Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   The days were long. The weeks felt even longer. Sometimes, months might as well have been years in the mind. 

   Of course over the course of three years, Castiel had never felt alone the way he had once expected too. Leaving the sanctuary of Chicago for the Dakota territory had meant leaving behind more than just his home. He had been leaving behind his oldest friends too. 

  As Castiel nursed his drink, he reminded himself that he wasn’t alone. Dean and Benny stood huddled together across the room, while he sat at the bar. He’d grown close to a few soldiers after he’d enlisted in the Army. A hesitant, but ready, eighteen year old eager to escape his parents and brothers.

   Soldiers, friends, had come and gone during the time he’d served. The way they always did. War and illness, taking many from the ranks swiftly. Other times, men were simply transferred to another base. Luckily, that had never been him. If it had been, Castiel knew he never would have met Dean. 

  Dean had been assigned to his barrack at Fort Fetterman when the man had first arrived. It wasn’t an instant friendship, but Castiel knew he wasn’t the most sociable person. Still, the tension between them had been abnormally high even by his standards for a reason he hadn’t been able to place. Not back then. 

   Castiel had assumed Dean just wasn’t comfortable, definitely not with their beds practically pressed together in the already cramped building. New soldiers sometimes disrupted the flow of the barracks. The normal patterns they’d achieved, sleeping twenty cavalry men in the same quarters. A hard task, but one they managed eventually.  

  Unhappy with old memories popping into his mind, Castiel thought about the warm blankets in his saddlebags. The wonderful beds they’d been sleeping on at the inn the last couple of days and the one he’d be laying his head down on again tonight. It wasn’t nice enough to match the Novak’s luxury he’d grown up with, but it was a blessing in his new world. 

   Beds in the Army had barely been beds. A rough adjustment, for him being used to grandest things with a family of political status. Castiel had effectively downgraded to mattresses that were barely more than blankets stuffed with hay. 

   It was debatable if the beds in the barracks were better than the stables. As Dean and their friendship had developed, Castiel had honestly thought more than once that laying out with the horses would be an improvement. A safer place for them to share the intimate embraces they’d ended up indulging in the dark of the night. The lack of snoring men around them, would have been an added bonus. 

   “Another?” a woman asked, suddenly very close to him. 

   Looking her way, Castiel found the blond woman behind the counter waiting for him to respond with a knowing smile. A knowing smile that probably didn’t actually know all that much. He held out his glass for her to refill without a word. 

   Social struggles never ceased to end for him, no matter how much he aged. The liquor in his blood, brooding mood, didn’t exactly make Castiel feel like conversing either. Not that the woman seemed to care, filling him up more generously than she should have. She was probably used to men that didn’t want to talk about their troubles, making friendly conversation, in these parts. 

   Castiel was grateful for the generous drink as he took another sip. He never seemed to get as drunk as he wished he could, but that might have been his natural restraint and general dislike of the activity. It was tempting to try harder though, when he found himself just staring at his friends again. 

   Dean and Benny were huddled closely together near the last table they’d both been sitting at. No doubt waiting for another round of cards to start up. Castiel could have joined them if he really wanted to, but he was no good at cards. Usually he stuck to the sidelines, occasionally engaging with the bar-keep if they prompted him first. Sometimes locals, and the occasional whore that appreciated his smile despite the ‘no thank you’ he always gave them. 

  Castiel didn’t feel the bitterness on his tongue. He didn’t feel the burn in his throat. All he felt was the constant unease that always grew in his stomach watching Dean and Benny doing ‘their thing’.  

   Benny Lafitte. The Cajun man grated on his nerves in a way he wasn’t proud of. It didn’t get easier the way he’d hoped, the longer they knew each other. He did his best not to let it show, but based on the curious confused looks Dean sometimes shot him he occasionally failed. An embarrassment that usually made Castiel press his lips together and look away with shame for the unspoken. 

   Shortly after Benny had arrived on base, the other man had taken an interest in befriending Dean… by default that meant him too. The two of them were best friends in the same barrack on the same base. It wasn’t often they were apart for very long.  

   Castiel concluded Benny had started to seek them out of the masses because of their mellow behavior. All the other men were quite loud and dramatic, whereas they preferred to keep to themselves. ‘A low-ley’, presence Dean had called them both, when he’d pondered the question with him one day. 

