50. Show Up in Shining Colors

That evening finds them in the living room. Cas is up on the couch, his dinner in his lap, and Dean is… on the floor. 

Again. 

It’s not exactly a great way to start out his journey to freedom, all in all. But Cas hadn’t said a word when Dean had gently pushed him onto the couch cushions. When he himself had dropped to the ground at the alpha’s feet. He’d leaned against the man’s leg, his nose turned inward to pick up his scent, one hand wrapped around himself and the other hooked through the tags around his neck in a self soothing gesture. 

It’s been a long fucking day. And Cas, as usual, had seemed to know what Dean needed in order to feel grounded. 

So, instead of attempting to get Dean to sit up on the couch with him, Cas had dropped a blanket over his shoulders when he’d shivered. And, while he had insistently nudged Dean until he’d sat down properly and gotten off his knees, he’d rewarded him by reaching down and petting Dean’s hair with the patience of a saint. Hell, he hadn’t even chastised him when Dean had abandoned his half eaten food in favor of closing his eyes and breathing slowly instead. They’ve been sitting like this for close to an hour. 

Dean is tired. He’s exhausted. And they haven’t even done anything – it’s just the thought of trying that has exhausted him, to the point where he can hardly form a coherent thought. It doesn’t feel normal. Dean’s been fighting tooth and nail to survive for years now, and it makes no sense to him that he’s this wiped out by what feels like thought alone. He should probably be thumbing through the index of that stupid book that Benny had given him, looking for an explanation as to why he seems to have the physical stamina of a newborn lately. 

Cas has been talking for a while now. He’s all excited about their visit to the center tomorrow.  Yammering on about the different vocation programs they run, discussing a slew of omegas and what they’d gone on to do after they’d hung their tags. It doesn’t seem to bother him that Dean isn’t really participating in the conversation, aside from the occasional hum of agreement. He’s only half listening – he feels spaced out. Not fully present. Normally, that would bug the shit out of him, but he’s too comfortable to care.

He only realizes he’s fallen asleep when Castiel gently shakes him awake. “Dean. I think we should go to bed,” he murmurs, and Dean can only nod groggily. He lets Cas gently guide him up from the floor, not even caring that the alpha is half carrying him once again. He’s way past the point where he gives a shit. 

He wonders how Sam would feel, seeing him like this. How he’d react to Dean be guided around with a hand around his waist like a damsel in distress. He’d probably laugh. 

Dean hopes he’d just laugh. 

Even that thought is not enough to make him pull away from the alpha, though. He sleepily follows Cas into the bathroom, brushing his teeth with robotic movements as he stands next to the alpha who is quietly doing the same. It feels domestic. Dean likes it. 

He wonders what Sam would think about that, too. 

Cas does a pretty good job of taking his mind off of his brother when he tugs him to bed. They curl under the covers together, and this time, Dean wriggles around so he’s facing the alpha right away. He looks up into Cas’s blue eyes, blinking slowly as he relaxes down into the soft mattress. 

“You’re very tired,” Cas observes lightly. His chest vibrates when he speaks. 

“Regular Sherlock Holmes over here,” Dean mumbles. He presses his forehead into Cas’s chest, sighing when he feels the alpha wrap his arms around him. His honey and rain scent is soothing as always, warm and safe and right, and Dean is honestly beginning to wonder how the hell he ever managed to sleep without this. 

A sudden shiver makes the hair on his arms stand at attention. Cas looks down at him with a squint. “Kinda cold,” he admits sheepishly, feeling a little silly for complaining about something so small. 

Cas hums. “I could get more blankets from the linen closet?” 

Dean just nods, too tired to tell Cas that he doesn’t need to, or that he’ll be fine without them. He knows he’s being weak right now, but he simply doesn’t have the energy to care. Cas carefully slips out of bed, and Dean shivers a little more noticeably with the alpha gone – but he’s back soon enough, a few extra quilts in tow. Without Dean having to ask, the alpha tucks the blankets snugly around him. Dean sighs in contentment, his shivers fading with the extra layers and Cas himself pressed back against him. 

“I hope you aren’t coming down with something,” Cas rumbles, and the scent of his worry tickles Dean’s nose. “Sitting out there in the cold like you did a few days ago…” 

Dean just nudges him. “Shh. Go to sleep, Dr. Novak.” 

Cas huffs out a soft laugh at that, and his worry dissipates. “Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Night, Cas.” 

When the sun rises the next morning, Dean is still half in a dream. 

For once, it’s not unpleasant. It’s soft, and it’s warm, and it smells like a thunderstorm and honeysuckle, and he can only half recall what exactly he’d been dreaming about. Whatever it was, it’s nice enough that he drifts into consciousness with a smile on his face, a pleasant sort of tingling running through him. 

He shifts a little, and freezes. 

It is immediately apparent that he’s hard. Uncomfortably, frustratingly aroused, to the point where he has to consciously restrain himself from bucking his hips against the mattress like a teenager. He can’t quite keep them from twitching forward a little, even then, and the resulting wave of pleasure is like an electric current. 

Fear, sharp and hot, twists into his gut – and it doubles when he opens his eyes and realizes that Cas is still in bed next to him. 

