Archive of Our Own ^beta

Now that they were wrapped up in each other, warm and close, Dean was embarrassed by his little speech a few minutes ago. He’d invested so much time and energy into maintaining a facade, and now he couldn’t tell you why. Why it had seemed so important, why he’d spent years now carefully keeping it from falling down. Pretending that it defined him, that such a warped vision of masculinity was all that he was. 

All those protective layers, and the effort of tearing them down, had seemed so oppressive, so all-encompassing just five minutes ago—but now that was already fading like a distant memory. He felt ridiculous for having been so invested in them, and wanted Cas to know that this, this was what actually mattered. Not Dean’s strange, wounded masculine pride that now felt like a cicada’s shell, left behind and forgotten.

"Hey, um,” Dean said softly, “I was wrong, by the way. After all that buildup and everything, when it came down to it, when I actually opened my mouth….Those were the two easiest words I’ve ever said. And I know I didn't actually say it before, so I'm saying it now, properly. I love you."

It was, really. So easy now, from the moment he’d laid his hand on Castiel’s. That touch, warmed by the knowledge that it was a wanted touch, a desired touch, possibly even, if he was very lucky, a hungered-for touch, shook loose all the layers of crap Dean had still been hiding in. How could any of that matter anymore?

He pressed his mouth against Castiel’s, a soft kiss that was meant more to seal his words than to lead to anything more. He had thought Cas might freeze up; that talk of a lack of a sex drive left him completely unsure as to what Cas would, in the end, want or reject. But when he pulled back to check in—“Good?” he murmured—it was Cas whose voice was low and aroused as he replied—“Very.” And it was Cas who leaned in for the next kiss, coaxing Dean’s mouth open immediately.

This time, their mouths slid open against each other, tongues carefully feeling their way at first, then pushing and sliding more insistently. Then Cas dug his fingernails into Dean’s back, pulling him impossibly closer, and Dean felt his knees buckle just a little at the possessive gesture. He slid one hand down experimentally to feel Cas’s ass, which was firmer than he expected. His other hand was tangled in dark hair, and he moaned as Cas began to lick and nibble at his ear. He tried to respond in kind, but Cas turned at the last second and caught him up in another kiss. If there was one thing Dean had not expected, it was that Castiel would take control of this situation—but damned if it wasn’t every fantasy of his come true. He felt the need to push back a bit, though, if only to ensure that Cas would continue to put him in his place.

He started pushing at Cas’s two coats, working them off those broad shoulders while their mouths pulled at each other. This Cas acquiesced to, flinging the trenchcoat on the table Dean was by now leaning against. But when, in the middle of another desperate kiss, Dean began to work on his tie, Cas pulled him close and rocked his hips into him hard, making it clear that he would not roll over and let Dean take control. This, to Dean, was bliss, and as he felt the growing hardness in Castiel’s pants press against his, he knew exactly what he wanted. And it was suddenly very urgent that Cas know that.

He pulled back from the kiss, gasping for air. “Fuck,” he breathed, “Apparently I am just wrong about everything today. That thing I said, about going slowly?” Cas nodded, and his demeanor changed immediately. The demanding, pushing, controlling, taking Cas was gone in a flash, and he was pulling back, ready to give Dean his space if needed.

All sorts of dirty thoughts were pouring into Dean’s head by now, everything he wanted to do to Cas and have done to him. He grabbed Castiel’s shirt before he could move too far away and pulled him back in. 

“Yeah, fuck that. I never thought that I would actually, in real life, want a dick in my mouth, but here we are.” At Dean’s words, Castiel’s face changed again as he let out a low, raspy groan, and Dean was immediately back under his spell. But he wanted to test Cas’s limits again, see how aggressively he would respond. So he pressed in, licking and sucking at Cas’s throat, grabbing his hair to pull his head back. Cas groaned, but only let himself wallow in the feeling for a fleeting moment, before Dean suddenly found himself being pushed back onto the table, and none too gently.

Castiel held him there for a few seconds, looming over him just inches away, daring him to try to get up. Dean couldn’t quite kiss him, but his hands were exploring Cas’s body more thoroughly now, from this new angle. Then he suddenly remembered where they were.

“If Sam walks in and finds us doing the nasty on this table, he’s gonna pull out an angel blade and gank us both,” Dean said, panting, hands still roaming over Castiel’s chest and hips.

Cas stood up immediately, pulling back from the table. But before Dean could get up himself, Cas had grabbed his arm and pulled him up roughly. Cas tugged on his arm to bring him close. His eyes were dark and hungry.

“Let’s get to your bedroom, then,” he growled, “and then I can see to your mouth.” Dean could barely nod before Cas stalked off toward Dean’s room, leaving his coats and a panting Dean behind, tugging on his tie as he went.

Dean quickly scribbled a note for Sam, then scrambled off after Castiel. He felt a vague sense of guilt at not having obeyed quickly enough, then smiled at himself. “Oh, you got it bad,” he muttered as he walked down the hallway.

When he turned into his doorway, he stopped short. Cas had his tie off, his shirt unbuttoned and pulled off his shoulders, and was unbuttoning his cuffs. He pulled the shirt all way off as Dean stared. Cas was always buried under so many layers of clothing, it was easy to miss how muscular and well-defined his body really was. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, still staring.

Cas finally turned and looked at him. 

“Take off your shirt,” Cas said. His tone wasn’t particularly forceful, but it was clear that this was not intended to be a request. Dean was vaguely aware of nodding as he began to unbutton his cuffs.

The feeling of automatically doing as he was told sent a thrill through him—but he also realized that there were things they needed to work out before this escalated. Oh, how he wanted it to escalate. “Look, Cas, if, uh—if this whole thing is going in the direction I think it’s going—and let’s be real, the direction I hope it’s going—we should really choose a safeword.”

Cas’s brow furrowed, his head tilted to one side. Dean couldn’t help smiling at the familiar gesture in the middle of all this newness. “A safeword. Used as a part of BDSM sexual practices.” Dean could see Cas’s eyes lose focus as he undoubtedly looked up every reference to safewords in his new pop-culture-loaded mind.

“Whoa, no—stop going through your mental Library of Congress, okay? If you find 50 Shades then we’re screwed before we start.” But before Dean could explain any further, Cas interrupted, looking curious but also concerned.

“Do you think that’s what we’ll be doing tonight? Bondage, discipline, dominance, submission—sadism? Masochism?”

“Well, not all of that. At least, definitely not all of it tonight,” Dean said, undoing the first button on his shirt. “But, Cas, the D/s—Dom/sub thing… We’re already doing it.” He moved a bit closer, unbuttoning his shirt a little slower and opening it a little wider as he did, dropping his voice. 

“When you told me to take off my shirt, and I didn’t even think about it, I just started doing what you said. You liked that, right?”

Cas nodded, his eyes dropping to Dean’s hands as they moved over another button.

“And in there. Pushing me down. Pulling me back up. You liked that, too.”

Cas’s looked back up at him with startling intensity. “Yes.”

“Well. I like those things, too, Cas. I wanna give you exactly what you want. And if I don’t, I want you to take it from me. So here’s how it works,” he unbuttoned the last button, then paused to make sure Cas was listening. “You can do… anything you want to me. Make me do whatever you want me to do. And believe me, Cas, I will let you do some freaky stuff to me if that’s what you really want. And no matter what I say or do—I say no, I say stop, I could be crying, I could be begging you to stop—you don’t have to stop unless I say the safeword. Got it?”

“No,” Cas said, “I don’t understand. Why would you beg me to stop if you don’t actually want me to? I don’t want to ignore you if you want me to stop.”

Dean shrugged. “Sometimes, if things get really intense, you say things you don’t really mean. Things slip out. And honestly,” he slipped the shirt off his shoulders and took a step toward Cas, closing the gap between them, “In case you didn’t notice in there, I like putting up a little resistance. Just to feel you push back. Having a safeword means you don’t have to worry about whether or not you’re crossing any lines. You just keep pushing, and I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough.”

Cas nodded slowly, looking at Dean as though he were entranced by him. Being looked at like that—Dean could get drunk off of it. “I do want to… push. But—you’re sure?”

“Do you trust me, Cas?”

“Implicitly.”

“Then trust me to tell you if you reach my limits. And I’ll trust you to listen. It’s simple.” He laid his hands lightly on Castiel’s waist, fighting down the urge to kiss him again until they got this sorted out. “It doesn’t mean we can’t talk. We can always check in with each other, make sure we’re both enjoying things, whatever. Any time. And honestly, if you ever want to do something that’s actually dangerous, we really should talk about it first. Especially since, well,” he glanced down at Cas’s well-muscled chest and arms, grinning, “you are just a little bit stronger than me.” 

He gave Cas a reassuring smile. This wasn’t the first time Dean had laid out ground rules with someone who clearly wanted to dominate him, but had no experience—but it had usually been some girl he picked up at a bar whose definition of kinky turned out to be some spanking and maybe furry handcuffs. He’d never been actively submissive with someone who was both inexperienced and actually likely to hurt him if things went south. But he’d also never, never once, done this with someone he trusted to take care of him the way he trusted Castiel.

Cas nodded again, this time with more certainty. “Okay. What should the safeword be?”

“Nothing fancy, but not something either of us would ever say normally during sex. You can safeword out, too, if you need to. It’s never a problem. How about…” he cast around in his head for something that would be a bit meaningful to them, but not overly sentimental. He smiled. “Perdition. For when I need you to pull me out.”

Cas actually laughed at that, a sound Dean hadn’t heard many times before. He slid his arms around Dean. “Perdition.”

“And, ah, if we happen to be engaged in some sort of activity that would, y’know, prevent one of us from speaking, let’s say three short grunts will work.” They were leaning in toward each other now, the gravity between them taking over, and Dean knew that in another moment he’d be in too deep to think about things like rules. Best to get everything out of the way now, before -

“Three short grunts,” Cas murmured, and then his hands were cradling Dean’s head and they were kissing again. There was desperation in it, like they needed to make up for all their missed time right now. Now that both their shirts were off, the warm slide of skin seemed to heighten every sensation. Within moments, Dean was panting, and he could feel that they were both getting hard again.

He pulled back from the kiss just enough to part their mouths, smiling a little at the way Cas’s mouth chased his for just a second. “Cas,” he breathed, “I’m yours now. What do you want from me? I’ll do anything.”

Cas looked him in the eyes, then let his eyes roam around Dean’s face and down his body. Dean had seen this look before, in the eyes of the more experienced Dommes he’d run into, deciding what to do with him. To see it on Cas’s face nearly made him tremble. He could feel the anticipation building inside him, making him tense, and he took a breath to relax. He let his mind slip down a notch, into a floaty sort of space where all that mattered was awaiting Castiel’s command.

