The Eventual Football Bat - Ripley

Chapter 1: Nope

Chapter Text

Salmon, Idaho wouldn’t be Dean’s first choice for a location to reevaluate his life, but this is where he found himself, sitting on one of the two queen beds at the Stagecoach Inn.

The establishment offered vanilla malted waffles, so that was a plus. He’d make time for breakfast tomorrow. He was only here because a wraith needed to be killed, and now it was dead.

Hell, it was actually kind of pretty in the northern part of The Gem State. The Salmon River flowed peacefully just a little bit to the east of where he’d parked himself. If he went outside, he could sit at one of the picnic tables and watch it, listening to the water as the sun reflected off the surface.

Instead, he was inside a brown room with brick walls. He hadn’t even turned on the television.

Some months ago, the balance of power in the universe had pretty much evened itself out. Crowley had gotten half of the souls from Purgatory and was able to keep Hell in check, while Castiel had acquired the other half.

The Seraph had told Dean all the particulars of the heavenly side of things, but it was a pretty long story. The short version was he’d killed Raphael and a handful of his most devout followers, and then put another angel in charge, Samandriel. Castiel had said he admired him for his heart and that he felt confident leaving the ethereal being to watch over Heaven. The angels that remained decided that they wanted free will and weren’t in the mood for Apocalypse 2.

Castiel had gone back upstairs several times to check on things, but all in all, everything was going smoothly, and that was the end of it.

Since that time, which seemed like ages ago, Dean, his brother, Castiel, and Bobby had just sort of… disbursed.

Making himself get up, Dean walked over to the window with a beer. It was nice outside. Early spring had descended on Salmon and all of the trees were in bloom, the breeze blowing lazy blossoms into the river.

For a while, after all things above and all things below had regained structure, Dean and Sam hunted like normal, but Sam quickly grew tired of it - Dean didn’t think he’d even made it two full weeks. He still wanted to help people, just not risk his life on the daily, so he was up in Sioux Falls with Bobby. The pair mostly stuck to research and assisting other hunters these days.

Dean still went on hunts. Rarely alone, mostly with Castiel. He much preferred the latter, his angelic best friend was pretty powerful.

He also wasn’t here.

Was thirty-two too early to have a mid-life crisis? Wait - Dean had died. He’d died a lot. He’d spent time in hell. Did that add years to his life? Was it a mid-life crisis?

Shaking his head, he threw the empty beer bottle into the trash and grabbed another out of the trusted green cooler.

The only thing Dean had felt for the past couple of weeks was lost. Directionless. He was shocked it had taken this long to catch up with him. He and Castiel had been hunting all over the country for a while now.

He wanted to feel something - anything - but he couldn’t, no matter how much he tried. He wanted to be happy. He’d attempted it with Lisa, but he knew that was about as fake as all of his smiles. That wasn’t his life, not with her. He cared for her, just not in the way he needed to. Lisa and Ben didn’t need his sorry ass in their lives.

He was grateful to Castiel for ensuring mother and son would never think of him again.

Even though the floors were carpeted, Dean was surprised how easily he could roll around in the desk chair, so that’s how he spent his day, just rolling back and forth across the room as he drank a beer.

“What… exactly are you doing?” A familiar gravelly voice asked from behind Dean.

After about three years of the guy constantly appearing out of thin air, Dean had gotten used to his friend’s entrances. Hunting together for several months just made it seem normal at this point.

“I’m testing the wheels on the chair,” he explained, coming to a stop near the bathroom and rotating himself to face the angel who stood in front of a dark window.

It was nearly night now. Dean wasn’t sure when that had happened, but the sun was gone. Dean had no life and was veering dangerously close to the pathetic end of the spectrum. He knew this. He’d work on changing it. Later.

It had been a few days since he’d seen Castiel, but he always came back. He said he would, and he did. It was the only thing Dean could count on anymore.

“And how would you rate their durability?” Castiel asked, sitting down on the bed closest to the door to face him.

“Pretty solid,” Dean said, wheeling his way toward the angel. “They’ve gone back and forth for a couple beers now, no sign of wear.”

“You’ll need to leave this hotel a good review then,” he commented, resting his hands on his slacks.

Gone were the days of Castiel being a robot. Granted, as soon as the soul situation was sorted out, the angel was still fairly stiff and rigid, but during their time on the road together, Dean saw a weird, quirky personality begin to take shape in the man. A heavenly civil war didn’t do a lot for anyone’s general outlook on life, and he was glad that his celestial companion was more laid back now.

“I just may,” Dean said, finally leaving the office chair to sit opposite Castiel on the other bed. “How’s the universe?”

The Seraph smiled kindly at Dean. Dean still didn’t know how to take that - unconditional kindness. It was mildly unsettling since he’d never had that before, but since the man across from him was the only person on the planet who actively wanted to be in his life at the moment, he’d take it and not complain.

“Things are calm. No one is attempting to bring about another apocalypse, Heaven is in order. Hell isn’t rising up - Crowley installed saunas by the way, although I’m not sure why, it’s Hell,” he said, shrugging. “Still, everything is fine as far as I can tell.”

Dean attempted a weak chuckle.

He had no idea how, or why for that matter, Castiel visited Crowley in Hell, but if he’d been once to rescue him, Dean imagined he could return. It was nice to know the various other realms were at peace.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Castiel asked softly.

It was then Dean realized he’d been silent for too long.

“I– it’s nothing. I’m just in a town called Salmon and I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m going,” he said as he scratched the back of his hair. “And I didn’t mean to say that.”

“Why not?” The angel asked, tilting his head.

“Cas–” This time, Dean stopped himself and sighed. He didn’t even know how to put into words what he was feeling the majority of the time, he just had no desire to be here. Not just in Salmon, but in his life. He wanted a change, something new, anything different.

When was the last time he’d been happy? Had he ever been? Dean was tired, fed up, and sick of being angry at nothing except his life. He wanted more.

But he didn’t want that.

Once again, Dean was dragged away from his internal struggle, not due to his friend’s words, but by Castiel rubbing his hands up and down the tops of his thighs.

The beds in the small room were incredibly close together, not shocking as there wasn’t a lot of space to work with. All the angel had to do was lean forward a bit and he was easily able to touch Dean, to run his large hands along his thighs as their knees met in the middle.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, his voice shaky.

“Trying to impart comfort,” Castiel answered easily, letting his right hand trail up Dean’s chest until it came to rest on his face, cupping the man’s cheek.

Dean took a deep breath as his eyes went wide, staring at the man in front of him. “That’s not comforting,” he said.

Throughout this entire strange event, Dean found himself unable to move. His hands were clamped around the edge of the bed, feet rooted to the floor. He felt paralyzed, and more unnerved than he cared to admit. In addition to that, he also imagined he was about five seconds away from hyperventilating.

“It’s meant to be,” Castiel offered, still cradling Dean’s face.

“You’re too close,” Dean whispered.

“We’ve hugged before,” the angel pointed out, gently running his fingers through the frightened human’s hair.

“This is too much,” Dean said, now feeling two seconds away from hyperventilating as he began to sweat.

“Why?”

“Because why the f*ck are you touching me like this? Don’t f*cking touch me! I’m not - I’m not like that, get off me - I’m not gay!” He bit out angrily.

At his words, Castiel finally sat back fully on the spare bed, seemingly in no rush at all.

“Well,” the celestial said after a minute, “while you may not be gay, you certainly aren’t straight. Besides, everyone needs comfort,” he added, shrugging casually.

Taking a deep breath was nice. It meant Dean was still conscious and hadn’t passed out. Granted, he was going to leave permanent hand prints on the mattress if he didn’t tear a chunk out first, but that was the least of his worries.

His brain was officially white noise. Static. He couldn’t deal with any of this right now.

“I’m gonna take a drive,” Dean said, standing on woefully unstable legs. How he’d manage to actually get to his feet was anyone’s guess. “You gonna be around later when I get back?”

Why had he asked that? The angel had gotten way too close and entirely too comfortable for his liking, yet he wanted to make sure the man would still be here. His brain was scrambled.

“Yes,” Castiel said calmly from behind him as Dean gathered his keys and wallet.

“Okay,” he responded, grabbing two bottles of water out of the cooler. His head was so f*cked up he didn’t even want beer. He was officially beyond help. “I’ll be back… I don’t know… later.”

Chapter 2: To Protect and Serve - and Listen

Chapter Text

Things that were around Salmon, Idaho: mountains, a river, and not much else.

Dean had hopped in the Impala and headed south down Interstate 93, his head still a blender set on high.

What time was it? Did it matter? Not really, it wasn’t like he had a morning appointment to get to tomorrow.

After more than thirty minutes but less than four hours had passed, Dean eventually pulled over past a bridge. It looked out over the Salmon River, which was highlighted beautifully under the full moon.

“What in the literal f*ck just happened?” He asked the night as he paced. “No, I mean it, what in the literal f*ck just happened?”

The more he paced, the more he repeated the question ad nauseum, but no answers magically appeared in the crisp night air.

Flashing blue lights did. Those most certainly appeared in the night air as a cop car pulled in behind his baby.

“Oh my god this is the last f*cking thing I need,” Dean muttered, about five seconds away from running. Instead, he walked defeatedly over to the trunk and had a seat on it as he faced the front of the cop car. The flashing blue lights eventually changed to a steady blue glow, which Dean was thankful for. He wasn’t in the mood to be at a rave.

He watched the cop look at the screen in his car for a while as the shine from the police lights lit the forest around him in a gentle azure haze. It was kind of nice, all things considered. He wasn’t worried about what the guy would find. His tags were “legal” enough, and they’d match the name on his “license” too: Dan Worley.

It was easy enough for Dean to remember, which was why he’d had Bobby use it.

This wasn’t the first time Dean had been pulled over, and all the others had been without issue, no reason for this one to be any different.

After about five minutes, a man in his mid-fifties exited the Custer County patrol car giving off a heavy Sam Elliott vibe.

“Evenin’,” the official said.

“Hello, officer,” Dean said, raising his water bottle in greeting.

Since he’d lost track of time while wheeling all over the motel room, Dean realized his last beer had probably taken him hours to drink, so getting a DWI wasn’t on his list of concerns at the moment.

“Everything alright?” The man asked as he approached, stopping just a couple of feet in front of Dean.

“Nope,” he responded proudly, kicking the back of his heels against the bumper as he looked up at the cop.

That was when his visitor laughed. The guy actually barked out a laugh, then quickly covered his mouth. All Dean could do was stare in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a soft tone.

Dean’s confusion quickly gave way to ease. The dude had just laughed at him. Dean decided he liked him.

“Don’t be, if I were in your shoes, I’d laugh at me too.”

“Well,” the man said as he joined Dean, not sitting, but leaning against the trunk, “ran your plates, at least let me see your license, get the formalities out of the way.”

“That’s fair,” Dean responded as he got his wallet out.

The officer inspected his license for a couple of seconds then passed the wallet back.

“Hello Dan, I’m Officer Grainger. Call me Tony.”

“Hey Tony,” Dean said, unable to suppress a laugh at the surreal situation.

“So, you’re legal, you ain’t been drinking, have you?” Tony asked, scratching his salt and pepper stubbled face.

“No sir,” Dean answered. It was close enough to the truth.

“Well, now that that’s done, and seeing as I got nothing else going on, what’s the problem?”

Slowly, Dean turned to face the civil servant. He didn’t look like he was f*cking with him. Not even remotely.

“Seriously?”

This wasn’t happening.

“Sure. If you’re familiar with the area at all, there ain’t a whole lot out here. I’m on patrol. You’re the first car I’ve seen in an hour. I’m a cop, I help people. Right now nothing illegal is going on, but you’re still sitting here on the trunk of your car in the dark, and you said something was wrong, so what would you think of spilling your guts to a stranger?”

“f*ck it,” Dean said as he hopped off the trunk and walked around to open the back door of the car. “Why not.”

He reached in and grabbed the other bottle of water.

“I’d offer you some, but this is the last one.”

“No worries,” Tony said, walking the short distance back to his patrol car and leaning in the open window. “Got coffee,” he said happily as he pulled out a tall, burgundy thermos.

Dean retook his seat on the back of the trunk as Tony leaned comfortably against the hood of the cruiser.

“Alright Dan, what’s the deal?” He asked conversationally as he sipped his hot, caffeinated beverage.

“I have a lot of issues right now, but I guess I’ll just start with some of the most recent. Oh my god, am I seriously about to do this?” He muttered.

“Yep, I’m a good listener, you don’t know me from Adam, should be easy enough, and I won’t even bill you.”

Dean laughed. He definitely liked Tony.

“I have a friend. He’s a good friend, known him for a few years. We’ve… sh*t man,” Dean said as he ran a hand over his face, “we’ve been through it. To hell and back, true story,” he said, chuckling. “And we were just sitting around talking in our motel room. I’m kind of in the middle of moving, and finding a place to live. Basically, I’m redoing my life.”

“No small feat there,” Tony chimed in.

“And so there we are, sitting there, and he was just being the awesome dude that he always is, and then he starts rubbing my thighs and holding my face, and for a second, I think this motherf*cker is going to kiss me - holy sh*t that didn’t even occur to me until this moment - anyway, I think he’s gonna kiss me! So I told him I’m not gay, and he said while that may be true, he knew I wasn’t straight either, and that I needed comfort. Then he sat back up because he’s cool like that. Then I told him I was going to take a drive, but not before making sure he’d still be there when I got back,” he blurted.

Dean took a deep breath, followed by a long drink of water.

“Did that even make any sense?” He asked spastically.

The man with a badge was silent for a moment, just nodding his head slowly.

“Oh buddy we got a lot to unpack here.”

“No sh*t, Tony!” Dean screeched as he got to his feet and began to pace.

Once again, the older man laughed at him.

“Well, how’d you feel when your friend was close to you?”

“Scared to f*cking death!”

“Grossed out? Repulsed? Like you were gonna hurl?”

That made Dean stop dead in his tracks, slowly turning to face the officer.

“No….” Dean eventually answered. “No, none of that, just… scared. I mean, he’s never done anything like that before, I didn’t know what to do.”

“What did you want to do?”

“I have no f*cking idea! I couldn’t think, man, all I heard was white noise so I went for a drive, then white turned to blue lights once you pulled up,” he said, grinning as he pointed his water bottle at Tony.

“Fair enough. Your friend, uh - what’s his name?”

“Cas.” f*ck it, he may as well be honest.

“Alright. So, Cas, he said you weren’t straight. So, you straight? You said you weren’t gay, but you might just be queer as a football bat and not know it.”

“What the–”

Dean didn’t know if he should punch the man for being so crass, but that was a decision that could come later because, despite his best efforts, he doubled over in laughter.

“I should not be laughing at that, it’s probably rude as f*ck, but I’m sorry, that was funny,” Dean said once he got himself under control, eventually walking back over to his car, taking his familiar seat on the trunk.

“It’s not rude, it’s my son’s favorite way of describing himself, makes him laugh. If he don’t think it’s rude, it ain’t rude, s’what I think,” Tony said with a simple shrug.

Well, that put Dean at ease. So the guy wasn’t a raging hom*ophobe. That was a good thing, it meant he didn’t have to deck a cop.

But he did have to answer a cop.

“I…” Dean said, taking a huge breath, “I got no clue what I am. No, that’s not true. I’m straight. I’m straight? It was how I was raised. Long sob story short: Dad was a Marine. He was a hardass. Men are manly and men, the end. So I…. I’m gonna pace again.”

Dean walked over to the top of the bank that led down to the river and watched it. It was calm and soothing, unlike his own thoughts.

“Don’t think your friend’s straight,” Tony said from behind him.

“Yeah, I’m gonna seriously doubt that Cas is straight,” Dean answered to the river.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

“A real one? Ha! Never,” Dean said self-deprecatingly. “I mean… I’ve been with women, attempted to have connections, that, uh… that didn’t pan out. So yeah, let’s just stick with never. I moved around a lot.”

“Military brat. Got that.”

Both men were silent for a while as Dean let a brand new sexuality crisis take over his preexisting mid-life crisis.

He was having a wonderful night.

“You said Cas had never done anything like that before, but what about smaller things? Try to be close to you. I don’t know, maybe just hold your hand?” Tony asked after a while.

“No - wait - that’s not true. He doesn’t grasp the concept of personal space, at all,” he said with a smile as he laughed softly. “But other than that, no, he hasn’t” Dean answered, making his way back over to the Chevy.

Tony seemed comfortable, still relaxing on the hood of his patrol car.

“Well, why do you think he decided to now, after all the years you guys been friends?”

“Good question,” Dean said softly, thinking. “Things have kind of calmed down for us. Without telling an incredibly long story, our lives have been a little on the busy side of things, and now, for the first time, they aren’t. We have time to breathe, which is a first for us.”

“Maybe he just went for it,” Tony said evenly. “Only live once and such.”

He and Castiel had both died at least once, but Dean chose to leave that little factoid out.

“That…” Dean said, looking up at the starry night sky, “that makes sense I guess. But what if I f*ck something up if he tries again? I mean, sh*t man, what if I just ruin our whole friendship because I’m an idiot who’s awful at relationships?” He asked, gaze eventually returning to the county official.

The police officer stared at Dean, unblinking for a while. Dean was beginning to get very uncomfortable under the scrutiny until Tony finally chose to speak.

“Huh, guess that clears up whether or not you’re straight.”

Dean slowly closed his eyes and counted his breaths. He got to four before he erupted.

“Goddamnit Tony!” Dean bellowed as he hurled his empty water bottle across the road. “f*ck! For a lot of things! You’re probably a great therapist but you also suck, just dropping huge, life-changing realizations like that on people! Damnit! And I just littered in front of a cop - I’ll be back,” Dean said, jogging over to find the thrown plastic.

The only thing that made this earth-shattering situation any better was that Tony was actively laughing at him again.

He really liked Tony.

Being a good citizen, Dean tossed the water bottle in the back seat of his car.

“I’m gonna have a f*cking heart attack,” Dean said to the grinning officer. “What the f*ck man?! You can’t just lead with that sh*t!” He yelled, coming to rest beside the man on the hood of the cruiser.

“Sure I can, I have a shiny badge,” he said, tapping the shield on his shirt. “I still wanna know why you were so damn scared when he got close to you.”

“I thought that would be obvious - because I’ve never done this before! Not only have I never had a successful relationship in my life, but Cas is a dude! Cas is a man. Wait… am I gay? Nah… I’m not gay, too many chicks, and chicks are still hot. Do you have any aspirin and something to drink?” Dean asked desperately as he massaged his temples.

Tony chuckled softly as he pulled out his keys, clicking a button that popped the trunk.

“While you probably want liquor,” he called from behind the raised back door, “how about a Gatorade and a couple of Tylenol?”

“Yes please - super please. f*ck, I’d let you handcuff me and lock me up in county for a few days for those.”

“I’ll help you,” Tony said, handing over the cold yellow beverage and a package of Tylenol, “but I won’t help you run from your problems. Enjoy.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said as he fiddled with the radio on his belt. It squeaked a few times. “Yep, still works. Still nothing happening. Anyway, back to you not being gay. Don’t have to be gay to be with a guy. My son’s taught me a lot. Hell, you could just be bisexual, pansexual, or… who knows, maybe you’re just Cas-Sexual. It’s a spectrum, it’s fluid, and it can change.”