He has just enough presence of mind not to fling himself onto the floor. Instead, he freezes, his breath caught in his throat as he stares at the alpha with wide eyes. Cas has partially rolled away from him, thank God, but Dean is still laying on one of his arms. He looks dead to the world, breathing slowly on his back with sleep mussed hair, and Dean feels something pulse in his gut at the sight. His first impulse is to run and hide. 

His second is to stay. 

Cas doesn’t care, he reminds himself. He said so. Cas wants me to be happy. 

It takes a few seconds for the thoughts to actually sink in, a few more for Dean to believe them. But he does, eventually. Cas is not Alastair, and he’s not going to be mad at Dean for this. He’s not going to hurt Dean over this. 

He won’t hurt Dean over anything. 

He takes deep, careful breaths, shaking a little as he tries to stay quiet – he doesn’t want Cas to wake up to him like this, even if he won’t be angry about it. He can feel his cheeks heating at just the thought. But as embarrassment creeps in, the fear slowly leaches out, until he’s left with nothing but mortification and a raging hard-on that doesn’t seem inclined to go away on its own. 

Heart pounding, he slowly pulls himself off of the alpha’s arm, moving carefully so he doesn’t jostle the bed. As soon as he does, he grimaces – he’s slick, too. When he slides off the mattress, Cas frowns and shifts a little, but he doesn’t wake. 

Dean pads softly out of the room, making a beeline for the shower. It quickly becomes obvious that he’s soaked through his pyjamas a little, and that’s fucking horrifying, because Cas is gonna be able to smell that the instant he wakes up. 

He hops in the shower with his face burning red, little snakes of lingering fear and flames of embarrassment hot against his skin. The water is a shock to his system, cold as ice against his flushed body, and he stands in place with his arms crossed and waits for his little problem to solve itself. 

Except, it doesn’t. 

Instead, his fucked up little brain keeps giving him images of the alpha that’s currently asleep in his room. His blue eyes and his friggin’ bed head, his hands and his warmth, and – 

And what the fuck is wrong with him?

Since that shitshow on burger night, Dean’s done a pretty damn good job of keeping this kind of crap at bay. He’s had no other incidents. No other screwups. But he can’t seem to keep himself together, even though he should. Even though he knows Cas doesn’t want him like that. 

Dean closes his eyes, hooking his hands behind his head and leaning into the cold spray of the shower. He doesn’t want this. 

Well. More accurately, he knows that he shouldn’t want this. 

He tries to reason with himself. Tries to make excuses. It was bound to happen sooner or later, right? Sleeping every night with Cas was gonna affect him no matter what he did. Hell, even Cas is affected by the way they’re sleeping – though he hasn’t had another incident, Dean knows it was their proximity that probably set him off in the first place. 

Dean wishes he could pretend the same. That it was purely biology for him, too.

Problem is, the fact that Dean’s sleeping next to an alpha every night should do nothing but freak his subconscious the hell out. Because before now, Dean’s never once been happy to share a bed with an alpha man, and has never once wanted to wake up next to one.  

But it doesn’t freak him out... because it’s Cas. And Dean trusts Cas. Dean loves Cas. 

He takes a deep breath, scrubbing at his face. His lower body is friggin’ throbbing. Insistent that he do something about the situation he’s found himself in. But Dean can’t. His last little episode in the shower was proof enough of that. 

Frustrated, he reaches behind him and knocks the handle over to hot. He’s not gonna freeze his ass off if it’s not even gonna do anything. As the water transitions, he relaxes a little into the warmth, eyes still firmly shut. He’s breathing through his damn teeth. 

His brain is being extremely unhelpful. Supplying him with all kinds of images that are doing nothing but winding him up more. He thinks of Cas’s thumb on his chin again. Of his fingers gripping Dean’s. Of his hand combing through his hair. He thinks of the kiss that Cas pressed to his nape, and feels a shiver of want through his whole body. 

The instant he gives in and touches, fear knocks the breath out of him. His brain is flooded with can’t can’t can’t, some frantic, well-trained alarm bell going off in his head. It’s nearly enough to make him give up. Nearly enough to make him curl up in the shower and breathe too fast.

He grits his teeth and keeps going, wrapping his hand around himself firmly. 

Dean hasn’t done this since he was a kid. The realization is enough to spur him on. 

Holding his breath, he strokes himself in a jittery movement. The pleasure that ricochets through him is enough to make his damn toes curl, but of course it’s chased by the certainty that he shouldn’t be doing this at all. By the knowledge that this is ten kinds of fucked up. Dean keeps going anyway. He has to put a hand on the tile before long, has to lean forward and breathe harshly against the wall. 

All he can think about is Cas. Cas’s touch and his smell and his kindness, the calm control in his eyes, the gentle and sure way he acts and walks and talks. His flushed cheeks that morning that he’d woken up with a problem of his own. His face when he’s proud of Dean, and – 

The orgasm hits him like a kick to the chest. He gasps, pleasure rushing through him for a few clean seconds before the fear slinks back in. He puts both hands on the wall of the shower as he drags in breath after breath, his legs shaking. 

He wants to feel savage satisfaction. Wants to feel victorious, or at least defiant. But he just feels nauseous. At least that weird fog in his brain is gone now. A rough laugh bubbles up out of him as he wipes furiously at his eyes. 