   Benny was like them. Broadly speaking. He was a cavalry soldier too. It just so happened he had earned his own quarters. 

   Dean had been in awe, fascinated with the achievement. Castiel had been doubtful, questioning the man’s rank heavily. Learning the answers, hadn’t done much to ease his own mind. Rumors were rumors, even if Benny did walk through the base being highly regarded. 

   Word of mouth had told them that the new man had been a crucial player in one of the biggest brutal massacres in The Red River Wars down in Texas. One where he had finished eradicating an entire Native village, even as his brothers had fallen at his side. He’d bathed it completely in blood, including himself, with no survivors. A huge victory worthy of the honor.    

   Benny, for some strange reason, didn’t give them himself the same high praise. Castiel contemplated if the man was aiming for modesty to appease him. Lord knew Dean had been mesmerized by the violent tale and he acted differently around the other soldiers, like he held that honor proudly. 

   Eventually, before they’d all left Fort Fetterman together, Benny had confessed when Castiel had confronted him. Dean had scolded him with a hiss of his name, but the other man had smiled softly… shushing their friend with a small wave of his hand. The same soft friendly look that had led him to watching both men kissing many weeks past. An action he never thought he’d see done, and not because he’d thought those perfect pink lips had been his.

   Benny claimed that he didn’t feel it was right to be praised for what had happened. It was wrong to deserve praise for losing himself to the monster within. The Cajun had even gone as far as to say he regretted all the lives he’d taken with a solemn expression. 

   Castiel had reluctantly admired Benny from that point onward. He put morals, the rights and wrongs in life, first before status like Dean and himself. Well… now. Something in the back of his mind, always carried doubt of the before. It was unfortunately in his nature to question the unknown. 

   As time wore on, Castiel had come to accept Benny’s friendship more than embrace it. What he really did was accept Dean’s friendship with the man because they enjoyed each other's company the most. Usually, he was dragged along and he found it impossible to tell the young blond no. Besides, just because they were best friends didn’t mean they weren’t allowed to have more friends.  

  Benny had tried to be Castiel’s friend. He often tried to be something more too, thinking pleasures of the flesh was a common ground anyone could share. Of course he was wrong, but  for the sake of both men and their twisted friendships, he engaged the Cajun. Both socially and physically.  

   The sex the three of them shared, had never been bad. Orgasming was hardly a hardship, especially when it always included watching Dean melt like a beautiful blond candle. Sweet sounds, worthy of any sins, leaving his lips. It was always better for Castiel when they were alone, but he never turned down watching the man he’d come to love find pleasure. 

   Still, no matter how much time and intimacy seemed to pass, Benny continued to walk a fine line between friendship and something genuinely dangerous in his mind. Castiel wasn’t particularly concerned about that feeling the way he once had been anymore. Maybe because he was a well-trained soldier, even if he’d never bathed in blood.   

   Before becoming a soldier Castiel had just been a simple church boy in the heart of Chicago. Never a fighter and always a scholar. He could thank his family for one thing that readied him in life that was more than the books he read. Seven older brothers in a heavily religious household meant he was perfectly aware of how serious ranks worked… and he knew how to survive them. Usually, by keeping the highest close.  

   Castiel tried, and failed, to not watch Benny’s large hand slide over Dean’s shoulder blades. Sure the Cajun man had touched him like that plenty of times too, but watching him do it to his best friend created a different feeling in himself. One he’d never properly placed. 

   Benny leaned in to whisper something to Dean, before the two of them walked back over to the table they’d originally been playing cards on. It was clearing out, meaning a new round was about to start. Castiel felt his chest squeeze, making him think he was frustrated with himself for not being like either of his friends. 

   Hoping, it was actually just the liquor Castiel decided to walk it off. He sat his coins down on the counter to pay for his drink, not bothering to tell the men that he was leaving. All of them always found their way back to wherever they were staying, unless it was pre-arranged they were going separate ways for a bit. Benny was always the one leaving in those cases, claiming personal business that needed tending to. 

   Walking outside, Castiel felt more awake with the cold spring night air hitting his skin. He took a deep breath of appreciation. The saloon had been clogged with smoke. Tobacco, liquor, sweat and dirt filling the large room. Outside was quite the opposite. It was fresh and clean, even with the stench of manure nearby. 