“What is?” Dean asked as he downed the Tylenol, chasing it with the electrolyte drink.

“Sexuality. It’s different for everybody,” he further explained, talking as easily as if he were teaching someone how to breathe.

Dean had some more of the lemon drink as the pair sat in companionable silence once again.

“So, uh… what’s your son? What’s his… label? Or how does he identify? Who’s he attracted to? I’m sorry I don’t know how to ask this question without sounding like a complete asshole,” Dean asked, fumbling over his words.

“Learning ain’t rude, you’re fine. And he don’t give a sh*t. Male, female, trans, non-binary, so long as they aren’t a dick, although he don’t mind if they have one, he’s open to having a relationship with them. Or pansexual.”

“First, that’s… cool,” he admitted honestly. “And second, this is almost too much to process,” Dean said, voice breaking the still night air. “You included. Are you even real? How the hell did a cop in the middle of nowhere Idaho decide to pull over and have all the answers?”

“I don’t have all the answers,” Tony said softly. “I just listen and decide to throw my two cents in when I can, whether it’s wanted or not. You got any idea what you’re gonna do now?”

“Not really, no.”

“And neither do I. See? There ya go, I ain’t got all the answers.”

Dean smiled warmly at the man. “But I do feel a whole lot better, thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he said kindly as he got to his feet. “I’m gonna cruise around the rest of the county, see if anybody else needs a free therapist, but good luck to ya son, I mean that.”

Dean would not start crying over a gentle stranger calling him “son” – he just wouldn’t. God, his upbringing had sucked.

“Be safe out there,” Dean said, extending his hand.

“You too,” Tony said, shaking the hunter’s proffered hand. “Night Dan.”

“Goodnight Officer Grainger.”

Chapter 3: The One With The Apology

Chapter Text

Dean refused to sit outside their motel room for longer than fifteen minutes before he went in. The light was still on, maybe that meant Castiel was still there, and that he didn’t leave.

At minute fourteen, a little after midnight, he left the car.

He was pleased when he saw his hand wasn’t shaking as he slid the card into the lock opening the door, and he was even more pleased and equally terrified when he saw the angel lying on the bed. Still in his full dress attire - shoes too. God, he needed another outfit.

Watching Friends.

That lightened the mood some, but Dean was still a mess.

“Hey, Cas,” he said, trying to sound normal.

“Hello, Dean,” the angel answered, sitting up as Dean walked around to sit familiarly on the farthest bed as he faced his friend.

Dean had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he wanted, no idea how to proceed, less of an idea what was going to happen, and zero idea what he should do, so he sat down, just like he had been hours before, and started small.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his palms over his jeans nervously.

When he looked up, he saw Castiel’s signature confused head tilt, and then the Seraph brought his legs to the floor and mirrored how he had been sitting hours before as he faced Dean again.

“For what?”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn’t have.”

Dean saw Castiel’s hands twitch briefly, then the man clasped them tightly together and kept them primly in his lap.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry too,” he said to his knees. “I’m sorry for what I said, and I’m sorry for touching you the way I did. It won’t happen again,” he assured, his voice small.

The last thing Dean expected to feel at those words was a tightening in his chest. There was an honest, physical pain hearing that Castiel wouldn’t touch him again. What the f*ck was happening to him? They were just words, they shouldn’t hurt. But they did.

“No,” Dean stated firmly.

“No?” Castiel queried, looking up suddenly.

“Yeah, no. No to that.”

“Which that?”

Why hadn’t he gotten a beer first? Dean was an idiot for various reasons, this just happened to be the most recent.

“No to you not doing it again.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Castiel asked, eyes wide.

“Just… I don’t know. Warn a guy next time, okay? Or start slower. I mean,” he began, standing up to finally get the beer he felt he deserved. “I don’t know how much slower you can go, because you putting your hand on my face isn’t that big of a deal, but I don’t know man,” he said, plopping gracelessly down on his own bed. “Just go slow with me, okay? Warn me once or twice? I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. What the f*ck am I even saying. I don’t know but apparently it’s out loud. Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He responded hesitantly, rearranging himself to once again face the television.

“I truly am sorry I yelled at you, you didn’t deserve it and you have nothing to apologize for,” he confessed, staring at the familiar fictional coffee shop. “I don’t have the first f*cking clue what I’m doing or what I’m saying, but can we go slow? I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but… slow? Does that make sense to you? Jesus, two Tylenol ain’t cutting it I have got a bitch of a headache, but it’s not from anything you did, okay? I need you to know that. I just have a lot to process, and I need you to go slow, but not to stop whatever in the hell is going on.”

Dean closed his eyes and put the cold beer bottle up to his face. It had been a long, bizarre night, and he’d dealt with about twelve percent of it.

When he heard shuffling and the bed springs next to him creak, he didn’t bother opening his eyes. If Castiel wanted to leave, he could fly away, so he wasn’t planning on going far.

“Dean?”

The human opened his eyes slowly to find his friend standing beside his bed, a warm smile on his face.

“Yeah Cas?” He said, bringing the bottle back to his lap.

“Can I make your headache go away?” He asked, holding two fingers a few inches from Dean’s pounding forehead.

“Yes. Please,” Dean implored.

Soft as he could, Castiel placed his fingers on Dean’s temple, and his headache vanished instantly. The angel didn’t touch him further, just went back to his own bed.

“Thank you. And I’m also sorry I took advantage of you so much. Or still do,” he added with a heaping dose of self-loathing.

Since he’d started apologizing, he may as well continue. Using the angel was another thing Dean had felt guilt for over the years. Asking him to send him and Sam back in time, to heal someone, to wipe out memories… it was a long list. And he was pretty sure he’d only thanked Castiel a very small percentage of the time. It ate at him.

“You don’t take advantage of me.”

“I ask you to do sh*t all the time just because you can! Healing me, flying me somewhere, all kinds of things, Cas, and I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up to give the man his full attention, “I really am.”

“Well,” Castiel began as he faced the human, “just grow a pair of wings and you can make it up to me. Once you learn how to heal, I’ll be sure to injure myself more frequently just so you can fix me,” he said with a smirk.

Dean couldn’t help it, he laughed. He’d been doing a lot more of that since traveling the country with the celestial, even during a midlife crisis. “You’re a dick, but I’m still sorry. Also, thank you, for all the times I never said it before,” he reiterated as he leaned back against the small pillows.

“You’re welcome Again, you don’t take advantage of me. I’m more than happy to do those things for you. I enjoy them,” he said, turning his attention back toward the television. “Do Ross and Rachel ever become involved in this show? I watched several episodes while you were out and I feel a strange sort of attachment to them.”

Dean had a few options as to how he could answer. He could laugh again. He could groan. He could make fun of the man to his immediate left. But he decided to go another route. The thing he was missing in his life was a little hope, so why not start there?

“Yeah Cas, they do.”

Chapter 4: Hardiness Zones 5a & 5b

Chapter Text

All things considered, Dean should be focusing on nothing but the vanilla malted waffles on his plate. The deep, sweet flavor combined with the light-as-air texture should have him comatose from sugar, but no, his second crisis - the sexuality crisis - was still present in his mind as he and a warrior of god sat in a restaurant on a partly cloudy morning, still in Salmon, Idaho.

What did he think of men in general? Not much. The members of the human race who weren’t chicks didn’t really factor into Dean’s pool of attraction. He could objectively tell when a man was handsome, but that was about it. As he munched on a piece of bacon, he realized he’d never had an overwhelming desire to rip another man’s clothes off. He hadn’t thought of this topic before, but he wasn’t opposed to it.

Dean thought back to what Tony had asked him late last night, if he’d felt disgusted or grossed out at Castiel’s advances. He hadn’t been, not at all. They had simply startled the living f*ck out of him.

Jesus, was he actually considering having a relationship with a male angel? Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, like… thousands and thousands of miles ahead of himself.

“How are your waffles?” Castiel asked, causing Dean to choke on his coffee he was so deep in thought.

“They’re great,” he eventually answered. “Delicious. I’m probably going to walk out of here with Diabetes but it’ll be worth it.”

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Castiel said with a small smile.

“Yeah, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would. I’ll always care for you, Dean.”

Dean took a moment to look at Castiel, really look at him. Still in a suit and trench coat, but his eyes were filled with such truth and kindness it was a little overwhelming. No one had ever looked at Dean that way, not once in his life, yet here was a man who seemed to do it unconditionally.

He wanted to return that, give it back to Castiel the way he was showering him with affection, and not just because Dean was starved for it. Not because he felt he had to either, but because Castiel deserved it too. The angel meant a hell of a lot to him.

He’d never told anyone how much Castiel meant to him. He’d never even told the man across from him. He felt deeply for his friend, but he was too afraid to ever bring those sentiments into the light of day. Most of the time he didn’t even admit it to himself because he was entirely too reluctant to ponder what it meant. All he knew now was that he cared for Castiel. A lot. And he wasn’t just a friend, he was his best friend - best friend who’d never left him. Sure, he’d check on other dimensions, but he always came back.

“Cas, I don’t want to f*ck up our friendship. You’re too important to me to ever do that. But…” he trailed off, playing with the thin paper napkin. “But maybe you’re worth it - taking a chance on more. I’d like to try for more. I don’t even know what I’m saying right now, but last night, when you touched me, and I really don’t think I’m reading this wrong, but, uh–”

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. For his part, Castiel just looked at him patiently.

“You want something more than friendship, don’t you?” The human whispered.

Castiel nodded, smiling warmly at him.

“S’what I thought. Okay then,” Dean began as he fished his wallet out, laying some cash on the table. “Right now I’m kind of going through a sexuality crisis on top of a preexisting midlife crisis, I’m homeless at the moment but have a vague idea on how to fix that, all of my worldly possessions are in that big black car out there, I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m going to mess up at least a hundred times, and my best friend is a Seraphim who occasionally checks in on Heaven and Hell, but uh… I want to try. Why? Because you’re the only good, constant thing in my life right now, and I’d be a f*cking idiot to let you go. And that’s all I know about this whole situation. That work for you?”

“It works perfectly.”

“Cool, let’s hit the road.”

If Dean chose to dwell on his crises anymore it would drive him mad, so for now, he decided to forget them both and see what life had to offer.

***

“I’m enjoying our road trip and am aware we’re traveling north, but what’s our destination?” Castiel asked from the passenger seat.

Dean chuckled. “I’ll get to that, but I gotta check on something else first, that okay?”

“It is.”

“Do you really want to be here? I know you want more than friendship, and that’ll take some time, although the more I think about it the less scary it is, but… Cas - you can go to Heaven, you visit Hell, you could literally be anywhere in the world or off-world that you want to be, yet here you are, in a 1967 Chevy. sh*t man, you could do a hell of a lot better than me.”

From his periphery, Dean saw the angel shrug.

“I’m settling,” he responded flatly.

Dean didn’t immediately know how to respond to that, so he didn’t move, just kept his hand on the wheel and stared straight ahead. God, what if he was settling?

Chancing a look to his right, he saw his passenger grinning devilishly at him.

“You’re an ass. I have enough insecurity issues to fill the Grand Canyon.”

“Apologies, that was mean.”

“Didn’t make it any less funny,” Dean said, smiling.

“To answer you honestly though, you’re right. I could be anywhere. I could pick a new country every day. I could get rid of my body permanently and rejoin Heaven to live forever as an angel.”

Once again, Dean felt the familiar pain in his chest at the thought of Castiel not being close to him. He tried not to make his discomfort obvious as he drove past a small, cozy-looking town on the left.

“You’re holding the wheel rather tightly, Dean,” Castiel said as he ran a finger along Dean’s white knuckles.

Dean huffed a sound of non-committance but loosened his death grip.

“But to continue, first - I’m going to lay my hand on yours,” Castiel stated, finally setting his hand on top of Dean’s. “And second, I’m not doing any of those things, not leaving you, and not going back to heaven, because I don’t want to. I may check in from time to time, but each visit will be further and further apart from the last one, and I’ll always come back to you Dean. Always. I want to be here, not anywhere else.”

And that was what he’d needed to hear. Everyone he’d ever known had left him, or he’d left them. Ever since he met the guy, Castiel was the only constant in his life, and he knew it would tear him apart to lose his friend. And if there was a chance at more? Dean’s only rationale at the moment was “why not” - and that worked perfectly well for now.

The man’s hand was warm, strong, and reassuring. Dean liked it.

“Thank you,” Dean said quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Castiel responded as he took his hand back. “So now you know I want to be here. Where are we going?”

Dean smiled.

“Well, I’ve been texting Bobby on and off for a few days. One of his friends uh… he passed away not too long ago. Rufus. He has a cabin up in Montana… had a cabin, guess he won’t be needing it anymore, and…”

Dean knew too many people who’d died. Dean had seen too many people die. Dean had seen too many people die for years and he was a little tired of it.

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked.

“I’m sick of death. I swear, most of the people I’ve ever known are dead.”

“I’m still here.”

“But you’ve still died twice!” Dean bellowed.

“Yet I’m sitting in your passenger seat and don’t plan on dying again. Besides, if we’re keeping count, you’ve died, well…”

Dean looked over to see his passenger staring at the roof of the car, nodding his head left and right as if attempting to calculate the number of times he’d died. He couldn’t help himself, he laughed.

“If you’re trying to count how many times I died in Florida because of Gabriel, I don’t know.”

“I think it’s roughly one hundred and three, and you died more after that as well. Yet you’re still here with me. I do hope you don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“I really, really don’t.” And he didn’t. He may be a mental mess and a wreck inside, but he’d get his head straight eventually.

“Good, so we both agree not to die - again. Now, going back to Rufus and his cabin, where are we going to live, because I’m looking forward to living.”

That put Dean at ease.

“He’s got an old cabin up in Whitefish. Bobby said it’s off the beaten path, but it’s fairly self-sufficient. Got a few wood stoves, solar panels covering the roof, and a well. I have no idea what condition it’s in, I’ve never been, but Cas, I just…”

Dean gripped the steering wheel again, the ease he’d felt only moments ago seeming to blow out the open window.

“I’m also sick of living in hotels! I don’t have a home, okay? I haven’t had a home in twenty-five years! More or less. Sam doesn’t want to hunt anymore, and that’s fine, it’s his life and if he only wants to assist I can respect that. sh*t, I’m just glad Bobby has the company. Do I even want to hunt anymore? I don’t know, maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Maybe I want to work on cars, maybe I want to work at a home improvement store and help people who have houses, maybe I want to kill a bunch of vampires, maybe I just want to grow some f*cking squash in the yard and sit on the porch!” He yelled, slamming his fist into the door in frustration.

“Liar,” Castiel said haughtily.

“Excuse me?!” Dean replied indignantly, turning to glare at the man to his right.

“So you do eat vegetables. You enjoy them too, and now you want to grow them. I knew the truth would come out eventually,” Castiel stated matter of factly.

“Oh my god you’re a dick and I’m so glad you’re here with me,” he moaned, unable to hide his smile.

“I’m glad I’m here too. And for what it’s worth, I’d love to start a garden. I don’t eat, but I’d love to grow things. I think that sounds wonderful.”

“Really?” Dean asked.

“Yes, very much.”

“Well, since I haven’t lived anywhere but Kansas, I’ve been looking at the weather up in Whitefish. It’s early spring now, but maybe next month we can plant something. Or… we can’t,” Dean said suddenly, realization dawning on him. “The cabin is about an hour south of Canada. And maybe I just got ahead of myself. It may not be warm enough to have a garden up there. I mean, sh*t, it’s April now, and even next month the lows will be in the thirties. This was stupid, never mind,” he grumped.

Squash. Dean had gotten excited over squash of all things. For the first time in a very long time he’d been excited about anything, and now it occurred to him that he probably wouldn’t be able to grow it for months, if at all.

“Do you want to grow squash?”

“Well, yeah. And honestly, I like it too - especially zucchini - but I probably can’t grow it, or anything for that matter.”

“I didn’t ask if you could, I asked if you wanted to,” Castiel said mischievously.

Since the road was straight ahead into the horizon, Dean felt it safe to look curiously at his travel companion, who smirked at him.

“I come with a benefits package, Dean. If you want to grow squash, I’ll see that it grows.”

“Well sh*t Cas, what else can you do?” He asked excitedly.

“Help us make a home,” the angel answered with warmth in his voice.

Immediately and without his consent, Dean felt like he was going to cry.

“I am way too emotional for this right now, and if you make me cry, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Pity you’d lose,” Castiel said, sounding bored.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean barked out, his poor emotions somersaulting as he laughed.

Chapter 5: The Lifted Weight

Chapter Text

When Dean and Castiel had gotten to Whitefish, the actual town of Whitefish, they’d stopped at a Safeway to load up on food.

While the cabin wasn’t in Whitefish proper, it was still contained within Flathead County. Their new home was west of town, in the middle of the wilderness off Interstate 93, off of Two Bear Trail, then off of two more roads that didn’t even have names at a dead end.

Dean was already in love. He didn’t know if he could handle living in a city or suburbia, so starting his new life in some remote location surrounded by the forest and Beaver Lake to the north seemed like heaven.

Until he walked inside.

“Uhhh…..” Dean verbalized, surveying the cabin.

As soon as they entered, a small living area greeted them to the left. It held various knick-knacks, a shaggy couch and an armchair that had seen better days, and a coffee table that may have been purchased sometime in the 1960s. Which was what Dean imagined was also the same decade that the cabin had last been touched.

At least that’s how it looked.

The kitchen lined the wall to their right. There was a stove that looked like it was from pioneer days, a historic GE refrigerator that was probably solid lead, a decent amount of counter space, doorless cabinets, and a sink that had a fifty percent chance of functioning.

“I like it,” Castiel said, sitting his arm full of bags on the meager wooden kitchen table. “It’s quaint,” he commented with a smile.

“Really?” Dean asked, setting his bags on the counter. “Everything in here is covered in dust. And it smells. Not bad exactly, not like anything crawled in here and died - thank f*ck, it just smells… old.”

“Well, it is old. Let’s go look at the rest of it, then we can put our items away and make dinner for you.”

“If the stove works,” Dean commented.

The pair found a small office to the left of the living room crammed with roughly four hundred pounds of old papers, and their journey to the back of the house rewarded them with a bathroom, a laundry room, and a very large screened-in porch.

“Okay I can get on board with this,” Dean said happily as he walked back and forth along the porch, surveying the thick, overgrown woodland behind the cabin.

“The light here is wonderful. We can have many plants out here in the summer. When fall comes, I don’t see why we can’t move them inside. If you’d like to grow squash, you should have other living things filling our home too.”

Taking his time, Dean turned around to face the angel’s back. He hadn’t even been looking at him when he’d made the comment, he was staring out into the vast expanse of trees. The man had absolutely no idea the weight of his words. Dean had mentioned earlier he was sick of death, so Castiel suggested he fill their home with life. Their home. Which meant he was staying.

“What?” Castiel asked when he turned around to see a speechless human.

“I really needed to hear that.”

The celestial smiled fondly at Dean as he approached, reaching his hand out.

“Can I touch your arm?”

Dean sighed, but not unkindly. “Cas, you don’t have to ask every time. I know I said before to warn me, but… now I realize how stupid that sounded. Yes, yes you can touch me. I know you aren’t going to do anything I don’t want, and I know you’re gonna take it slow with me, so yes. Touch me. Hell, just hug me, I could use one right now.”