Because, really, he doesn’t know. He’s pathetic. He knows Cas doesn’t want him like this, knows that Cas doesn’t even want to touch him like this. Cas friggin’ owns him. The last thing he should be doing is letting himself pant after the man. It’s stupid.  

And it’s only gonna hurt him all the more when Cas has to let him down gently. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he whispers to no one. His voice breaks. 

Despite the fact that he should probably be doing the exact opposite, Dean crawls right back into bed with Cas when he manages to get himself out of the shower. 

He can’t help it. He’d tried to go downstairs to start breakfast, but some unknown force had held him back, had oriented him toward Cas like a compass toward north. So, instead, he’d returned to his bedroom and wriggled back under the covers, rolling so he could press his forehead back into Cas’s chest. And even though he knows what’s coming, he still feels better when the alpha sleepily drapes his arm over him and pulls him in closer.

There’s a few precious minutes of peace before Cas starts to shift and wake up. Dean bites his lip, waiting for the inevitable. 

It doesn’t take long. The moment the alpha notices is almost comically obvious – he stiffens completely, his arm tightening around Dean like it’s a reflex. Dean can’t make himself look up to see what the alpha’s face looks like, but he can imagine. That trademark puppy-dog confusion, probably. Maybe concern. Maybe even a little pity. He’s certainly acting pathetic enough for it. 

Cas clears his throat. “Dean? Are you awake?”

If he could swing it, Dean would be melting through the floor right now. He can’t, so he nods instead. “And… uh,” Cas says inelegantly, shifting a little “Are you – I mean. Because I can smell… um.” 

Dean knows his face has got to be the color of a damn stop sign. “Woke up like that. Took a shower already,” he adds, almost like a confession – he’s pretty sure Cas can connect the dots on what that means. He swallows. “Sorry,” he can’t help but say. “I didn’t mean to.” 

Cas lets out a breath. Instead of pulling away like Dean half expected him to, he tightens his hold for a moment, a quick pulse. It’s comforting. “Ah. It’s alright,” he says easily. “Nothing to worry about.” 

Dean swallows. “You’re not mad.” 

It’s not a question. Dean knows that Cas isn’t bothered by this, at least not in a how dare my omega feel pleasure without permission sort of way. But it’s one thing to logically understand something, and another to truly believe it. Cas seems to get that, because he takes a deep breath and thinks about his words before replying. And, rather than make Dean tense, the silence reassures him. It’s proof that the alpha gives a shit about what he’s about to say. 

“I am not,” Cas finally agrees, his tone serious. “It is your body, Dean. You are entitled to do with it what you wish, and it's entitled to feel how it will feel.”

Dean can’t deny that he relaxes a little at that, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a breath. “I mean, I know that you think that. I really do. But…”

Cas doesn’t make him explain, thank God. He just hooks his chin over Dean’s head and runs a comforting hand up and down his back, breathing slowly. “I understand.”

Dean can’t help but huff. “I think I get why you were so freaked out the other day, now,” he mutters. “Because damn this shit is embarrassing.” 

The alpha chuckles. “It is. But, as you pointed out,” he adds, “it’s also completely normal. And understandable, given the circumstances.”

Dean can only nod at that – it’s hard to argue with logic that Cas is parroting directly from him. His stomach chooses that moment to growl, saving him from any more awkward conversation.

“Someone is hungry.”

“Friggin’ starving,” Dean admits, smiling to himself. He resists the urge to joke about how he worked up an appetite – that’s probably taking it a little too far. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

Dean can tell there’s something bugging Cas by the way he drums his fingers on the steering wheel. 

They’re headed to the center for the day – Cas had said something last night about getting his paperwork in to Jody. Dean hadn’t really been listening last night, so he only has a vague idea of what to expect. He hasn’t been brave enough to ask Cas to tell him again, considering it would make it damn obvious he hadn’t been listening in the first place. 

They’d shaken off the awkwardness of this morning surprisingly quickly, eating breakfast and joking lightly with each other as they’ve come to do. Cas had poured him a cup of coffee, and Dean had done the dishes. It’d been a nice start to the day, despite everything that should have made it otherwise. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dean says lightly, bumping down the volume on the radio a few notches. 

“Hm?” Cas says, glancing at him in a distracted sort of way. 

“What’s eatin' at you?” Dean asks, nudging him. “You’ve got that I want to say something but I’m worried it will upset you look on your face.” 

Cas makes a slightly different face at that, and Dean laughs. “Come on. Tell me.” 

The alpha sighs, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m just thinking about how you’re missing out on so many of the classes at the center.” 

Dean stiffens, wary immediately at the alpha’s tone. “Cas…” 

The alpha must pick up on his nerves, because he glances over and shakes his head. “No, don’t misunderstand. I’m not asking you to stay there, Dean. We’ve established that…” He clears his throat. “We’ve established that we’re better together, I think.” 

Relaxing, Dean smiles a little. There’s something inside of him that’s singing at those words, but he shoos it away. “Yeah. I think so too.” 

Cas nods. “Still. It doesn’t change that you’ve not had the same benefits as the omegas there.”

Dean takes a breath. “Well, I mean. I’m not exactly stuck on bed rest anymore, Cas.”