Cas put one hand lightly on the side of Dean’s face, as his eyes continued to wander. They went to Dean’s lips, and his thumb stroked them gently. Dean let out a shaky breath and resisted the urge to bite or lick the thumb. Finally, Cas’s eyes came back up to his own.

“Kneel,” Cas told him. It was a soft, almost tender command, but still very clearly a command.

Dean dropped to his knees possibly a bit faster than was really necessary, because they were already starting to loosen from the weight of Cas’s gaze. He immediately leaned in to nuzzle at the bulge in Cas’s pants, some distant part of his mind marveling at how hungry he really was for it.

But Cas reached down and carefully took Dean’s chin in his hand, guiding him away from his target so that he was looking up at his new master.

“Not yet,” Cas said mildly. His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at Dean, and Dean basked in his gaze. He knelt there, hands dropped to his sides, green eyes locked on those blue ones that always seemed to betray their nonhuman origins, if only just.

“Undress me. Shoes, then socks, then belt, then pants. Leave my underwear on. And no… touching.” He looked almost curious as to whether or not Dean would actually do what he said. Dean was eager to show him just how precisely he was willing to follow commands; he thought that Cas had likely only meant no touching his dick, but Dean undressed him slowly, meticulously, without touching an inch of skin.

He started with the shoes, untying them without breaking eye contact then sliding them off carefully, never looking down. The socks were a little trickier—he had to look to make sure he didn’t accidentally brush a bit of ankle while he peeled them away, one then the other. Then he reached up and unbuckled Cas’s belt, careful to keep his hands clear of everything else, and slid it out of the loops. Finally, he looked up at Cas again, and couldn’t help licking his lips a little and biting his lower lip as he undid the button. His nostrils flared, his breathing heavy now, and he could hear Cas’s breathing as well. He gently, deliberately took the zipper pull, then latched a finger from his other hand through a belt loop to keep the pants pulled away from Cas’s body while he unzipped them, never letting any of it touch what he knew he shouldn’t. He heard Cas let out a shaky breath when he was done, and Dean was pleased that he was having such an effect. He finally slid the pants down, and Cas stepped out of them. Dean folded the pants and set them to the side, then looked back up at Cas, hands folded in front of him, waiting obediently for further instructions.

Cas slid a hand across Dean’s shoulder and down his bicep, and Dean almost shivered with the contact. Cas tugged lightly at his arm, and Dean stood up. They were standing barely two inches apart, both nearly panting. Dean felt himself straining not to touch, intoxicated by the restraint it took. Cas just watched him, eyes a mix of fascination and desire.

Finally, Cas let their noses brush lightly, but when Dean tipped his head to one side for a kiss, he pulled back minutely and said, “Sit on the bed.”

Dean actually gasped at the denied contact, then swallowed and pulled himself together. He moved around to the side of his bed, and sat down at the edge, back straight. Then Cas shocked him by dropping to his knees before Dean.

They locked eyes, and Cas roughly pulled Dean’s sneakers off without bothering to untie them. He ran his hands up Dean’s calves, then down to his socks and pulled them both off at once. Then he grabbed Dean’s foot and bent down, kissing it, sucking his toe. The message was clear: You don’t touch me, but I can touch you wherever I like.

Dean let his head tip back and his eyes fall closed, savoring the contact. After Cas had lavished affection on both of his feet, he slowly rose, rubbing his face against Dean’s calves as he did. He paused with his head between Dean’s knees, face turned in toward one of them, and the tiniest of moans escaped from Dean’s lips. Cas looked up at the sound, and smiled softly when he saw how affected Dean was.

Both the smile and the softness faded, though, and then Cas was kneeling in front of Dean again, watching him, turning his head this way and that. As Dean sat and breathed through the building anticipation, he wondered what Cas could possibly be considering so closely.

Then Cas was surging forward, taking Dean by the biceps and pushing him back onto the bed until he was half lying-half sitting, propped up by his elbows, with Castiel straddling him and crowding him.

For a second, Dean tried to push back, wondered if he could goad Cas into pushing him all the way down—but then he looked into Castiel’s eyes. And he could see, deep back in his pupils, a blue spark in each one.

Dean froze, trembling, as the gravity of his situation came crashing down around him. He wasn’t in love with a man. He wasn’t sleeping with a man. He was at the mercy of one of the most powerful beings in the universe—quite possibly the most powerful at the moment. He’d handed control over to someone who could literally kill him with a touch of his fingers—with only a single word as protection. Flashes of a crypt, of blood, of an angel blade rose up before he could push them away. His breaths came faster as terror grew within him.

Castiel leaned closer, into his face. Dean was barely holding back panic as he tried to scramble away, but Cas’s hands held him fast.

“Yes. You are mine now, Dean,” Castiel rumbled. A distant voice in the back of Dean’s head was simultaneously telling him to safeword out, and shrieking that it wouldn’t matter anyhow, he’d gotten himself in too deep already. But that voice was clearly losing the argument with the rest of his body, as he was now rock hard. He heard himself whimper, and clamped down on the urge to scream.

Then darkness flickered around them. After a second, Dean pulled his eyes away from Castiel’s long enough to register that the lights weren’t flickering—they were being obscured by flickering wings. He could see Castiel’s wings. But they weren’t raised high in a display like the first time they’d met. They were wrapped around the two of them, gently shielding them from the rest of the world.

And just like that, the panic was gone, replaced by awe. His mind settled back down into a place of trust and love and submission. The wings only appeared for a few seconds, but they communicated their message clearly.

While Dean’s head was still slightly tilted to take in the wings, Castiel tipped his head down, laying his mouth gently by Dean’s ear.

“And I will take such good care of you.” His voice, while soft, seemed to fill Dean’s mind.

“Castiel.” The word fell, broken, from his mouth. He was starting to reel now from the adrenaline crash, and after Cas kissed him gently on the temple and pulled away, he let his head fall down as he gasped to catch his breath.

But after only a few seconds, Castiel was releasing Dean’s arms and instead cradling his face in his hands, tipping it back up towards him. He ran the knuckles of one hand gently over Dean’s cheek, while Dean’s head leaned on the other hand.

Dean could see the blue sparks, in fact they were flaring larger, nearly filling Castiel’s pupils, but they didn’t scare him now.

“You are so cherished,” Castiel said slowly, his voice filled with an intensity of emotion that Dean hadn’t been entirely sure that Cas was capable of as an angel. Dean knew that he shouldn’t be, hadn’t been, and if he was now, it was entirely because of Dean. The thought made him gasp for air.

“That is what I what I want, Dean Winchester.” The angel leaned in until their foreheads were touching, their noses brushing, their mouths a scant half an inch apart. Dean could feel Castiel’s breath on his lips. “To worship you.”

But he still didn’t give Dean the kiss that he craved. Instead, he tilted Dean’s head back and began to kiss his way down Dean’s neck. Dean felt like his entire world had come crashing down and been built back up again in the past three minutes, and he decided that since there was no way he could make sense of it in this state, he would push it all aside and focus on the immediate sensations.

Dean groaned as Cas kissed the sensitive spot at the base of his throat. More than anything, he wanted to drag Cas back up, to pull him close and wrap himself around him and kiss him until his mouth ached. But as far as he could tell, he was still under a no-touching order, and he stayed put, doing his best not to writhe or thrust his hips as Cas turned his attention to Dean’s nipples.

Soon Cas was moving further down his body, making sure not just to lick and kiss every inch but also to grind every inch of himself against the insistent bulge in Dean’s pants as he slid down. Finally, Cas was once again kneeling between Dean’s knees, but this time he leaned in and began to nuzzle into Dean the way Dean had to him before. Dean’s breath stuttered as he watched, transfixed by the image of this incredible, beautiful man (angel) sliding his face against him as though it were, in fact, an act of worship.

Dean was just starting to think that he could come from that alone when Cas finally pulled back and began to undo the button on his jeans, then the zipper. Then Cas gave his jeans a small tug, and Dean lifted his hips so Cas could slide them off, along with his boxers. Cas took a moment to let his eyes slide all over Dean’s body. When they reached Dean’s eyes, Cas held his gaze while he bent down, flattened his tongue, and slowly pressed it down onto Dean, right at the base of the shaft, and dragged it from root to tip. Dean thought it might be the filthiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel—an angel, as he’d been so recently reminded—making a complete show of the fact that he was giving a blowjob. And making sure that Dean watched every second. Dean let himself moan, but he didn’t let himself break the eye contact, as much as he wanted to drop his head back.

After he reached the tip and licked the head a few times, Cas finally dropped his eyes. He took Dean in one hand and began licking and mouthing at him again, faster and more enthusiastically this time, all around the shaft but still working his way slowly back to the tip. Dean was thankful that he was taking his time, teasing him a bit—if Cas had taken Dean in his mouth immediately, this would have been all over already. As it was…

When Cas reached the tip, he wrapped his tongue around the head, then took it into his mouth, sucking gently. Dean let out a cry.

“Fuck, Cas, this isn’t going to take very long.” Dean’s voice was strained.

And then Castiel pulled back. He kept his hand around Dean, but pulled the tip out of his mouth and started kissing down the shaft lightly.

“Not yet,” he murmured as he went, “I don’t want you to orgasm yet, Dean.”

Dean screwed his eyes shut and tried to think about anything that would help. He’d been right on the edge as soon as he’d felt Cas’s mouth around him, and he was still there, balancing and trying as hard as he could to fall on the side Cas wanted. He pictured Sammy walking in on them. That helped, but not enough when Cas’s hand was still around him.

“Then please don’t touch me,” he finally said in a rush through clenched teeth, immediately ashamed that he’d had to say it. It had been a long time since he’d done anything involving orgasm denial, and he was out of practice. That combined with having been the hardest he could remember being, even before Cas had touched him, made this impossible. He should have been able to keep himself together despite even Cas’s mouth, let alone his hand, and shame washed over him that he’d had to ask for help.

But Cas let go of him immediately, pulled back and started kissing the insides of his thighs. As soon as he did, Dean could feel himself backing away from the orgasm he’d been almost sure was inevitable a moment ago.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, his chest heaving.

Castiel’s head tilted to one side. “Why would you be sorry?” he asked, speaking in the same slow, measured voice he’d been using since they started, “Do you have any idea how arousing it is that you couldn’t hold yourself together while I was touching you? That the only thing holding you back right now is my self-restraint?”

Dean had to close his eyes again before the weight of Cas’s words, combined with his heavy gaze, threatened to push him back over without so much as a finger on him.

Then he heard Cas standing up, and he decided it was safe to look again. Cas motioned to the floor in front of the bed.

“Kneel.”

