Work Text
Dean stood in front of his closet, staring blankly at the clothes hanging there.
It was the same routine every morning—pick something, try it on, realize it didn’t fit like it used to, then fall into a pit of self-loathing. His hands trailed over the buttons of his favorite green plaid shirt, the fabric tighter around his chest than it used to be. It stretched uncomfortably when he moved, and Dean sighed heavily, pulling the shirt off and tossing it onto the growing pile of rejects on his bed. "Great," he muttered under his breath. "Nothing fits anymore." He finally settled on an oversized hoodie, one that was a little too warm for the spring weather outside but hid what he hated about his body. He pulled it over his head and turned to face the mirror again, frowning at the reflection that looked back at him. Dean's stomach twisted with familiar disgust. He could still hear Sam’s voice from the night before—his brother jokingly telling him how his jeans barely fit anymore, laughing as he told Dean to cut back on the burgers if he didn’t want to outgrow his clothes completely. "Just jokes," Dean told himself. "He didn't mean it." But it hurt. The comments always hurt.
At university, things weren’t much better.
As soon as Dean walked into class, he felt the usual prickle of discomfort, like eyes were constantly on him, judging. It wasn’t paranoia either—he knew what people said. Even in casual conversations, his weight was often the punchline, and it gnawed at him like a parasite. Ash, one of his classmates, called out from behind as Dean walked by. "Hey, Winchester! You hit the gym yet, or are you just bulking up for winter?" Dean kept his head down, gripping his notebook tighter. "Just ignore it," he muttered to himself. But it didn’t stop. His close friend, Benny, chimed in. "Man, maybe you should just stop eating. Cas is a catch—don’t want him running off with someone who can actually fit through a doorway." Laughter rippled around the room, and Dean’s chest tightened, his pulse racing with humiliation. His face flushed red as he made his way to his seat, keeping his gaze locked on the desk in front of him.
At home, things weren’t much better.
Mary Winchester meant well—Dean knew that. But sometimes her well-intentioned suggestions to "watch what you eat, honey" felt more like sharp daggers than helpful advice. Even John, who rarely commented on Dean’s personal life, had recently suggested that Dean "start lifting weights again" because "you don’t want to let yourself go." But what stung the most was Sam. Sam was his brother, the one person who should have understood him. But even Sam teased him about his weight, sometimes laughing about how Dean couldn’t fit into his old leather jacket anymore or how he barely squeezed into his car’s seatbelt.
One afternoon, after another barrage of comments from friends and family, Dean found himself at the gym again, pushing himself harder than ever.
His muscles screamed in protest, his lungs burned with the effort, but none of it seemed like enough. He wanted to shrink, disappear, stop being the guy everyone laughed at. Dean was in the middle of a punishing set of bench presses when a familiar voice called out from the doorway. "Dean!" Dean let the barbell clatter back onto the rack, looking up to see Cas standing there, concern etched across his face. "What are you doing, my love?" Cas asked, stepping closer, his blue eyes filled with worry. "You look like you're going to pass out." Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his chest heaving with exertion. "Just… trying to get rid of this, angel." he mumbled, gesturing vaguely to his stomach. Cas’s brow furrowed. "You don’t need to get rid of anything, baby." Dean shook his head, his voice bitter. "Everyone thinks I’m fat, Cas. Everyone says I should lose weight—Mom, dad, Sam, even the guys at school. They all think you’ll leave me because I’m—" his voice cracked, "because I’m ugly." Cas’s expression softened, and he moved closer, cupping Dean’s face gently. "My love, none of that is true. You are not ugly. You are not fat. And I would never leave you. You’re everything to me." Dean’s eyes welled up with tears, his voice shaking. "But I feel disgusting, Cas. I feel like I’m not good enough. Like you deserve better." Cas’s grip tightened on Dean’s face, his voice firm but filled with love. "Baby, you are more than good enough. You are kind, strong, funny, and brave. Your body doesn’t define who you are. I love you—all of you. And I always will."
The next day, Cas decided enough was enough.
He found Ash and his group of friends lounging in the courtyard between classes, laughing and making jokes. As soon as Cas approached, the laughter died down, a tense silence filling the air. "Ash" Cas said coldly, his voice laced with anger, "If I ever hear you or anyone else making comments about Dean again, you will regret it. He doesn’t deserve the cruelty you throw at him." Ash blinked, surprised by the venom in Cas’s usually calm voice. "Dude, we’re just messing around—" "No," Cas cut him off sharply. "It’s not messing around when you hurt someone. Dean has done nothing to deserve your insults, and I won’t stand by while you make him feel like he’s less than what he is." Ash and the others exchanged uneasy glances, and Benny, who had been sitting nearby, cleared his throat. "Cas, we didn’t mean—" "Then stop," Cas said firmly. "Because I love Dean, and I will not tolerate anyone treating him like he’s anything less than the incredible person he is."
Later that day, Cas had a conversation with Sam as well.
"Sam," Cas started, his tone serious. "You need to stop making comments about Dean’s weight. It’s hurting him more than you realize." Sam looked guilty, his eyes widening. "I didn’t think it bothered him that much." "It does," Cas said firmly. "He looks up to you. When you tease him, it makes him feel worthless. Just stop this." Sam nodded, shame flickering in his eyes. "I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll stop, Cas. I’ll make it right."