The alpha tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I could just… come back and forth with you. I’m willin’ to bet you didn’t work from home near as much as you have since I came along. Right?” Cas nods slowly. “Right. So… you could start coming back to work. And I could just, uh. I could just come with you. And then come right back home.” 

A slow smile spreads across the alpha’s face. “And you’d be willing to do that?”

Scoffing, Dean crosses his arms. “Wouldn’t have said it otherwise.” 

The look Cas gives him out of the corner of his eye tells him that the alpha doesn’t believe that – with good reason, honestly – but Dean really does mean it. He doesn’t like that Cas has been cooped up in the house for so long when it’s pretty clear he was a work-a-holic before. And, if he’s being honest, he kinda wants to start leaving the house more too. 

If he’s gonna be a free man – and it’s a pretty big if – he figures he’s gonna need to be able to be around more than two people at a time without flipping his shit. 

“I’d like that,” Cas says softly. He reaches down and squeezes Dean’s hand, a small smile on his face. “It’ll be good for both of us, I believe.”

“I think so too,” Dean agrees, squeezing back. “Did you have anything specific in mind? I could do something today, considering I ain’t got a session.”

Cas makes a thoughtful noise. “There are a few things you may enjoy looking into. We’ll figure it out once we get your paperwork sorted.” 

“Sounds good.”

Jody’s office is homey. Everything seems to have its proper place, even the knick-knacks and framed photos and drawings. There’s a little fish swimming idly back and forth in a tank on the bookshelf behind her desk. 

The woman herself is a tough looking beta with cropped hair, crows feet, and an intelligent gaze. When Cas knocks on her door, though, her smile is bright and sunny. Dean can relate – Cas makes him feel like that too, after all. 

They file inside, Cas first. Dean shakes off his nerves and follows him in. He’s found that he’s uneasy around new people, even if he logically knows they’re not someone he should be uneasy around. Doesn’t seem to matter to his brain, which seems convinced that anyone new is a potential threat. 

The woman hugs Cas affectionately, holding him by his shoulders for a moment so she can inspect him. “Been too long since I’ve seen you,” she comments, looking him up and down. “Glad you’re here.”

Cas smiles, and the easy air around him makes Dean relax a little. It’s clear he knows Jody well, and clear he trusts her. “I’m glad to be here as well.” 

“I’ll bet,” Jody says knowingly. She turns toward Dean after that, a softer smile crinkling the skin around her eyes. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Dean,” she greets, holding out a hand. Dean takes it and tries to shake it firmly, because he wants to make a good impression with her. He owes her a lot, after all. According to Cas, she’s the one who found him in the first place.

Jody nods pointedly towards the couch and table behind him and Cas. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dean grins, something like pride fluttering in his chest. “Yeah? Good stuff, I hope.”

She smiles again, watching as he and Cas arrange themselves. Dean, for his part, leans against the arm of the couch, half sitting and half standing. It’s about as much of a compromise as he can make without actually sitting down. Cas sits on the cushions next to him, glancing up at him with an encouraging smile. 

Jody starts pulling out stacks of papers, and with each document Dean gets a little more nervous. He knows this is all good stuff – Jody’s the one that told Cas about him in the first place, she wouldn’t do anything to send him back – but he doesn’t like seeing his name printed on things regardless. Brings up bad memories. 

She comes around to the front of her desk and drags over a small chair, spreading the papers carefully into neat stacks before sitting down. “Lots to go over in this initial meeting,” she says, tapping one of the piles. That one, she nudges toward Cas. “And lots to sign, Novak.” 

Cas smiles, pulling a pen out of his front pocket. He shuffles through the stack with the air of someone who has done this many times, and Dean can’t help but feel a wave of awe at that. How many times has Cas signed someone into freedom like this? He knows it’s only the first step, but it’s one that no other master he knows would even consider taking. 

“I’ve already explained most of this to Dean,” Cas says absently, neatly penning his name on the first line. “So there’s no need to go through the usual spiel.” 

Jody makes a relieved sort of noise, throwing her head back. “Oh, thank god. I’ve already given it three times today. Starting to feel like a broken record,” she jokes, smiling. It’s pretty obvious that she’s just humoring Cas. “You went through the tests he’ll need to pass? The vocational nonsense they require?”

Dean nods. “All of it. Printed it out himself,” he says teasingly, when he recognizes one of the stacks Jody still has sitting in front of her. “Gave me a copy and everything.”

Jody nods approvingly, tapping that same stack. “Any questions about it? I know some of the language can be confusing. It’s intentionally that way,” she says, her irritation with that fact crystal clear. 

Dean shakes his head. Truth be told, he hasn’t bothered to look at it at all. He’d set it down on the counter when they’d made it home and hadn’t bothered to pick through it again – his brain had been too tired to even consider it. Seems like it would be a good idea to read it. He promises himself he’ll do it when they get home. 

“You sure?” she pushes, frowning. She picks up the packet and flips to the last page. “Not even this part? Because I know it can be–” 

“Where the fuck is Kaia?”

Dean jumps about a foot in the air when the door to Jody’s office bangs open, turning sharply. Jody, for her part, suppresses a sigh, setting the papers down carefully.

Claire is standing in the doorway, eyes blazing. She looks ready to brawl, and even though her scent is still muted – Dean’s convinced she’s on heat suppressants, and maybe even a mild scent blocker – he can still pick up on the chili flake fury that’s filling the room. 

