowning the file held in her hand.

“Mr. Novak, it’s either you come to pick him up, or we quarantine him in a heat-room for the next three days. I am sure Dean would rather be in his own bed, where he’s comfortable, than laid out on our plastic sheets.” Her voice is crisp and stern, and Dean flashes with mortification. Cas doesn’t want to come and get him? Why would he? It’s not like they’ve been best friends for the past ten years, or something. Whatever.

Dean groans, rolling onto his side, he shoves the pillow over his head and tries to ignore how much it hurts. There’s an odd hollowness in his chest, mixing with a sudden spike of sadness that makes him whimper. It feels a lot like rejection, and yeah, sure, Cas might be an alpha, but he’s not Dean’s alpha. Even as the thought crosses his mind, a seer of pain lances through his chest, suspiciously close to where his heart is. His body rebelling against the notion.

Dean’s harbored feelings for Cas for longer than he’s willing to admit. he's never acted on them because he’d rather have Cas in his life, as his friend, then tell the alpha how he feels and face rejection. Something is better than nothing, at least that's what Dean's convinced himself. Now though, now it seems like it's too late. Cas isn't coming, he doesn't want Dean. It hurts, he waited too long, and now he's lost the one thing, the one person, who really mattered to him.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep but he does. His rest is fitful and stomach cramps spread angrily down his legs and up his spine, but when he wakes, it's to a very familiar scent.

“Dean?” Cas voice is a low rumble that resonates warmly in Dean’s chest. He sighs, can’t help it, doesn’t fight it as he rolls over and chases Cas’ scent. As Cas grew up the overpowering citrus of his scent faded and the clove and saffron warmed considerably so that Cas always seemed to smell like autumn, clean and savory. The saffron adds a subtle sweetness to the spice of his clove, all while the hints of lemon ensured that his scent was never heavy, but instead, complex. Profound, at least that's how it is for Dean; he loves it.

“Cas,” Dean moans, reaching for him, his fingers curling over the strong muscles of Cas’ forearm.

“I’m here, Dean.” Cas rumbles, “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“You came?” Dean says, blinking when Cas bends down and swings Dean up into this arms like he weighs nothing. Like Dean isn’t almost two hundred pounds of well-trained athletic muscle.

“Of course I did.” Cas frowns, there sweat beading along his brow and a flush riding high on his cheeks.

“Mmm," Dean hums softly, overcome with a sudden rush of autumn clove, "...smell nice.” He breathes against Cas' neck, his tongue flicking out to lick the salted skin. Cas stumbles, righting them quickly, and clicking his tongue.

“Dean,” he admonishes softly.

“You’ve got him, Mr. Novak? Should I send a staffer along with you?”

“That won't be necessary,” Cas says, then more softly, running his nose along Dean’s brow until his lips brush the shell of his ear “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you, like a caveman across campus?”

Dean shivers at the image, his hands contracting over Cas’ shoulder. Slick drips from him as a wave of arousal ripples over his skin, leaving him trembling. In the back of his mind, the part of him that’s still rational, Dean knows that the teasing he’ll face from the rest of the baseball team isn't worth giving in to his desire to let Cas do exactly that. He knows the rumors that will spread if he let's Cas wrap his broad strong arms around Dean and carry him all the way across campus, back to his dorm. What he wouldn't give to have Cas throw Dean down on his bed, growling at his conquest, and cover Dean with the vast expanse of his body.

“Dean?” Cas growls more than asks.

“I can walk.” Dean manages, another contraction of his abdomen makes him clench uselessly around dribbles of slick. Cas’s nostrils flare, and he quickly bends to drop Dean’s booted feet to the ground. He keeps his other arm snug under Dean’s armpits, wrapping around his ribs to provide support. Dean doesn’t hesitate to lean against Cas, breathing in his fill of the alpha’s scent.

“I’ve put a care kit in his bag. Just some supplies that should help get him through the first day. I can have a heat specialist stop by tomorrow to check on him.”

A sudden flash of panic shoots through Dean at the thought of anyone else seeing him like this, and Cas sneezes.

“That, uh, that won’t be necessary,” Cas says, and Dean nods.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite sure. Thank you.” Cas takes Dean’s backpack slinging it over his shoulder before adjusting his grip on Dean and angeling them towards the door. Dean tries not to moan every time Cas manhandles him, but it's hard, heh, hard. If he drags his feet, pressing against Cas' warm side a little more than is necessary, no one has to know.