Dean let out a breath. This would help. Moving around, following orders. He slid off the bed and knelt in front of Cas.

“Finish undressing me.”

Dean remembered at the last second not to touch. This was harder than before, because, well… Cas was harder than before. Dean let out a shaky breath when he realized that all of this had gotten Cas every bit as turned on as it had him. But Dean managed to pull the elastic of Cas’s boxers out far enough to ease it over his swollen dick without touching.

After Dean tossed away the boxers, Cas sat down at the edge of the bed and Dean turned to face him, still kneeling. Cas spread his knees apart, and since Dean hadn’t been told not to look, he did, mouth watering. He liked going down on girls, liked it even better when it was dangled in front of him the way this was now. But he had never in his life wanted to get his mouth on someone as badly as he wanted his mouth on Cas right at that moment.

Castiel slid his hands down Dean’s arms to his hands, which he took in his and placed on his thighs. “You can touch me now, Dean.” he said. He put one hand on Dean’s face, running a thumb over his lips. “And you can do exactly what you’ve been wanting to do all night.”

Dean groaned into Cas’s hand, and then Cas was pulling away, leaning back on his elbows as he’d forced Dean to do.

Dean ran his hands up Cas’s thighs slowly, considering how to go about this. Obviously, he’d never given a blowjob before, but he’d been on the receiving end countless times and knew what he liked and didn’t like. He didn’t know yet what Cas liked, but he could start with his own preferences and figure things out from there.

He leaned in and pressed his tongue to the sensitive spot beneath Cas’s balls. When he heard a sharp intake of breath, he licked and lapped at it, wrapping his arms under Cas’s legs to knead at his thighs as he did. He worked his way up, licking up the crease of Cas’s legs, one after the other. Then he licked at Cas’s balls, and took one into his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue. He decided that this felt much, much weirder than actually sucking his dick possibly could—but the moan it pulled out of Cas was more than worth it. Enough worth it that he immediately went for the other one, sucking harder on it this time. He felt Cas’s fingers running through his hair and closed his eyes, trying not to moan from such simple contact.

He finally raised his head to look at Cas, and what he saw almost made him moan himself. Cas’s head was tipped back, his eyes closed and mouth open. Castiel had stayed so composed so far, seemingly in control of every movement, every word he said. Dean had felt and seen the proof that he was having an effect in Cas’s boxers, but it was nice to get confirmation that this wasn’t limited to one part of his anatomy, that Dean was shaking loose every piece of him.

Dean stayed there, watching him for a second too long, and Cas looked up to see why there was no more contact. Dean took the opportunity to lock eyes with him, then bend down, flatten his tongue, and give Cas the exact same show he’d gotten earlier. And God, Dean could get off just watching Cas’s face. The eye contact itself was as intense, as electrifying as ever—but now Cas’s features twitched and trembled, broadcasting every sensation. 

When he got to the tip, Dean ducked down and took the head into his mouth without even thinking about it. By the time his brain caught up, he’d already wrapped his hand around the shaft and was swirling his tongue around the head. And by the time he’d finished doing that, he’d decided that so far he kinda liked this sucking dick thing. The smooth skin, the drops of salty precome at the tip, and above all, the noises he was pulling out of Cas already, and he was just getting started.

He spent a bit more time on just the head, listening to the moaning and panting as he rubbed his hand up and down the shaft. Then he thought well, I might as well keep going and see how I do. He was more nervous about this part—what if he gagged embarrassingly quickly? What if he had to stop because his jaw hurt before he could make Cas come? What if he just wasn’t very good at it? 

But he knew better than to let himself dwell on his insecurities like some teenager. He eased his way down, taking another inch, sometimes only another half inch, at a time. Cas’s hand grew tighter and tighter in his hair as he went, encouraging him. When he was far enough that the head was near his soft palate, he remembered something a woman had told him when he asked what exactly she’d done that felt so good. He pushed the dick firmly against the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swallowed, rubbing his tongue against it as he did. He was surprised at how much suction it created, and he bobbed his head a bit to take advantage of it while swallowing again. He was wondering if he’d done it right when -

“Fuck. Dean.” Cas’s voice was barely recognizable, somewhere between a broken moan and a sob. Dean was glad he’d been pulling back when he heard it, because the shock of Cas saying fuck at all might have been enough to make him gag, let alone that he sounded so wrecked saying it. He shifted a bit so that he could turn his eyes up to see what was happening, and the sight made him moan around Cas’s dick himself. Cas was looking down, watching him, but it was clear that it was an effort to keep his eyes open. Each time Dean would apply a bit of pressure, they’d snap shut, and Cas would pry them open again, absolutely intent on watching Dean. His mouth hung open, his whole body moving with the force of his panting, and his expression was hungry, predatory. Dean was sure he was getting close.

Which, Dean realized as he looked back down at what he was doing, meant that Dean needed to figure out pretty quickly if he was a swallower or a spitter. He pulled off to take a few breaths and hopefully keep Cas from coming before he could make a decision. Cas let out a whimper at the loss, but Dean kept a steady rhythm with his hand to make up for it, cupping Cas’s balls with his other hand for good measure. He licked at the head while he considered his options.

Swallowing was hot, clearly, and he wanted to do everything he could for Cas. But… swallowing. Swallowing semen. He was enjoying the whole giving head thing overall, but that seemed like another level. But then he remembered what Lisa, of all people, had told him once. She had shrugged and said she didn’t really see the point in spitting. The head was usually far back in her mouth already, spitting would mean moving the stuff all the way around to the front of her mouth, and holding it there while she pulled off and found a place to put it. Swallowing got rid of it quickly, and it never left the back, never touched most of her tongue. He could see the logic, and he figured he might as well try it.

That decided, he started working his way back down, sucking a bit harder this time because fuck he wanted to feel Cas come. He was rewarded quickly with more moans and cries. When he tried swallowing around it again, he could feel the shaft swelling a bit and realized Cas was getting close. He could feel himself getting harder again just thinking about it, and he reached down with the hand that had been at Cas’s balls to pull at himself once or twice.

Sure enough, within a few seconds Cas was gasping, “Yes. Dean. I’m going to—yes.” 

Dean listened to Cas’s voice deteriorate into choked yeses as he felt warmth flooding into his mouth. He wished to god he could see Cas’s face right now, but he had suddenly found himself in the very real position of having to deal with actual semen in his actual mouth, and the sounds alone were enough to distract him. He quickly began to swallow as he felt more pulses coming, and he decided that Lisa was right, as she tended to be about most things. That seemed to get it out of the way quickly enough, and while he could taste it, it wasn’t overwhelming. He also knew from experience that swallowing during the orgasm felt pretty damn good, so he hoped that he was adding one or two more yeses to the list.

Dean felt and heard Cas collapse back onto the bed, and his hand left Dean’s head. Dean took a moment to lick up any stray drops of come before he looked up. He panicked a bit when he realized that Cas was covering his face with his hands. Shit. Maybe Cas was regretting this already. Maybe angels really aren’t supposed to have orgasms. Maybe… But before Dean could work himself up or, worse, run away, Cas ran his hands down his face and settled them on his stomach. His head lolled to one side so that he could look down at Dean, and although he looked thoughtful, there was a small smile on his lips.

Dean resisted the urge to feel shy or awkward—he’d never been so close to someone before ever giving them an orgasm, and somehow that shook him a bit. He was thankful for the dynamic they’d set up, because falling back on his role helped a lot. He smiled, then sat back on his heels and waited. He didn’t have to feel the need to say anything, do anything—just wait to see what Cas wanted him to do. It was comforting.

After a few seconds, Cas pushed himself back up on his elbows and then sat up. He was still smiling, but it was sheepish, and his gaze kept skittering away from Dean’s. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Dean cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Finally Cas said quietly, “I, um… I wasn’t entirely certain that I would be able to achieve orgasm as an angel.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, but he was smiling. 

Cas finally shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Now we know,” he said, sounding amused himself.

“You didn’t think to tell me this before I had your dick in my mouth?” Dean chided him. He doubted the words had much bite, as he was pretty sure right now he was looking at Cas like a schoolgirl looks at her prom date.

Now it was Cas’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You seemed quite intent on performing oral sex. I wasn’t sure the outcome even mattered.”

Dean could feel himself blushing, but it’s not like he could deny it. “Yeah, yeah. But man, I would have felt really inadequate.”

Some of the heat returned to Cas’s gaze as he slid his eyes over Dean’s body. 

“Not at all inadequate,” he murmured. Then he slid down of the bed so that he was kneeling in front of Dean. He put his hands on Dean’s hips and pulled him in. Dean threaded his hands through Cas’s hair, enjoying the slow and languid pace of a post-orgasm kiss.

Soon, though, Cas moved down and began sucking and nipping at his throat, and Dean let his head tip back, wallowing in it. His erection had finally calmed down a little, but it quickly began to call attention to itself again. Cas bit down on his neck, then pulled Dean’s hips hard against him, making Dean cry out. He found himself hoping that Cas would leave a mark, wanting him to lay a visible claim. 

As the bite deepened, Dean dug his nails into Cas’s shoulders even as his legs started to go weak. He had a real weakness for biting—he could certainly enjoy other types of pain under the right circumstances, but being bitten would always, always drive him crazy. He moaned loudly, which only made Cas bite down even harder. Dean was sure now there would be a bruise, and the thought brought out more noise—they were caught in a feedback loop that was making stars explode behind Dean’s eyelids, making his hands involuntarily scrabble at the perceived attacker even as the rest of his body went slack.

Finally, Cas pulled back, leaving Dean panting and weak, moaning into Cas’s shoulder. If Cas hadn’t still been holding his hips tight, Dean was completely sure he would involuntarily sit back onto his heels, because holding himself up was far more than his legs could handle right now. Cas covered the spot he’d bitten with soft kisses.

“I should never have healed my mark on your arm,” he growled, inspecting the bite mark.

Dean lifted his head, sliding his hands up Cas’s neck and into his hair.

“So do it again,” he pleaded breathlessly. Somewhere in the back of his head, some part of him knew that this was a ridiculous thing to want. He laughed at people who got their lover’s name tattooed on them; it was never a good idea. And on your first night together? But this wasn’t a tattoo, and even if he and Cas never had sex again, they had left too deep an imprint on each others’ lives already.

Cas reached up and took Dean’s hands, lowering them from his hair. He leaned in and kissed Dean gently.

“I want to,” he said in a low voice, “But not tonight. Like you said, anything dangerous we should talk about first, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not in a talking mood.”

Then he stood up, leaving Dean kneeling, feeling a bit woozy and drunk on endorphins. Cas walked around behind him, and Dean’s breath picked up again in anticipation. He felt Cas’s hand on his head, smoothing through his hair.