Jody shuffles the paperwork in her hands calmly, apparently unfazed by Claire’s attitude. “She’s with Dr. Lafitte, hon. I told you she had an appointment today.” 

“She doesn’t need to talk to him!” Claire snaps, her fists balled up at her sides. She’s either so worked up that she hasn’t noticed Dean and Cas are there, or so pissed that she simply doesn’t care. 

Jody purses her lips, her wrinkles suddenly looking a little more pronounced. Dean has got to wonder how many gray hairs this kid – and this job – have added to the woman. Living with a teenaged pit viper has got to be tiring. But her voice is unfailingly patient when she responds. “Claire, we discussed this. Kaia is perfectly fine with talking to Benny.”

The blonde bares her teeth. “She doesn’t want to. She told me she doesn’t want to. But you keep making her go, and –” 

“I am not making her do anything,” Jody says calmly, though Dean’s pretty sure he can see a shadow of tired exasperation in her face. “She agreed to go because she knows that it’s a good idea to talk to someone outside the house about the things she’s feeling.” 

Claire bristles. “And what, I don’t? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Jody takes a deep breath. She leans back, folding her hands in her lap, and damn Dean’s gotta hand it to her – she’s doing great with keeping herself non-threatening. It’s pretty clear that she’s worked around nervous people like them for a good long while. “I don’t feel like we should be having this argument right now,” she says reasonably. “Can we table this until we get home, please?”

Claire just scoffs, bound and determined to be upset. She finally glances at Dean, apparently only now realizing he’s in the room, and catches him staring. “Can I help you?”

From behind him, Cas clears his throat. Dean catches the exact moment that Claire realizes that he’s in the room – her eyes harden and her hackles raise instantly, even as she takes a half step back. “What is he doing here?” she snarls. 

Dean can already smell Cas’s scent swirling into discomfort. He’s stiff as a board, his palms up in his lap. He’s trying to look non-threatening, Dean realizes. It makes him feel an odd surge of protectiveness when he sees the spooked expression on the alpha’s face. He bristles, standing up so he can face Claire head-on. 

“Castiel owns this facility, Claire,” Jody says, eyes flitting between her and the alpha, calculating. Absorbing. Her tone is even, and it’s clear she’s trying to de-escalate things before they spiral even more.

“Not all he owns,” the kid taunts, sneering at Dean. “Are you his attack dog, now?”

Dean feels his lip rise up from his teeth, but he doesn’t get the chance to respond before Jody does. “Cool it, kid. You’re mad at me, not at him. Stay focused.”

It’s such a funny answer that Dean wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to look at Cas. The alpha is staring at Claire, eyes almost comically wide. He looks as though he’d like to be pretty much anywhere but here. 

From an outside glance, it might seem like Cas is afraid of Claire. But Dean knows that isn’t the case; Cas can smell Claire’s nervousness as clearly as he can. He can see the way she’s tensing up like she’s gonna take off running. He probably feels bad that he’s getting between Claire and Jody on top of his guilt over scaring her. 

Cas can’t help it, though – it's not his choice, being an alpha. Dean turns his back to Claire and catches his eye, smiling at him when he focuses. “Take a breath, Cas,” he says softly. 

The alpha blinks for a moment, but he eventually does. His shoulders relax a little, and he leans back into the couch cushions almost forcefully. 

“We were discussing Dean’s emancipation,” Jody says, clearly still trying to cool things down. “Just getting the paperwork started.”

Dean glances between her and Claire, who looks like she’s ready to start swinging at any second. “Maybe Cas and I should come back another–” 

“No.” 

Jody and Cas both speak at the same time, but the beta is the first to clarify. “Absolutely not. We don’t need any more delays. Claire can wait,” she says firmly, looking pointedly across the room at the kid. 

Dean protests again. “But–”

There’s a hand on his wrist. “Dean,” Cas says patiently. He’s clearly still on edge, but there’s a familiar look of determination in his eyes. “This really is important. There’s quite a few things I need to sign, and Jody has to bear witness. The sooner we get this initial part done, the sooner we can begin working on the rest.” 

The woman nods in agreement, completely ignoring her fuming charge in the hall. “The faster we get started, the better.” Hesitantly, Dean nods. 

“Claire,” Jody says calmly, turning back to look at her, “Maybe you could go down to the gym and blow off some steam. I know you’re upset, but right now I need to focus on this. I promise we will talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Claire seems to swell to about twice her usual size, clearly raring to start another argument. Dean steps in before that can happen. 

“Can I go, too?”

There are three pairs of eyes suddenly staring at him, and he shifts a little, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “To the gym, I mean. I’ve been wanting to check that out.”

Cas clears his throat. “Ah. Dean, that may not be–”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Claire hisses, “and, what? You think us little omegas should go run and play while the adults work? Is that it?”

Dean grimaces. “You are just bound and determined to be pissed off, aren’t ya?”

“Better than being a fuckin’ doormat!” 

This is shaping up to be a surprisingly familiar sort of argument, and Dean can’t place why until Claire crosses her arms and throws her hair back. It reminds him of Sam so suddenly and completely that he sorta feels like he’s been knocked in the stomach. 