Castiel wrapped the man up in his strong arms and Dean fell into his embrace. He’d needed this, the surety, the comfort, all of it, and the feel of the angel pressed to his chest wasn’t too bad either, Dean decided.

“Why do you need a hug at the moment?”

He didn’t feel like letting go to answer, and it seemed Castiel wasn’t in the mood to end their closeness either, so Dean let it linger.

“The thought of living things around us is nice. And you called it our home. I, uh… I know I didn’t exactly check in with you, but I sure as hell didn’t just want it to be my home. I know you said you were staying with me, but I’m damn glad that also includes living with me, sharing a home together. And maybe we can go buy plants sometime. I’m just happy is all, and overwhelmed.”

Not even twenty-four hours ago Dean had yelled at the angel and told him not to touch him. Screamed at him that he wasn’t gay. In those few seconds of panicked anger, he’d berate himself for a long time for how he treated his friend. Dean wished he could take back his acidic words but he couldn’t. What he could do was make up for it. Still, he was pretty sure that he wasn’t gay. Seeing as how he was more than willing to give a relationship with a man a try, he sure as f*ck wasn’t straight, which was okay with him now that the idea had simmered a little.

But now? Now he couldn’t fathom a life without the man. Dean welcomed Castiel’s touch and wanted it more even as he was being held by him. It was amazing the realizations a person could come to when they had the time to breathe. Just one of the many reasons he was dumbfounded.

“I am so truly sorry I yelled at you. It’s eating me alive, that moment. f*ck I’m sorry,” he said with a heavy sigh as he hugged Castiel tighter, burying his face in his neck and repeating muffled regrets. “All my brain’s doing is looping me screaming, ‘don’t f*cking touch me’ at you and it’s damn near killing me,” he whispered, digging his fingers into Castiel’s back.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus on the man holding him instead of his caustic words. “I didn’t mean it,” he said in a hushed tone, unable to stop reliving the moment. “I’m sorry Castiel.”

He less than rarely used the man’s full name, but he didn’t think his remorse was befitting of nicknames.

“I accepted your apology the first time. I know you didn’t mean it. Your actions say a lot more than your words, especially since you seem quite content being held in my arms. Just push it out of your mind. I know you’re sorry, my sweet, sweet man,” he soothed, stroking Dean’s hair, “Please don’t dwell on the past, because we have a lot to do it seems. Now, let’s focus on more important things. Why are you overwhelmed?” Castiel asked as he pulled away from Dean to look at him.

“Because this place is a mess!” He exclaimed, choosing to pin his attention on the present instead of past actions. Dean tried to reign a massive smile at the kindhearted name Castiel had called him. Finally voicing how awful he’d acted had helped some, and Dean did feel a bit lighter.

“I have no idea the last time it was lived in, all the items in here are probably fifty years old and that’s being generous, there’s dust on everything, thank f*ck there’s a washer and dryer because we’re going to have to wash every last piece of fabric in here, we’ll need to buy every type of cleaner and duster in the world, and we haven’t even seen the upstairs.”

Castiel shrugged and took Dean’s hand. “Then let’s go upstairs.”

The top floor of the cabin was the definition of anticlimactic. One room held a bed, a dresser, two tables, a fireplace, and a lamp. The other room was empty except for a second fireplace. There was also another bathroom - it had a sink, a toilet, a shower, and absolutely nothing else save more dust.

“Cas?” Dean asked some time after they’d taken in the lack of substance.

“Yes?”

“There’s an echo up here.”

“I know.”

“It’s also really cold. Not that surprising because it’s April in Montana. We passed a place that sold firewood on the drive up here, so how about we go load up the trunk, bring it back, and then we can make dinner? We got a late start today, not that I mind, but after that, you just want to go to sleep? There’s so much to do, and thinking about it tomorrow sounds like a solid plan. That work?”

It had only been a five-hour drive, which was nothing as far as Dean was concerned, but he was exhausted, mentally and physically. Still… he had a home. No, he and Castiel had a home. Everything about it was daunting, but he had the roof of a cabin over him.

As he stared out at a gray sky from an upstairs window, he also had the arms of a very kind man circled around him from behind, the angel resting his chin on his shoulder. Dean closed his eyes as he let out an easy breath.

“This is good,” Dean whispered.

And it was, it was so good. He trusted Castiel with his life. The angel meant so much to him it was impossible to put it into words. He’d never really been held by anyone, certainly not a man, but this time, it felt right. Nothing about this situation felt awkward or inappropriate as Dean laid his hands over Castiel’s. He’d just let his actions speak for him now, and he still desperately craved his friend’s touch. He felt like could stay here forever, in a room with nothing but an empty fireplace as long as the person he cared about was with him.

“It’s very good, but I imagine it will be better when you get firewood. Your hands feel like ice cubes. Maybe we should also get some portable space heaters. Our home has power, yet I somehow doubt we’ll ever see a bill for it. Hunters are quite ingenious when it comes to leaving no trace of themselves.”

“God, we have so much to do,” Dean moaned, leaning his head back to rest on the angel.

“And we don’t have a time limit either, we can go at our own pace, does that work for you?”

“It does. And you’re right, I can’t feel my fingers. Wanna go get some firewood?”

“I think that would be wise.”

Chapter 6: Anger Management

Chapter Text

When Dean woke up the following morning, he was incredibly confused.

For starters, the fire was still blazing and he hadn’t added more wood overnight. But that one was easily explainable: he had a great friend.

The next thing he noticed was that he had a different blanket on top of him, and it smelled like fresh air.

But the most noticeable thing was the overwhelming scent of apple pie.

“I swear to god if I died again…” He mumbled, tossing the clean blanket aside. “I’m gonna be so pissed off.”

Not feeling dead, Dean carefully made his way downstairs to find Castiel sitting on the sofa reading one of the many books the cabin had to offer. He had no idea which one it was, but the angel seemed happy.

“Mornin’ Cas,” Dean said to the back of a messy pile of black hair. “I’m not dead, am I?”

“No,” Castiel said as he sat his book down and stood, chuckling softly. “Not at all.”

“That’s good to know,” he said, scratching his stomach. “Now, not that I mind, but why the hell does it smell like pie and what the f*ck?!”

Dean stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at the kitchen floor. There wasn’t enough counter or table space to put the surplus of cleaning supplies, so the floor was where they all resided. Everything from wood cleaner, wood polish, kitchen cleaners, all-purpose cleaners, dusters, sponges, four boxes of trash bags, three family-sized packs of paper towels, a vacuum, a dustbuster, three brooms, and a ton of other things Dean’s uncaffeinated brain couldn’t process sat neatly in a corner.

He turned back to the angel. He tried to ask a question, but words refused to manifest.

Castiel laughed again.

“Have a seat, Dean,” he began as he pulled out a chair. “I can explain.”

“Okay,” the confused human said, complying easily as he had a seat. “I’m just gonna let you take over for now. I could seriously use a cup of whoa–”

Dean stared pole-axed at the countertop where he was sure a decrepit percolator used to live. He knew he’d seen the damn thing yesterday, but in its place sat what appeared to be a very shiny, very modern coffee maker.

“Can you start by explaining the coffee maker? Also, it smells like coffee in addition to pie, did you make me a coffee?” he asked, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Happiness aside, nothing in this room made sense at the moment. Dean was in flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with at least three holes in it while his friend was dressed like an accountant. Right down to the sensible shoes and trench coat. He desperately needed to take Castiel shopping.

“Well,” Castiel said meekly as he poured coffee from a stainless steel carafe into a bright blue mug with half the handle missing. “There was a coffee pot here. Or at least I thought it was a coffee pot, I’m not sure. It didn’t have instructions, and when I tried to practice with it last night after you’d fallen asleep, I couldn’t make it work,” he grumbled as he sat down a steaming mug of coffee in front of the flummoxed human.

“Thank you,” Dean said, trying and failing to hide a laugh. “I’ll get to the new one later, but where’d the old one go? Just throw it out?”

Dean hadn’t seen a percolator in years, and he thought the one on the counter had been oddly adorable.

“No,” the angel replied timidly.

“Alright,” Dean said slowly, nodding his head, “so where is it?”

Castiel looked sheepishly out the window. “It made me angry so I smote it,” he said hurriedly under his breath.

“You smote a f*cking perco–”

He was shocked he was able to get any words out at all before the laughter took hold of his body.

“Dean this isn’t funny!” Castiel said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he whirled around to face his companion.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dean eventually managed to say, “this is the funniest thing that’s happened to me in a very long time,” he confided. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. That coffee pot is new and came with instructions,” the angel said as he sat down beside Dean at the old table. “Try your coffee and see how I did.”

“Wow,” Dean said as he set the mug down. The coffee was bold and bright with a sublime aftertaste. “It’s perfect. Damn man, maybe the other one needed to be smote. Smitten. Smited? I don’t know, good job,” he praised, clapping Castiel on the shoulder.

“Thank you. The instructions were in five different languages so it would’ve been difficult for me to have messed it up.”

“But back to the…” Dean gestured to the coffee maker, then the mountain of cleaning products. “Everything, all of this, how did you even do it? Did you take my car after I’d fallen asleep - not that I’d mind. You may be the only person on the planet who I wouldn’t immediately punch for driving her, but I’m still curious.”

“No, Dean. I didn’t take your car. That would have taken too long. You’ve mentioned in the past that most Wal-Mart stores are open twenty-four hours so I simply flew to one of those. Gathered what I needed in multiple carts, paid for my items, and then pushed them around outside to a dark edge of the property so I could fly back here without being noticed. I also stole your wallet before I left,” he added helpfully.

Slowly, Dean picked up the fragile mug and had another sip of the delicious, fresh coffee. Words could come later, he was just going to soak in this new information. Castiel, as always, waited patiently for his response.

The sun streaming through the windows that desperately needed cleaning illuminated the man in front of him brilliantly. Objectively, Dean had thought it before, but as he looked at Castiel now, really looked at him, he was stunning. His skin was radiant, almost glowing in the morning light, and his eyes were the bluest Dean had ever seen them. Had his lips always been that pink? He didn’t know.

“Dean?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, completely transfixed.

“Pardon me?”

“You stole my wallet?” Dean managed after clearing his throat a few times.

The vexing glare the angel gave him made Dean shudder, knowing his words had been well received, but the smirk let him know he was going to drop the subject.

“I also stole your cell phone as it has more features than mine, but I’ll get to that later. Yes, I stole your wallet.”

Dean surveyed their bounty again. “There’s no way in hell I had enough money for this.”

“I’ve been shopping with you many times. When you don’t use cash, you use a card. One copy of the receipt is for the merchant, and one copy is for the customer. As long as both copies come out as approved, indicating a successful sale, you get to keep your items. I had no idea how much money you had, so I just made sure that the receipt said what I needed it to when it was printed. We needed items, Dean, and now we have them.”

“How many times are you going to leave me speechless this morning?” Dean said after way too long of once again staring at Castiel.

“I don’t know, what other questions do you have?”

“Why does it smell like pie?”

“You said the cabin smelled old, so I bought twenty candles that smell like apple pie and placed them throughout our home.”

“Why was my blanket clean?”

“The one you chose had been stuffed in a closet for a very long time. While I was at Wal-Mart I also bought laundry detergent. I had no idea how to use a washing machine, so instead of smiting it, which I briefly considered because it also made me angry, I stole your phone and googled the make and model of the one in the back room. I washed several blankets. I taught myself how to use the dryer, and once the blankets were dry, I replaced the dusty one with a clean one,” he explained, shrugging.

“And I didn’t wake up for any of this?” He asked, stunned.

“No, you were quite tired.”

Dean shook his head, completely shocked by the absurdity and brilliance of the entire situation.

“Is there anything you didn’t do?”

“I haven’t cleaned anything. I thought that would be more fun to do together. I’m fairly certain I bought everything we’ll need. If I didn’t, I could always return. Our high today should be sixty-four degrees, I imagine we can open some windows if we’d like, perhaps air the cabin out some,” he suggested helpfully.

Dean regarded the angel for a moment before speaking. “You know what? There is something you forgot.”

“What’s that?” Castiel inquired, co*cking his head to the left.

“Cas, buddy… you’re my best friend and are probably gonna wind up a whole hell of a lot more than that too. That being said, I can’t allow you to walk around dressed like a damn file clerk. I can’t do it. There’s no way in hell that’s comfortable. We live in the country now, in a cabin, and I want you to feel good while you’re here, not like you’re about to do somebody’s friggin’ taxes.”

Castiel scrunched up his face adorably as he looked down at his clothing.

“I don’t know the difference between what’s comfortable and what’s not, this is the only thing I’ve ever known,” he said innocently.

“Well,” Dean began as he got to his feet to stand beside his friend, “I’m trying new things all the time now,” he pointed out as he ran his fingers hesitantly through Castiel’s hair. God, it was so full. The man had a lot of hair, but even as thick as it was, it was equally just as soft. He allowed himself a few more passes before he stopped, which was marginally difficult with how adoringly Castiel was looking at him.

“And you should too,” he continued, setting his coffee down on the counter and opening the eight thousand-pound refrigerator door, pulling out some eggs and bacon.

Placing his items on the stove, he turned back to Castiel, who looked pleasantly surprised at his actions.

He hadn’t touched the man because he felt like he had to, because too much time had passed since the last time he’d done anything, or that he was under some sort of obligation to return Castiel’s feelings. No, he’d done it because he honestly wanted to. His hair was a mess, and Dean had wanted to run his fingers through it, to see what it felt like.

He hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d told Castiel he was beautiful, because he was, fair and square, there was no other way to put it. And just now, he’d wanted to touch him. Was he still a little afraid at the new feelings swirling around in his brain like the Daytona 500?

Yes, he was. In all honesty, he was slightly terrified, because the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was very attracted to a man.

But he wasn’t going to pretend those feelings weren’t there. What he wanted to do was embrace them, and act on them as they presented themselves, so that was exactly what he’d done. And it felt amazing each time he did, the terror lessening bit by bit.

“And what new thing should I do while you make yourself breakfast?”

“You should hang onto my wallet, find a store, and get some new clothes. Get whatever you want to, I don’t care. Doesn’t have to be what I have. If you like it, buy it. Try them on first, make sure they’re comfortable. You deserve comfort. So get some clothes to bum around the house in, get some clothes for when we go out into town - because if you can keep that little credit card trick up, we need a new bed,” Dean groaned, leaning backward attempting to crack his back. “That one’s gonna kill me. Jesus, I’m pretty sure milk was still delivered to your door when that mattress was made.”

“I find it interesting that you just said ‘we’ need a new bed. I don’t sleep, but I won’t turn down an invitation to lay in the same bed as you,” Castiel said innocently.

Dean knew that the look in his eyes was anything but innocent. While he was aware that his default setting for matters like this would normally have him running for the hills, he didn’t feel the need to flee. Instead, he picked up a frayed pot holder with a rooster on it from a rusty nail on the wall and lobbed it at Castiel’s head.

“Go buy some clothes you dick, stop trying to get in my bed.”

The angel winked at him and disappeared.

“f*cker,” Dean muttered as he rummaged around the cabinets for a pan.

Chapter 7: Table for Two

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were pleasantly productive and filled with a truly exquisite amount of credit card fraud.

The pair had cleaned the cabin from top to side to bottom, and the place was starting to look like a home.

Chapter 8: Double Occupancy

Notes:

This is the chapter with the nightmare and the panic attack.
They are mild. Incredibly mild. Still, I feel it polite to give warning.
If you've ever read anything I've written previously, I don't do angst here or unhappiness, so it's nothing to worry about.

Chapter Text

Hell. That’s where Dean was. It had been a while since his subconscious took him there, but there was nowhere else it could be. The heat, the smell of rancid decay and death, being covered in blood, the constant lack of flesh, the desperate screams of pain, either from him or whoever he was torturing, it was undeniable that’s where he was.

When he came to, he still felt terrified, but he knew it had only been a nightmare. He hadn’t had one since he and Castiel had been at the cabin, but he knew they hadn’t stopped altogether, he wasn’t that lucky. What he was… was shaking and drenched in sweat.

Fire was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, which didn’t help things. The orange and red glow the room was cast in was a bit too hellishly familiar for his liking. Shutting his eyes tight, he tried to get it together, focused on his breathing, knowing that he was safe in Montana.

Why couldn’t he just snap out of it? He’d always been able to before. Even with the worst nightmares he’d ever had, he could easily hop out of bed and make coffee within sixty seconds, except this time, he couldn’t move - the uncontrollable shaking didn’t count.

“Cas.”

Well, that certainly hadn’t worked. Dean didn’t even know if it had been audible.

He opened his eyes again and not surprisingly, the fire was still there, because he was in a cabin an hour south of Canada, and it was cold. Whitefish didn’t care that it was May, the low tonight was 33°. He needed the fire, it was good. But the more he looked at it, the worse it became and he was having trouble breathing.

He still couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t move. Or breath. What if he was back in hell? He wasn’t entirely sure how he would have ended down in the pit again, but after all the good, the smiles, the bond, the growing relationship between him and his best friend, what if it had all been a hallucination - a trick - and he’d returned to hell to spend eternity?

Dean felt as if all the oxygen in the room would be gone in about ten seconds, so with all the force he could muster, which wasn’t much, he was able to get out a single word.

“Castiel!”

That one, he knew was audible. The scream tore out of him raggedly, so anguished it hurt his throat. Some dark part of him wondered if that would be the last word he ever said because he still couldn’t move and could barely breathe he was so scared.

The sound of the air being disturbed finally drew Dean’s eyes from the flames, and he was met with Castiel suddenly standing beside him, eyes glowing a fierce blue as he wielded his angel blade.

He was in a white t-shirt and sleep pants with palm trees plastered all over them. Just seeing that eased his terror half a percent.

He drew in half a breath, and it felt like the first one he’d taken in an hour.

“Dean,” Castiel choked out as he sat the blade on the nightstand, eyes wide with fright. “What is it? I heard you. I heard your prayer, which was more like a scream,” he said as he stroked Dean’s face, voice cracking. “What’s wrong?”

Castiel looked about as wrecked as Dean felt.

Since he wasn’t dead, which made things fractionally easier, Dean forced his body to move, which was the last thing he wanted to do as it filled him with unknown dread down to his toes, but he did it. He jerked the covers back, grabbed Castiel’s shirt in a fist, and hauled the man into bed beside him.

Once the two men were lying on their sides facing one another, Dean buried his face in Castiel’s chest as the angel wrapped him up tight. He flung his arm around his back and dug his fingers into Castiel’s shoulder blades. Dean also threw a leg over him for good measure, which brought his friend even closer. He needed to feel Castiel, to be utterly consumed by the man beside him. Dean craved that familiar grounding feeling the angel always gave him because right now, he was disconnected from just about everything else in the world.

“Oh god, Dean,” Castiel said pitifully, cradling the man’s head. “You’re shaking,” he said softly as he kissed the top of his head. “What is it, what’s wrong? If you can’t speak then pray. What hurt you? I will burn the goddamn f*cking earth down if one thing touched a single hair on your head,” he growled.

That was the first time Dean had heard Castiel ever seriously curse. It made the left side of his mouth attempt to smile, but that was it. He wanted so badly to enjoy the soft kisses Castiel was giving him, but terror was still winning out over pleasure.