“What were you thinking?” Cas growls as they walk through the quad. He's is taking short, harsh breaths, his lips peeled back, teeth flashing. He’s sweating, the drops rolling down the thick column of his neck, kicking up his scent, and mixing in the tang of salt; Dean’s mouth floods for a taste. “What were you thinking, leaving your room this close to your heat? You’ve done some dumb shit in the past, Dean, but you’ve never been stupid.”

Dean whimpers, he can’t help it, Cas’ voice, his scent, it’s too much. Tucking his face against Cas’ shoulder he shudders, his boxers stick to his legs and he leaks freely. The low rumble emanating from Cas’ chest, the way his strong hand's grip Dean’s side, all make him weak; make him plummet hard and fast into his heat. It rolls over him in waves of warmth, in the cramping of his lower back and a persistent itching under his skin. Cas being so close, so tantalizingly within reach, the broad toned sweep of his neck meer inches from Dean's mouth; well, it makes him just a little bit crazy. It's the only way he can explain what he does next.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Cas,” He snaps suddenly, pulling his weight back and making Cas stumble. “Did I interrupt you and April? I know you didn’t want to come and get me, Cas. I heard you argue with the nurse!”

“What..? April? What does she have to do with this?” Cas asks adjusting Dean’s backpack onto both of his shoulders. “Stop being an idiot and get over here.”

Cas reaches for him, and Dean scoots back, pulling his arm out of Cas grasp. “No, fuck you. Go back to whatever you were doing. I’ll pull you as my Alpha Emergency Contact. Maybe I’ll put Michael down, he’d jump at the chance to be around me when I'm in heat.” Dean has no fucking idea what he’s saying. He wouldn’t let Michael within a hundred feet of him, in or out of heat. they guys a creep, and he smells like smoke and ash and oddly eucalyptus. The combination makes Dean nauseous. To make matters worse, Dean doesn't understand why he needs to push Cas right now, but it feels good to do it. To snap and growl until Cas' eyes flash red, then blue, then red again, the growl in his chest grows louder, and it has triumph singing through Dean’s veins.

“No, you won’t.” Cas snarls, every step he takes, no, prowls towards Dean, Dean takes one back. Keeping the distance between them. His legs are cramping, muscles twitching with the urge to run, but not yet. Just a little more.

“Oh yeah?” Dean growls back, flashing his eyes gold, “Who do you think you are to stop me? You don’t own me, I’m not yours to–”

“Mine.” Cas cuts him off with a deep growl, lurching forward, nostrils flared, pupils blown wide, fathomless black ringed by a sliver of red and Dean is just fast enough to avoid his outstretched hand.

“Prove it,” Dean snarls, backpedaling a few steps. The breeze kicks up, and Cas blinks, shakes his head like he’s trying to fight off whatever is happening to him, his eyes fading to blue. Dean shivers as Cas stares at him, they are both breathing heavy like they’ve been running.

“Dean.” Cas rumbles taking a slow step forward, “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Yes, I do.” Dean counters, and then moans passed clenched teeth, his body trembles with arousal. It washes through him overpowering in its ferocity, his cock hardens painfully, his knees almost give, and a fresh wave of slick soaks through to his jeans. “D–Do you!?” he gasps, the hairs on his arms standing on end at the challenge.

Dean watches as Cas physically plummets under the demands of his alpha instincts. His mouth goes slack and he sucks in a deep, slow breath. He licks his lips like the scent of Dean coating his tongue is the most delicious treat and his eyes flare blood red. Cas' shoulders bunch and he seems to swell right before Dean’s eyes.

“Oh, I know just what to do with you, Dean,” Cas growls, and all Dean can think is:

Now.

He turns, tipping up onto his toes, and runs. Dean doesn’t need to look back to know Cas is hot on his heels. He can hear the rustle of Cas's clothing, the rumbling growls he exhales with each breath. It spurs Dean on and has everything settling in liquid warmth. His skin tingles, the cramping stops, the mid-spring air wraps around him, cool and fresh and Dean feels revitalized. He just darting passed a group of freshmen—feeling more graceful then he has in years—when he hears Cas snarl and some of the younger students shriek. Dean glances over his shoulder to see Cas barrel right through them, knocking one of the boys to the ground in his haste to get to Dean. His eyes flash red, glowing brightly in the afternoon sun and with a yelp Dean takes off again, slipping around the side of the science building.

He draws up short when his usual path towards his dorm is blocked for construction. So stupid, he can't believe he forgot. Cas' snarl shivers down his spine, and Dean jumps into action again, his feet moving even before he realizes he's running. He’ll just have to take the long way, he’s done it before, though not at this speed. Already his legs are starting to stiffen with fatigue.