“I told you angels have no sex drive, which means that as an angel, I never feel the need to masturbate,” Cas said slowly. “When I was human, though, I did. I thought about you. Every. Single. Time. There were other people I was attracted to, but nobody I have ever wanted the way I want you.”

He tipped Dean’s head back so that Dean was looking up at him.

“But I told you, I’m not in a talking mood. Have you ever thought about me when you were masturbating?”

“Yes,” Dean rasped.

“Good. Lie down on the bed,” Cas told him, “I want to watch you touch yourself, and I want you to tell me what you thought about, when you were thinking about me. But no orgasm.”

Dean drew in a shaky breath, then finally dragged his eyes away from Cas’s. He climbed onto the bed, then arranged some pillows so that he could lie against them and not be completely flat, so he could still see Cas where he stood at the foot of the bed—but not so much that he was sitting up, as that hadn’t been his instructions. He lay back, knees bent and splayed so that Cas had a good view. To his surprise, though, once he was settled Cas climbed onto the bed and crawled toward him, finally kneeling back on his heels between Dean’s knees.

Dean waited to see where Cas wanted to look, and was pleased when he made eye contact instead of looking down to where Dean’s hand was moving toward his dick. Holding Cas’s gaze, Dean started to slide his hand lightly over the skin. If he wasn’t allowed to come yet, he wanted to start nice and slow.

“After purgatory,” he started, his voice low and rough, “I started having dreams about you. I thought you were hot before then, but I was in denial. That was when I admitted it to myself, I had to admit to myself that I wanted you. I had this dream, over and over and over again, that you would appear by my bed in the middle of the night. When I sat up to talk to you, you’d push me back down, and you’d hold me there with your angel mojo, so I couldn’t move at all. Then you’d go down on me. And I’d wake up so fucking hard. If Sam was in the other bed, and he usually was, I’d run to the bathroom to jerk off. In the middle of the night, because you’d gotten me so wound up I knew I wouldn’t get back to sleep until I did.”

He moved his other hand down to squeeze and pull at his balls a bit. Cas’s eyes darted down for just a second, and Dean was gratified to notice that his breathing was getting heavier.

“Go on.”

“Well, once we found this place—got my own room. I can do this,” he gave his dick a hard pull, “whenever I want. At first, I thought no, no, dreams are one thing, but… I’d try to think about a girl, someone I’d been with, or just some generic female body to fuck. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time… I couldn’t keep you out. So I gave up trying.

“I’ve got this one fantasy, one of the first ones I really let myself get lost in. We’re back in purgatory, running from god knows what. We find a little cave or something to hide in, all huddled close, breathing each other’s air. And I get up to go out and see if whatever monster it was is still around, but you grab me. You pull me back in and throw me on the ground and hold me there. I try to fight you, try to push you off, but you’re too strong, you shove me right back down and you’re on top of me, holding me down, telling me it’s not safe and you’re not letting me go. You’re angry. And I can feel you getting hard, rubbing up against me, but I don’t say anything because I’m getting hard too and I know you can feel it. You turn me over, hold me down and press against me. I can feel you rubbing against my ass, and the whole time you’re telling me in my ear all the things you’ll do to punish me if I try to get up again.”

Dean paused.

“Then what happens?” Cas breathed.

Dean smirked. “That’s about as far as I usually get with that one.”

Cas reached down, and Dean followed the movement and was surprised to see that Cas was already hard again. So angels can have orgasms and basically no refractory period, he thought. That’s convenient.

“Keep talking,” Cas commanded, wrapping a hand around himself and starting to move it slowly.

“Well,” Dean started, “Once I let you in, you were all I could think about. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined giving you a blowjob? Or just jerking you off? Maybe in public, even, in some dark alley after we’ve killed something. Imagining it was your hand on me. Sometimes -” Dean paused, feeling like he was about to cross another line in some imaginary sand that he knew only existed in his own mind. He licked his lips. “Sometimes I put my fingers in my own ass and imagine you’re fucking me.”

“Do you use lubricant when you do that?” Cas interrupted him.

“Yeah.” Anticipation curled in Dean’s stomach as he wondered where this was going.

“Get it out.”

Dean’s breath stuttered. He let go of his dick to reach over to the beside table. It took a minute of fumbling for him to pull out the half-full tube of lube he kept there. Cas held out his hand, and Dean gave it to him.

Dean went back to stroking himself as he watched Cas carefully squeeze some out and coat his finger. He realized what was coming, but he still gasped when Cas pressed his finger against Dean’s hole.

He moaned as Cas worked a finger into him. He had to be very careful now, not give in to the urge to bring himself off immediately. Because it wouldn’t be hard at all, god no. He let go of his dick entirely and massaged his balls instead. His hand bumped against Cas’s, a visceral reminder that this wasn’t another fantasy, and he had to let go of his balls, too, and grab hard onto the base of his dick to hold things off. Dean gritted his teeth and flung an arm over his eyes, but even without looking he could feel the slide of Cas’s finger, working in and out of him. He mentally begged Cas not to touch his prostate, or it would be all over.

“Keep talking,” Cas said again.

Dean let out a shaky breath, but kept his eyes covered and closed. He didn’t want to stop touching himself like Cas had asked him to, but if he did anything with his dick right now besides just hang onto the base for dear life he would lose control. So he took his hand off that and rubbed and pinched at his own nipples.

“I—I imagine -“ Dean took a deep breath and started again. “I think about you fucking me, ramming into me as hard as you can. Coming inside me. Leaving me all slick and dripping. But then—then I turn you over. And you spread your legs out for me and pull me down, and then I’m inside of you. And god, Cas, I think about how tight and hot it would be -“ Dean broke off with a strangled moan, covering his face with both hands now. He resisted the urge to thrust down, fuck himself on Cas’s fingers (at some point a second one had joined in, Dean hadn’t even realized until now).

When Cas pulled his fingers out, Dean whined at the loss. But he was trembling. He was pretty sure that Cas was going to fuck him, and even though he’d had dildos up his ass several times before it was still, on some level, a scary thought. (And maybe he’d done other things, with other men, while he was a demon, but those memories were tucked away with his memories of hell and he wasn’t opening that box tonight.) He wanted it, he definitely wanted it, but it was crossing another one of those lines. Imagining it, then saying it, then doing it… But the thrill that ran through him at the thought was all that mattered.

With Cas’s fingers gone, he was better able to hold himself back, so he finally moved his hands to look down. Now Cas was stroking himself, watching Dean. The lube from his fingers was spreading all over his dick, and Dean decided this was it, he was definitely getting fucked tonight. The thought made him want to grab his own dick again, but he did so carefully, gently, not wanting to go too far.

“You are so beautiful like this,” Castiel said, as though he were making an observation. “Wanting. Needing. Desperate. So human, Dean. And you’ve remade me in your own image.” His voice broke minutely, emotion starting to spill in where he’d been so dispassionate a moment ago. “I want. I need. I am desperate.”

Then Castiel was climbing over him, caging Dean in with his arms, pushing down into his face. Their bodies were flush together on the bed, Cas barely propped up at the elbow so he could look down at Dean. Dean couldn’t look away if he tried. He didn’t try.

“Look at what you’ve done to me, Dean,” Castiel’s voice was commanding, and the thought shot through Dean’s head that Cas was angry, he didn’t want to feel these things, he blamed Dean and now he would punish Dean for it.

But then Cas was kissing him, and he was sliding his arms around Cas’s back and they were kissing and writhing and moaning into each others’ mouths.

“You’ve given me,” Cas panted between kisses, “The beauty of humanity,”—gasp, kiss—“I can never repay you,”—lick, moan—“But I can love you”—mouths, hands—“I can give you myself.”

Dean could barely process everything—the words, the bodies. Overwhelming. He wasn’t even sure what noises he was making, if he was saying words or Cas’s name or just crying out. He tipped his head back, silently begging Cas to take his neck again. As Cas bit down, Dean finally gave in to his urges and began thrusting his hips against Cas’s, their erections sliding against each other.

“Please—please can I—please Cas—please let me—“ he was begging now, begging and pleading and he really hadn’t thought that he would actually be reduced to this, not on their first night together, but he had never felt so desperate in his life.

Cas pulled away from his neck. “Not yet,” he said, low in Dean’s ear. “Soon.”

Dean choked out a sob, and realized there were actual tears on his cheeks. Just as he thought he couldn’t possibly hold back yet again—Cas rolled away from him, breaking the contact. The sudden loss of heat was a shock on his skin, and once again he felt the orgasm recede.

Cas grabbed the lube again, and Dean thought oh thank god, oh he’s going to fuck me and then I can finally come, he wants me to come while he’s fucking me.

But then Cas was straddling him, bracing himself on one arm over Dean, reaching back. It took Dean several seconds to realize what was happening, that Cas was using the lube on himself. Dean let out a small moan when he realized what was about to happen, and he grabbed the lube himself to spread some on his dick.

Finally, Cas positioned himself carefully over Dean, then leaned over and spoke quietly into his ear: “Is this what you want?”

Dean looked him in the eye. “Yes,” he choked out, “Yes, fuck, Cas, yes.”

And then Cas was lowering himself onto Dean. Dean felt the press of Cas’s hole against him, and clamped down on the urge to thrust up into him. He’d done this with enough women to know to let Cas control the movement. Especially since Cas had only spent a minute or two preparing himself, as Dean could feel in the tightness as his tip pushed in.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and threw all his concentration into not moving, and certainly not coming. He held onto the base again, keeping it steady but also holding himself back. Cas worked his way down, taking him in inch by inch. At one point, Cas grunted and Dean’s eyes flew open.

“If it hurts, we don’t have to -“

“No. No, it’s just… it’s good.” But the moment had the effect of reestablishing their eye contact, and once that happened, Dean couldn’t look away.

Once he did, briefly, to glance down and see himself, half-buried in Cas, but he looked back up immediately.

“Fuck, I can’t even look at that, Cas,” he said, starting to run his hands over Cas’s body, “It’s too good. You’re too fucking hot. I hope you want me to come inside you, because I don’t think I can hold it back again. You feel too good, you look too fucking good.” Dean let himself ramble, needing to get out some of the tension somehow.

Cas clearly liked it, because when Dean mentioned coming inside him, he moaned and pushed down further than before. Now Dean was almost all the way in. To distract himself from the main event, he started stroking Cas with the hand he’d covered in lube.

Cas let out a cry. “Not yet,” he said, and to Dean it almost sounded like he was the one begging now, “I don’t have your self-control.”

Finally, Cas was fully seated on him. After a moment, Cas started to move, tortuously slowly at first, and Dean let out a low moan. He remembered his fantasies, how hot and tight he imagined Cas to be, and how they were absolutely nothing compared to the reality of it.