   Castiel tilted his head back to look up at the clear sky. It was as peaceful as always, but he could enjoy the dusting of stars high above him any time. Not often did he get an actual room with furniture in it. So the chill wasn’t what actually turned him away from the breathtaking sight, it was the appreciation for real cushions. The simple pleasures in life. 

   The guarantee of a little solitude was another promising thing that had Castiel heading towards the inn they were staying at. Privacy was a hard thing to come by in a group of three that lived together. Thankfully, his family and the Army had both taught him how to tune out anything he wasn’t interested in. It wasn’t as much of an annoyance as it might have been for others. 

   Castiel thought about how nice the town they were in was as he walked down the dirt street. Past the closed shop fronts that looked well taken care of. The crowd in the saloon hadn’t been particularly welcoming, but during the day it seemed a different kind of people came out. Honest, hard working folk. Respectable, unlike half the drunken fools Dean and Benny were currently taking for all their worth. 

    Usually the towns the three of them stopped in weren’t even big enough for them to find a room available. It left them living in their tents most of the time. Benny had insisted on getting his own, even when they’d been hurting for money, but that didn’t stop them from sleeping together in winter. 

  Sharing body heat was different than the warm embraces Benny didn’t typically particularly enjoy sharing. Castiel considered it another one of the mysterious aspects about the man. He just didn’t understand how they could have all forms of depraved relations together, but God forbid they snuggled together without sexual intent. 

   Cracking open the wooden door, it creaked from the stiffness that probably came from the conflicting cold nights and warm afternoons. Castiel winced at the noise, loud in the silence of such late hours. He was thankful their room was on the first floor of the old building. No doubt Dean and Benny would stumble their way in, completely ran-tan. Stewed from celebrating with multiple drinks during multiple wins. 

  A few times the three of them had been reprimanded by different inn owners for being too loud, reckless, falling up and down stairs. Occasionally the fellow traveler in desperate need of sleep, for disturbing them too. Castiel considered their complaints valid, but the threats of bodily harm were a touch dramatic. He had had to accept, such violent behavior was just the ways of the West.   

   Keying open the door to their room, Castiel smiled a little. Fondly. It was a large space that he’d concluded was once the buildings living room. The owners had put up walls though, separating it from the parlor that’d become the main gathering area, to make a luxury option for guests. A fee they’d decided to go all in on. Well-kept, clean inns were a rare treat to find. 

   Two large beds with thick iron frames lay with the head up against the innermost wall. An average sized wooden dresser sat in between them and there was a long tea table in front of the tan couch that looked like it was made of the same wood. Best of all though, there was a personal bath and basin. The stuff of dreams in the world he’d come to live in.  

   Turning on the oil lamps, a warm yellow light flooding the room, Castiel was hit with memories of his childhood. Studying at his personal desk. Noticing the unease in muscles and mind had improved, he decided he wasn’t quite ready to lay down. 

   Picking up his knapsack from beside the bed Dean and him shared, Castiel sorted through it for his notebook. He pulled it out, then carefully shifted things around to get out his new stylographic pen. Something he’d come across a few months ago. A gift from God in his simple rustic world. 

   Soon, he’d need to buy ink. A precaution, necessity, if his pen were to give out. Messages could be crucial in times of need. The fact it was a hobby of his, didn’t hold as much weight when money eventually got tight again. 

   Writing had always been an outlet from Castiel as a child. It’d been merely punishment at first. Mother or Zachariah, forcing him to copy passages from the Bible repeatedly. Until he had whole stories memorized… that much to their dismay, just left him with more questions that were exactly what they hated him asking.

   As confused, puzzled and doubtful, as Castiel always became, he hardly considered the lines he wrote as punishment. He had enjoyed the way his pen felt in his hand, like it was something that always belonged there. A sword of the mind. 

   Castiel had loved watching how the pen swirled ink beautifully across the paper. Stories and poems, moments that seemed to come out of nowhere as if they were minutes he’d already lived, always found their way to mind. Eventually, he’d started writing them down instead of blindly copying the Bible yet again. 

   Thankfully the papers, his journals, had always gone unchecked. Aside from his ‘stubbornness’ Castiel knew he had always been the ideal son. A challenge more than his family knew, leaving him writing to calm his mind. Something he could get lost in, as an escape from such a burdensome world. It’d definitely been a mental necessity for him, stuck in the throws of the church and after he’d found his way to the Army. 