Nightmare. In hell. It was bad, Cas, he explained through prayer. I’ve always been able to deal with them, always. This one though, I couldn’t. I don’t think I’ve dreamed anything since we’ve been here, good or bad, and then this hit, and when I woke up and saw the fire, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I still can’t fully move or breathe now for what it’s worth.

At his words, he felt the angel begin to stir, so Dead pulled him in even tighter.

Don’t put it out, it’s really cold without it. I’ll deal with it. Just… stay, please. I need you. Stay. I can’t believe I ever told you not to touch me. I’m a dumbass. Touch me. Don’t stop touching me. Need you close. Want you close.

It wasn’t just the horror of the pit Dean was wracked with, it was the thought of his friend never touching him again. At the moment, he was afraid of everything, and the mere notion of Castiel not being close to him ripped him apart more than any demon in Hell ever had.

“I’ll do better than that my darling man,” the Seraph said kindly as he pressed his palm to Dean’s back.

Dean felt as if he’d been underwater right until his breaking point when his lungs started to burn, drowning imminent, but then he was able to surface. At Castiel’s touch, he felt Grace flood his body. Beautiful, soothing Grace. Dean pulled back from Castiel almost violently as he gasped and arched backward, taking the biggest breath of his life. He felt like it went on forever, the more air he sucked in, the more his limbs relaxed and uncramped. The terror that had nearly drowned him earlier was gone.

Slowly, still a little hesitant to move too much, he curled in towards his bedmate and placed his hand on Castiel’s right shoulder.

“Cas,” he whispered, completely awestruck. “What did you just do to me?”

He was smiling when he asked the question, which was an improvement. Five minutes ago he felt like he may never smile again.

Castiel smiled too as he ran his fingers through Dean’s hair, gazing at the man adoringly.

“Just helped out a bit. Come back to me,” the angel said as he placed his hand on Dean’s neck to pull him close again.

“I’m drenched in sweat,” Dean pointed out but going happily nonetheless.

“And I don’t care,” Castiel said once he’d pulled Dean close, rubbing circles on the man’s back over a wet t-shirt.

Dean allowed himself to be held and reveled in it for a while. The fear was gone, but the images which caused it remained. He readjusted himself a few times, finally coming to rest with his face in Castiel’s warm neck. He’d meant what he said when he prayed to Castiel to continue touching him. Just because Dean felt better didn’t mean he was done with the proximity. He still needed it.

“Thank you,” Dean said after a good bit of time had passed. “I have no idea what happened. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Never apologize for needing me. Never. But tell me,” Castiel said gently as he kissed the top of Dean’s head, “have you ever had a panic attack?”

Dean knew what panic attacks were, but he was fairly certain he’d never had one, although at this point he should have had at least a thousand.

“Guess I just did. I was probably long overdue. But why, Cas? Why now? I’ve had way better opportunities to lose my sh*t before, why the hell did one decide to hit now? When we’re together, when we’re finally at peace, when we’re having a damn blast? What f*cking sense does that make?”

“It makes absolutely no sense at all and doesn’t need to. The brain is an asshole. That’s probably the simplest way I can put it. You should never trust a part of the body that named itself,” he said succinctly as he shrugged.

Finally, Dean laughed as he pulled Castiel in closer. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I hated it, Cas, it was awful. I was terrified and I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything.”

“You called out to me.”

“And you showed up like you were ready to murder the world in pajamas,” Dean said, snorting. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing,” he continued, rubbing his cheek against Castiel’s stubbled jaw, “please god, know I’m not laughing at you, but holy sh*t. At that moment, I was so afraid I could barely breathe and honestly thought I was going to die, then you showed up, eyes blazing, blade ready for battle, all while wearing pants with neon pink palm trees on them. Cas, buddy, that right there was what started pulling me back from the edge. That will undoubtedly go down as one of the greatest moments of my life. Thank you.”

“I think the palm trees impart a certain level of authority,” Castiel commented.

“I’ll make you chocolate cake if you wear those the next time you check on heaven,” Dean promised, still running his face along Castiel’s.

Never in his life had he been this close to someone who had stubble on their face - namely, a man. It was foreign, that was for sure, but it was also pleasantly addictive. Briefly, he wondered why he’d never tried it before, then remembered that his attraction to the same gender was a fairly recent acknowledgment.

“Then I’ll find a matching shirt to go with them,” Castiel added.

Dean had heard the man’s words, but he hadn’t processed them. It dawned on him that he was more or less marking Castiel as his with his face. Additionally, he was also pleasantly reminded of events earlier in the evening.

Or yesterday. He didn’t know what time it was.

“I kissed you,” Dean said as he scooted back to look at the man who had saved him from Hell - again.

“You did,” Castiel agreed, smiling and trailing his fingertips gently down the side of Dean’s face.

Castiel’s touch felt amazing, and Dean wanted to make the angel feel that way too, so he mirrored his actions and cradled the man’s face, occasionally stroking his fingers through dark, messy hair.

“Your eyes are back to normal,” Dean noted.

“Well, nothing needs to be killed at the moment and we’re relaxing.”

“Looked pretty cool when they glowed.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Castiel said curiously.

Hell was scary. Hell was terrifying. Having incredibly deep feelings for your best friend who was also a man and also an angel? That wasn’t nearly as scary as it had been at first, so Dean kissed him again, almost delicately as he let his thumb run up and down Castiel’s cheekbone. Dean was delighted at the rough, scratchy hair that tickled his lips each time his friend kissed him back.

Sighing happily, Dean took one last kiss, then nuzzled himself against Castiel’s neck again.

“If you want it,” the human began hesitantly, scratching his nails soothingly along Castiel’s back, “this is your bed too now. I want you here, and not just because of what happened earlier. I’ve wanted you here for a while. Sorry it took me so long to get over myself. I know you don’t sleep, and that we have a new couch, but if you want to lay down with me some at night, I’d like it. A lot.”

“That only leaves me with one question then,” Castiel said, sighing happily.

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“Am I currently lying on my side of the bed or yours?”

“It’s yours now.”

Chapter 9: Heavenly Objectification

Chapter Text

The easy current of passing days were good ones. They were filled with light instead of darkness. Laughter instead of fear, or sadness. Life instead of death. Dean still wasn’t used to the better qualities that life had to offer, but he was adjusting quickly.

The days were also filled with proximity. Proximity was definitely a thing now.

The second bedroom was still empty. Maybe the housemates would move all of the plants on the porch there once winter came again, but for now, it remained full of nothing but possibilities.

Castiel was a constant in Dean’s bed - their bed - the pair always turning in at the same time. Most of the time when the human woke up, he was still being held by the Seraph. Sometimes Castiel had already gone to attend to other things. He didn’t physically require sleep, so Dean certainly wouldn’t ask that he stay with him all night. Even Dean liked the occasional walk in the woods by himself, it was good for him and gave him time to think. Or not to think, just… be.

Whatever his time among the trees was, it was amazing for his mental health. Physical health too since he was nowhere near as active as he once was.

Since the ground wasn’t in a constant state of being frozen anymore, the pair decided to clear some of the brush and growth away for a greenhouse. All things considered, it was still too soon to plant, but the angel assured Dean that whatever they stuck in the dirt, or seeded in pots, would live, and he trusted him.

Dean liked the perks that Castiel came with, but he didn’t want to abuse them, which was why he wanted to do all the clearing by hand instead of holy wrath. Besides, who was he to turn down more time with his… best friend?

Best friend with kisses. That was all Dean had worked up to and where he remained.

Small kisses.

He knew Castiel was the furthest thing from being bothered by their slow pace, so he didn’t feel bad for keeping things sluggish. They’d progress when they felt like it. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the blue-eyed celestial.

It was weird to just… live. Dean had never done it before. He liked it.

Dean didn’t think he’d ever felt it so warm in Montana before. Oddly enough, he’d gotten a little used to the frosty air, but he welcomed the sun with open arms.

He and Castiel were clearing a path behind the house where a greenhouse would be placed. It was a small one, just eight feet by six feet. The associates at Lowe’s suggested a smidge urgently that the two would need more people to construct it. Dean said they’d bring friends.

The employees didn’t need to know that a soldier of heaven was going to be assembling their plant home. Yeah, he’d totally let Castiel go full angel to set up a greenhouse, but not to clear weeds and brush. This time he could thank him with kisses.

Before they began their outdoor chores, Dean had brought the green cooler out to the lower porch, housed underneath the large screened-in area above it. It was very simple, just lined with old planks secured together for flooring, but he and Castiel had added a table, a wicker sofa, and some chairs as well. If this was their home, they may as well treat it like one.

Dean had gone back to the ever-present cooler to grab a water bottle when he turned around to survey how much they’d cleared and leveled. It had been a nightmare back here to begin with. Machetes: not just for beheading vampires - also very handy when attempting to tame wilderness. At some point, they’d clear more than just a path and a place for a greenhouse. Dean wanted to add a firepit too.

And okay fine, Dean had allowed Castiel to pull up a couple of stumps - he was crazy, not stupid. But past that, it had just been good old-fashioned hard work.

As he gratefully had some of the cool liquid, it was then he noticed that Castiel was sweating through his shirt. Which he found interesting. The guy couldn’t taste food unless he removed the majority of his Grace, but he could sweat when he was at full capacity. Eh, he wasn’t a doctor of angel physiology so he didn’t question it, but he did watch.

He watched a lot since the man was facing away from him, raking dirt this way and that to further level the ground as he’d yank the occasional weed up. Dean focused on how the muscles in his back twisted and moved under the navy t-shirt as he worked. He’d never really noticed before, but he’d never been looking this closely. There was also the fact that Dean had finally gotten him out of a suit and trench coat. That helped.

Castiel had trim but impressively sculpted arms, and his well-defined biceps flexed as he pulled weeds from the earth.

Dean was still fascinated that the angel was sweating, imagining that he’d probably smell fantastic and incredibly masculine if he were closer. For a moment, he chastised himself, thinking those thoughts about his friend, but then he realized he was allowed to.

Over their weeks at the cabin, hell, even from that first kiss at the dining room table, Dean had known he was attracted to the man, but he was still so reluctant to proceed, although he’d wanted to. Honestly, he’d probably been attracted to him for a long time but was just incapable of realizing it. He was utterly content with the fact Castiel was male, but he was still pretty gun shy, although, as he watched the angel’s muscles damn near ripple as he raked hard dirt from one location to another, his reluctance was melting away a little bit more.

He wondered what his chest would look like, his shirt stuck to it with sweat. God, what he wouldn’t give to leer at him from the other side.

The jeans he had on were doing him every favor in the world too, the man had a nice ass. Oddly enough, that realization didn’t leave Dean spiraling into a meltdown, it just made him check the angel out more. He was very pleased with the progress he was making in the land of the not-straight.

Christ you’re sexy as f*ck. I wish you’d take that stupid shirt off, Dean thought as he capped his water bottle and nestled it back into the ice.

As he closed the lid on the cooler and turned back around, he found Castiel doing his best impression of a statue. His rake had stopped mid-swing. A second later, he watched the man carelessly drop the gardening tool to the ground as he turned around very slowly.

The curious, pompous, all-knowing look on Castiel’s face told Dean everything he needed to know.

”Ah sh*t,” Dean mumbled.

Castiel just co*cked his head and grinned at him.

He tried, oh he tried his very best not to smile. Dean bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, tried sucking his lips into his mouth, and pictured a boulder falling on the Impala, but nothing worked. Not a single force on the planet could wipe the smile from his face, so eventually, he just let it get wider.

“Let me guess,” Dean began confidently because there was no reason to hide it now, “I prayed that, didn’t I?”

”I must say,” Castiel said as he walked closer, “that your first unintentional prayer to me certainly was spectacular. I always wondered if it would happen, but it never did, so over time I just assumed it never would, but that one was something special,” he concluded as he took his shirt off in front of Dean and tossed it on one of the sturdy plastic chairs.

“Holy mother of f*ck,” Dean breathed out, having absolutely no control of his hands whatsoever as they began to run along Castiel’s collarbone.

The angel was lean with fluidly sculpted pectoral muscles. He didn’t have six-pack abs, but his stomach was as flat as the boards Dean was standing on.

He’d already started, so Dean figured why not continue his virgin exploration of the other man’s chest? He loved how his fingers slid effortlessly over Castiel’s sweat-dampened skin.

He’d been correct in his earlier assumption that the angel would smell good. Musky intoxication was the best way to describe the man in front of him.

Chest hair should have been a lot weirder than it was as Dean’s hands caressed Castiel’s pecs, but he immediately found that he enjoyed the sensation. His skin was so soft as Dean let his fingers work their way along the angel’s ribs and his stomach, loving the sensation of tight muscle throughout the entire trip.

Castiel gasped softly as Dean grabbed his waist, thumbs playing along the man’s hip bones, and that was enough to snap the human out of his trance and back into reality.

”sh*t Cas,” Dean said as he took his hands away quickly. “f*ck, I’m sorry. I am so, so, sorry. Jesus, our entire time together I told you to warn me and go slow, and here my dumbass is groping you in our backyard,” Dean grumped, not entirely knowing what to do with his hands now.

He shoved them in his pockets, where they only stayed for a few seconds until Castiel kindly extracted them, placing Dean’s hands on his chest once again.

”If I remember correctly,” Castiel said in a gentle tone, “I never voiced any such conditions. If you want to touch me, then touch me. You have my consent to do whatever you want to me.”

Upon hearing his words, Dean groaned as his fingers dug into the sculpted skin.

Dean wanted to go a thousand miles an hour and pump the brakes at the same time, but he couldn’t seem to stop touching the man in front of him.

“We should be on even footing,” Dean said later as his hands pushed upward, massaging the tops of Castiel’s arms.

“And what would that entail?” Castiel asked, his hand stroking Dean’s face.

“Take my shirt off too,” he replied a bit shakily, the quaver in his voice not entirely from nerves.

Dean was grateful Castiel didn’t ask him if he was sure, electing instead to pull his shirt off with ease, tossing it to his right to join his.

He was pleasantly surprised that the only thing verbalized when Castiel put his hands on his waist was a soft moan, and not a string of lust-induced expletives a mile long. When the angel slowly explored his torso, running curious fingers from his stomach to his chest, Dean couldn’t pick which emotion was going to win this round: reluctance or desire.

The feel of Castiel’s hands on his bare skin was exhilarating. They were strong, thick, and confident. They were also exotic, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing - just a new thing.

“Oh god, Cas,” Dean sighed as the man’s fingers ran up his back. Throughout their joint exploration, the pair had drifted nearer to one another. Dean wanted to make it closer, but he still wasn’t ready for much past that. “I don’t want to disappoint you,” he said as he closed his eyes, lost in the feel of the man’s steady touch. “I don’t want to get your expectations up and then not be able to deliver.”

“That would be impossible,” Castiel said warmly as he cradled Dean’s face in his right hand.

“How so?” Dean asked, finally opening his eyes.

“I don’t have any expectations. I have no idea what will happen, so there’s nothing you can do that would lead me to think anything else would come from what’s going on. I can’t see the future,” he said calmly. “That being said, what do you want to do?”

“I’d really just like to make out with you in the middle of the forest,” Dean said before he lost his nerve.

Castiel hummed inquisitively, then took Dean’s hand and led him roughly fifty feet away from their home. Throughout the short journey, Dean found it utterly impossible to get rid of the goofy grin on his face as he and an angel crunched their way over long dead leaves.

“Our previous location seemed to be too close to the cabin to properly be ‘in the middle of the forest’ for my liking, how’s this?” He asked, complete with air quotes.

This man was a dork. The strikingly handsome, blue-eyed man standing in front of Dean was a complete dork. That didn’t make him any less attracted to the celestial.

“Yeah, this is good,” Dean said softly as he grasped the back of Castiel’s neck gently. “C’mere,” he whispered as he brought their lips together.

He kissed Castiel softly, taking his time with each touch, which was what he’d always done. Sweet, simple kisses. But he truly did want to make out with the man, and when he felt Castiel dig his fingers into his back to bring him slightly closer, Dean ran his tongue along the angel’s lower lip, testing the waters. He wanted to taste him, wanted to know what his tongue would feel like against his.

The next time Dean flicked his tongue out, he was met in kind with Castiel’s. Water from some magical, mystical fountain wouldn’t be nearly as fresh as the man tasted. Nothing would. Dean ran a hand up Castiel’s chest to hold onto his face as he unhurriedly tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

There wasn’t a power struggle over whose tongue would win, nor a race to see which man could grope the other harder. As Dean and Castiel stood in the sun-scattered lands of their home, warm light filtering through the green leaves above, it was as if time had stopped.

Dean allowed himself time to relish each moment his hands explored his friend's strong back, still gliding effortlessly over the dampened skin as he drank in the crisp taste of his mouth.

The abstract thought that he was making out with a man entered his head. The notion lingered for a moment as Dean ran his fingers over Castiel’s nipples, making the angel groan into his mouth. The musing continued to flit around his mind as he kissed his way to Castiel’s ear, his lips traversing rough stubble throughout their journey, and then onto the delicate skin of his neck where Dean kissed the location Castiel had sliced open to remove his Grace.

He smiled to himself as he took his time working upward to rejoin his lips to the soft pink ones he’d stared at for so many years, and it was good. Delightful, actually. He was making out with his best friend behind their house. This was awesome. And he wanted more.

Eventually.

Sooner rather than later.

But it certainly wasn’t difficult to tell how much more he wanted if his half-hard dick was any indication of current desire.

He loved the fact the angel let his hands wander wherever they wished, not checking in for each new inch he traversed. When Castiel let his confident hands depart from his waist to venture south to cup Dean’s ass, the human gasped as his head lolled back in pleasure.

“You taste phenomenal,” Castiel noted as he ran his tongue along Dean’s neck, pausing to suck gently behind his ear.

Dean sighed at the blissful mix of sensations as he grasped the angel’s hair in a loose fist.

“Why can you taste me and not food,” he queried breathily, pleased he could still form words.

“I share a very profound bond with you,” Castiel began as he pulled back to look at the green-eyed man. “I do not share a bond with roasted vegetables.”

For all the sweetness, tenderness, and arousal floating through the trees just a moment ago, the spell was broken when Dean doubled over in laughter.

When the human was upright again, Castiel pulled Dean in close to his side as he kissed his temple.

“We have a couple of hours of light left, I bet if we work quickly we could be done before evening, clearing and leveling the ground for our greenhouse, how does that sound?”

Dean almost immediately protested the suggestion, wanting to wrap himself up in the beautiful man to his left. But there would be plenty of time for that later.

“Will you keep your shirt off?” Dean asked.

Castiel co*cked a brow at him. “Will you?”

“Yep,” he replied confidently.

“Then shirtless yard work is how we will finish.”

Chapter 10: The Good, The Better, and The Great

Chapter Text

Dean had played pretend house with Lisa. At the time, he’d thought he was doing what he’d always wanted, or at least what he was supposed to do. The soft, gentle caresses and kisses randomly throughout the day? Yeah, he’d done them all the time.

He never felt anything other than mostly dead inside, but he’d done it. He had wanted a life like that, more than anything.

Just not with her.

When Dean shoved Castiel against the washing machine (or the angel shoved him against the kitchen sink) and kissed him stupid, he meant it. He craved the man’s mouth and the way Castiel’s fingers dug into his ribs.