Cas started to move faster, fucking himself on Dean, and this time when Dean reached for him he nodded enthusiastically.

For few minutes there was nothing but the sounds of bodies sliding and colliding, moans and cries and Dean sometimes didn’t even know which were from him. Now he was holding himself back because he genuinely didn’t want this to end—the tight rub of Cas’s ass around him, the slick hardness in his hand, Cas’s breathing just inches from his face. He hadn’t gotten to see nearly enough of Cas’s face while he was blowing him, and now that he was fucking him he wanted to make up for that.

But it didn’t take long, not long at all, not nearly long enough, for him to feel the pressure building quickly, pushing him to the edge he didn’t think he could back down from again.

Luckily, he wasn’t the only one this time. Cas pushed his hand away and started to stroke himself, and Dean took the opportunity to grab Cas’s hips with both his hands, and now that Cas had loosened up, fuck into him the way he really wanted to. Cas cried out at this, but it was clearly a cry of pleasure, not pain.

Cas caught Dean’s gaze one more time, his eyes dark, “Now, Dean. Now.”

And almost immediately, Dean felt Cas clench around him as white streaks flew out across his chest. That was enough to send Dean over, and waves of pleasure overtook him. The orgasm that had been pushed away so many times now came tearing through him like an electrical storm. He was vaguely aware that he had come all over him; the thought only made it hotter, and he plunged into Cas erratically, filling him with each thrust.

The ecstatic pulses lasted longer than usual, but too soon he was coming down, panting and moaning as the aftershocks ran through him. He pulled Cas down into a kiss, and they stayed there like that for a long moment, just kissing and floating down from their highs.

Finally, Cas pulled back minutely to smile and nuzzle at Dean. “You’re a mess,” he said, laughing. Dean had never seen him so relaxed, so open. He couldn’t believe how beautiful it was, and how devastatingly in love he felt at that moment. He laughed along with Cas.

“Yeah, you’re one to talk, just wait ’til I pull out. We are definitely going to need to shower.” Dean did pull out after that, and Cas made a face as he felt the wetness pouring out of him.

Dean started to sit up, to head to the shower, but Cas stopped him. He touched Dean’s chest and it was clean. Dean was glad for an excuse not to get out of the bed.

“Convenient,” he said as he flopped back down. “Can you magically get us under the covers, too?”

“I think we can manage that using your traditional laws of physics,” Cas said, starting to pull the blanket out from under them.

“My traditional laws of physics,” Dean muttered as he slid in under the sheet, “Like your physics are so much better.”

Cas rolled onto his side and cocked an eyebrow, smiling. “You weren’t complaining when my physics got the semen off your chest.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that, so instead he curled up into Cas’s arms. As a rule, Dean wasn’t much of a cuddler after sex, but the exception to that rule was definitely after a particularly intense scene. And tonight had been the most intense—well, he hesitated to call it a scene. There had been too much bare honesty, too much raw emotion, for him to think of it in terms that he usually used with women he wouldn’t be seeing again. Not that he couldn’t do that with Cas, but tonight what he thought would be a pretty simple scene had transformed into something else entirely. Whatever it was, it had been intense enough that he needed comfort right now. He didn’t have it in him to explain aftercare, not right now, so he wrapped his arm around Cas’s waist and buried his head in Cas’s chest and hoped for the best.

He felt arms tighten around him, felt soft kisses in his hair. Yes, this was nice. It maybe wasn’t everything he needed, but it was a very good start.

“Was that—was that okay?” Cas asked quietly.

Dean huffed a laugh into his chest. “Okay? Cas, that was possibly the best sex of my life. You know, your first time with someone isn’t supposed to be mindblowing. Now you’ve got a reputation to live up to. You should’ve set a lower bar.”

He thought he could feel Cas smiling into his hair. “That’s not what I meant,” Cas said, and Dean was sure could hear a smile in that, too.

But when Cas pulled back to look at him, he looked concerned. “I scared you. Earlier. You were terrified, Dean, I know that wasn’t an act. Was that okay?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. I just—somewhere in the back of my head, some little piece of me flashed back to Naomi, and tried to tell me that yeah, I trust you, but maybe you weren’t in charge anymore.”

Cas looked horrified. “I didn’t mean to remind you of that.”

“It’s honestly okay, Cas. I knew it wasn’t true. It was just a little voice in the back of my head, and I wasn’t listening to it. Besides,” one side of his mouth curved up in a flirtatious smile, “in case you didn’t notice, I kinda got off on it.”

“I… did notice that, yes,” Cas admitted, “That’s why I didn’t stop immediately when I saw that you weren’t just intimidated.”

“Well you were right,” Dean said, sliding a hand up Cas’s neck and into his hair. “You handled that really well. I could have safeworded out if it was really too much, but I didn’t, and you pulled back before it went too far.”

Even though it had been Cas who needed reassurance, this conversation was already helping Dean feel more settled. He just needed to process some of what had happened, and this helped. But Cas still looked worried.

“I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” Cas finally said, “But I did that for a reason.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, but waited quietly for Cas to go on.

“I need you to remember that I’m not human. Sometimes… I think you forget that. But—I am an angel, Dean, and eventually I’m going to do something—act like an angel instead of a human, and you’re going to be disappointed.” Castiel looked resigned, which Dean didn’t like. Dean shrugged.

“And sometimes I’m gonna act like a human, and you’ll be disappointed. It happens. Look, what we’re getting into here, it’s—well, it’s not normal, we know that. But we’ll figure it out.”

“You shouldn’t trust me, Dean,” Cas blurted out, “I’ve lied to you, I’ve betrayed you, I’ve deceived you, I’ve hidden vital information from you. You have no reason to trust me.”

“What?” Dean propped himself up on his elbow so that they were eye to eye. “You pulled me out of hell, Cas. You’ve given up heaven for me how many times? ‘Cause, see, I’ve lost count.”

But Cas was firm. “Angels use humans. I’m no different. I’ve used you for my own purposes before. You have no reason to think I won’t do it again.”

“Oh yeah, like I haven’t done that shit to you? But you told me earlier that you trust me implicitly? This is how we work, Cas, and that has nothing to do with what happened tonight or—or what might happen. Hell, how do you think we even got to this point? It’s because we’re idiots, Cas.” Dean shook his head. Cas didn’t know this? “We’re only here because we are each other’s blind spots. Always have been, since the day you gripped me tight. If we were smart, if we were reasonable, rational people—if anything we did made any sense? We woulda turned our backs on each other long ago. Forget this, we wouldn’t even be speaking to each other. But we never do. We come back, and we trust each other again, and shit happens, and one of us fucks up again, and we come back again. And again, and again.”

Immediately part of Dean wished he could have found a gentler way to say it, seeing the heartbroken look on Cas’s face.

“That’s not a good thing, Dean.”

But whatever this was that they were starting, it needed to be built on the truth, and that was their truth.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Probably not. But I don’t think it’s gonna change. Even if we forgot tonight ever happened, I wouldn’t give up on you, not once. I think if there’s one thing we actually can trust each other to do, it’s that. To come back. To always come back. To not give up. Believe me, Cas, that’s more than most people have when they get together.” He could see that Cas wasn’t convinced. God damn it, what a time to get noble.

“Look. Let’s forget for a minute about whether this is a good idea, or the right thing to do, or any of that. If you pretend for a minute that all those answers are yes—is this what you want?” Dean was about to add something about how if it wasn’t, he’d leave Cas alone when -

“Yes.” Cas growled as he fell onto his back, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes in frustration. “Yes, of course it’s what I want. That doesn’t mean I—we should do it.”

“Hey,” Dean said, softening his tone a little, “Hey, look. When was the last time you did anything—anything, Cas—just because you wanted to? Instead of because you thought it was the right thing to do, or the best course of action, or what you should do?”

Cas just looked at him.

“Yeah. Me neither. It’s not gonna destroy the fabric of the universe if we let ourselves have this one thing. And you know that’s not easy for me, either. But like I said, you and me, we don’t get much in the way of good times. Tonight… I’ve never seen you smile the way you were a few minutes ago. Please, Cas. We don’t know if we’re gonna get hurt or whatever in the long run, but right now, let’s do this one thing just because it makes us happy.” That was all Dean could think of to say. He didn’t have a better argument—he just knew that if he was going to allow himself one indulgence, this would be it.

Cas was quiet for long seconds, looking up at Dean, eyes wandering over his face. Finally, he pulled Dean down gently into a kiss.

“Is that a yes?” It could be a kiss goodbye, after all.

“It’s a yes.”

Dean let out a breath. “Good. I don’t wanna hear one more word about how I shouldn’t trust you. ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what you say, or whether you deserve it—I’m gonna trust you anyhow. I always have, Cas. And I probably always will, whatever happens.”

He kissed Cas one more time, then settled back down onto his chest.

“That wing thing earlier,” he said after a few minutes, “That was pretty cool. Are they—are they around us like that right now?” He felt silly asking, but the brief glimpse of wings protecting them had been so immediately comforting. He craved that.

Immediately, the flickering came back. Dean could hardly see past the wings folded around him. He felt himself starting to drift off.

“You gonna stay tonight?” he mumbled into Castiel’s chest, half-asleep already.

“Of course,” Cas said, stroking Dean’s hair. The hand petting his hair was the last thing Dean remembered.

—

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean startled awake to find Cas looming over him. Okay, after a second’s reflection he saw that Cas wasn’t exactly looming, he was just looking at him while propped up on one elbow. But when it wakes you up, it looks a lot like looming.

Cas was unperturbed. “I’ve been lying here all night. You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Well, I was asleep then,” Dean complained, but it lost its bite when he pulled Cas down into a long, slow kiss. The previous night played through his head, almost too good to be true.

Now Cas was over him, arms around him, forehead touching his as they kissed and nuzzled. It was all real, apparently.

“Good morning,” Dean finally said.

In response, Cas slid one hand under his nape and kissed him again; not a sleepy, slow morning kiss this time but a heated kiss that was accompanied by the slide of his body flush against Dean’s. This was not an unwelcome development, and Dean slid his arms around Cas to dig his fingernails encouragingly into Cas’s back.

As Cas moved down to suck and bite at his neck, Dean managed to rasp out, “Hey, Sam’s home now. We gotta keep this quiet.”

Cas moved his mouth right next to Dean’s ear to respond. “The soundproofing in this bunker is excellent.”

He punctuated this by biting into Dean’s neck, hard, pulling a cry out of Dean followed by several involuntary moans. Within moments Dean was rutting against Cas in a way he would normally find embarrassingly desperate, wrapping a leg around him for leverage.