He feels Cas’s hand on his arm a moment later, and it’s such an emotional whiplash that he feels like he’s starting to get a headache. “As much as I’d like to see you getting some physical activity,” Cas says, “The trainer is… well.” 

“He’s a big bad scary alpha,” Claire taunts. “And poor Deanie here can’t handle that, can he?”

Dean has the overwhelming urge to point out that it’s Claire who hasn’t stepped over the threshold of the room since she discovered there was an alpha in it, but he has a feeling that will only backfire. He takes a deep breath, because in a way, she’s right. His stomach is churning already, and Dean is probably going to embarrass the hell out of himself the instant he lays eyes on the trainer, but… 

“You trust him, right Cas?” he asks, nudging the alpha. He nods, still a little hesitant even when Dean gives him a smile. “Then that’s good enough for me. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Jody hums. “It probably will be, Dean. Gadreel is a very subdued person… and he’s on some mild scent blockers, just to ease things for the residents a little.”

Dean nods with far more confidence than he feels. “See? I’ll be fine,” he reassures Cas. “Besides, Claire’s kinda got a point. I should be able to be around alphas without losing my shit, right?” 

Cas frowns at his choice of words, but Claire beats him to the punch. “It’s sparring today. That means we’re fighting,” she says condescendingly, as if he wouldn’t know. “Seems like something you wouldn’t exactly be good at, seeing as how you look like a popsicle stick.” 

Dean snorts, standing up from the arm of the couch. “I bet I could school you in ten seconds flat, kid.” 

Just like he’d hoped, Claire puffs up again, indignant. “Oh, please. You’re gonna embarrass the hell out of yourself.”

Dean suppresses his grin. “We’ll see,” he half growls. Then he looks at Cas with his eyebrows raised. “So? Can I?”

Cas sighs, and Dean can already tell he’s gonna say yes before he even opens his mouth. But Claire cuts him off yet again. “Can’t you tell your master doesn’t want you to go, Dean? You should listen, otherwise you’re gonna end up with another fucked up knee–” 

“Claire.” Jody barks out her name, standing up from her seat. She looks like a mother on her way to grab her kid by the ear. 

But Cas raises a hand and stops her before she can start. “It’s alright, Jody. She doesn’t know me, and has no reason to trust me. It’s to be expected that she’d think the worst.” There’s something a little tight in his expression. 

Is this how he’d felt, when Dean had first arrived? Constantly having to prove that he wasn’t a monster? Constantly having to talk him off the ledge? He already appreciates Cas for everything he’s done for him, but all at once, Dean feels a new swell of gratitude. It can’t have been easy, dealing with him at his worst. 

The alpha takes a breath, pasting on something that looks like a smile. Even then, it’s strained. “Perhaps the two of you could eat lunch together as well, if everyone is amenable. That will give Jody and I some time to research some mechanic shops in the area that might be willing to take you on as a student, in a few months.”

Dean beams. “Thanks, Cas,” he says, and if he’s a little more enthusiastic about it because Claire is still glaring at them, sue him. He grins at her, gesturing to the door with a flourish. “Lead the way.”

She rolls her eyes, and he follows her out with one last wink at Cas thrown over his shoulder. A surprised smile flickers to life on his face, and Dean feels one hell of a rush at the sight of it. 

They go down to the gym in utter silence. Claire takes the stairs without a word, not even glancing at the elevator as they pass it. It’s a relief, but it also makes him wonder what kind of crap the kid has been through. Makes him wonder if it was the first round of training that made her wary, or if she grew into claustrophobia like he did - slowly but surely, an inevitable side effect of being forced into a hundred different kinds of cages.

He follows her silently until they reach a large set of double doors, with two smaller ones on either side. “There’s gym clothes in the locker rooms,” she says under her breath, and then heads toward the women’s side without a backwards glance.

Dean only hesitates a little before pushing open the door on the men’s side, wary of anyone else who might be using it. There are a couple omegas and even fewer betas wandering around, but no one spares him more than a glance. 

He lets out a tight breath, looking for the clothes Claire mentioned. Sure enough, there are stacks of gray shirts, both long and short sleeved, and gym shorts and pants. He smiles at the piles, knowing how much thought has gone into even this – right down to the clothing options, the people here care about the comfort of the residents. The little stalls next to the piles have some pretty obvious utility, too; he steps inside of one and locks the door before he changes. 

He pulls on a long sleeved shirt, but opts for shorts even though it shows off more of his legs than he’d like. It’s not that he feels too exposed, or at least, it’s not that exactly. It’s more that he hates the scattering of scars that the shorts show off. He figures, though, that if there’s ever gonna be a group of people that don’t judge him, it’ll be here. 

Since he doesn’t have tennis shoes, he decides to stay in socks. He’s not about to wander around in boots and shorts, thank you very much, and if he’s going to be sparring with Claire he figures he’d have to lose the things anyway. He’s only a little self conscious when he heads out, his clothes carefully folded and stacked inside a random empty locker. 

When he pushes open the doors to the gym, it takes him about half a second flat to zero in on the alpha trainer. He’s on the other side of the large room, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watches eight or nine residents line up on the edges of a row of soft mats. He is tall and broad, with short cropped hair and a sharp jawline. 

Dean swallows. He hates that his hair is already standing on end, hates the lurch of nausea he feels when he sniffs the air and picks up the faintest hints of the man’s scent. Jody hadn’t lied – it’s subdued enough that Dean knows the man must be on scent blockers. 