   Packing his notebook and pen over to the couch, Castiel sat down in the middle, and sat his supplies down on the tea table. He was used to and more comfortable with the solid surface beneath his arm, even if he’d grown used to writing over his knee. It would be worth the potential back pain from hunching over, in case he got a bit heavy handed like he was prone to when lost in the moment. After all, he had a bed for a change.

Chapter Text

   A quiet night. Peace in the low-lit yellow of the room. Unaware of how much time had passed with his nose buried in his journal, Castiel was startled when the door suddenly creaked open. It was with the uneasy stealth of a creeper nosing around. 

  “See he’s not asleep,” Dean whispered, poorly, throwing the door the rest of the way open… loudly when Castiel squinted and made eye contact. 

   Dean turned to grin at Benny and threw a thumb towards him like it was a secret. The larger man just chuckled, pushing their friend the rest of the way into the room causing him to stumble thanks to his drunkenness. It was with smiles, otherwise Castiel would have protested such an action. 

   Castiel had been informed, he could be a bit overprotective of his best friend. Actually, he’d been told it outright by Dean himself. Shortly around the time they’d figured out Benny was flirting with them and not just being friendly. 

   Looking back, it’d been quite shameless behavior on Benny’s end. Maybe his own too, up until the Cajun had told him not to worry and to put his hackles down. He wasn’t ‘going to steal his man’. Castiel didn’t know who had turned redder from embarrassment at his drawing words, Dean or himself, and he hadn’t dared ask.  

   Truthfully, Dean and his relationship had come together by accident. Broadly speaking. As in neither of them had pursued each other to begin with, the way Benny had. Castiel had developed a longing for his friend, obviously, but he’d never planned to act on it. As miserable as his life had been, he wasn’t suicidal. 

   The perseverance, unwillingness to just lay down and die he possessed, was what had actually led to Dean and his… involvement. A scouting mission in the far north early one fall, had been disrupted by a wall of rain that dragged a cold front along behind it. An unexpected cold that had not just forced them to make a camp, but share their body heat as they swore praying the storm ended soon that way they could turn around.  

   Castiel was a strong soldier with impressive strength and grit for someone of his size. Still, he was a human and a weak man at heart. Hours spent snuggled against Dean under four blankets, as they rolled around due to their arms falling asleep, eventually got to his head. 

   Slowly, Castiel had developed an erection. One that held no hope for going unknown because of how tight their bodies were pressed together. Dean had just made it worse, shifting his hips as if he were trying to see if what he was feeling against his backside was real. The way his own arms had squeezed around the man’s waist, torn between telling him to stop or keep going, had confirmed the truth. 

   The ‘please’ Castiel had whispered, he could feel on his lips even after all this time. He could feel Dean’s response to it, pressing his backside into his crotch and holding his wrist. Guiding it all the way down into his own pants where his friend was housing an erection. Warm in his hand like a smoldering fire that made one of them hum. 

   It’d been good during that moment. Rocking together, generating more heat and making his heart race. Castiel had felt hotter than he had in days with Dean’s seed coating his hand and his own making the man’s bare crack a fifth blanket to nestle into. Both of them had fallen asleep in bliss. 

   Waking up to peaceful silence, they were relieved that the roaring wind had moved on and the skies calmed. Dean and him had ignored the little rutting session, not knowing how else to handle the situation. It was an attempt, Castiel theorized, to preserve their friendship. Still, uncomfortableness blanketed them like the cold air. 

   Dean had cracked barely a week after their private moment together. Paranoia, making him anxious, trying to defend his actions to him finally in hushed whispers. Castiel had seen no point in hiding his truth then, his attraction to men. He’d been unable to bear to see his best friend beating himself up over his own body betraying him. Thankfully, from there, they’d figured things out with a few shy nights of talking about their long buried secrets. 

  “We missed you,” Dean slurred, walking up to him and Castiel dropped his pen when the man started to climb into his lap. “You should have seen it, Cas.” 

  “Oh, I… I uh, missed you too,” Castiel said, concluding the boys must have won big with Dean’s good mood and Benny somewhere in the room dropping what sounded like a large sack of coins. 