“Fuck,” Dean gasped as Cas finally let go, “If Sam heard that I’ll kill you, except I won’t because Sam’ll kill you first.”

Cas just chuckled into Dean’s ear, a low sound that reverberated as much through Dean’s chest as his head. Then he latched his teeth gently onto the curve of Dean’s ear as he began to slide his body slowly, slowly against Dean’s—so much more slowly than Dean had been moving. So much more slowly. His teeth scraped just as slowly, his tongue tickling the ear just lightly, and Dean thought his eyes might actually roll to the back of his head. As Cas adjusted the angle of his body slightly so that their erections were pressed up against each other, Dean felt his body try to arch up—but it was stopped by the weight of Cas’s chest, heavy against his own. 

Needing an outlet of some kind, Dean finally bit down himself, on Cas’s shoulder. The reaction was immediate—now it was Cas's turn to cry out, abandoning Dean's ear to bury his face in Dean's neck, panting. Dean was pleased with this result and filed away the new knowledge about Cas's preferences. Unfortunately, as Dean hung on and bit down harder, he also discovered an unintended consequence: as Cas relaxed his shoulder muscle to take the bite, the rest of his body relaxed, too. Right down onto Dean.

And Dean was quickly reminded of a key difference between sleeping with a man versus sleeping with women: Few of the women he’d slept with weighed quite so much, and those that did did not carry it as compact, dense muscle.

Dean felt his mouth curve into a smile around the bite as his shoulders started to shake. He finally let go, tilting his head back with laughter.

“Dude, I can’t move!”

“How is that my problem?” The reply was muffled, being grumbled directly into the side of his throat. 

“Well, it makes it a little hard to, y’know, generate friction,” Dean said, running his nails lightly down Cas’s back.

Cas propped himself back up on his elbows and looked down at Dean. He wore his familiar scrutinizing glare, but there was a smile playing around his lips. Dean felt a tightness in his chest completely unrelated to the weight of any angels lying on it, and as his gaze couldn’t decide whether to settle on that smile or those penetrating blue eyes, he found himself thinking fuck, I am so in love, oh I’m so fucked.

“You’re very demanding,” Cas said, completely deadpan.

“I wake up with this in my bed?” Dean smoothed his hands down Cas’s body, “Hell yes, I’m gonna be demanding.”

And then they were kissing again, and friction was no longer a problem. Cas slid against him faster this time, making Dean moan into the kiss. After a minute or two, Dean disentangled one arm enough to reach over for the lube still sitting on the bedside table.

“Gimme a sec,” he muttered and reached around Cas to squirt the lube into his hand. Then he slipped his hand down between them and wrapped it around both of them. Cas moaned and closed his eyes as Dean’s hand began to move. Dean kept his eyes on Cas’s face; last night he’d starting coming too quickly after Cas did and it had been so intense he’d closed his eyes without meaning to. Now all he wanted was to watch the angel who’d been so in control all night fall apart in his hands.

“Oh, fuck, Cas,” he rumbled, “You look so good.” Dean slid his free hand up and into Cas’s hair, his thumb stroking Cas’s jawline. “Fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long, and I didn’t even know, I had no idea how fucking hot you’d be.”

And then Dean had to stop talking, because no matter how amazing it felt when Cas had said those things last night, he could not talk about feelings during sex and he’d been this fucking close to letting things fall out of his mouth that he might regret later. Not because a word of it was untrue, but because he still couldn’t really let himself believe that there was a possibility that Cas actually felt the exact same way, and Dean had just got him and didn’t want to scare him off so soon. So Dean shut up and kissed him instead.

Soon Dean was hardly having to move his hand as Cas fucked it, and then Dean moved the hand away from his own dick to concentrate entirely on Cas (and remove the possibility of getting too distracted at the wrong time again). He adjusted his rhythm to match Cas’s, and it didn’t take long before Cas’s movements became jerkier, his dick getting thicker, Dean’s name tumbling out of his mouth in a fractured moan. Dean let out a whimper in response, and then without realizing it he was talking again—

“Fuck, yeah Cas, I need to see you come, fuck you’re so gorgeous, I love you—“ Dean barely managed to register what he’d just said before Cas was coming all over his fist and stomach, moaning loudly, his forehead resting on Dean’s.

Dean felt like he should be embarrassed by what he’d just said, saying stupid sappy shit when he should be talking dirty, but the truth was that he was too busy marveling at how hot and how beautiful Cas was and how completely and devastatingly in love he was and how it felt like a dam had burst last night and he’d never even understood how much raw adoration he’d been holding behind it and how completely fucking terrified he was to feel so much, especially when he knew, he knew that nobody could feel more than a fraction of that for him. Not even Castiel. Especially not Castiel.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on any of that before Cas, still panting from his own orgasm, was reaching down and taking hold of him. He’d been so completely focused on Cas that he’d almost forgotten how incredibly hard he was, but the touch of Cas’s hand was a swift reminder. It didn’t even take him the few minutes that it had taken Cas before he was shuddering and shouting (shouting? Cas had better be right about the soundproofing) and spilling another puddle of come all over what Cas had already left on him.

He was barely finished before Cas was kissing him, not just on the mouth but all over—his forehead and his eyes and his neck and his shoulders. Dean, still coming down off his high, just lay there and let him. At some point he became aware that the mess had disappeared from his stomach, but he wasn’t terribly worried about that either way. Then he was finally coherent enough to tug Castiel up from his shoulder and kiss him properly on the mouth, hands tangled in his hair.

When they finally broke apart, Dean was gratified to see that Cas looked as blissed-out as he felt.

“Mmm, see, I told you, Cas,” he said lazily, “You got a great smile. And hell, if that’s what it takes to see it more I think I can handle that.”

Cas’s smile only widened at that as he lay down on his side and tugged Dean to face him. Dean did, and Cas wrapped a leg around him and pulled him close.

“Guess I haven’t chased you off yet,” Dean said, amused but pleased with how Cas was clinging to him.

“I don’t think you could chase me off if you tried,” Cas said, still smiling, “I can be very persistent.”

Dean laughed. “Well, that’s a load off my mind. Hell, I was half surprised you were still here this morning. Wouldn’t’ve blamed you for cutting your losses while I was out.” Dean thought he’d said it jokingly enough, but there must have been something in his voice that exposed the very real worry under the surface, because Cas’s smile faded, his brow creasing.

“I’m sorry I panicked, Dean, but—I was never going to leave you,” he shrugged, shaking his head, “I thought maybe I could talk you into leaving me, but I guess… I guess I’m too selfish, because there’s just no way I can let go of this.”

Dean was caught off guard. He’d nearly forgotten about Cas telling him not to trust him; even jokingly, it wasn’t what he’d meant. He’d just thought, in the back of his head, that Cas would come to his senses. Still kind of did. He believed Cas when he said he was in love with Dean, but he didn’t think for a minute that it was at all the same thing he felt for Cas. And eventually Cas would realize that and realize that whatever he felt, it wasn’t worth tying himself down to a human for. Just because he hadn’t realized it last night didn’t mean he wouldn’t. But he couldn’t say any of that for about twelve different reasons.

“C’mon,” he finally said dismissively, “You know I’m joking. That sex was incredible, that has to keep you around for a few days at least.” He tried for a cheeky grin, but it was obvious that Cas wasn’t buying it.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Now Cas was looking at him thoughtfully. Dean sighed.

“Cas, I absolutely believe that you weren’t gonna leave last night. Of course I do.”

“Not that part. When I said I’m selfish, and there’s no way I can let go of this, you didn’t believe that.” Cas’s eyes bored into Dean like he could extract Dean’s thoughts right from his head if only he looked at him hard enough.

Dean rolled onto his back. This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to be having the first morning he woke up with Cas in his bed. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having at all, because there was only one way it could end.

“Dude, come on,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I don’t wanna talk about this. We were happy like five minutes ago, let’s just go back to that, okay?”

“Yes,” Cas said insistently, “Exactly. Do you know what I was feeling then?”

Dean sighed. This was turning into some kind of weird game that he didn’t understand and didn’t want to play. “No. What?”

Cas reached out and turned Dean’s face toward him. “Joy, Dean. Pure, unadulterated joy. I was feeling things that I didn’t know I was capable of feeling. I thought I never felt real, pure joy because I’m an angel. It turns out, I just never had a reason to. Not until last night.”

Dean had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do with that. He swallowed and turned back toward Cas. “Okay. That’s good. That’s great.”

Cas sighed, clearly frustrated. Dean wasn’t sure why he was frustrated—Dean was the one who’d just been making a stupid joke, and Cas had to go and take it all seriously, because as human as he is now he still doesn’t always quite get sarcasm and humor (oh right, that’s why, an annoying voice in the back of Dean’s head unhelpfully supplied despite Dean’s best efforts to shut it up, it’s definitely not because he’s more perceptive than he has any right to be and saw right through your stupid attempt to hide the truth in a joke instead of just shutting the fuck up).

“I told you, over and over again last night, how I feel about you,” Cas finally said, “Did you believe a word of it?”

Dean clenched his jaw. Believe. That word could mean too many things. Kind of like another word that they’ve been throwing around carelessly. “Look, I know you weren’t lying to me, Cas. But I also know better than to take anything anyone says during sex too seriously. People get caught up in the moment, y’know, they don’t lie—okay, some people lie, I know you wouldn’t—but just… exaggerate. And that’s fine, I don’t—what?” He realized that Cas, who had turned back onto his back with his hands over his face, was laughing. Fucking laughing. Not the sweet, loving laugh Dean had heard a few times now, but something harder. Disbelieving.

“Exaggerate,” was all Cas said from behind his hands. He pushed himself up to sitting, pulling his knees up so he could lean on them, head resting on his arms. Dean had absolutely no fucking idea what he’d said wrong, but obviously this was it. Whatever it was, it had pushed Cas over the edge and he’d realized what a complete mistake it was to waste his time with a stupid fucking hairless monkey down on earth when he could have all of heaven instead. Dean sat up, too, leaning against the headboard, steeling himself for whatever came next.

Finally, Cas turned to look at him. The look on his face was somewhere between sad and amused, which was a confusing enough combination on anyone, but especially on a face that had only recently learned to show any emotion beyond “determinedly loyal.”

“You do realize,” he said, “That it would be literally impossible for me to exaggerate when talking about my feelings for you.”

For about the twelfth time in the past several minutes, Dean had no idea what was going on. He clenched his jaw. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Cas moved up the bed closer to Dean, still twisted around toward him, eyes wide and sincere in a way that made Dean regret snapping at him.