He takes a deep breath and steps inside, letting the doors swing shut behind him. There’s no reason to be afraid, because Cas trusts this man. He wouldn’t have let Dean go down here if he wasn’t absolutely sure it was safe. And a slightly closer look reveals exactly why he might be the type of alpha that could work in a place like this. 

The scars on his wrists look a lot like the ones on Dean’s. 

It’s rare for alphas to end up as slaves, but it’s been known to happen. As far as Dean knows, they’re pretty much exclusively dumped into the trade because of prison sentences, and they almost always end up doing one of two things – performing hard physical labor, or winding up as cannon fodder. 

It’s pretty obvious Gadreel was one of the latter. It’s no secret that, unlike omegas, alphas can actually earn their freedom. If they make it through their so-called deployment alive, they’re de-collared as a thank you for serving their country. As a fucked up reward for not kicking the bucket, or for actually managing to kill whoever the army pointed them at. 

The alpha looks up as though he can hear Dean’s thoughts – or, more likely, because he can smell Dean’s nervousness. All he does is nod a greeting, not moving a single step closer. 

Dean gets a hold of himself. Forces his legs to walk forward. He spots Claire across the room and makes a bee-line toward her, avoiding looking at the man again. 

Claire is busy lashing her hair up into a high ponytail when he joins her. She scowls at him immediately. “There’s a whole gym, and you wanna stand over here?”

Dean shrugs. “Thought we were gonna spar.”

As he speaks, Gadreel blows a short whistle to get his group’s attention. “Partner up, please, and practice blocks two and three. If you are just joining us, find someone who is more experienced.” 

Dean looks pointedly at Claire. “Let’s try it out, huh?” he asks. Maybe following along with the routine will help him shake out some of these nerves. 

Claire ain’t having it, though – she turns up her nose at him, flipping her newly done up ponytail. “No thanks. I’m good solo.”

“You’re good practicing blocks solo?” Dean says, raising an eyebrow. “Damn, you’re even more antisocial than I thought.”

Claire narrows her eyes at him, studying him closely. Maybe for weak points – Dean can’t be entirely sure. He stays relaxed, letting her inspect him. 

“Fine,” she mutters, after a moment. “But don’t cry when I kick your ass.” 

Dean grins, scooting his feet out on either side of him like he’s supposed to. Claire does the same, and it’s clear she’s had more practice than him – she seems steady on her feet, and sure of her stance. Dean, on the other hand, already feels a little wobbly. It’s been a long time since he fought someone good and proper. 

The whistle blows, short and sharp, and Claire’s already flying at him like her life depends on it. Dean scrambles backward, surprised, and just barely manages to dodge out of the way of a jab to the nose. 

“Hey!” he shouts, ducking as she leaps forward again. “This is supposed to be friendly sparring, Claire!” 

Claire grins sharply at him, feinting to the side – Dean just barely catches the trick and ducks in the right direction, avoiding the sweeping kick that probably would have taken his legs out from under him. At this point, he’s not thinking about anything that Gadreel had asked them to do. He’s running on instinct, on training that was beaten into him – literally and figuratively – when he was just a kid by a rightfully paranoid father. He dances to the side a few more times, and the more he dodges, the more frantic Claire’s punches seem to become. 

When he sees an opening, he strikes back. Not to hurt – unlike the younger omega, he understands this is not supposed to be overtly violent. Instead, he grabs her arm the next time she takes a swing at him and twists, quick and firm, until she has to rip out of his grip and retreat or be pushed to her knees. 

She’s red in the face, huffing and puffing, and there’s fire in her eyes. Dean doesn’t understand it. He can’t figure out what he did to piss the kid off, but she’s practically feral at this point – she lunges forward again without warning, and manages to get a blow across Dean’s nose with her elbow. 

It stings like hell and his eyes are already watering, but he’s had enough. In a quick movement, he hooks her legs out from under her and pushes forward. She lands on her back with a sharp huff, the wind knocked from her handily, and coughs a few times when she rolls to her hands and knees.

Dean lets her get up, taking a step back. He’s not at the point where he’s gonna try and pin a kid to the ground, especially not one that’s ended up here. Dean may be an omega, but he’s also a man – a tall one, at that – and he’s not about to risk sending Claire into a flashback or panic attack. 

She’s not exactly grateful for that consideration, though. When she looks up and sees that he’s simply standing there and waiting, she snarls and leaps forward. 

It’s only the sharp blast of the whistle that makes her falter. They both look up at Gadreel across the gym, gasping for air as sweat drips down their faces. 

“Claire,” the alpha calls out, tone as mild as it was when they started. “Give it a rest. And you, please clean yourself up.”

It takes Dean a moment to realize that the trainer is talking to him. Confused, he looks down at himself. There’s a couple of spots of red on his shirt – he looks up at Claire sharply, concerned that she might be bleeding. But the blonde just rolls her eyes. “Your nose, dumbass.”

He touches it experimentally, and hisses – it does not feel good. And, now that he’s paying attention, he realizes that it’s dripping blood. 