“DEAN!” Cas barks, and Dean pants smiling as he easily leaps over a bench and lands gracefully on his toes, darting off towards the gym. Dean's dorm is just beyond the gym, one more turn and then it's just a small stretch of lawn between him and his goal. he doesn't really want to win, but he pushes on anyway, faster and faster. Yes, he’s almost there, his dorm is in sight; Dean can practically smell his victory. The stretch of grass that separates the back of the gym and the main door to his building is shorter than the sprint from first to third base. He’s got this. He… He doesn’t have this.

A hand closes tight around the back of Dean’s neck, and surprise makes him choke on air. He misses a step, fumbling as a firm leg sweeps out in front of him. Dean loses his balance fast, his arms windmilling as he tips forward. It’s only the hand on his chest that stops him from face planting directly into the grass. Cas controls his decent, but he doesn’t stop it. No, Dean hits the ground, just not as hard as he would have.

The impact's not the thing that sends all the air rushing from his lungs through. It’s the hard, muscular, panting body that goes down right on top of him. It’s Cas snarling into his ear as he moves his knees to pin Dean’s legs down, his hands finding one of Dean's wrists and gripping it tightly. Cas is in control. It’s written into the absolute way he exerts his dominance over Dean’s body, pressing him to the earth and forcing his submission. It’s the hot, rigid line of Cas’ thick, throbbing cock every time he presses his hips against Dean’s soaked ass. Each little action calls to Dean's omega, makes him want to go soft and pliant under Cas' body.

“You are mine, Dean Winchester. Mine.” Cas growls rolling his hips and making Dean see stars. His teeth nip at the shell of Dean’s ear. Every fried and frayed nerve ending in Dean’s body is soothed under the claim. His heart rate slows, and he flexes his hips, rocking back against Cas’ body.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and the pressure of Cas’ hand on his neck relaxes a fraction.

“Don–don’t move” Cas warns, and Dean tries to still his body, closing his eyes and relaxing under the weight of his alpha. “I—I need…”

“Yeah. Yeah, Cas” Dean breathes, and Cas makes a pained noise in his throat before moving his hand and nipping roughly at Dean’s neck. A fresh wave of slick rushes out of Dean at the feeling of Cas’ teeth on him, and the alpha growls sucking the sweaty flesh of Deans neck into his mouth. Biting down firmly to ensure a mark is left when he finally lets up.

“I need to get you inside right now or else we are going to get fined for a public mating.”

“Yeah, yes. Good idea.” Dean agrees, trying to get up. Cas snarls his hands snapping out and pressing down on Dean’s arms.

“Ok, look, you—you just” Cas lets out a frustrated noise, relaxing his grip on Dean’s limbs. “You have to move slowly.”

“Yeah. Okay, I can do that.” Dean nods.

“Ok, ok.” Cas licks the back of Dean’s neck, nipping the skin. “Okay.”

Dean has no idea how they make it up to his room. Cas presses him back against the side of the elevator, boxing him in and kissing Dean like his life depends on it, like he's been waiting just as lonf as Dean has for this. He pins Dean’s arms against the metal wall and grinds their hips together until Dean whines wantonly into his mouth.

He’s so hard, his cock throbbing against the confines of his jeans as he staggers, fumbles with the lock on his door and trips into the room. Cas' hard body presses up against his back. His teeth nipping at Dean’s neck, inflaming the skin past the point of pleasure. Dean’s got his own room, perks of being an R.A., and star athlete, and he’s never been more thankful for it than right now. Cas pushes him forward kicking out with a leg and snagging his foot around Dean’s ankle making him topple onto the couch.

“Still taking those jujitsu classes?” Dean huffs, flipping over onto his back as Cas stalks after him.

“Yes,” Cas grunts, his body dropping heavily to cover Dean’s. Cas nudges his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, rutting down, and nipping at that sore spot of skin again. The couch squeaks, sliding along the old linoleum floor as Cas humps into the apex of Dean’s spread legs. His cock is hot and hard and heavy against Dean's hip. He needs to get his hands on it, his ass clenches and pleasure ripples over Dean’s skin, spiking from the wet hot friction in his jeans and making him delirious.