“It means,” he said slowly, as if explaining to a small child, “that I cannot find words in any human language to express what I feel for you. Cherish, worship, adore, agape, eros, ta’burnee, aşk—I could go on but it’s pointless. I know that you understand, Dean, whether or not you feel the same way, because I think that every human intuitively knows that you are capable of types of love that transcend what your language can encompass. If I can’t find words that even express what I do feel, I can’t possibly find words that would exaggerate it.”

Dean couldn’t do anything but sit there and stare, too much going on inside him to sort any of it out into words he could say. On the one hand, he was confused as hell because all these words Cas was saying were things that couldn’t possibly mean what it sounded like they meant. It was a jumble of nonsense pretending to be exactly what Dean wanted to hear. But at the same time, hope was trying its damnedest to fill him up, to make him believe, while the small part of his mind that was still functioning properly tried to rein that in and push it down where it couldn’t cause trouble. But like he said last night, he trusted Cas, he trusted him to an absolutely absurd degree, and so he did believe every word even as he knew that Cas couldn’t possibly have any idea what he was talking about.

“Okay,” he finally managed to get out softly, “Okay, I get it. I’m sorry. I get it.”

Cas leaned back against the headboard next to him, then nestled his head onto Dean’s shoulder, taking Dean’s hand in both of his.

“Good,” Cas said slowly, “I don’t want to hear one more word about how I don’t love you. Because it doesn’t matter what you say, or whether you deserve it—I’m going to love you anyhow. I always have, Dean. And I probably always will, whatever happens.”

Dean blew out a hard breath. Somehow, having his own words turned back at him hit Dean in a way nothing else quite had. Cas had been a stubborn idiot last night, now it was his turn. “Point taken.”

He buried his nose in Cas’s hair, inhaling and trying to wrap his brain around what was happening to him, to them. This was real, this was more real than he’d been prepared for, and it was everything he wanted and all his worst fears all rolled into one. But right now, he had Castiel naked, in his bed, giving him a handjob and insisting that he was madly in love with Dean, and aren’t these the good times he was talking about? He felt another flood of emotion rising up inside him, and this time he just let it wash over him, just rode it out. Yeah, he could let himself have this. For now, at least. For today. He smiled into Castiel’s hair, letting himself feel whatever it was that didn’t fit into human words. Finally, he nudged Cas’s head with his shoulder.

“At some point we’re gonna have to go out and face Sammy. I’m guessing he’ll be unbearably smug.”

“I talked to Sam last night,” Cas told him as he sat up next to him, “I heard him come in, and then he was hovering outside the bedroom door so I went out to talk to him. He’s happy for us.”

“I’m sure he is, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be unbearably smug about it. I guess he deserves to be, though. This is worth putting up with a little smugness for. We’re idiots, and we’re lucky he got sick of it.”

“True,” Cas said, looking down at their hands. “Dean… Before we go out and talk to Sam and everything, I wanted to talk to you about one more thing.”

“Yeah? Shoot.” Dean stomped down on his immediate gut expectation of this is it, this is great and I love you but it shouldn’t go any farther, there’s too much going on in heaven right now, and on and on. He did trust Cas, and he needed to just believe the things that he said, or this wasn’t going to work. Dean wondered how long it would take for his mind to stop jumping straight to the worst case scenario every five minutes.

“My grace—this grace,” Cas started. “It won’t last forever.”

Dean’s stomach turned. He suddenly felt stupid for his petty insecurities, when there were actual threats to their relationship—to Castiel—to worry about.

“My last stolen grace lasted a bit over a year, but I was very sick toward the end. When this one runs out, I have three options: I can die. Obviously I’d rather not do that. I can keep killing angels and replacing each grace with another that’s been stolen. Obviously I’d rather not do that, either. Or I can fall.” He looked up at Dean for a reaction.

Dean nodded slowly. “You rip the grace out, and you’re human again. Keep going back and forth, I’ll start calling you Anya.”

Cas looked at Dean thoughtfully. “Based on your pop culture preferences, I assume you mean Anya Jenkins from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But she never willingly chose to be human.” Dean grinned. Cas’s new library could be pretty fun to test out, sometimes. “Although, honestly, I don’t want to, either. I want to be an angel. But like Anya, I don’t think I have a choice.”

Dean nodded again. Cas’s first go at being human had been rough. Awful, really. And part of that had been Dean’s fault. So he’d do whatever he had to help Cas keep the life that he wanted. “What happens if you find your original grace? That’s how Anna became an angel again. We found hers, maybe we can find yours.”

“It’s… unlikely,” Cas said, “I have no idea what Metatron did with it. The only way he’d tell me is if I set him free, and I can’t do that. And it’s most likely in heaven, so you and Sam probably can’t help much in finding it.” He shook his head. “Obviously, if I could find it, that would be my first choice. But I don’t think that’s going to happen. Which means that, in about a year, maybe a bit less, I’m going to tear this grace out, and I’ll be human. Probably permanently. Well, until I die a human death.”

Castiel looked worried, maybe even scared. Dean slid his arms around Cas’s waist and pulled him close. “It won’t be like last time,” Dean assured him, “Last time, you didn’t know what was coming. You weren’t prepared, we weren’t prepared. This time, we can plan for this. We’ll get you set up with an identity and everything beforehand. We can choose the timing. Hell, I can be right there next to you when you do it. I swear, Cas. I know I fucked up last time, but I will be there for you. Anything you need.”

“You didn’t—fuck up last time. You did what you had to do to save Sam’s life.”

“Yeah, but I should have been more upfront with you about what was going on. Hell, we might have gotten a leg up on Gadreel. The point is, we can do better this time. We can plan, and we can make this work.” Dean felt sick, thinking about having to kick Cas out of the bunker the last time he needed Dean’s help. Despite anything Cas said, he knew he didn’t really deserve his love. But maybe, if he was lucky enough to have Cas trust him with this again, he could make up for last time. He didn’t know why Cas would trust him, after last time—no, of course he did. Blind spot. 

Cas nodded. “Thank you. I am… it does scare me. The idea of being human again. But you’re right, being able to plan will change things. Knowing you’ll be there… It helps.”

“Man,” Dean said, resting his head against Cas’s shoulder lazily, “Permanently human, huh? You could get old and everything. Hell, maybe I’ll even get old, too. We can sit on a porch somewhere bitching about how much more respectful demons were back in our day.”

Cas looked at him out of the corner of his eye, thoughtful. “Would you want that? Growing old together?”

Dean felt his cheeks heat. His mouth seemed intent on spilling things out today before his brain had a chance to double-check them. Then again, maybe he should just let it, after everything Cas had said to him. He sighed. “Look… I’m not a lovesick teenager, okay? I know this is not something we should even be talking about. But. That said…” he looked at Cas, letting himself imagine a future together. He liked it. “I gotta admit, right now it doesn’t sound too bad.”

He gazed at Cas, hoping he looked as in love as he felt right then. Hoping maybe he didn’t have to say all the things he had bottled up inside him, all those things that Cas seemed to say so easily, no hesitation. Hoping Cas would understand that they were there anyhow. Given the way Cas looked back at him, he thought maybe it worked.

After a minute or two, though, Cas’s gaze dropped down, and Dean realized he was looking at the Mark of Cain on Dean’s arm. Dean realized it had hardly twinged at all since the day before, which was a nice change.

“Don’t look at that,” Dean said, “We’ll deal with it, but I don’t wanna talk about it or think about it right now, okay?”

Cas nodded. “A conversation for a different day.”

Something about the way he said it didn’t quite sit right with Dean. It made him think Cas actually had something to say about the Mark, a reason for looking at it so thoughtfully. Dean really, really didn’t want to think about it right now.

“Hey, we better actually get out of bed. We don’t want Sam to get the wrong idea about what’s going on in here.” He grinned at Cas and started to slide out.

“What, that we’re sleeping chastely on opposite sides of the bed, fully clothed?” Cas asked innocently.

Dean smiled to himself as he pulled on a pair of pajama pants and dug around for a tshirt. He turned around, pulling one on. When he got it over his head, there was Cas—fully clothed down to the trenchcoat. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dude, you can’t go out there wearing all that. It looks like you’re trying to hide something, or sneak out or something.”

“I’m not -“

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean was already taking the trench coat and suit jacket back off his shoulders. “The tie has to go, too. And the shoes. There. You’re still overdressed, but it’ll do.”

He looked Cas over, admiring how he looked in just the dress shirt and trousers. He was usually so covered up, so many coats on—this wasn’t far from naked for him, and knowing what kind of body was under there didn’t help. He pulled Cas up against him and they started to kiss… And then Dean realized that he really didn’t need a tent in his pajama pants when they left the room. It was hard to pull away, and he was pleased that Cas was as reluctant to stop as he was.

Finally, they made it out of Dean’s bedroom and down the hall. Dean sniffed the air.

“You smell that?”

Cas nodded, looking as confused as Dean was. Dean led him down the hall and into the kitchen, where they found Sam standing at the stove.

“You’re cooking?” Dean asked incredulously. “You never cook.”

Sam grinned at them. “Oh, but this is my new specialty. These are my ‘I told you so’ pancakes.”

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Cas. “See? Like I said. Unbearably smug.”

“Hey, hey,” Sam said, sliding a pancake onto a growing stack, “That’s the whole point of the pancakes, to make the smugness bearable. Oh, by the way—a few minutes ago your trenchcoat disappeared from the table out there, Cas. I assume you’ve got it?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, sliding into a chair at the small kitchen table and pulling Cas down into the next one, “Bewitched here wiggled his nose. It’s in my room.” He kept Cas’s hand in his lap, wrapped in both of his.

“I did not wiggle my nose,” Cas reassured Sam.

“Lemme guess, Dean made you take it off before you came out here. Along with your tie and everything. As if I’ve never met you.” Sam was still turned toward the stove, away from them, but Dean could hear his smile from a mile away.

“No!” Dean said automatically. When Cas gave him a funny look and Sam giggled, he added, “Oh shut up, both of you.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sam said, turning around, “You don’t need to be all defensive. I’m happy for you guys. Like, really really happy.” He sounded so sincere that Dean couldn’t bring himself to say anything snarky back.

In fact, as Sam turned back to the pancakes he found himself giving Cas a smile and muttering, “Yeah, us too.”

Sam glanced back at them, grinning, then said, “So where do you keep the syrup around here, anyhow? It took me fifteen minutes to find the pancake mix.”

Dean sighed and got up. He gathered up the syrup and butter, some plates and forks, and put it all on the table. Then he dug a carton of orange juice from the fridge and filled a couple of glasses. When he brought them back, Sam was setting the stack of pancakes on the table and started dishing them out onto the plates.

“You want any, Cas?” he asked.

Cas shook his head. “You know I don’t require food.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, but it’d be rude not to ask.”