That evening, Cas found Dean curled up on the couch, looking lost and exhausted.
He gently sat down beside him, pulling Dean into his arms. "You don’t have to listen to them, baby." Cas whispered, his voice soothing as he pressed a kiss to the top of Dean’s head. "You are more than enough, my love. You are everything to me." Dean leaned into Cas’s embrace, his voice small and vulnerable. "I just want to feel good about myself, angel. I want to stop feeling like this." Cas held him tighter, his heart aching for the man he loved. "You will, my love. We’ll get through this together. I’ll remind you every day if I have to, how much I love you, how perfect you are. And one day, you’ll believe it too." Dean sniffled, blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes. "I love you, angel. I don’t deserve you, but I love you." Cas’s heart swelled with emotion as he gently tilted Dean’s chin up, their eyes meeting. "You deserve all the love in the world, baby. And I will always be here to give it to you." With that, Cas leaned down, capturing Dean’s lips in a tender kiss. It was soft and filled with all the love and reassurance Dean needed. Cas’s hands cradled Dean’s face as if he were the most precious thing in the world, and to Cas, he was.
Weeks passed, and though the insecurities didn’t vanish overnight, Dean began to see himself in a new light.
Cas had been relentless in his love and support. Every time Dean looked in the mirror with doubt in his eyes, Cas would appear behind him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and whispering words of affirmation. "You’re strong," Cas would murmur. "You’re beautiful, my love. And every part of you is worthy of love." It wasn’t easy. Dean still had moments where the old feelings of self-hate crept back in, especially when someone made an offhand remark. But Cas was always there to chase away the darkness.
One evening, a few weeks later, Dean stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection.
He was wearing a T-shirt that fit a little tighter than he liked, but it was comfortable. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t immediately hate what he saw. Cas walked into the room, noticing the thoughtful expression on Dean’s face. He approached slowly, wrapping his arms around Dean from behind, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. "What’s on your mind, baby?" Cas asked softly, pressing a kiss to Dean’s neck. Dean sighed, but it wasn’t the heavy, self-loathing sigh Cas had grown used to hearing. This one was more thoughtful. "I’m just… trying to see what you see." He ran a hand over his stomach, his fingers brushing against the fabric. "Trying to see myself the way you do." Cas smiled gently, tightening his grip on Dean’s waist. "You’re getting there, my love. It’s a process, but I’m so proud of you." Dean nodded, his eyes softening. "I wouldn’t be here without you, angel. You’ve… you’ve made me feel like I’m worth something." Cas turned Dean around in his arms, cupping his face gently. "You’ve always been worth everything, my love. You just needed someone to remind you." Dean leaned into Cas’s touch, feeling the warmth of his boyfriend’s love surrounding him. "I still have bad days," Dean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But with you, I think I can handle them." Cas pressed his forehead against Dean’s, his breath warm against Dean’s skin. "I’ll be here for all the bad days, baby. And I’ll be here for all the good ones too. You’re never alone."
The next day, in class, Dean walked in with his head held a little higher.
The usual whispers and snickers followed him, but this time, they didn’t sting quite as much. Cas’s words echoed in his mind, a soft reminder that he wasn’t defined by the judgments of others. Ash and his group were sitting in the same spot as always, their eyes flicking to Dean as he entered. For a moment, Dean tensed, expecting the same cruel remarks. But then, before Ash could say anything, Cas appeared at Dean’s side, sliding into the seat next to him. He shot Ash a pointed glare, his message clear without a single word spoken. Ash and his friends exchanged awkward glances but said nothing. Dean glanced at Cas, his heart swelling with gratitude. Cas gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand under the table. "See?" Cas whispered. "You’re stronger than you think, baby. You don’t need to listen to them." Dean nodded, his chest feeling lighter than it had in a long time. "Thank you, angel."
As the weeks continued to pass, Dean found himself healing, little by little.
With Cas’s unwavering support, he began to take care of himself—not out of shame or fear, but because he wanted to feel good. He went to the gym because he enjoyed it, not because he felt he had to. He ate what he wanted without guilt, learning to enjoy food again without the weight of judgment hanging over his head. Every step of the way, Cas was there—his constant source of love and encouragement.
One evening, months later, Dean stood in front of the mirror again.
This time, he smiled. He wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t need to be. He was enough. Cas appeared behind him, as always, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. "You’re smiling, my love." Cas noted with a soft smile of his own. "I love seeing that." Dean turned in Cas’s arms, his heart feeling full. "You’ve given me everything, angel. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you." Cas shook his head, his blue eyes filled with love. "You don’t need to repay me, baby. Your happiness is all I’ve ever wanted." Dean pulled Cas into a kiss, soft and full of love. When they pulled apart, Dean whispered, "I love you, angel. I love you so much." Cas smiled, resting his forehead against Dean’s. "And I love you, baby. So much"
As the years went on, Dean’s insecurities never fully disappeared, but they no longer had the same hold over him.
With Cas by his side, he learned to love himself, flaws and all. And through it all, Cas remained as protective, caring, and loving as ever. Together, they faced the world, knowing that no matter what, they would always have each other.