“Wait, wait,” Dean says, pushing up on Cas shoulders. He growls, his muscles twitching like the last thing he wants to do is stop, but relents all the same, and Dean is relieved but not surprised. Cas is a good man, a good alpha, his alpha. Sliding out from under him is a feat, but Dean manages it, with only a little grappling. Cas seems just as frustrated with his inability to let Dean more than a few inches from him as Dean finds it funny, and sweet, and ...fuck, perfect. Cas is perfect.

“Come on, Alpha,” he breathes, holding his hand out. Cas takes it, grip firm, and Dean leads him out of the modest living area and into the smaller bedroom. Cas pauses for only a moment, his gasp turning into a deep velvet purr. He presses firmly up against Dean's back, his cock a searing ridge against the curve of Dean's ass; his arms wrap securely around Dean’s chest and he runs his nose up into Dean's hair.

“Is that for me, my beautiful Omega?” Cas asks, and Dean realizes that, yes, it is. That Dean built this nest for them. There are twice as many blankets as he ordinarily uses, spread wider that he would need, and now that Dean really looks, there are two cans of Pringles on the shelf above his bed.

“Yes,” Dean breathes, realization hitting him hard. “All for you, Alpha.”

“So good, so good for me,” Cas whispers, his fingers dripping down Dean’s chest like water, curling around the edge of his jeans, and popping the button. “Such a perfect nest, from my perfect Omega. Wanted you for so long, Dean. Can’t believe I’m here, can’t believe this is happening.”

Dean’s jeans slide down his trembling thighs, and it’s hard to breathe. A whine leaks out of his throat, as Cas drops his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, his hand lowering, slipping under the band of his boxer-briefs. Cas lets a strangled exhale out againstDean's shoulder as he wraps his thick fingers around Dean’s aching cock.

The reaction is immediate. Dean arches back, hips lifting as he cants up onto his toes, head dropping on Cas’ shoulder, he thrusts his cock into Cas’ grip, pleasure mounts dizzyingly fast and Dean clings to Cas' forearms for support. Cas works him quickly, grip firm and sure, like he’s been getting Dean off all his life. Like this isn’t the very first time he’s had his warm, rough hands wrapped around Dean’s dick.

“Cas I’m… I’m gonna…”

“Yes. Come for me, beautiful.” Cas croons, tucking his chin over Dean’s shoulder so he can watch. Dean gasps, hips punching up as his first orgasm rolls through his body. Cas hums against his neck, teeth scraping, his hand milking every last drop of spend from Dean’s still hard cock. “So good.”

Panting, Dean slumps back, his eyelids heavy,  Cas releases his cock and gives him a little nudge. “Get undressed,” he says, and Dean is sluggish as he obeys, pulling his shirt over his head, and turning to lean back against his bed, not wanting to miss Cas doing the same.

But Cas isn’t getting undressed. He’s sucking Dean’s release from his fingers, licking along his palm, and gripping the bulge between his legs. He’s still wearing Dean’s stupid backpack.

“Cas…” Dean huffs, but the alpha just licks his wrist where Dean’s come is dripping down towards his forearm. “Cas,” he tries again, but Cas only rumbles a pleased sound in his throat.

With an amused huff, Dean strips the rest of his clothes off and carefully climbs into the center of his bed, readjusting the nest of blankets and pillows, he props up onto his knees and elbows. Dean knows exactly how to get Cas’ head back in the game.

Reaching behind himself, Dean trails two fingers into the cleft of his ass, it's slippery and warm, so ready for Cas. He bites back a groan, his eyes glued over his shoulder at his oblivious alpha. Dean hisses softly, his fingers stroke down, brushing over the soft puffy ring of his entrance. A fresh dribble of molten slick eases his way as he slides them inside. His passage is relaxed, soft, and gives easily to the intrusion. Already he aches to add a third finger, to feel the stretch, but not yet, not until he has Cas' attention back. His slick, and the hormones pumping through his system are definitely doing their job to ensure his body is ready for breeding, that his entrance is supple and inviting and won't be damaged during their mating. Staring at Cas, the way his tongue flicks out to lick up his palm, how his brows dip and his nostrils flare in arousal, Dean's only partly relieved he’s on birth control. Maybe one day, but not today, he thinks.

“Alpha,” Dean moans, forcing his fingers in roughly, and causing an obscene squelching noise. “Please ...”

Cas freezes, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he looks up. The low rumble in his chest kicking up as his red ringed eyes settle on the display Dean’s making for him. Dean’s breath catches, and his fingers spasm, flexing, curling as he adds another under Cas’ watchful eyes.

“Mine,” Cas growls, the backpack falling from his shoulders as he stalks forward.

“Prove it.” Dean grunts, hitting his prostate and making his cock jump.