   Castiel just barely managed to lick his lips, a little dry from sitting in silence writing, before Dean landed a kiss on them. Used to, as a reserved man, he’d used to be hesitant doing things with his best friend while Benny just watched them. Now, he barely spared the other man a thought with the one he loved settling into place on his lap. Hands, cupping his jaw as he was kissed. 

   “Let’s celebrate,” Dean breathed, letting go of his face and the result was him kissing him unsteadily. 

   A symphony of belt buckles made themselves known a second later. Castiel just paid attention to the one coming undone. Dean’s, right in front of his eyes when he dropped them, being unbuttoned and unzipped. He lived for that sight, as much as he did just living to see the light of another day.  

   It was beautiful, watching Dean confidently pull his long erection out of his pants. Castiel’s hand practically began to sweat, longing to stroke it. Sometimes the man could be surprisingly self-conscious, making the moments his best friend embraced what he wanted openly… entrancing. Maybe he was a little jealous of those careless, shameless, minutes of unfiltered desire too.  

   Suddenly, Castiel found himself blushing. It wasn’t from the alcohol possibly lingering in his system or Dean mouthing at the crook of his jaw as he pumped his own erection eagerly. No, he could take those in stride easily. What made his face heat, was Benny’s blue eyes peeking over his best friend’s shoulders to shoot him a wink before disappearing again. 

   Trying to capture Dean’s lips with his, Castiel felt his heart starting to pump wildly, feeling a hand wrap around his own half hard cock. He tried to let himself melt into his best friend’s kisses, moans. The touches, intimacy, felt like home. Everything he could ever hope for in one single action since there was no house to call their own. 

   As Dean began to buck up into his fist, panting and licking into his mouth, Castiel put his hands on his hips so he wouldn’t lose his balance. The man was drunk after all. Anyone could have been able to tell that, even without getting to taste the whiskey on his friend’s tongue. 

  It shouldn’t have made Castiel moan the way it did, but he loved when Dean got desperate. Any time he was on his knees, lifting and towering over him as he sought out his sweet high they would share. He couldn’t wait to swallow the man’s mewl while he came. As much as he liked to deny it, the sounds he made during sex were soft. 

   Benny’s hand stroking up and down his own cock, had Castiel appreciating his presence like usual. He had his perks that weren’t just helping with hunting or earning money. Right now that included keeping his bare erection from rubbing up against the back of Dean’s denims with his tight fist. 

   Castiel lifted his hips, as much as he could with Dean practically bouncing on his lap. He bucked up into Benny’s hand, but he was tempted to tell the man to pull his pants down. The idea of how many naked backsides had been on the couch gave him pause. Unlike the bed, it probably wasn’t washed in between guests. 

   “You two might be the only thing that can kill me,” Benny said, his voice low and a dark dangerous undertone in the lightness of the moment. 

   Dean’s neck pressing against his lips asking to be sucked on, was kind of distracting. Castiel didn’t have time to think more than he agreed with that statement. He completely lost track of everything, that wasn’t the weight in his lap and the warm wet mouth engulfing the top half of his cock. 

  Grunting, Castiel put all his self-restraint into not bucking up. He didn’t want to unbalance Dean and he didn’t want to choke Benny on his cock. As uncertain as he was about the man at times, he generally liked him. Killing him wasn’t actually on his to do list. Coming, on the other hand, very much was.   

  Castiel simply laid back and let both men have their fun. He wasn’t in a position to be able to do much of anything anyways, except grope Dean’s backside. God, how he wished his friend had had the forethought to get out of his pants. The way his firm ass fit perfectly in the palms of his hands was a blessing. 

   Obviously, this little sexual indulgence was going to end quickly. Castiel didn’t mind hearing Dean starting to gasp for air. He liked sharing hands and mouths as much as penetration, even if he’d never get enough of having his erection warm in his best friend's body. 

   The fantasy, memory, with his cock being sucked on hard in Benny’s mouth made Castiel grunt happily. He could feel his orgasm building, just as Dean began to mewl. Letting go of his ass, he hurried to grab the man’s face and cover his mouth with his own. It kept him from being able to breathe as their friend’s tongue teased his throbbing slit. 

   Heat started to soak through the shirt on his chest as Dean came in his fist, spilling onto his chest. Castiel felt every vibration the man made down the entire length of his body. The sweet suppressed sounds and the shudder of his muscles as his best friend’s orgasm washed over him. 