“You eat in front of me all the time without offering me any,” Cas said, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Yeah, but -“ Sam glanced at Dean, who just shrugged. He wasn’t helping out after that trenchcoat dig, so Sam looked back at Cas. “This is just… different. It’s fine. You’re right.”

For a few minutes, Sam and Dean busied themselves preparing their pancakes. To make up for the loss of hand contact, Dean hooked his foot around Cas’s ankle. He hoped he wasn’t coming off as clingy, but when what he really wanted to do was stay curled in bed together for a week it was hard to keep himself completely to himself. When he had his pancakes thoroughly syruped and ready to eat, he grabbed Cas’s hand again and put it on his thigh. Cas didn’t seem to mind at all; in fact, he’d shifted his chair closer to Dean’s by this point so their legs were pressed up against each other.

“So I’m guessing you gotta get back to heaven, huh?” Dean asked as he cut into his stack.

Castiel sighed. “Yes. I’ve been gone longer than I said I would be, and there are some things I promised Hannah I would help with. She and Abigail will be wondering where I’ve been.”

“Who’s Abigail?” Sam asked.

“She’s a friend of Hannah’s. Well. She’s loyal to Hannah, which is as close to a friend as most angels get. She doesn’t like me much. She was, um, one of the angels holding you when Hannah asked me to kill you, Dean. But I said I would help with rebuilding part of the dungeon that I helped destroy, so…” He shrugged.

“If they ask where you were, what are you gonna tell them?” Dean asked, giving Cas’s hand a squeeze.

He shrugged again. “I’ll tell them I was with you. They won’t exactly be surprised. They don’t need any details beyond that. It’s none of their business.”

“I’m, ah, guessing the other angels won’t exactly be thrilled if they find out you’re dating a human. Let alone me.” Dean smiled, but he doubted it was very convincing. Cas’s true place was in heaven, and he’d given it up repeatedly for Dean. Now that things in heaven seemed relatively calm, Dean didn’t want Cas to become an outcast yet again for his sake, especially if his days as an angel might be numbered.

Castiel’s eyes bored into him, a grave expression on his face. “Dean, don’t think for one minute that I’m ashamed of this, or of you. If it becomes relevant I won’t hesitate to tell anyone that we’re romantically involved, but until then I’d rather keep my private life just that.”

Dean nodded. “That’s fine, Cas. Who you tell or don’t tell about us is completely up to you.”

“Are you going to tell anyone?” Cas asked him.

Dean pulled a face. Was he kidding? He looked to Sam for help, but Sam just shrugged. “Who would I tell, Cas? Sammy knows, Charlie’s in Oz, and everyone else I care about is dead.”

“Technically, you could tell Kevin,” Sam supplied.

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think Kevin wants to see either of us anytime soon, and I really don’t think he wants to see an angel who helped him out of heaven, even if it wasn’t Cas’s fault.” He shook his head, thinking. “I wish I could tell Bobby. I mean, he’d laugh at me, but deep down, y’know?” Sam smiled, nodding.

Castiel’s gaze flicked back and forth between Sam and Dean, and he opened his mouth hesitantly. “I could… tell Bobby, actually. His soul made it to heaven before it was locked.”

Dean and Sam just stared at him. It had never occurred to Dean that Castiel would have access to Bobby in heaven. Clearly, it hadn’t occurred to Sam, either.

“I mean—we try not to bother souls once they’ve ascended, generally. Most people don’t like to be reminded that they are, in fact, dead and in heaven and that what they’re experiencing isn’t so-called ‘real life’ on earth.” He shrugged. “It is real, in a sense, but humans have a different definition of real than angels do. If you disturb a soul too often, they have trouble settling in. A few in the past became obsessed with escaping. They can’t, and it doesn’t affect the rest of heaven, but what should be a place of infinite joy can become a place of torment. But I don’t think that Bobby would be affected in those ways, especially not from just one visit. He’s been to hell, he likely still has those memories and is aware and thankful that he is in heaven.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said quietly. “Yeah, if you get a chance, let Bobby know. It’d mean a lot to me, and I think to him, too. I mean, no rush or anything. He ain’t going anywhere, right?” 

Cas nodded. “I should probably go, actually,” he said, with clear reluctance, “I… don’t really need to be any further on Abigail’s bad side than I already am. She’s overseeing these renovations, so I’m going to be dealing with her regularly for the foreseeable future.”

“Well, she seemed like a real sweetheart when I met her, so I’m sure she’ll take it easy on you,” Dean said.

Cas stood up and stepped away from his chair, and instantly he was once again fully-clothed. Dean sprang to his feet, suddenly sure that Cas would disappear before he could say goodbye. He went over and slid his arms around Castiel’s waist, under his coat.

“It might be a couple of days before I can come back,” Cas said apologetically as he slid his hands down Dean’s biceps.

“Well, I’m hoping we’ll get a case, so who knows where we’ll be. Probably not here.”

“I’ll find you.”

Dean smiled at him flirtatiously. He leaned in closer so that Sam couldn’t hear him. “You better,” he said, “It sounds like you’ll need a little fun after dealing with this Abigail chick. Wherever we are, we can always get our own room if needed.”

He pulled Cas close for a kiss. He tried to keep in mind that Sam was right there and keep it from getting too heated—but if he wasn’t going to see Cas for a couple days he wanted a damn good kiss first. Sam was a big boy who may have even kissed a girl himself at some point—if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to look. Then Dean stepped back, because he didn’t like the thought of Castiel disappearing right out of his hands. A second later, he was gone, and Dean sat back down to finish his pancakes. He looked up and realized Sam was staring at him.

“What?” he asked, “Oh come on, Sam, it’s not like we were making out.”

“No, no,” Sam said, shaking his head and going back to his pancakes, “I just… I guess I thought you’d be more squeamish about kissing a guy in front of me. Considering that twelve hours ago you couldn’t even admit you were attracted to one.”

“Yeah, I know I was being kinda no homo about the whole thing,” Dean said, shrugging in embarrassment, “But, y’know, I’ve spent half my life hoping nobody ever notices that… yeah, a little bit homo actually.” He might have had no problem kissing Cas, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up from his pancakes while he said that.

“That’s awesome,” Sam said, “I’m glad you’re, y’know, accepting yourself and everything. I mean, yeah I’m shocked, but I’m also thrilled. You two are adorable.” Dean rolled his eyes. “No, seriously, Dean. The way you were looking at each other—Dean, you were glowing when you looked at him—don’t look at me like that, you were! And he just couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and that kiss—I just wasn’t expecting this, but Jesus, Dean. I couldn’t be happier.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, spearing himself a couple more pancakes from the stack, “You’re the one who pushed us at each other. Isn’t this exactly what you expected?”

“Uh, no. I was expecting to come home last night and find that you two spent a few minutes talking awkwardly about anything else, then Cas left and you spent the rest of the night plotting your revenge on me. I swear, I did not actually think that would work.”

“How’d you know, anyhow? I mean, I honestly had no idea Cas was in love with me,” Dean asked, “And he was one hundred percent swallowing my ‘I’m so totally straight’ thing.”

Sam looked at him. “Dean, I just spent six months watching Cas pine for you.”

Dean made a face. “Pine? Really? C’mon, pine?”

“Yes!” Sam insisted, “Dean, he was… I don’t know, the word despondent comes to mind? Heartbroken? He was pretty sick from the failing grace thing, but he still wanted to keep looking for you. Even after I told him he was too weak to come with me, he was constantly checking on my progress, and talking about you and how much he missed you. I don’t think he realized he was doing it, maybe if he hadn’t been sick he would have done a better job of keeping it to himself. But christ, Dean… I’d had a feeling about you guys before, but this was just a big blinking neon sign.”

Dean was quiet for a minute. “Wow. I had no idea.”

They ate quietly for a minute, before Sam finally broke the silence. “Anyhow, given all of that, I just wasn’t expecting you to be so… so demonstrative in front of me. I thought you’d be embarrassed about it or something. I’m really glad you’re not, Dean.”

Dean shrugged and gave his brother an easy smile. Sam was right, of course, he could easily have been all awkward and embarrassed when they came out this morning—but he’d been in way too good of a mood to bother with that. 

“What can I say, Sammy? I’m in love.”

“See? Look at you, using the L word and everything.” Sam smiled. Then he got a glint in his eye that Dean didn’t particularly like and leaned forward. “So. How’s angel sex? Pretty freaky?”

Dean glared at him for a second, but he wasn’t going to be cowed. If that was how Sammy wanted it, two could play that little game. “Well,” he said casually, not breaking eye contact, “he is a celestial being of nearly infinite power.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Okay, then. Must make you feel pretty inferior, huh?”

Dean opened his mouth to give a snarky reply, but suddenly it hit him in the gut. Inferior was the last thing Cas had made him feel, and he couldn’t even bring himself to joke about it. Words from the previous night floated through his head—cherished, worship, beautiful—and he couldn’t even remember what he was about to say. 

All he could get out was a slightly confused-sounding, “Uh, no. No, actually. He didn’t.”

That did make things awkward, so they hurriedly finished their pancakes in silence. Dean was washing the dishes when Sam came back in the kitchen and leaned on the table.

“So, Dean…” he started, and Dean finished the last dish and turned around, leaning on the counter. “I want you to know. Just—for future reference? It’s okay for you to want this.”

Dean looked down, crossing his arms defensively. “Yeah, yeah—look, we’ve already had this conversation. Twice. We get it, Cas and I are the poster children for low self-esteem. We’re dealing with it.”

“Okay,” Sam said, looking unconvinced. “That’s good. I just—at some point, I don’t know if it’ll be five minutes from now, or a week from now, or three months from now, but at some point you’re going to want to decide that you can’t have this. That it’s a distraction, or putting one of you in danger, or I dunno, you just don’t deserve it for some reason.” Dean couldn’t even bring himself to argue. “And I want you to look back at this moment, right now, where I am telling you—it’s okay for you to want this, and it’s okay for you to have this. What wouldn’t be okay would be for you to throw it away for some stupid, self-sacrificing reason and for both of you to be miserable because of it. Okay?”

Dean nodded, still not looking at his brother. “Yeah. Okay,” he said reluctantly.

Sam nodded, then headed out of the kitchen toward his laptop. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew Sam was right, and it scared him. They’d both already done it in less than twelve hours together. It felt like a land mine right in the middle of their relationship, and it was only a matter of time before one of them stepped on it and obliterated everything.

Then again—what he’d told Cas was true. They’d stepped on a lot of land mines already, and by all rights they should have obliterated any connection they ever had. Several times over. But they keep coming back. Over and over and over. And maybe, just maybe, if they managed to fuck this up—when they managed to fuck this up, Dean’s brain unhelpfully supplied—they’d come back again anyhow.