“Mine. My Omega…” Cas hand slides up Dean’s ass cheek, his eyes fixated on where Dean’s stretching himself. It’s not hard to spread his fingers as they plunge in and out of his ass, his body wants to loosen, wants to accommodate his alphas big cock. Or, Dean thinks, eyes flicking down to where Cas is still gripping himself over his jeans, what looks to be a massive cock.

“Need you,” Dean manages, a wave of warmth working over his skin, his eyes slide closed as heat burns through him, jacking his pulse and making his heart race. He knocks against his prostate, needing that little spark, that sharp point of pleasure and gasps, gushing around his fingers. Dean’s eyes snap open, as Cas faceplants between his cheeks, licking, slurping around Dean’s fingers, growling, his hands biting hard imprints into Dean’s thighs. Dean yanks his fingers out, and Cas immediately suctions his mouth over Dean’s rim, his tongue fucking in roughly, teeth nipping at the soft puffy edge. Cas brings him easily to another orgasm, his cock dripping, his passage flooding into Cas’ mouth and the alpha growls low, and long in pleasure.

“Need you, Cas. Please.” Dean chokes, his voice cracking as Cas delves back into with his tongue. “Need your cock, Alpha.”

Cas pulls back, sucking air, his eyes glazed, his chin wet from Dean’s release, he palms Dean’s ass roughly, nodding. “Yes, yes. Want you, so bad. Gonna knot you so good, Dean. Fill you up, breed you so full.” Dean swears he can feel his very core tremble at Cas’ words, he leaks onto the bed below his knees, fingers scrabbling in the folds of his nest just to stay upright.

Cas steps back as he speaks, pulling his shirt over his head. Though Dean’s seen his torso a million times before, he looks bigger, broader, so dominant right now, it’s like seeing him the first time all over again. Dean shivers drinking in all that tan sweat-slick skin, the thick, dark trail of hair curling from Cas’ belly button down the tops of his pants. Dean arches his back, presenting his ass, and Cas licks his lips at the sight.

“Good, so good. Tastes good, smells good, so pretty. My mate, my Omega.” Cas rumbles, shoving his jeans down and kicking out of his shoes at the same time.

Hungry, everything about Cas is hungry, his gaze, the tightness in his shoulders, how his abs tremble with each labored breath. His cock is huge and hard, flushed red with blood, dripping wetly from the tip, and it’s all for Dean. “Can’t wait to be inside you.”

“Then hurry up.” Dean sasses, his stomach cramping with need, and Cas is there, finally, pulling Dean’s hips towards him, and pressing the wide blunt head of his cock against Dean’s fluttering opening. “Yes, please, yes.”

They both groan in unison as Cas slides home, Dean’s body opening for him. The hard hot line of Cas’ cock brands him from the inside out, coring in until Dean feels like he’s being split in half. He puffs a breath, trying to relax until Cas’ finally bottoms out.

“Sonnovabitch.” Dean slurs rolling his hips and causing Cas to hiss.

“I need… Dean, so hot, wet…” Cas whines, his fingers squeezing over Dean’s hips, tightening to the point of pain.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Dean chants and Cas snarls hunching forward. Leaning his chest on Dean’s back, he bites down on Dean’s shoulder, holding him in place, careful not to break the skin as his hips snap forward. Dean grunts involuntarily, all the air forced out of his lungs as Cas pulls back and snaps forward again.

The pace is brutal, Cas fucks into Dean hard and fast, over and over again. His teeth gnawing at the bruise he’s already put on the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder. It’s exactly what Dean needs, what he always craved, what he never could do to himself with dildos or toys. Cas fills all the tiny spaces inside of him and fucks new ones open for himself. Creating space inside of Dean that no one else will ever be able to fill.

Dean sobs as he comes, tears leaking from his eyes, the pleasure mounts and crests, again and again. His muscles twitch around Cas’ cock, fatigue settles into his very bones, and still, Cas moves behind him. His breaths are labored, and Dean whimpers as his knot starts to swell.

“M–move,” Cas grunts, sucking marks down Dean’s spine, rolling his sweaty forehead between Dean’s shoulder blades. “Move up.”

He tries, Dean tries so hard. Pulling with trembling limbs, he slides up the bed. It dips behind him as Cas finally crawls up into the nest and Dean comes again just from how right it all is. His body overwhelmed, Dean bites down on a pillow as his alpha plants his palms on either side of Dean’s head changing the angle and pounding into him. It's so much deeper, the strokes longer, harder, hitting places inside of Dean that light him up. Cas groans, his cock flexing, knot swelling.