   Castiel’s toes curled his boots, unexpectedly. He couldn’t help his lips parting, letting Dean’s lingering whimpers escape. Thankfully they were dying down and he didn’t have to worry about the man being too loud. Now himself, was another story, as his hips started to jerk. 

  Benny was many things. Sex was one of them. He was capable of multitasking in a way Dean and he weren’t. Not to mention the Cajun was sexually adventurous in a way that left him feeling like the innocent little church boy he’d once been. 

  It was incredibly erotic with all the movement happening around him. Castiel’s fingers flexed, trying to decide what to hold onto as Benny tugged on his sack while squeezing the under the tip of his erection. The man sucked on it hard, until his orgasm was practically pulled from him. 

   A sharp graze of teeth that would have made anyone else yelp, just made Castiel come harder. Familiar with pain, it left him groping at Dean’s chest trying to ground himself and breath through his release as the pleasure made him dizzy. He was a master at silent orgasms, growing up with so many siblings. 

   Coming in Benny’s mouth, admittedly, was wonderful. A unique form of happiness, ecstasy, came from getting his orgasm teased out of him while getting to hold his best friend in his arms. Weak and vulnerable, trusting him. Castiel enjoyed every second of just basking in the gift as he let Benny keep suckling on his waning erection, nosing at the sensitive skin at the crook of his thigh.  

—-

   Usually, Dean was the early riser in their little group. It was just how his body worked, even if he wasn’t happy about his consciousness. After a night of drinking, that was never the case. The man dozed like the dead, and Castiel was already dreading having to wake him up.  

   Benny wasn’t as bad as Dean when it came to being hungover or waking up in a generally bad mood. He always woke up on his own somehow, saving Castiel the trouble of trying to wrangle him out of bed too. One big baby was enough for him. Thank the Lord, he never seemed to get hangovers even when he over indulged.  

   “Ready to get on the road already?” Benny’s voice appeared, walking out to where he was in the stables. 

  Castiel shrugged wordlessly, tightening the cinch on his Zeke. A beautiful white piebald male horse he’d bought not too long ago. He wasn’t particularly in a hurry to leave per say. Who knew when they’d hit the next town and while he was a simple man, he did enjoy certain modern advantages most had. 

  Since rebelling against the Army at the Battle of Little Bighorn the three of them had been on the run. The Army would never accept killing their own in favor of saving Native lives. People that considered themselves Americans wouldn’t take too kindly to it either. Castiel firmly believed now, that those people didn’t have souls. 

   Dean, Benny and himself had killed every last soldier during the battle as the Native’s fled. They’d left all of them laying in the fields for the scavengers to eat on later, but whenever their deceased brother's bodies had been found their three faces weren’t amongst them. A real problem when they discovered their missing men. 

   Good, loyal, soldiers would have reported back to Fetterman. Not doing so was considered desertion unless you fell off your horse dead trying to find your way back. The translation was simple though. All of them were either to be hanged or take a bullet to the head if they were found. 

   Castiel never regretted his decision for a second, but that was why they couldn’t stay in any one place too long. It was like a slow growing itch under his skin as the days wore on. Any time people looked at them with a sense of familiarity. 

   More than once the three of them had spotted ‘wanted’ posters in towns. All of them were always just Benny, probably because of his popularity in the Army and his ranking. Castiel hated to feel blessed that Dean and his names or sketches had never made papers they’d ever seen, but he felt it anyway. Whatever protected them. 

  Benny came up to his own horse, a dark chestnut he’d named Andrea, and threw his black worn saddlebags over her back. The man never seemed concerned or bothered about his ‘most wanted’ status. He’d actually laughed about it a few times. Dean nor himself found much laughing to be done, but Castiel supposed that was one way to cope… or he just genuinely had no fear for his life. 

   Personally, Castiel knew if they’d cross the mountains he would feel a lot better. Thousands, maybe over a million, lived on the West Coast. Now that it was more accessible with the grand feat of the railroad crossing them. California had recently become well known as the Land of Dreams in their travels. Unfortunately, train stations were patrolled by station masters and security. 

   The dream of somewhere better than the open plains, wasn’t worth the potential capture. So, so far, the three of them had only ever traveled the edge of the Rockies. Once, Dean had contemplated their chances crossing the desert, but they were not Natives to such a landscape. Neither him, Castiel or Benny were familiar with arid climates for an extended period of time.    