When the pair went grocery shopping and Castiel grabbed Dean’s ass when he thought no one was looking, he’d never felt happier. And if someone did happen to catch a glimpse of their public displays of affection, who gave a sh*t if some grumpy ass octogenarian glared at them with a disapproving frown - Dean didn’t.

Bedtime was heavenly, and not just because he was sleeping with an angel, but because he had a man in his arms that he cared about more than anything.

He’d had a couple more nightmares as May was drawing to a close, but the angel was acutely tuned into those now and was always there when Dean woke up, holding him close and kissing him as soon as he found consciousness. They didn’t lead to another panic attack.

Dean was incredibly comfortable in whatever shade or flavor of sexuality he was, even if everything they did was still kept largely above the waist.

Especially now, as a laid-back Saturday evening had them both cuddled on the sofa watching The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

Admittedly and obviously, nothing was arousing about the film.

Nothing. Probably less than nothing, but in Dean’s mind, that was beside the point. He’d seen it more times than he could count, but Castiel never had and seemed quite taken with the old western.

So Dean watched his friend instead of the movie. The damn thing was long, too long. And if Tuco wasn’t digging up some gold right now Dean was just going to pretend it was almost over anyway.

Or just shut the damn thing off.

With their near daily cleaning and tidying of their home, the place stayed remarkably well-kept and aired out. Still, Castiel always stocked candles, which Dean had lit before the film.

The angel’s profile in candlelight was a thing of such insane beauty that Dean was amazed he hadn’t pounced on the poor man a third of the way through the movie. Why in the hell had he picked this film anyway? He should have just found a thirty-minute sitcom.

But if he’d chosen something short, he wouldn't have had almost three agonizing hours to fill his head with thoughts of touching his…

Wait - what in the hell was Castiel to him anyway? They’d crossed the just friends line a while ago. The line had been killed and set on fire. The line was gone, never to return.

That was a problem for another day and thank f*ck, Blondie was riding off into the sunset.

Staring at Castiel’s lips for a brief period, getting lost in how full they were should give Dean…

Yes.

The screen credits.

Dean shut the television off.

“That… was a very interesting film. I’ll have to think about it some, I’d love to discuss it with you. I know you enjoy Westerns,” Castiel said warmly as he turned to face his cabin companion.

How someone in a navy blue t-shirt and pajama bottoms covered in cacti could look so delicious, Dean would never know, but he did. He probably looked like a man starved half to death the way he was looking at his friend, but Dean didn’t mind. There was a reason for his gaze. He’d told Castiel the first full day they were at the cabin that he was beautiful, and absolutely nothing about that statement had diminished in its intensity. No, Dean’s feelings about the visual aspect of the inhuman had only grown. His feelings about his emotions towards the man had skyrocketed and he wasn’t afraid to admit that one either.

“What?” Castiel asked playfully.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, and uh,” Dean said softly, running his thumb over the angel’s lower lip as he held his face reverently, “and right now I’d like to take a lot.”

”Take whatever you want, Dean,” he told him assuredly.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting for so long,” he said as he dove in for a kiss.

Said kiss was swiftly interrupted by Castiel grabbing Dean’s shoulders, shoving him back, and holding the man away at arm’s length.

“What the—“ Dean squeaked.

”No,” Castiel said in an almost growl.

”What no?”

”The part that includes an apology,” the Seraph said softly this time as he dropped his arms. “If you kept me waiting, it was because you weren’t ready. And if you had done something you weren’t comfortable with, then I wouldn’t have wanted it in the first place. I told you some time ago on the day we made out in the forest that I had no expectations, and I still don’t. Dean,” he soothed, cupping the man’s face, “I get you. I have you, in ways I never thought I would. You have no idea how overjoyed I am. Additionally, I’m old. I am very old. I have a lot of patience and can easily wait you out,” he said slyly with a wink.

“You co*cky son of a bitch,” Dean said cheerily to the man to his left. “Thinking you know everything.”

Castiel shrugged. “I know a few things, like the fact you aren’t straight.”

“And how the hell did you know that anyway,” Dean asked as his fingers traced patterns back and forth on Castiel’s thigh.

He’d wondered from time to time but never thought it important enough to ask.

“You aren’t hard of hearing, so you truly had no reason to constantly stare at my mouth,” he answered with a cheeky grin. “Past that,” he went on, face becoming contemplative as he looked down at his lap, “I don’t know, I just always hoped.”

“And what do you think now?” Dean asked quietly, fingers dancing along the other man’s chest.

As his hand worked its way up the ancient creature’s chest, Dean watched as his breathing increased, which he was intrigued by, since he wasn’t entirely sure that angels needed to breathe. Regardless of that biological fact, Castiel was also having the same effect on him.

“I don’t think I have to hope anymore,” Castiel answered as he brought his eyes up to meet Dean’s.

“You don’t,” Dean assured as he leaned forward, pressing Castiel into the back of the sofa as he pushed his tongue inside the man’s mouth.

It felt different this time. Dean had drug his fingers through Castiel’s hair before, and the angel had certainly tugged at Dean’s clothing to pull him closer, but as the pair collided, it felt more raw and needier to Dean.

So he took. Dean devoured the freshly intoxicating taste of the man, relishing in the sensations fighting for control. He wondered if there would ever be a winner between how much he enjoyed the plushness of Castiel’s soft lips or, conversely, the feel of his scratchy facial hair.

Castiel’s forceful hands pawing at his back underneath his shirt made Dean feel like he was melting instead of just turning his body to get closer to the angel.

“Off,” Dean panted. “Just take it off.”

“I can do off,” Castiel said agreeably as he removed Dean’s shirt.

Before it had even hit the ground, Castiel sat up, attaching his mouth to Dean’s neck as he began to leave a trail of bruises down past his collarbone.

Dean felt as if the room was spinning and also as if the earth had stopped rotating as he grabbed carelessly onto Castiel’s hair as his friend marked him. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the man had left a print on him, and Dean hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

He’d never taken Castiel’s shirt off before. The first time the angel was topless, he’d removed his own clothing. Sometimes they would wear shirts to bed, sometimes they wouldn’t, but Dean had never been the one to disrobe the blue-eyed man. Still, as he found himself tugging at the hem of Castiel’s top, the only emotion he felt at the time was annoyance that the damn thing was still there.

The angel laughed softly and raised his arms, allowing Dean to fling the shirt… somewhere. All he knew was that it didn’t land in the fireplace - or on top of a candle - and that was good enough for him. Even towards the end of May, a fireplace was still warranted at times in Montana. Dean didn’t mind though, he certainly didn’t find sweltering weather to be pleasant.

Gently but with purpose, Dean pushed Castiel back onto the cushions as he sat up beside him, his hand gliding up and down the man’s chest, just taking his time caressing soft skin and firm muscles. A chest with nothing but definition was still a novelty to him. He traced the lines reverently, still marveling at the firmness under his fingers.

He leaned down and ran his tongue along Castiel’s sternum, letting his right hand run along his friend’s side. His taste buds exploded in a delightful mix of salt, musk, and man as Dean licked a path to Castiel’s left nipple, which he ran his tongue over a few times before sucking the delicate bud between his teeth.

“Oh god,” Castiel groaned, and the fingers that had once been loosely in Dean’s hair tightened immediately.

He wasn’t sure which one did it more, the tone of the man’s words or the hand making a fist in his hair - maybe it was both - but the next thing Dean knew he was painfully hard and unbelievably aroused.

Forcing himself to take his time, he kissed, sucked, and licked slow, broad swipes on his way to Castiel’s mouth, his left hand holding the man’s face as his right hand went on an expedition south, stopping at the border imposed by the angel’s waistband.

Dean felt the blood pulsing in his ears, his heart racing as he pulled back to look at Castiel, fingers still dancing dangerously at a line made of cotton. He had to force himself to think clearly as lust had scrambled his brain. It didn’t matter what Castiel had said in the past, it mattered what he said right now. No way in hell was Dean going an inch further until he got green lights for the next fifty miles.

“Cas,” he whined. He hadn’t meant for it to come out as desperate as it had, but it wasn’t like he could help it. The thought of touching Castiel so intimately was the only thing he could focus on.

“You don’t have to,” he said raggedly.

Dean chuckled a bit, then looked down at his hand. He ran his fingers back and forth on the elastic of Castiel’s pants, finally bringing his hand closer to him so he could see the very predominant, very thick outline of the man’s erection, and he wanted it. Dean wanted to touch him, feel his soft skin, and let his fingers get sticky as he stroked him. He wanted to drive Castiel wild - once he got the okay.

“Don’t worry about me this time, I promise,” he assured, letting a finger pull down on the clothing near Castiel’s hip, exposing his flawless skin even more. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” he said as he brought his gaze up to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Tell me what I can do to you,” he breathed out, nearly pleading.

His hand began digging into the top of the angel’s thigh as he pulled his right leg closer. “f*ck Cas,” he bit out, his head spinning with how much he wanted the man. There wasn’t a single thought in his mind telling him this was wrong, no disembodied voice chastising him for craving a member of the same sex. Shockingly, the only voice in his head was his own, reminding him that he still needed consent and that one he’d listen to. Waiting for reassurance, Dean pushed Castiel’s other leg wider. “Please tell me–”

“Touch me,” the angel ordered.

That was a dictate that in no way could be misconstrued, especially by Dean’s dick which twitched and strained within his pants at the command.

Confidently, Dean finally put his hand between Castiel’s legs, cupping the man’s heavy balls. At the contact, the angel choked out a sob, his head rolling back to rest on the top of the sofa. Dean massaged them gently, rubbing back and forth along the fabric until he rotated his hand so he could palm Castiel’s co*ck, stroking slowly from the base to the tip as his heart jack-hammered away in his chest.

“f*ck,” Castiel gritted out in pleasure.

At his first touch of the angel’s dick combined with his lustful swearing, Dean whimpered - he actually whimpered, and could feel his own co*ck leak precome in his underwear. He was shocked he hadn’t had an org*sm. Had he ever been this turned on in his life? No… no he hadn’t.

“Cas, f*ck… you’re so hard,” he whispered, completely enthralled.

Dean was fascinated as he watched his hand grip and fondle Castiel’s prick, causing the man lying back on the couch to thrust his hips up.

If he was being honest, it was a challenge for Dean to decide where to place his focus. Every time the angel moved his hips, his ab muscles would flex, so he ran his free hand over them, greedily gliding along Castiel’s taut stomach. Then there was face, his beautifully pleasure-gripped face, his full lips parted to let out a never-ending stream of pants and gasps as Dean continued to massage the man’s hard dick, which was the third thing Dean stared at: his hand rubbing Castiel’s length up and down, loving how it bucked in his grasp.

“That’s all your fault,” Castiel explained breathily, running his hand along Dean’s ribs.

If you’d told him a couple of months ago that he and an angel would be living together in a cabin, and that he’d be touching the other man’s dick, Dean would still be running. Would have at least crossed a time zone.

Now? Now he flung his right leg over Castiel’s leg as he leaned down to pepper kisses on the man’s neck while he continued to softly stroke him. As Dean bit into the tender flesh over Castiel’s pulse point while the man dug his fingers into Dean’s back, he felt his dick twitch as a small wet spot began to form underneath his thumb where he was rubbing the angel’s co*ckhead.

“I want to feel you,” Dean began as he sat up to look at his friend. “Preferably without pants if that’s something you’re comfortable with.”

The angel looked drunk when he eventually raised his head and opened his eyes.

“I’m more than comfortable with that,” he answered.

“So…” Dean began easily, hoping to let Castiel know he was already on board with his question before he asked it, “what should I do with my pants?”

”Take them off,” he growled as his eyes lit suddenly with blue holy fire.

Dean had to immediately shut his eyes and clench… well, everything he could possibly clench.

He was today years old when he fully realized he was horribly, terribly, unforgivably weak for a domineering Castiel. He was also a sucker for the glowing eyes.

”I’m sorry, was that too much?” Castiel asked, bringing a hand to Dean’s face.

Dean kept his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

”Nope, not even close. Just thought I was going to come in my pants is all,” he replied, taking another inhalation. “I’m good now,” he assured, finally opening his eyes, pleased to see Castiel’s still emitting their otherworldly light. “My god, you are absolutely f*cking gorgeous,” he gushed.

Briefly, Castiel just stared at him, then brought his free hand to the other side of Dean’s face and crashed their mouths together.

The kiss was… not a normal kiss as far as Dean was concerned. It was a little bit more on the brutal side, and he loved it. He shuddered deliciously at the forceful contact as the angel pounced on him, giving in gleefully to how strong the man was. For obvious reasons, Dean had always been the stronger of the two whenever he’d been intimate with someone. Now he wasn’t, and he wanted to bask in the glow of being utterly manhandled.

Castiel’s confident hands roamed over the upper portion of his body with such grip and force Dean imagined he’d have a whole new set of imprints on him before the night was over.

His leg was still thrown over Castiel’s when the thought of just crawling on top of the man entered his mind. It was a mental picture worthy of being hung in The Louvre. Still… the pants remained.

“Cas,” Dean panted as he groped the man’s thigh, “are you sure I don’t take advantage of you too much?” He asked slowly, too preoccupied to fully stop himself from sucking and biting Castiel’s shoulder. “You know, all the awesome angel things you can do?”

“You don’t,” Castiel answered quickly, sucking in a sharp breath as Dean’s other hand played with his nipple. “Not even remotely, and even if you did,” he eventually said, pausing to lean down and glide his tongue over Dean’s chest, “right now… I wouldn’t care. What do you want, beautiful?”

“The human way involves too much work,” Dean said, successfully removing his mouth from Castiel’s skin to look at him. “Make our pants and underwear go away. Please? Just uh,” he began as he felt a blush creep onto his face, still preening at the affectionate name Castiel had used for him, “just angel magic them away. Is that possible?”

“Making pants disappear is something I’ve never done before, but…”

Dean watched as the angel waved his hand in the soft, ambient light of the candles and fireplace. He felt a cool breeze wash over them, and the next thing he knew, they were naked, socks too, their positions undisturbed. The angel was still leaning back on the middle of the sofa, and Dean still had his right leg hooked over Castiel’s right thigh. The only difference was that their pants and underwear were gone.

“Holy sh*t,” Dean breathed, completely transfixed at the sight of Castiel’s co*ck protruding proudly from a nest of short, black curls. Long, thick, and pleasantly veined, which Dean never would have thought to be a turn-on until right now. Dean never thought any man’s dick would be a turn-on, but his life was weird and Castiel did indeed have a spectacular erection.

His hand returned to the man’s length like it belonged there, wasting no time as he began wrapping it around the silky flesh and stroking slowly, all the way to the glistening tip, rewarding Dean with a very deep moan from the angel.

“God Cas, you’re so f*cking wet,” he enthused, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the slit, making the angel shudder as his fingers held tightly to Dean’s arm. He was transfixed as he squeezed the crown of Castiel’s leaking co*ck, massaging the precome around easily.

Dean was nearly trembling with excitement and arousal, loving how responsive the man’s body was as he touched him. Yes, man. Very much man, and Dean wanted all of him. “I love how oh holy f*ck!” Dean cried

“So are you,” Castiel commented raggedly as he swirled his thumb around the tip of Dean’s length, pulling greedily as he languidly began to jerk the human in an easy rhythm.

He wanted to make another noise - any noise - but Dean’s breath caught in his throat the instant Castiel touched him. For just a moment, all his brain could do was be overwhelmed by the man’s touch as he continued to move his hand up and down Castiel’s rigid length.

Dean watched attentively, his hand wrapped around his friend’s heavy co*ck, pleasuring him, spreading his precome around as lubrication, and he wanted more of it, wanted Castiel to make a mess on him. He groaned at the thought, letting his gaze transfer to the angel’s hand on him, his strong, masculine hand tugging his prick at a delectable pace.

There were a lot of new ideas running through Dean’s mind that he’d never had before. The notions were like an invading army, they were relentless, with insurmountable numbers that Dean had no hope of overcoming. The more he watched his hand squeeze Castiel’s co*ck, forcing more liquid from the tip that he rubbed along the sensitive skin, the more he realized he’d just let himself be happily conquered by the thoughts in his mind.

The heated kissing had taken a back seat as the two men simply rested their heads together. Dean was still unable to draw his eyes away as he continued to pleasure his friend, but eventually, he lifted his preoccupied hand, bringing his thumb to his mouth.

When he pulled back to look at Castiel, he appeared to be in awe at his actions, but it was an incredibly aroused stupor that left the inhuman audibly panting.

“I want to know what you taste like,” Dean said quietly as he sucked his thumb into his mouth. He moaned at the immediate rush of salt and headiness on his tongue, closing his eyes as he relished the bitter aftertaste of the man.

Dean opened his eyes when he felt Castiel remove his hand from his dick, wondering if he’d gone too far but not being able to resist. Instead, he was met with the angel licking a bead of precome from the tip of his finger, the blue-eyed man sighing at the taste.

“I’ve wanted to know the same thing for a long time,” Castiel admitted.

“f*cking hell come here,” Dean bit out, wrapping one hand along the back of Castiel’s neck while the other resumed stroking his friend’s achingly hard co*ck.

The angel wasted no time meeting Dean in the middle for a deliciously filthy kiss. Dean could taste himself and Castiel mixed on their tongues and he loved it, groaning at the mere thought of it when the other man began stroking him again, getting his thumb wet as he circled Dean’s exquisitely sensitive co*ckhead. He lost himself in the sensations for a bit as he more than happily let Castiel dominate the kiss, but eventually, Dean did want to speak. He needed to be closer to the man, so much closer.

“Cas,” Dean successfully got out on his third attempt, his breath completely erratic.

“Yes?” He asked poignantly, giving the head of Dean’s co*ck a delightful twist as he did.

“Christ,” Dean said through clenched teeth. “You keep that up and I won’t even have time to crawl onto your lap.”

“In that case,” Castiel began, placing his hands tightly on Dean’s waist, “let me help,” he purred.

Not surprisingly, Castiel lifted him slightly as if he weighed nothing, which Dean was thankful for, he’d had his left leg pulled up on the couch underneath him for entirely too long. He watched as the angel closed his legs, and then Dean widened his own as he began to lower himself.

Dean braced his hands on Castiel’s chest as he got settled, shivering at the sensation of leg hair brushing leg hair. The new contact thrilled him as he looked down at the inhuman reclining on the sofa.

And what a sight he made. His hair was trashed, his pink lips were so dry they looked like he’d been living among the coyotes somewhere in Arizona for a week, his eyes looked like cobalt stars, his leaking co*ck was at full attention, and his hands were curiously making their way to Dean’s ass. Put all that together, and Castiel looked like the sexiest thing Dean Winchester had ever seen in his life.

Orienting himself so that his co*ck would be able to rut against Castiel’s, Dean fully intended to lean down and kiss the man below him. The second he rubbed himself against Castiel’s hard length, feeling the velvety skin against his own, watching his dick push through a puddle of precome on the angel’s stomach, Dean no longer had a path to follow.

“f*ck Cas, oh my god,” Dean bit out, his breath coming out in stutters as he clawed into Castiel’s back, grasping feverishly for purchase as pleasure nearly knocked him over.

Without a shred of tenderness, Castiel dug his fingers into Dean’s ass cheeks, pulling him down harder on top of him as he began to grind his hips up while he leaned closer to the frenzied human.