“ Yesss, Cas, fill me up.” Dean breathes and Cas snarls, his fingers curling into the bedsheets next to Dean’s face. “Breed me, Alpha. Make me yours.”

“M—Mine.” Cas grits out, his hips jolting forward, his knot popping roughly back and forth passed Dean’s rim, too much, and not enough.

Gulping air Dean flings a hand back connecting roughly on Cas’ flexing hip, smacking loudly over the wet sounds of their coupling and making Cas’ hips stutter. “Mine,” Dean growls back, looking over his shoulder. Cas eyes go wide like he’s surprised, his knot pops and Cas chokes as he locks deep in Dean’s body. Cas tips his head back and moans, “Yes,” as he empties load, after load inside of Dean.

Cas trembles, collapsing forward and Dean melts under his weight. They’re quiet for a long time, just breathing. The scent of them, of sex, mingle in the air, cocooning around them like Dean’s carefully made nest. Cas gently strokes through Dean’s hair, as Dean trails his fingers up and down the arm Cas has propped under Dean’s head.

“I–” Cas starts, shifting at Dean’s back, his scent sours, and Dean frowns lifting his head off Cas’ arm. “Dean…”

“Nu-uh,” Dean grumbles, “Naps now, freak-outs later.” Dean yawns, elbowing back gently to nudge Cas and roll them onto their sides. “Much later, like, in a few days. Like, after I’m so well fucked I can’t walk. That much later.”

“Dean…” Cas huffs, and this time there’s laughter in his tone, he presses a kiss to the knob of Dean’s spine and sighs, wrapping Dean up in his arms, and finally, Dean feels like he’s home.

They don’t get to nap long, Cas barely slips out of Dean when the next wave hits. Dean drags Cas back under the blankets and rides him until the alpha is howling, his back bowing, his knot locking in place. Dean’s mumbling, delirious, as he strokes over Cas’ chest, sucks little marks along his collarbone.

“This is the best heat I’ve ever had.” Dean hums, adjusting to rest his head on Cas’ chest, his fingers tracing over the alphas collarbones. “So good to me, Cas,” he sighs out, and Cas moans his cock spurting, searing hot against Dean’s inside.

“Like that?” Dean asks, flexing his muscles just to make Cas whimper in pleasure again, “Do you like knowing you please me?”

“Better than anyone else?” Cas asks, dropping his chin to catch Dean’s eye. He’s shifting, and his scent takes on the tart notes of embarrassment.

“Uh, ye–yeah. Considering I’ve never had anyone else… like this.”

Cas’ pupils expand dangerously fast, his nostrils flaring, as his scent thickens, exuding aroused, virile, alpha into Dean’s small bedroom.

“What?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean fidgets, the scent sinking into his very blood, and making him loopy. He sits up so he can look down at Cas, not wanting to have this conversation staring at his alpha’s chin. “Yeah, never uh, shared my heat or anything with anyone.”

“Dean, I’m your… You’ve never? Not with anyone… ever?” Cas looks impossibly aroused, and incredibly confused. “H—how? How is that possible, you... You’re stunning, and funny, and charming and, and….”

“I mean, I did some stuff!” Dean defends, suddenly feeling extremely shy. “Like fooling around and stuff... You know. But it never felt right. I—I didn’t get much further than like, a blowjob. It doesn’t matter, okay!” Dean glances out the little window next to his bed, absently wishing he closed the curtain. It’s too bright outside, too sunny and warm for how silly he suddenly feels.

“And this? This feels right?” Cas asks, his hands sliding up Dean’s thighs were they sit spread wide around Cas’ hips.

“Yeah,” Dean says, ducking his head, looking at Cas out of the corner of his eye. “This… this is what I’ve always wanted.”

Cas surges up, those beautiful abs flexing under his sweat glistened skin. He kisses Dean, claiming him all over again. His broad palms side up Dean’s back holding them close, “Me too, always. It’s always been you, Dean. I’ll never want anyone the way I want you.”

“Why… why didn’t you want to come and get me?” Dean asks, his eyes flicking between Cas’. “At the infirmary? Why did you argue?”

“You…” Cas grimaces. “You trigger my ruts. You always trigger them. Every time I get too close to you when you’re in heat, I rut so hard. The last one was painful, Dean... I was… It wasn’t you. I just…”

Dean barks a laugh, and Cas startles, the movement jostling them both and Dean moans. “You mean to tell me, I coulda had this for years?” Dean manages, panting as his arousal peaks again.