   “Well well, look what we have here,” Benny cooed, and Castiel couldn’t stop himself from smiling, not even needing to turn around to see what he was talking about. “If it ain’t sleeping beauty himself.” 

   “Shut up,” Dean said distantly, behind the two of them, but it was empty without any heat. 

   “Aww don’t be like that darling,” Benny smiled, and Castiel could imagine the glare Dean was giving the man in his head without even trying. 

   One thing Castiel had been happy about when Benny started flirting with them was his tendency to use play names. The Cajun tended to lean towards using ‘darling’ and ‘sweet cheeks’. Dean had developed a preference for using ‘sweetheart’ and ‘angel’. He was guilty of just calling everyone by their given name, earning him the occasional play name of ‘cutie fop’ like Dean’s teasing princess titles. 

   Occasionally Castiel did call Dean beautiful. Usually during their moments of intimacy. The only time his best friend would accept the compliment without a rude comment born of what he concluded was self-loathing. As much as he would have liked to have met ‘Sammy’, if their Father was alive somewhere out there, he should pray they never crossed paths. 

   “Where to this time boys?” Benny asked, brushing down Andrea’s neck softly.  

   “I was thinking, keep heading south?” Castiel offered and Dean mumbled up sounding half asleep on his opposite side resting his forehead against his old black mare’s named Baby. “Try to enjoy some warmer weather before the flames of hell creep up.” 

   Castiel couldn’t say he hated the summer or the winter, but he did prefer to chase a steady temperature. Living as nomads, it made things a fun challenge on their never ending journey. Never knowing what kind you were going to get, and doing your best at guessing. Besides, either extreme did men trying to live in tents no good. 

   “Bit dramatic there sweetheart,” Benny tsked him, turning a bright smile on him. “Summer down south ain’t so bad, even in the south west.” 

   “Says the man from the thick, muggy swamps of Louisiana to the man from Chicago,” Castiel argued lightly, raising a pointed eyebrow because there was a big difference between all three climates. 

  “Sounds like a plan,” Dean humphed in reply, looking like he was falling asleep against Baby as she rocked her face under his. 

   If anything, Dean was the most fitting for the usual land they lived in. One of the tiny upsides to being from Kansas. The man was used to the burning heat of summer and the frigid cold of winter, leaving him with no care or preference for where they went. Unfortunately, the man was not awake enough to care about much past the topic of food. It was, in its own way, adorable. 

  “Want to grab a bite to eat at the saloon and then buy some fresh rations for the road?” Castiel asked Dean. 

   The man groaned happily and tossed his head back. Castiel watched him fondly as he made sure Baby was still tied securely to the post before setting off out of the stable. Towards the end, ready to hit the main road as the shops opened. No doubt for the few days they’d been in Olfa, Dean could already find a meal blind with just his nose. 

   “I’ll say it again,” Benny whispered, as they followed behind in his path side by side. “The fact you can manage him alone is a miracle all in itself.”

   Castiel chuckled at the remark. Sometimes he didn’t know either. Step one though would be finding a good helping of food, then finding a stock of fresh supplies before heading out back into the wilderness. Everything they ideally needed to get them through the harder times, with the unknown awaiting them over every hill and behind every weathered bent post. 

   “Ah, there’s that smile I like to see Angel. I know you ain’t got a hangover,” Benny said, nudging him in the bicep and used to it would have made him stumble from the big man’s weight. 

   As Benny grabbed hold of his forearm, halting them both in their tracks, Castiel felt his heart stutter. He tried hard to suppress another smile when the man kissed him. The intimate moments they shared were few and far between, but it didn’t stop a warmth from spreading through him when Dean was nearby. As a child that had never known friendship, had thought he never would with his preference for the same gender, having two willing to share something with him was more than he’d ever hoped for. 

   Sometimes Castiel wondered what Dean really enjoyed about Benny being around. Lord knew he cared more about the benefits and protection that he naturally provided more than he would ever admit. It made him feel guilty, but he would be even more hard pressed to confess the guilt that came from feeling more than lust in his friendship. Love, from what he knew of it, was a dangerous game that costs people the most important things in their lives. If not their life, itself. 

   “Food assholes!” Dean yelled, and Benny pulled away from him just enough to try charming him with a wink before continuing… and it alleviated his guilt for the time being.