“More,” Dean panted, immediately feeling consumed by Castiel’s touch. He wanted to drown in it, be swept away by the feelings caused by a single being. “God I want you so f*cking bad,” he stated, raking his nails across the tops of Castiel’s shoulders, trying desperately to pull the man closer.

“Please,” Dean implored, wanting to feel everything, see everything, even though their bodies were pressed impossibly close together. His mind was frantic as he wanted to experience each sensation at once, to make up for all the chances they could have had to do this but didn’t.

“Take what you need,” Castiel offered, continuing his rough massage to the globes of Dean’s ass, skimming his tongue along Dean’s shoulder. “Or tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you harder, I want you everywhere,” he begged as he yanked Castiel to his neck, yearning for him to mark him with his mouth. “Own me, do whatever you want to me,” he panted. “I’ll let you,” he assured, all thought in his mind was lost to lust, only wanting to give in to what he desired from his friend. “Just slam me against a f*cking wall and I’ll jerk us both off,” he suggested, half delirious from arousal.

Briefly, the world blipped out of existence from Dean’s perspective. The next thing he knew, his back collided harshly with their front door, nearly knocking the breath out of him. If he didn’t have his legs wrapped around the waist of an angel, who was also holding him up, he would’ve been on the floor.

Through his shock, Dean’s libido hadn’t waned remotely, the damn thing had gone into overdrive, and as he looked at the co*cky Seraph with a grin on his face, Dean remembered that he had to breathe.

“Don’t ever change,” he rasped as he worked a hand in between their bodies.

“I don’t plan on it,” Castiel assured, digging his fingers into the meat of Dean’s thighs as he leaned down to the man’s ear. “Now touch us. Wrap your hand around our co*cks. Get me off, Dean,” he snarled, biting roughly into the human’s skin between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh my god, Cas, you’re the hottest f*cking thing I have ever–”

There was no way in hell that sentence was going to be finished. The words died on Dean’s tongue the second he looked down and saw his and Castiel’s dicks enveloped tightly in his fist. It was a strikingly lewd sight, Dean’s fingers encasing their co*cks, squeezing them tightly in the hopes more fluid would leak out. Just the thought had Dean’s balls tightening, his skin prickling everywhere.

When he began stroking them in earnest, Castiel ground against him, pressing Dean sharply against the rough wood of the door, his fingers still mercilessly kneading into the skin at the top of the human’s thighs.

“So good, f*ck you feel so good,” Dean praised, unable to get enough of the angel.

“More,” Castiel said through a trembling breath, leaning his forehead against Dean’s and echoing his words from earlier.

Dean watched as his hand gripped their co*ckheads together, each one flushed red from need and stimulation. Every stoke fueled the fire raging in Dean’s gut, and he only hoped the angel felt just as good, if not better.

“You gonna come?” Dean asked in a shaky voice, his toes curling around nothing as he stripped their leaking co*cks.

“All over you,” he said softly as his hips began to jerk in short, erratic beats. “So close, Dean, please more,” he begged in a near whine.

“I want it,” Dean confessed, watching intently as he began to move his hand faster. Their foreheads were still pressed together and he could feel the sweat on Castiel’s skin mixing with his own as the man shook. “Let me feel you, come all over my hand, my stomach,” he began, having no idea where the words were coming from but he couldn’t seem to stop. “Wanna jerk myself off with your come. Want you to unload on me, want you to f*cking lose it. Please, Cas,” he whispered, kissing the man gently, “I want you to feel so good.”

Dean watched as Castiel’s head whipped back, eyes shut tightly as his mouth parted to unleash a cry of pleasure. His fingers bore into Dean’s skin harder, if that was even possible, then he felt the angel’s co*ck buck and looked down just in time to see Castiel spill over his white-knuckled fist onto his stomach. He watched as the angel poured rope after rope of come, the man still making unintelligible noises of exhilaration.

When Dean felt the hot liquid splash on his skin, rubbing the angel’s release all over their co*cks, he broke.

“Cas! God, Cas, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!” He screamed, clawing his free hand into Castiel’s back as his head nearly became one with the door. Dean continued to stroke them both hard as his org*sm battered his body, the blissful release being stickily smeared between both men.

A second later the angel was on him, pushing his tongue into Dean’s mouth and damn near down his throat for an utterly vulgar kiss as Dean rode out the rest of his convulsions, the aftershocks of his org*sm wracking his body.

The desperate, harried pace of their kiss began to slow gradually. In no hurry, Dean let his hands wander gently up Castiel’s chest until eventually, he took the man’s face in his hands. Dean wasn’t concerned with their residual mess and doubted the angel was either. He was equally shocked, and not shocked at all that Castiel was still upright - being an inhuman had its perks.

Dean kissed his friend tenderly as he ran his fingers through his no-hope-of-saving black hair.

“Why don’t you take us back to the couch, huh?” Dean finally managed to say. “I know you’re like the most badass thing on the planet, but do you want to sit down?”

“Yes, I would like to sit.”

When Castiel began the short trek back to the sofa, Dean realized that everything on his body felt the best it ever had while also feeling like he’d just been hit by a cement truck.

The angel sat Dean down first, then sat closely beside him as he wrapped an arm around the human and pulled him close, Dean’s back to his chest, dancing his fingers playfully along his arm.

Gentle pets and soft caresses were exchanged as Dean and Castiel got their breathing under control and relaxed on the sofa, just holding each other and paying attention to nothing else.

Dean felt utterly at ease and knew panic wouldn’t come, nor would second guesses or regret, mostly because he already wanted Castiel again. What he wasn’t expecting was humor. It came out of nowhere, but after maybe ten minutes had passed, Dean started laughing. It was a chuckle at first, then a snort, then a breath-stealing belly laugh. He couldn’t explain himself because he couldn’t speak, but he wanted to make it known that he wasn’t laughing at Castiel, so he yanked both of the angel’s arms around him snugly and tried with all of his might to kiss his hands in between fits of hilarity.

“Do I even want to know?” Castiel asked, his voice light as he kissed Dean’s shoulder.

Eventually, Dean got himself under control and wiggled out of Castiel’s hold enough so he could face the celestial.

“Cas, my whole life, I really and truly thought I’d had good sex. Great sex! I thought I knew what it was. I had no f*cking clue what amazing sex was until we sat down.”

And he hadn’t. He had no idea sex, intimacy, or connection could be so satisfying, so all-consuming.

“Is that so?” Castiel asked hopefully.

“Yes it’s so! Jesus man, that was the hottest sex of my life.”

“I slammed you into a door,” Castiel said.

“And it was hot as f*ck,” Dean gleefully reiterated.

“Oh, good,” Castiel said quietly with a little grin as he lowered his head to watch his hand stroke Dean’s leg, “I’m very glad.”

That… wasn’t the reaction Dean was hoping for. Nor what he’d expected. Castiel, Warrior of Heaven who flew them both across the living room only minutes ago, now seemed shy. Hesitant. Utterly reluctant. He wouldn’t even meet Dean’s eyes.

“Oh god,” Dean murmured, horrified as his stomach turned rotten. “Cas,” he said hesitantly as he hooked a finger under the angel’s chin to make his friend look up at him. “Castiel,” Dean got out with a nervous whisper, “you did want to do that, didn’t you? God please tell me I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do, it’d f*cking kill me.”

Just the mere thought of this wonderfully kind, giving, sweet-natured heavenly creature doing something he didn’t want to had Dean on the verge of throwing up.

“Oh, no - no! Oh Dean, no,” Castiel immediately rushed out. “Not at all. I swear to you, I wanted to do all of that, so…. So much of that,” he assured, bringing Dean’s hand to his mouth to kiss. “I just…” he trailed off, smiling shyly and once again averting his eyes, electing instead to focus on the fireplace.

Now that he was no longer nauseous, Dean took in the bashful look on Castiel’s face and wondered what was going on in his head.

“You just what, Cas?” He asked playfully.

The angel rolled his eyes.

“I just,” Castiel began, finally looking at the human. “You said how that was the best sex you’ve ever had and I just, I’ve never done that before. Although the same holds for me, being the best - only - sex I’ve ever had as well,” he said with a charming smile.

“Still, I’ve never done anything close to that. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew what I wanted, how I’d fantasized about touching you, and then you told me you wanted me harder, which was very much in line with how I wished to proceed and…” he shrugged. “I’m just glad you thought it was good. I certainly did. Shoving you into a door never occurred to me before, but I must say it was exceptionally arousing. I was afraid I was being too forceful, but it seemed that was exactly what you wanted, so that’s what I did.”

“And did you want that too?” Dean rasped, his mouth too dry to swallow. “Because, uh, yeah, I really, really wanted you that way.”

The words felt empowering to Dean, saying them out loud. They didn’t make him weaker or less of a man because he wanted another man to be in charge. The realization felt liberating, like he had renewed strength and vigor.

“Oh, I assure you, I very much wanted that, and want to do it again,” Castiel enthused.

The man sitting on the sofa across from him was a virgin over an hour ago and Dean never would’ve known it. What he wouldn’t give to be eighteen years old again. He’d need longer than five minutes for round two.

“Good, that’s great. I just needed to know I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to.”

“Nothing of the sort, you have my word.”

Dean smiled and leaned forward to kiss the man softly.

“You don’t get to say you had no idea what you were doing, okay? You knew exactly what you were doing and were basically a sex god,” Dean assured.

Castiel laughed, smiling at Dean. “I get to say that because it’s true. I was just going off instinct.”

“Well keep that sh*t up then, okay? Now, do you want to shower with me once I find my pants?”

“I’d like that,” the angel said happily as he stood to walk around the couch. “They’re just behind the - no they’re not.”

Dean watched as Castiel stopped suddenly, staring calmly in annoyance at the floor, looking as if the hardwood in their home had greatly offended him as he ran a hand through his sex-demolished hair.

“Where, um…” Dean began, trying hard to keep his words steady, feeling seconds away from losing his sh*t. “Where do you think our pants are?” He queried, failing magnificently at hiding his smile.

“I don’t know. Colorado?” He mused contemplatively.

Dean lost his fight with composure as raucous laughter overtook him.

Chapter 11: f*ck Closets!

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, it’s a what?!” Dean asked, pacing back and forth in the cramped hotel room.

The human and angel had gotten wind of a spirit terrorizing a local bar in Spangle, Washington. At a place called The Spangle Saloon. Despite all of their research, waiting, watching, and investigation, they could never find the damn thing and another person at the establishment had been killed by it since they arrived.

“It’s a Shōjō. A Japanese alcohol spirit,” Bobby told them from the speakerphone.

Before they went to bed last night, Dean and Castiel had called on Bobby and Sam to offer some much-needed assistance. Now it was the following evening, but at least they had an answer.

Chapter 12: Castiel, M.D.

Chapter Text

“Dean…” Castiel said stiffly from above.

During their time at The Spangle Saloon, he and the Seraph had been slammed into at least two walls, three chairs, and the bartop a few times. Dean wasn’t especially inclined to move too much, but he could at least speak.

“Yeah?”

Currently, the bar had two occupants: one angel leaning against a broken cabinet door, and a human laying his head on the celestial’s lap as he stretched out into what was most likely a spill of orange juice. Or it could have been pineapple juice, Dean didn’t know.

The partners had successfully gotten drunk. Castiel decided that he shouldn’t drain his Grace to get intoxicated faster in case he needed to be super-charged, so there were only three full bottles of liquor left in the entire establishment.

“You have half an olive in your hair.”

“You can just… pick it out. Thanks.”

“Of course,” he said slowly as he removed the offending garnish, tossing it to the floor.

The Shōjō probably would have been a milk run for the duo had they been sober, but they weren’t. Dean knew he wasn’t f*cked-in-half drunk, but he was well past tipsy. The sloshed revenant tossed the pair from one end of the bar to the other, all while they laughed their asses off. Every jar of condiments was knocked off the counter at some point, and the two hunters were wearing most of the food.

Eventually, Castiel had been the one who had finally vanquished the tanked spirit with an assist from Dean, who’d held the angel steady enough to aim the Katana.

“How’re you feeling?” Dean asked, gently rubbing Castiel’s knee.

“I’m a bit sore. I still think I’m drunk, or at least partially drunk, but I feel accomplished. We did very well tonight. Give me a moment to make sure I know where I am, and I can heal you. I can also heal myself because that’s something I do. I heal things. I’m a doctor,” he stated resolutely.

Laughing, Dean rolled onto his back, cursed magnificently at the pain, and then used Castiel’s thigh as a pillow to look up at him. “You’re not a doctor, you’re an angel.”

“I could be a doctor, you don’t know,” the possible doctor huffed.

“Let’s call Sam! Or Bobby. Nah, Bobby’s probably asleep already, or he might be awake, I don’t know - anyway, they can settle it.”

After several failed attempts, Dean finally managed to get his cell phone out of his pocket to call his brother.

“Hey!” Sam said jovially. “You guys take care of the Shōjō? Everybody alright?”

“Cas says he’s a doctor,” Dean began as he put the call on speaker, looking up at the dark-haired man. “He said he’d heal me and then himself, but he’s not a doctor, he’s an angel. Tell him he’s an angel,” Dean directed as he snorted a chuckle, then grimaced at the shooting pain in his ribs. He’d had worse, and Castiel would fix it later, so he wasn’t concerned.

“I can be a doctor if I so choose,” Castiel stated emphatically. “I could go get a stupid degree,” he professed, stroking Dean’s hair.

“I love your fingers,” Dean gushed, only slurring slightly.

“Oh no,” Sam whispered.

“Guys,” Bobby said in a commanding tone, “where’s the Shōjō?”

“We both killed it!” Dean cheered. “We win!”

“What do we win? No one told me this job came with prizes,” Castiel cut in, “what is our prize? But yes, the dojo is dead. We’re a good team.”

“We didn’t kill an extinct bird Cas, we killed a ghost.”

“That’s a Dodo, not a dojo,” Sam supplied.

“I’ve never killed a bird!” Castiel squeaked. “Why would I kill a bird? Wait… did we kill a bird?”

“Oh my god,” Bobby groaned.

“You’re way too sweet to kill a bird, you didn’t kill a bird, don’t worry,” Dean assured.

“Oh good, I was concerned about that. If I ever hurt a bird, I’d heal it. I’m a doctor,” Castiel said again.

“Cas, Dean’s right - you’re an angel, not a doctor.”

Castiel harrumphed. “I find that disappointing, all I need is a white coat and a stethoscope and then I could be a doctor.”

“I would pay a lot of money for you to dress up as a doctor,” Dean thundered.

“I’m just going to pretend I never heard that. I’m going to bed. Sam, you deal with this. Glad you boys are alive. Cas, you’re an angel. Night Dean.”

“Night Bobby!” Dean said happily.

“I could also be a doctor.”

“I’m not going to stop you from achieving your dreams,” Sam added. “But you’re an angel.”

“I am Dr. Angel,” Castiel proclaimed as he placed two fingers on Dean’s forehead.

“Holy sh*t!” Dean cried as he sucked in gulping breaths of air. “Oh my god, thank you. I think two of my ribs were broken, but I still had a good deal of alcohol in me so I didn’t care. Jesus, thank you, Dr. Angel.”

“Or maybe I’m a witch… I did just heal you - I think… Witches heal too, don’t they?”

“You’re not a witch. Witches are gross, you’re hot.”

“Do I really need to be on this phone call?” Sam asked.

“I had to tell you we weren’t dead. And you had to tell Cas that he’s not a doctor. Or a witch,” Dean reminded as he sat up and brushed a few sliced oranges off his pants.

He felt just about back to normal, although there were still some lingering whiskey side effects despite the divine medical intervention.

“You need to heal yourself too, so do that, do a fix-it on yourself.”

“What if I turn into a banshee?” Castiel countered warily, narrowing his eyes.

“Just do what you did to Dean,” Sam suggested to the drunk celestial.

“Okay I’ll do that,” Castiel said.

Dean watched as his eyes glowed briefly and then returned to normal.

“You good?” He asked, running his fingers through the angel’s wet hair. Dean didn’t know exactly when or how it had gotten this way, nor was he aware of the specific liquid that landed on his friend. All he knew was that the blue-eyed man smelled like fruit and they both desperately needed showers.

Castiel smiled demurely and bowed his head slightly. “Yes, I’m better. I am not a doctor either.”

”You can still add MD to your name. Technically you heal people, probably better than doctors do, so I don’t see why you can’t add the title if you want to. Hell, go be a doctor the next time you and Dean get a case,” Sam suggested.

The angel hummed happily. “I’d enjoy that. Dean, make me a doctor.”

”I can do that.”

”So everybody’s better? Nothing broken? And you’re mostly sober?”

”Yeah, we’re good Sammy. Alcohol’s basically gone thanks to Dr. Angel. And this place….”

Dean looked around to survey the damage, which was vast. He had no idea how they were going to spin this one. Leaving town never to return seemed like the best idea.

“This place is f*cked,” he finished. “But the ghost is gone and they have insurance, so it could be a hell of a lot worse.”

”The sign on the front informs people that they don’t open until 3:00 in the afternoon. It’s barely one in the morning now. Let’s rest some, recharge, and I’ll sneak back in to see what I can set right before anyone returns tomorrow.”

”You’re so damn sweet, you could never kill a bird,” Dean assured, kissing Castiel’s sticky cheek.

“I’m leaving. Give me a shout when you get back home.”

”We will. Night Sam, thanks for the assist. Thank Bobby for us too.”

”I will, sleep well guys.”

Dean ended the call, then slowly rolled his neck. “All things considered, I feel pretty good - thanks to you of course - but I need to shower until the water runs cold,” he said with a sigh as he got to his feet, reaching out a hand for his partner. For as late as it was he also felt pleasantly awake. He’d thank the Grace for that too.

”Clean is an exceptional idea,” Castiel agreed, taking Dean’s proffered hand as he stood. “You know,” he said, surveying the damage for himself, “I know we got thrown all over the place, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun.”

”Are you kidding me? That was a f*cking blast! We definitely shouldn’t hunt drunk, but hell, that’s gonna go down as one of the better ones.”

”You’ll get no arguments here,” Castiel assured, wrapping an arm around Dean’s waist as the pair made their way across a moat of liquids and peanut shells.

Chapter 13: The Power of Prayer

Chapter Text

The walk back to the motel had been made in mostly companionable silence, just enjoying the warm night air despite the overpowering scent of an old bar. They were disasters, but it was easily fixable. Dean was either going to burn his clothes or let Castiel see if he could salvage them, but if he was being honest, fire was probably the only solution.

There was a little alcohol left in his system because the walk back to where they’d be sleeping tonight gave him some time to think up some very vivid pictures. Probably too much time to think, but once he’d made up his mind, there was no turning back, and yeah, as soon as he got in the bathroom and shut the door, Dean was definitely about to do something stupid. Good stupid, not the usual Winchester stupid.

I pray to Castiel to… I guess tell you something without telling you. This’ll make sense once I’m done. I hope…

He’d started. He had officially started the prayer and now it was too late to turn back, so Dean grabbed the shampoo and began washing all of the alcohol, drywall, and various drink garnishments off of his body. Or at least the very top of it to begin with. Castiel said he’d take care of his own mess angelically. Dean didn’t mind, the shower stall was barely big enough for him.