“Yes. Fuck, we are so stupid.” Cas groans shifting his hips to buck up into Dean as much as he can in their current position. “But… but, you can have it, me, Dean, forever. If you want me?”

“Fuck yeah,” Dean says, his hands slide up from where they are braced on Cas’ shoulders to tangle in his dark hair. "I want you. Always wanted you, Cas."  Dean kisses him soundly, kisses him until they are gasping for air, and have to pull apart, kisses him like he’s wanted to for most of his life. He drops his forehead on Cas’ and grins, “Mate me?”

“Yes.” Cas groans, stretching out the word, his hands cupping Dean’s back. “Fuck, if I wasn't already knotted to you, I’d need to be. I want to be, all over again. My mate, my Omega, so beautiful. Wanted you for so long.” Cas kisses every part of Dean he can reach, all while rolling them over. Dean’s legs wrap around Cas’ hips as his back hits the mattress. Cas’ hips work, his knot pulling and they both shutter. “Gonna fill you up. Make you so round, so full of my pups.” Cas breathes his hand slipping between them to stroke over Dean’s stomach.

“Yeah, fuck. Cas. Just like that, my Alpha. Mine. Gonna breed me so good.”

Cas’ hand drifts lower, and he strokes over Dean’s cock, taking the engorged length and bringing him to orgasm again. Dean goes slack as Cas nuzzles down into the crook of his neck, his fingers stroking Dean to overstimulation but he doesn’t want it to stop, he never wants Cas to stop touching him. Dean wines and Cas nips at his bottom lip.

“Hushh” He scolds, his hand squeezing the tip of Dean’s swollen dick. “Are you always this hard during your heat?”

“No, fuck. Cas please, ah!” Dean squirms, and Cas releases him. He sags against the bed, and Cas huffs a soft laugh. “Wait? Does this mean you’re in Rut?”

“Oh yeah,” Cas deadpans, “Dean you instigated a chase! You made me run halfway across campus chasing your sweet ass and following your heat scent. Even if I wasn’t already sensitive to your heat, I’d be in rut.”

“Oh, ah, yeah…” Dean flushes and then sighs as Cas’ knot slips free.

Cas kisses him before slipping from the nest, handing Dean a water bottle and a power bar he drinks himself as he staggers over to the door and grabs the towel hooked there. He’s quick and efficient cleaning them up, his cock swollen and purple, twitching between his legs and Dean wants to taste it. Before Cas can wipe himself off, Dean reaches out, pulling him over by his hips and licks over the head. Cas’ thighs tremble, and he whines deep in his throat.

“Okay?” Dean asks looking up.

“Please,” Cas confirms inching forward, pressing his cockhead against Dean’s lips. They don’t last long like that, and before Dean knows it, Cas has pushed him back up the bed and is sinking into him with firm rolling strokes.

“I’m going to…” Cas breathes his eyes focused on the bruise he’s left on Dean’s neck, “I'm going to claim you, Dean. Make you mine, so everyone knows.”

“Yeah, yeah Cas, do it.”

With a choked off noise Cas drops down, their chests dragging together as he wraps his arms around Dean, holding him close. Dean curls his limbs around Cas' thrusting form, pleasure building under his skin, sparking like an electrical current everytime Cas’ teeth graze his neck.

“Please, please.” Dean pants in rhythm to each thrust.

Dean's orgasm plows into him like a freight train, colors explode behind his eyes and the sharp sting of Cas’ teeth piercing his skin is the epicenter of his pleasure. Already he can feel the bond snapping in place, firming the connection they’ve always had, cementing them together.

“Me. Now me, Dean.” Cas pants, bowing his neck, shoving his swelling knot in deep and as it catches, Dean bites, the coppery tang of Cas’ blood coats over his teeth, mixing with the salt and spice of Cas' sweat. Dean licks the already closing wound.

“I love—I love you.” Dean breathes against his mate mark.

“I think I’ve always loved you, Dean,” Cas says, pulling back and kissing the taste of blood and salt out of Dean’s mouth.

Ω

“Well, it’s about fucking time,” Victor shouts, his hand slamming down on Cas’ back so hard that Dean winces. Cas takes it in stride smiling like the dope he is.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asks, as he pulls on his baseball cap.

"Oh, you didn't see youtube today? You should you're trending."

"We're what?" Cas asks jumping to his feet.

"Oh yeah," Victor says shoving his shoulder against Benny's in a conspiratorial way. "I guess you guys have been busy, huh?"