Even though it makes him feel far too exposed, Dean swallows his discomfort and strips off his shirt to hold it to his face. It’s ruined anyway, and he’s pretty sure that spreading the scent of omega blood all over the gym is a bad fucking idea. He lands heavily on the bench next to their little section of the floor, leaning his head back. At least he's against a wall.

To his surprise, Claire joins him a moment later. She sits down cross-legged on the mat in front of him, cracking open a water bottle. She takes a long sip of it, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and pretending not to look at the scars that litter Dean's body like graffiti.

“Can I ask what I did to piss you off so bad?” he says, after a beat of silence. He sounds irritatingly nasal with the shirt crammed against his nose. “Can’t figure it out myself.”

Claire makes a face. “You didn’t do anything.”

“So why were you coming for blood, just now? You know we were just supposed to be practicing blocks?”

The young blonde huffs, shrugging her shoulders. “Wanted to see if you could hold your own.”

Dean doesn’t buy it, but he can play along. “I’d say I was well on my way to handing your ass to you.”

“Who’s the one bleeding, here?”

Dean has to chuckle at that. “Okay, fair.” He pulls the shirt back experimentally, sighing when he immediately starts bleeding again. “Shit, you got me good.” 

Claire looks up at him. Her eyes drop down to the tags on his chest for a few seconds, and then her shoulders slowly slump. She looks down at her hands. “Shoulda’ dodged better,” she says flatly. Her heart’s not in it. 

Dean studies her. She looks… tired. Worn down, even more than the last time he saw her – and considering she was actively crying at that point, that’s not a good sign. “Hey, Claire?” She looks up. “You okay?”

Shock flicks across her face – it hardens quickly into suspicion. “What the fuck is it to you?”

Dean shrugs. “Nothin’, really. But you seem down.” 

She huffs. “‘Cause there’s just so much to be fuckin’ jazzed about,” she mutters. 

Frowning, Dean pulls back the shirt again. His nose isn’t dripping anymore, so he sets it to the side. “I mean… There kinda is, you know? You’ve got Jody, and that Kaia girl, right?”

At the mention of Kaia, Dean would swear that Claire blushes. He wants to grin and tease, but he’s pretty sure he’d lose her if he tried that. “So it ain’t all bad,” he tries, smiling encouragingly. 

She tosses her hair, looking away. “Says the omega sleeping with the boss.”

Dean flinches, because, wow – somehow, he hadn’t expected a low blow like that. Claire, for her part, seems to realize that she’s taken it a step too far. When she looks over and takes in the look on his face, she falters. “I – I meant, uh –”

“Save it,” Dean says coolly. “I know what you think of me.”

The young woman flushes. “I don’t…” 

“You do,” Dean says sharply. “You think I’m his whore. You think I’m letting him take advantage of me,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t fucking matter what you or anyone else thinks about it, because you’re wrong. Cas wouldn’t treat me like that, and I…”

He trails off, staring down at his hands. They tighten into fists. “I wouldn’t let him. I ain’t anybody’s bitch anymore.”

Claire doesn’t have anything to say to that. When he looks up, she’s got her arms crossed against her chest. She’s looking down. There’s something different, now – some crack in her wall that wasn’t there before. Some hole in her defenses. 

“Sorry.” 

Dean blinks, the bright flame of his anger extinguishing. He hadn’t exactly expected an apology, but the kid sounds genuine. She worries at the hem of her shirt, jaw tight. “Just. You know. Sometimes, alphas ain’t what they say they are. Sometimes they promise to give you the world, and then they…” 

Dean softens. He lets out a breath. “And then they just take. Right?”

Claire nods. She still hasn’t looked at him. “You know what I hate more than anything?” Dean just waits, elbows on his knees as he listens. “I hate that I sometimes don’t hate him. Even now. Sometimes I don’t hate him.” 

She whispers the last part, shame swirling in her muted scent. Dean takes a long breath. “He got you collared, didn’t he?”

She laughs, and the sound is bitter. Dean pretends not to notice when she wipes angrily at her face. “Didn’t even know I’d signed that contract till the collar was on. He waited till I was in heat. I don’t remember doing it.” 

“How’d you end up here?”

Claire shrugs, but there’s no hiding the hurt in her voice. “Guess he got bored of me. Sold me a couple months later, and Jody picked me up after that.” 

Dean looks at her for a while, this young woman. Someone who had her whole life ahead of her, and lost it - all because she made the mistake of trusting the wrong person. Her jaded view of the world makes a hell of a lot of sense, coming from a background like that, and Dean can’t exactly blame her for the suspicion she carries around with her like a lead weight.

She might be getting her second chance, but Dean's the last person who can judge her for thinking it's too good to be true. 

He sighs and stands up. She glances up warily, but all he does is offer his hand. Something wavers in her face, and for a moment, Dean thinks she’s going to refuse. But she doesn’t. She clasps his arm, and he hauls her to her feet and straight into what Sam used to call a bro-hug, pounding at her back like they’re a pair of football players at a frat party. 

It’s so sudden and cheesy that he succeeds in startling a laugh out of her – she shoves him off with a groan. “Gross, Dean! You’re sweaty, you bastard!”

He grins at her, holding out his hands. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who went all wrestle-mania on me.” 

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is genuine. He bumps shoulders with her affectionately, only just resisting the urge to mess up her hair even more. “Now, where can a guy get a shower around here?”