You’re the smartest person I know, and you pick up on things quick, like - insanely scary fast. That being said, it’s probably not too hard to tell that I prefer it when you’re on top of me, or especially when you pin me down and – f*ck that’s so hot – yeah. It’s good. And I know you like it too, which makes it even better.

Dean took a deep breath, and he did his best to remain upright in the shower. The booze from the evening was mostly gone at this point, so it wasn’t the fault of the liquor that had him lightheaded anymore.

Anyway, you get it. I know you do. You know what I like. You’re also the kindest, most caring being in the universe who has never killed a bird. So I also know that you’d never, ever, try something big that we haven’t done yet. You grabbed my ass first in the woods and that was awesome, but this is bigger. This is where the prayer comes in because technically, I never told you to do this, it’s your own idea. Let’s face it, I’m not even going to try and deny that I love it when you take charge, and that’s how I want you. I’m not using this prayer as some kind of a cop-out, I promise. If you want me to speak this to you, I will. I just thought this would be more… intimate…

He grabbed a washcloth and a fresh bar of soap and got to washing the last decade of a barroom floor off of him.

If I have to fantasize about sucking your dick one more time I’m going to lose my f*cking mind. But in my fantasies, you start it. God do you ever start it. So if you ever wanted to just… put me on my knees, sit me in a chair as you held my head for you, straddle my face - I’m not picky. And I know you’re the sweetest angel ever and most likely would never do this on your own - so I’m telling you it’s okay. It’s more than okay. But it’s only okay if it’s also something you want to do. We gotta agree, Cas.

Dean didn’t think he’d been reading Castiel wrong, not even close to it. The man just… took over, all the time. It’s just how he was when they were intimate. But just in case he was way off the mark on this one…

Damnit that was really assuming of me, I’m sorry. If you don’t want to take that role then I truly have no problem taking charge and doing whatever you want. Jesus, just tell me anything and I’ll do it. Wow, that still kind of makes it seem like you’d be the one doling out the orders, son of a bitch! God this sounded so much better before I started it. But it’s too late to back out now, so I’ll just own it.

And if for some reason this prayer doesn’t work I may just yank your pants down in the middle of a grocery store and suck you off in the frozen food aisle, I haven’t decided yet. Point is, I want your dick in my mouth.

So that’s it, I’m done. This prayer never happened and these were all of your own ideas. But you can also do anything you want to with me because I will absolutely one hundred percent let you. Okay bye.

Groaning, Dean leaned his forehead against the shower wall, mentally berating himself.

“Oh my god that was horrible,” he muttered.

Briefly, he wondered if he should just shut the water off, pile all the towels he had into the stall, and sleep here to face dying of embarrassment once he got into the bedroom. He entertained the thought for much longer than he probably should have, scrubbing and rinsing at least eight times.

After a final rinse, he shut the water off.

“Just go outside and face the music you idiot,” he grumbled to himself.

As he was getting dressed, he remembered that the air conditioning unit liked to work for about five minutes and then give up on life for an hour, so Dean decided he didn’t need a t-shirt and just went with sleep pants.

“What in the…”

Dean stopped his short trip from the bathroom to the bed to gawk at easily a dozen extra pillows. A very proud, very comfortable inhuman was lying against a mountain of them in the middle of the bed who had also decided against a top.

“Where did all the pillows come from?”

“There are several unused rooms here. We were given only four very flat pillows. I’m borrowing these. I’ll clean and return them before we check out tomorrow. Just because we aren’t at home doesn’t mean we forego our comfort.”

Briefly, Dean surveyed the situation. There was one angel in the middle of the bed, seemingly in no hurry for anything, legs crossed at the ankles, casually watching The Food Network. The pillows were a little weird, but not unlike Castiel. Mostly because he was weird too - in the best ways possible. Everything was… normal.

He tried not to get too excited as he got into bed beside his partner, propping himself up on the bounty of extra cushioning.

Did this mean the prayer hadn’t worked?

“Are you okay with watching shows about breakfast foods?” Castiel asked, already seeming quite taken with the program.

Maybe all the alcohol he’d had somehow negated the power of his thoughts, keeping them inside his head instead of broadcasting them to the man directly to his left.

“I’m always okay with breakfast foods,” Dean said cheerily, squeezing Castiel’s thigh.

“I had a feeling you might be.”

An entire twenty minutes about the ease of frittatas whizzed by and no words had been exchanged between them. Dean had officially hit the luck lottery. He hadn’t prayed anything to Castiel. Thank f*ck! Not that he hadn’t meant every single word, because he had. He just had a little bit more time to not sound like a complete moron. He could craft his thoughts better before he said them. Maybe go for a hike, get his musings in order.

Frittatas turned to overnight oatmeals and Dean was elated. Castiel hadn’t said a word, just reached for his hand to hold onto it loosely. He was grateful for the plethora of extra pillows, he couldn’t imagine only four of them now. Misdemeanor larceny wasn’t that bad, and no one would even know about it tomorrow.

Taking his hand back, Dean stretched lazily as he thought about laying down a bit more. They’d had a long day.

“Are you done with the episode?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, I think so. You can keep it on as long as you want to though.”

“I wasn’t watching it,” he responded evenly. “I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened for the past hour,” the angel said as he turned the television off and got out of bed.

Of all the responses Dean thought he might hear, that wasn’t one of them. He watched curiously as Castiel went to the far corner of the room, turned on a tall floor lamp, then walked purposefully back to the bed, turning out the lamps on either side, then finally came to stand beside him.

Dean blinked a couple of times, not due to the softer lighting change, but from confusion.

“You… you could’ve watched anything you wanted to,” he finally said.

“What was on the television was unimportant, I wouldn’t have paid attention to it anyway.”

Now Dean was just openly gawking in bewilderment. “So what were you doing for the past hour?”

“Thinking. Strategically plotting,” the angel answered, co*cking a brow at him. “And right now,” he said in a playful tone, “I think you might be just a bit too low on the pillows for my liking.

Dean looked on as Castiel raised his hand, palm up, stopping briefly at the waistband of his simple black pajama bottoms.

“Cas… what are you–”

The human was interrupted when he saw Castiel move his hand faintly, and then he felt his body shift up a few inches, making him sit up a bit taller as he was firmly pushed back a bit into the pillows.

“That’s better,” The Seraph commented, smiling slyly.

Today Dean learned his pulse could go from a normal, resting heartbeat to somewhere in the hundreds in seconds.

He was utterly helpless as he watched Castiel continue to smile lecherously as the inhuman sat down beside him. Sure, Dean could move, but he didn’t feel like attempting it quite yet.

“Did you just Grace shove me into the pillows?” He whispered.

“I did,” Castiel admitted easily as he toyed with the drawstrings on the human’s sleep pants.

Dean watched, fascinated with how calm the angel was, playing with a few pieces of frayed fabric as he ran his free hand up and down his ribs. There was no hiding Dean’s immediate erection. Castiel had certainly taken notice of it but chose not to pay it any tactile attention at the moment.

“You… don’t seem to mind, but I want to ensure that wasn’t going too far.”

Had he been audibly panting at the barely there touches? Dean didn’t know. He didn’t care either and was the furthest thing from embarrassed if he had been.

Castiel looked like the picture of composure, sitting comfortably next to him with his right leg pulled up on the bed. If the man didn’t have an incredibly impressive erection tenting his pants, Dean would’ve thought everything was normal - but it wasn’t. The more he focused on the celestial’s defined chest, the more he picked up on the fact that Castiel was also breathing faster.

“You didn’t even come close to going too far,” Dean answered a short time later. “So, uh, does that mean the prayer worked?” He asked, biting his lip.

“I don’t know what prayer you’re referring to,” Castiel began with fake innocence as he untied the knot of Dean’s pants. “I certainly didn’t receive one this evening,” he continued as he tapped Dean’s hip.

Taking his cue, the human raised his pelvis and gleefully allowed the angel to slide his pants and underwear off.

“No prayer,” Castiel breathed out easily, tracing his fingers along the inside of Dean’s naked thigh, “although I did have some riveting ideas of my own,” he shared with the man on the pillows, winking at him once Dean met his eyes.

“Oh god, Cas,” Dean bit out as he spread his legs out of habit and want. “What ideas would those be?”

Castiel hummed contemplatively as he began lightly massaging Dean’s balls, causing the man to moan his name.

“I love how easily you open your legs for me,” Castiel breathed as he stood, quickly ridding himself of his pants before returning to the bed, this time on his knees. “This,” he said slowly as he gracefully situated himself between Dean’s legs, “is where you want me to be, is it not? It’s certainly where I want to be.” He mused coyly, coming back to sit on his heels as he massaged Dean’s thighs.

Dean had begun the apocalypse. He’d broken the first seal. He found that one out after the fact, but it was still his actions that had jump-started the end of the world. What in the hell had he let loose with one prayer?

He looked at the eons-old angel. The man was breathtakingly stunning, sitting primly on his calves as he continued his sensual groping of Dean’s thighs, working his way achingly slowly to the human’s straining erection as he paid no heed to his own leaking co*ck. Dean was going to answer him, he was, but right now all he could focus on was his breathing as he fisted the top of the comforter.

“You know it is,” Dean confirmed, sighing as his partner gently palmed his shaft, taking his time to work up to his wet head. “The first time we were together it didn’t matter I was on top of you, I still spread my legs for you because that’s what I wanted,” he confessed, equally shocked and proud at the words coming out of his mouth.

He heard Castiel’s breath hitch as he watched the man’s eyes close, a smile forming on his face.

“I know we’re long past the days of me telling you what I’m going to do before I do it, but if you don’t mind, may I do it now? Mostly because I think it will be fun. Also, I’ll be leaving this position shortly as I need to spread my legs for you, but don’t worry, I’ll return,” Castiel said in a soothing voice, tightening his grip around Dean’s erection as he jerked him languidly.

“Cas,” Dean croaked out weakly.

At hearing his name, the angel looked up, and Dean was met with beautifully immolating azure eyes.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Dean gushed, sitting up to stroke the man’s face.

He hadn’t done this the past few times they’d been intimate together, but for just a moment as the angel continued to pleasure him, it was all Dean could focus on, his ethereal inhuman eyes.

“You can do anything you want to, dealer’s choice, have at it,” he got out hurriedly.

Castiel smiled kindly at him, kissed the palm of Dean’s hand, and then shoved him back onto the pillows with his Grace.

“That is so f*cking hot,” Dean praised once he was able to speak.

“I’m glad you like it. Now…,” Castiel said as he scooted back slightly, “I’m going to lick your co*ck. I’m going to suck your co*ck, but you won’t come, not yet. Before that, I’m going to spread my legs for you as I straddle you, then push my dick into your mouth. Is all of this okay with you so far?” He asked as he leaned down and licked a path, long and slow from Dean’s balls to the tip of his co*ck.

Dean’s entire body shook as his skin suddenly felt like he’d been sitting in the sun for hours. It might have been a curse word, but likely it was some form of a strangled, desperate noise that tore its way from Dean’s throat as soon as Castiel’s warm tongue touched him for the first time.

“I’ll let you think it over for a moment, you don’t need to answer just yet,” the angel cooed as he held on loosely to Dean’s engorged shaft, lapping at the head. “You taste incredible,” he enthused, running the tip of his tongue back and forth over the leaking tip.

He looked on completely enthralled as Castiel swirled his tongue around the engorged head of his erection and felt dizzy. He’d never felt pleasure like this in his life, and all that was happening was that his friend was licking the head of his dick.

Dean was very well propped up on the pillows thanks to an angelic assist, so he didn’t have to lean forward very much to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair. He watched as the man moved to kiss his sack as he ran his tongue along the gentle skin in between kisses, stroking his prick loosely.

“You feel amazing,” Dean praised in a whisper.

Castiel hummed happily as he ghosted his lips over the head of Dean’s co*ck before swallowing him down to the base.

Dean muffled a choked scream as his fingers clamped down on Castiel’s dark hair in a fist. He was unable to tear his gaze away as the angel hollowed his cheeks and began to bob up and down his co*ck at a tortuously slow pace while Castiel’s hands gave a rough massage to the inside of his thighs.

A repeating thought came to Dean again, but he chose to verbalize it this time as he conscientiously loosened his death grip on the mess of black hair.

“f*ck I hope you leave bruises on me,” he said through gritted teeth. “You already marked me once and I want you to do it again.”

He couldn’t explain why he wanted Castiel to mark him, he may never be able to, but he did, craved it so deeply it was sometimes a physical ache in his chest.

Castiel moaned around Dean’s dick as he took him down his throat one final time before leisurely sliding off.

“Once again,” the inhuman began, “you’ve suggested something I never would have thought of,” he said as he got to his knees.

Seemingly in no rush at all, Castiel massaged Dean’s legs, let his fingers play at his hips, then continued his caresses up the man’s sides where he was still upright on a mound of temporarily stolen pillows.

“And what do you think about it?” Dean asked, wide-eyed as he watched Castiel move like water, resituating himself to straddle his waist. Using his Grace, he scooted Dean down the pillows just a few inches as he moved up Dean’s chest, his legs spread wide around him as he moved his groin closer to the human’s face.

Sonnets could be written about the man’s thick thighs. If he were a poet, Dean would one hundred percent fill reams of paper on how mouthwateringly exquisite they were - but he wasn’t. Instead, he ran his hands up and down the solid muscle of the angel’s legs as the heavenly creature loomed over him.

As he watched Castiel begin to stroke his co*ck mere inches from his face, Dean could feel his own dick begin to leak precome. He’d never had an org*sm untouched by anything before, but he wasn’t going to rule it out as a possibility as he dug his fingers into the angel’s hips to pull him forward. Not surprisingly, the creature who was actually the size of the Chrysler Building didn’t budge.

“I would find it very intimate to mark you again,” Castiel answered.

Upon hearing his words, Dean had forgotten he’d asked the man a question. The angel was purposefully not touching the head of his erection it seemed, and Dean was about to lose his mind as he watched the tip get wetter and wetter. He could easily lean up and take Castiel in his mouth, but he’d wait until his partner initiated it.

It was a strange position to be in, having a naked man straddle his chest, pinning him down to the bed with his delicious weight. Not until recently had Dean ever thought or fantasized about anything close to this situation, but now that he was here, he let himself float, and drift along the currents of pleasure and certainty that were just above him.

“I love feeling you on me,” Dean said, unable to hold his tongue as he ran his hands up Castiel’s ribs, still enamored with the hard muscle underneath his fingers. With some difficulty, he managed to take his eyes off the angel’s co*ck and look at his face.

“I love giving you exactly what you want as much as I love being here,” Castiel assured.

He looked incredibly present and absolutely lost at the same time, which was how Dean felt. His skin flushed as he pleasured himself, his breaths coming out quicker with each stroke. The angel could certainly build anticipation, but unfortunately for Dean, he was becoming impatient.

“Please,” Dean said softly, his hands trailing down Castiel’s back until they came to rest on his ass. He dug his fingers into the incredibly well-honed muscles and tried once again to pull the man closer.

Slowly and with reverence, Castiel cupped the back of Dean’s head and brought the man just a couple of inches closer as he ran the tip of his co*ck back and forth over the human’s lips.

Dean’s grip eased as his eyes fluttered closed. If Castiel wanted to mold him like clay he’d let him. He’d willingly let the man so reverently holding his head move him however he wished. On a shaky inhalation, Dean basked in the spicy, masculine aroma. He could already feel his balls tightening as he licked his lips, moaning unapologetically at the salty taste coating his tongue. When he felt Castiel’s hand slide from his head to his neck, gripping it tightly, he opened his eyes so he could watch the man’s face. He knew what was coming, or he hoped he did, so Dean opened his mouth as a shudder danced over his body.

“I only wish you could see how exquisite you look right now,” Castiel praised, pushing his co*ck slowly inside Dean’s mouth.

The gentleness of Dean’s hands was very temporary the second the angel’s fat head touched his tongue. It was a combination of Castiel’s words and the sensation of the man’s dick in his mouth that caused Dean to flat-out growl as he pulled Castiel in. The following moans that poured out of him felt like they’d been trapped there for years, not even realizing they needed an escape. He felt like he was drifting on calm water as the angel guided his thick shaft closer to his throat, lost in new sensations as he yearned to take his friend even deeper, his entire world focusing on the bitter, salty taste teasing his tongue and the toe-curling stretch Castiel’s co*ck forced his lips to adhere to.

Did Dean have any idea what he was doing? No, of course not, he’d never had a dick in his mouth, but that sure as hell didn’t stop him from worshiping Castiel’s. The second the angel had pushed himself inside, Dean felt as though he was balancing precariously on a knife’s edge of having an org*sm and holding it off and nothing was touching his dick but air.

“Oh god, Dean,” the angel moaned above him as he stroked his face with his free hand.

He ran a hand up Castiel’s chest as he wrapped his lips around his teeth and began to suck, wanting to savor the taste of the man’s tender flesh as well as every last drop he was able to get out of him. Dean was guided by the angel’s strong hand on the back of his neck while his other hand petted his face. When he made eye contact with the pools of electrified blue above him, the Seraph looked at him like he was precious, something to be adored, which was odd considering that’s how Dean felt about Castiel at that same moment.

It wasn’t hard to tell that the angel was being overly gentle with him, and while Dean didn’t think he could deep throat to the extent his partner had, he still wanted the man to feel good.

With a small amount of reluctance, Dean removed his remaining hand from the man’s fantastic ass and brought it to join the other on Castiel’s chest, playing with his nipples and eliciting quickening pants of breath from the inhuman. Letting his hands drift lower, Dean tried to get him to move his hips just a little more, but it wasn’t working, so as he continued to greedily moan around the angel’s co*ck with drool beginning to leak out of the corners of his mouth, he figured a marginally more direct approach couldn’t hurt.

You don’t have to hold back as much as you are, he prayed as he sucked down Castiel’s co*ck with each tentative thrust.

“Oh my f*ck,” Castiel bit out, his head rolling back in pleasure as his grip on Dean’s neck tightened.

If he didn’t have his mouth currently stuffed full of dick, Dean would have smiled at the reaction prayer during fellati* garnered him, but he couldn’t, so he kept praying as he watched the beautiful man above him begin to tremble.

There you go, Cas, he said as he wrapped a couple of fingers around the base of Castiel’s erection. He wanted the man harder, but he knew he couldn’t take his impressive length so he added a buffer. Want you to f*ck my mouth.

As soon as the prayer was delivered, Dean felt his co*ck leak heavily onto his stomach as his balls tightened. Finally giving thought to, and accepting something he found so electrifying was deeply worth it.

Whatever snarling words came from the Seraph weren’t English but they were incredibly arousing. Fighting his gag reflex, tears began to stream down Dean’s face when Castiel began hitting the back of his throat as he sucked in breaths of air through his nose when he could. Dean could feel his own co*ck buck and strain as need and desire coursed through him.

Oh god, Cas. Just like that. I want it, want you. I’ll take as much of you as I can.

He felt utterly enraptured by bliss as he made his partner fall apart, giving this much delight to someone he cared for so deeply was mind-bending.

The man above him was consumed by pleasure, which is exactly what he wanted to happen. He felt Castiel’s rhythmic thrusting begin to lose structure as his fist tightened almost painfully in his hair, which only made the ache in Dean’s balls worse as he felt his co*ck swell.

“Can I come like this? In your mouth?” Castiel asked hoarsely, each breath sounding harsher than before as he filled Dean’s mouth over and over with his co*ck.