Victor takes out his phone and opens the YouTube app, and right on the homepage are a ton of videos: 'Catching Feels (and an omega) on KS Campus',  'The KS Mystery Couple Chase!! ', 'Chase Chase, Baby' but the video that Victor starts is  "Chasin' that sweet Omega booty'.The kid filming is giving the stoner's version of a play by play, he even calls the moment before Dean runs by saying, 'oh shit, he's really gonna do it.'

The video shows Dean taking off and Cas pausing for just a moment before launching himself after. The YouTuber curses and jogs a bit, the video jumping, he stops short and doubles over laughing as Cas plows into the group of freshman and snarls at the unlucky one that fell. The video cuts out when Cas disappears beyond the science building.

There are at least four more videos all from different angles and different times of the chase. One even has Dean's impressive leap over the bench. The comments are a mess of snark and support. There are a ton of 'How cute' and, 'can't wait for my alpha to chase me' or 'i'd chase him too.' to, 'I wonder if he caught him?' and some even cheering for Dean with 'make him work for it, Omega!’.

"Sonnavabitch" Dean breathes, a flush burning up his cheeks

“What did you expect running across campus like that?" Victor shrugs, "Guess you're famous now, you should do a follow-up video."

"Honestly, it took you fools long enough,” Benny says, as he taps into his cleats.

“Did everyone know but us?” Dean asks, and the team members standing around them in the locker room burst into laughter.

“Apparently,” Cas grimaces.

“Better late than never,” Victor smirks.

“What do you mean late? We’re only 22!” Dean snaps crossing his arms.

“Yeah, but you’ve been disgustingly annoying since like tenth grade.”

“Really?”  Cas says, his cheeks coloring.

“Really…”

Dean’s fingers brush against the newly healed mating mark on his neck. He smirks, “Worth it.”

Chapter Text

Dean stumbles into the house, he’s got three bags from Home Goods dangling from his arms and sweat dripping down his neck. Panic curls tight in his stomach and makes him jittery. He rushes up the stairs and down the quiet hallway to their bedroom. It’s cool and dark and Dean instantly feels relaxed as he steps inside. He dumps the new blankets on the bed and goes to the hall closet to get more.

He’s used to this now, the urge, the need to nest. He doesn’t fight it, in a huff he pulls three, four, five, more blankets and adds them to the pile already stacked on the mattress. He strips out of his clothes tossing them to the floor and beings the slow process of arranging everything. At the very center, Dean puts a small box, no larger than a pen case, his heart thunder in his ears and then crawls inside on top of it.

That’s where Cas finds him hours later. Dean’s asleep but wakes easily when his mate crawls into the little nest. His scent is soft, cautiously concerned.

“What happened, Dean?” he asks his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers stroking through Dean’s hair before dropping a kiss on his forehead.

Cautiously Dean plucks out the little box and hands it over. They’ve been together four years now. The own this house, together. Cas is a history professor and Dean after a small stint in the minor leagues, opened a bakery with Cas’ brother. They are doing well, they are happy. There is no reason to be so afraid right now.

“Dean?” Cas asks trying to meet his eye but Dean just burrows tighter in the blankets, breathing in their scent. His family.

“Cas…” He says voice cracking.

“Okay… okay.” Cas whispers adjusting them under the blankets so Dean is cradled in Cas’ strong arms. Slowly he opens the box, Dean closes his eyes, focusing on breathing so he knows the moment Cas’ scent changes. It floods with happiness, bright, brilliant, golden yellow, infuses Dean’s senses.

“I...is this real?” Cas asks his voice wavers. “Are... are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Dean. Oh, sweetheart.” And Cas is kissing him, pushing him back, his hands stroking over the toned flesh of Dean’s stomach. “I love you, I'm so happy, I can't believe it. I love you. My perfect mate. My love.”

Dean's chest fills with warmth, happiness surging through him as Cas wraps him uptight, their nest blocking out all the rest of the world and for a moment, its just them. Just their scents, their skin, their happiness and Dean is home.

Ω

Almost nine months later Dean’s tucked into a nest of blankets and pillows, comfortable and content, curled up around a beautiful blonde haired pup. Her big blue eyes shine up at him and he wraps her up in a little nest of blankets. Cas drapes a comforter over their shoulders and together they snuggle down with their pup. Cas places a kiss to Dean's temple as he gently traces his fingers over the apple of their sleeping pups cheek. And Dean knows that if Emma ever has the urge to build a nest, he’ll be there to help her, every step of the way.