Please, Cas. Please, please….. he begged, his fingers buried in the meat of Castiel’s ass cheeks.

Dean felt Castiel’s short thrusts become harder, nearly pounding into his mouth, his co*ck growing impossibly more rigid. The angel’s release burst forth on Dean’s tongue, thick and heady as the man over him nearly convulsed, groaning as he cradled the human’s face. Dean drank down each hot pulse of come eagerly as he looked up at the ancient creature, face lax from exertion and pleasure. Dean sucked him until Castiel didn’t have another drop to spare, still shivering deliciously above him. He didn’t stop sucking until the man began massaging each side of his jaw with his thumbs, slowly pulling his softening co*ck from Dean’s mouth.

“Oh god, Dean,” Castiel breathed as he scooted back some so he was able to lean down and plunged his tongue into Dean’s mouth, kissing him deeply.

Dean ran his hands roughly through soft black hair, but he’d barely had a chance to kiss Castiel back as the angel broke it off as quickly as he’d started it.

“You’re mine now,” Castiel growled as he kissed his way possessively down Dean’s chest, gracefully maneuvering himself in between the human’s legs once again as he sat back on his heels.

He quivered as the angel’s fingers clawed their way down his torso. Castiel dragged his hands to the inside of each one of Dean’s thighs to push the man’s legs apart harshly.

At this point, Dean had no idea how he hadn’t come yet as he writhed on the bed, reeling from how rough Castiel was being with him. His poor, neglected co*ck had already leaked a pool of come onto his stomach and was flushed bright red.

“Your prayer said that I could do anything I wanted to with you and that you would absolutely one hundred percent let me,” Castiel said in a deep, teasing voice as he placed his left hand behind Dean’s right knee, pushing his leg back sharply toward his chest. “Does that statement still hold?” He asked serenely, using his free hand to massage Dean’s sack.

“Yes,” Dean answered immediately, his voice needy. He’d never felt more vulnerable or exposed in his entire life, but he’d also never been so aroused in his entire life either. Castiel was utterly manhandling him, owning him, and Dean wasn’t about to stop him. “Anything. f*ck, Cas,” he said through clenched teeth, “just make me come, please,” he begged, fisting the hotel comforter, his body strung so tightly he felt like he’d snap if Castiel breathed on him the right way.

Castiel smiled at him wickedly, almost leering as Dean felt two of the man’s thick fingers move south pressing purposefully against his hole as he massaged his entrance.

“Oh god oh f*ck!” Dean screamed, his hips thrusting down as his body craved more. His head dug violently into the pillows behind him as his back arched to a nearly unnatural degree. No one in his life, himself included, had ever touched his asshole intimately, until now. Dean’s nerves exploded while Castiel’s clever fingers circled his entrance. Just when he thought he’d be able to take a breath, he felt the angel’s mouth envelop his co*ck, sucking him to the back of his throat.

The Seraph swallowed around his co*ckhead as he added pressure to his entrance, and all Dean could do was shake and pretend he knew how to breathe as he sucked in desperate gulps of oxygen. The sensation of the tender skin around his hole being stroked and circled with confidence and pressure had words of pleading on his tongue, flying around his brain like a swarm of angry hornets.

Dean thrust his hips down again desperately, astonished he hadn’t exploded into org*sm yet, but Castiel kept his fingers just on the perimeter of his entrance, still sucking Dean’s co*ck like it was the last popsicle in hell.

“Please push a finger inside me,” Dean said with what voice he had left. “Oh god baby, please - anything - let me feel you inside, please,” he begged, grinding his ass against Castiel’s fingers. The second the words had been let loose on the air, the need to be filled was nearly all-consuming.

It wasn’t the angel’s fingers that entered him, Dean could still feel them stroking his delicate skin. No, what Dean felt enter his body was Grace, moving curiously inside his tight walls and gently exerting exquisite pressure before stopping to massage what Dean could only guess was his prostate if the scream that ripped out of him was any indication.

Of course, Dean had heard about prostate org*sms throughout his life, but he was much too manly of a man to let anyone near his ass. Absolutely not. Never. But as the electric, angelic force glided back and forth against that blessed bundle of nerves making him feel breath-stealing, toe-curling sensations he didn’t think were possible on earth, he’d be rethinking a few things in the very near future.

Begging for more would be pointless, he knew there wasn’t enough time, yet his brain still gave him the ability to speak - kind of. “Castiel, f*ck - please, more - please angel, I–”

Dean felt the pressure inside him increase, softly stretching him He loved how full he felt, clenching against the force inside him. His body was on fire as pleasure coursed throughout him when finally, suddenly, felt he’d reached the apex.

“Cas,” he grunted, shocked he was able to move his hands enough to run them through the man’s hair. “Cas I’m gonna–”

Dean went into freefall as he came, all the tension pouring out of him as he shot his release into Castiel’s mouth. His hips bucked harshly with every pulse of his org*sm, each time forcing his co*ck down the angel’s throat, who seemed thrilled by the action if his hungry moans were any indication. His throat felt raw as he shouted Castiel’s name over and over.

Slowly, Castiel gently sucked his way to the tip of Dean’s co*ck as the human felt the Eternal’s Grace recede from his body. He had no idea where the energy to do so came from, but Dean stroked his fingers from Castiel’s temple to his jaw, looking at the man like he’d hung the moon. He continued petting his partner as he watched the man move to the side of his body, coming to lie his head down on Dean’s shoulder as he draped a lazy left arm over the human’s chest.

Unhurried touches and soft kisses were exchanged as the pair let their breathing return to normal, listening to the fighting sounds of an air conditioning unit that was barely clinging to life.

“Dean?” Castiel asked some time later.

“Yeah Cas?”

“We should travel with lube,” he stated flatly, pressing a chaste kiss to Dean’s throat.

“Ya know,” Dean said chuckling, “we probably should.”

He'd never thought to bring it with them though. He certainly would now. The pair had invested in a few bottles that they kept at the house. Said liquid had only been used for hand jobs and rutting against one another, but Dean wasn’t opposed to adding to the list of activities the helpful substance could be used for.

As he reflected on recent events, what would’ve had him needing to be involuntarily committed mere months ago only had him craving more now. He could honestly say that he’d never fantasized about someone fingering him, much less f*cking him. Still, now that Castiel had touched him so deeply, so tenderly where no one else ever had, Dean decided right then and there that one of the manliest things a man could do would be begging to be f*cked in the ass - eventually. He smiled to himself, utterly at peace with his thoughts.

”I hope what I did instead was alright,” Castiel began, his voice deep and calm as he ran his fingers from Dean’s chest down to the crease of where the man’s torso met his leg, running them teasingly up and down. “Please know that I truly want to be inside your body that way. I’ve thought about that… probably more than I should, although I somehow doubt that would surprise you. Still, I didn’t wish to cause you discomfort so I… cheated,” he said with a small shrug, still dancing his fingertips along Dean’s sensitive flesh.

Dean groaned as his hole clenched around nothing, much to his dismay.

“Cas, look up at me.”

The angel scooted back a couple of inches on the copious amounts of pillows to meet the man’s eyes.

”What you did to me was the sexiest thing anyone has ever done to me,” Dean said as he cupped the angel’s face. “I have never, ever, felt anything that good. So yeah, it was more than alright,” he assured. “Dear god, I just hope you felt as good as I did.”

Castiel chuckled. “Your mouth is magical,” he stated emphatically.

“Perfect, everything is good - for now, seeing as how we’re probably going to get kicked out of this joint eventually,” he grumped.

”Why?” Castiel asked. “It couldn’t possibly be over the fact you were screaming my name repeatedly, could it?” He asked wryly.

Dean glared at him but was unable to hide his smile.

“That’s your fault,” the human eventually said. “Us having to relocate is solely on you, bud,” he stated, patting Castiel’s chest.

”When you began your prayer to me,” the Seraph said with a grin, “I thought it in my best interest to take certain precautions, just in case,” Castiel explained, gently turning Dean’s face to the far corner of the room.

Dean made his eyes focus for the first time in over an hour and was finally able to make out four sigils, each one about an inch tall.

“What the hell are those?” He asked incredulously. There was no way he could make out what language they were in, only the fact there were four circles with warding around them.

“Apparently, things that still work. We would most assuredly have been kicked out had they not. Old Enochian soundproofing. I don’t think anyone has used them for millennia, but since no one is currently banging on our door, they’re still good,” he said proudly.

“Master of backup plans,” Dean said with an easy sigh. “Now c’mere,” he began as he tried to lift the celestial. “Just use me as a pillow. I know you don’t sleep, but if you ever could, it’d probably be tonight.”

“Sleep…” Castiel began as he crawled more onto the human, laying his head on the man’s chest as he brought his leg up to cover Dean’s. “Sleep is impossible for me. Deep rest, relaxation, utter contentment? That’s very easy, and I would like to do that until it’s time for me to fix the bar. Which I will. Eventually.”

Dean swooned inwardly at the comfort he felt with how easily Castiel made himself at home on top of him.

“There’s no rush. Take a break, let me hold you, fix the catastrophic destruction later,” he said as he yawned, stroking his fingers up and down Castiel’s back.

“I like later,” the angel agreed, pressing a kiss to Dean’s chest.

Chapter 14: Age Gap

Chapter Text

Dean didn’t want to mix work with pleasure, so he’d moved all of their hunting equipment into the office. The mounds of books the cabin already had, reagents, weapons, Dean’s journals, papers, notes from all of their joint hunts - all of that was filed and organized in the small office their home offered instead of spilling over into the living room.

This was where Dean found himself now, laughing at the laptop screen as he opened a fresh beer.

“There’s just no f*cking way,” he said disbelievingly.

June in Whitefish was the best weather Dean had ever felt. The highs were in the upper sixties or low seventies. The nights still came with a bit of chill, usually averaging in the forties, but Dean stayed warm with a good blanket and an angel. Hell, sometimes he’d even leave a few windows open overnight, the fresh air was just too good to pass up. And since all the windows had heavy screens, he wasn’t concerned that a raccoon would be joining them for breakfast uninvited the following day either.

“What on earth has you in such a good mood?” The suddenly appearing inhuman asked.

As Dean glanced at the clock, he saw it was just about 5:00 in the afternoon. Castiel had been gone since before Dean had woken up, saying last night it was time for him to see how the other planes of existence were doing.

When he turned around, true to his word, the angel had found a garish, screaming pink Hawaiian shirt to go with his palm tree sleep pants, and had apparently visited Heaven and Hell in same.

Dean would bake him a chocolate cake, just as he’d promised.

He wasn’t sure about the content on his screen, that may not be real, but deja vu sure was. Briefly, Dean thought about one of the last times Castiel had suddenly appeared in a room he was in. Just like that time, he was once again sitting in a chair holding a beer. This time, however, didn’t find him in the middle of multiple crises. He was happy, completely at peace, and more than willing to admit to anyone who would listen that his partner was the sexiest thing on the face of the planet, even in his palm tree plastered clothing.

Letting his brain loop back around to the question Castiel had asked, there were a lot of things that had him in a good mood, but only the absurdity on the laptop had him laughing. He’d get around to that in a minute.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean began.

“Anything you like,” Castiel said easily as he leaned against the opposite wall in a hurry for nothing.

“How old are you?” Dean blurted before he lost his nerve.

It was something he’d often wondered. He knew there were more than a few years between them, but he honestly had no idea how many.

“And before you answer me,” he said to a creature who was failing miserably at hiding his smile, “I don’t care. I don’t give a sh*t how old you are, but it really does tie back to what’s on the laptop, and possibly a hunt,” he assured, taking a cold sip of beer.

“Well, let’s see,” Castiel said as he walked to the open window.

The angel’s profile was nothing short of majestic. Dean didn’t care how long it took the man to get his thoughts in order, he could look at him for hours.

“You’re thirty-two,” the celestial began as he spoke to the window. “For you, it’s quite easy to keep track of thirty-two years. Years don’t mean the same thing to me as they do to you. When I was created, the term, ‘years’ didn’t even exist, but I understand the concept, especially since I’ve spent time on Earth since humanity arrived, which was roughly 65,000 years ago or 300,000 years ago depending on who you ask. If I had to guess,” he mused, turning to face his companion, “I’d say I’m somewhere around 380 million years old. Give or take ten million years,” he concluded with a shrug.

Since no part of Dean’s brain could process or even comprehend a period of 380 million years, he closed his gaping mouth and moved on. “In your 380 million years of existence, have you ever encountered a lake monster? Because in my measly thirty-two years, I sure as hell haven’t.”

Castiel smiled adorably, walking over to Dean and putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. “If you exclude the dinosaurs and only focus on the creatures we hunt, then no, I’ve never encountered a true lake monster before. And I’d always exclude the dinosaurs, they weren’t monsters at all.”

Oh yeah. That’s right. As Dean stared dumbly into the handsome face of the man he lived with, it dawned on him that his partner was around at the same time the dinosaurs were.

Castiel, his buddy, dressed in palm trees from head to toe, had seen dinosaurs.

“What?” The angel asked gently, stroking his cheek.

“You… you saw the dinosaurs.”

“I did.”

Since there was no astute question coming to Dean’s rattled brain, he settled on the most logical.

“What was your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’d have to go with Plesiosaurus,” he said, smiling fondly. “A wonderful aquatic creature. It kind of resembled the body of a turtle, minus the shell, with an exceptionally long neck. They weren’t enormous, maybe ten or eleven feet, but they were quite elegant.”

Again, Dean openly stared at his friend.

“You’ve seen dinosaurs and are hundreds of millions of years old, yet you really want to live in Montana with me?” He asked in disbelief.

“Dean,” Castiel scolded tersely, scowling. “I’m seconds away from packing a bag. I do hope you remember what I said about you speaking ill of yourself.”

He did. The angel would move out of the cabin. He very much remembered. Dean quickly nodded towards the laptop screen in the hopes of redirecting the conversation. “Wanna go to a lake in between Oklahoma and Texas and see if we can find a lake monster?”

Castiel hummed. “That intrigues me.”

He watched as Castiel squinted in concentration, reading the headline of the story: Woman Barely Escapes Giant Monster in Lake Texoma.

“Just because I’ve never seen one doesn’t mean a lake monster doesn’t exist. Does this lake have cabins? I want to rent a cabin on the lake,” he said in a near-threatening tone.

“Jesus Cas,” Dean said, only moderately startled as he laughed, “gimmie a second and I’ll see if they have cabins. What’s the sudden obsession with cabins?”

“First, we live in one and I like it. Second, we’ve never been on a vacation. I may be incredibly old, but it’s not like I’ve never been wrong. I seriously doubt there is a lake monster living in Texas and Oklahoma, but we may as well fly down there and see. There might be one. But once we find no evidence of some horrible creature eating the mariners, we should relax.”

“We’re flying? I don’t do planes, Cas,” Dean stated emphatically, already feeling his pulse begin to climb.

The angel bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on Dean’s forehead, then straightened.

“It’s a twenty-seven-hour drive. We can pack all of the weapons and vacationing equipment we need in your car, then I’ll fly us - Impala included - down to a remote part outside the town. Somewhere a car suddenly appearing from nothing won’t be noticed, then we can drive to the lake. And more importantly, our cabin. On the lake. I want a cabin, Dean,” he repeated as he exited their base of operations. “I’m going to go look over our clothing. I don’t think we own shorts. I’ll buy proper lake attire. Now find a cabin,” he called from the living room.”

“Pushy, cabin-demanding f*cker,” Dean muttered as he turned to face the laptop. “Good thing he’s hot,” he grumped fondly, unable to hide his smile.

“I heard that,” Castiel bellowed pompously from the stairs.

“Shut your face you inhuman asshole with your supersonic hearing!” Dean screamed.

Dean couldn’t remember a day when laughter didn’t flow freely throughout their home, and today was no exception as the ancient celestial’s glee filled the air.

Chapter 15: The Monster

Chapter Text

Lake Texoma and The Red River sprawled and wound itself between Texas and Oklahoma, and were home to multiple sandy beaches, marinas, picnic shelters, and just about anything else the intrepid outdoorsy person could wish for during a day of escapism.

The area was massive, spanning roughly 74,000 acres with 550 miles of coastline. There were five different islands within the land, a huge portion of which was a wildlife refuge. Every activity you could think of from spas, hiking, fishing, even a damn casino was there.

You could find quiet wilderness if you looked for it, but when the area boasted more than six million visitors a year, it could be tough at times.

“Hey, Cas?” Dean asked as he slowly piloted the pontoon boat along the gentle waters of either Texas or Oklahoma. The state line was somewhere in the water and it was impossible to know if he was currently in The Lone Star State or The Sooner State.

Castiel had chosen the boat because it had an awning. He’d made (and by made, the angel had done it himself) Dean slather copious amounts of sunscreen on him before they departed and had also insisted on a boat with a sun shade. Since he wasn’t a complete idiot, Dean had more than allowed his partner to rub lotion all over him.

The boat was spacious, and could probably hold ten or so people comfortably, but today it only held two as the pair cruised lazily along the lake and river. It came with a built-in cooler, which Dean made good use of, stuffing it full of premade sandwiches, water, and a few beers for good measure. He’d still hauled the old green one along with him.

“Yes?” Castiel answered easily.

It was a challenge for Dean not to crash their boat into another boat. Or run it aground. Taking a minute to swivel to the left in the captain’s chair, Dean looked at the man briefly. Briefly was all that was safe.

Not surprisingly, Castiel had chosen a pair of palm tree laden board shorts in shades of calming blues. Like Dean, he’d foregone a shirt. His companion was reclined on a bench seat with his legs stretched out in front of him, his golden skin looking like an offering to the gods in the sun. Christ, it looked like the man was glowing.

Dean turned his attention back to what was in front of him instead of drooling over the angel buffet behind him.

“I, uh….” he began elegantly, clearing his throat. “I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong, and Cas, buddy, I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong in my life.”

“How so?”

“We’re in the middle of a tourist destination. You and I have been to towns where the squirrels outnumber the people. There’s no way in hell there’s a lake monster here. I saw a headline, I saw pictures of the woman’s leg, and yeah she said it looked like a monster, but now? There’s nothing in this lake but fish.”

“Possibly, but we should be thorough in our investigation. What if the creature is just very good at hiding?” He postulated, stretching his arms above his head as he turned his body lazily to drape them over the side of the boat.

Dean allowed himself a moment to indulge in the visual that was Castiel’s back, his muscles on full display, then smartly slowed the boat even more.

“I told you before we left that the only deaths here have been drownings. Nothing had tried to eat any of the people that died, and you still insisted we come.”

“The lake and river should be studied. The company I rented the boat from allows for night boating as well. We can dock at one of the many marinas here, have dinner, and return to the water. Or, we can live on the boat for a while since you brought food with you.”

The tone of his voice held just a hit of mischief and mystery. Dean turned around once again to look at the man, but he still wasn’t facing him.

“You seriously think the lake could have a monster?” Dean asked.

“For all I know there’s a shark in here. Or a herd of them. There are several islands here as well, we’ve gone past a couple of them. We could always anchor just offshore and swim to one for a picnic,” he suggested.

“A picnic?” Dean asked, laughing at the fact Castiel had obviously and immediately dismissed the idea of sharks in the lake. Still, it wasn’t like they didn’t have the required picnic accessories. Castiel had picked up a few blankets that claimed to be “sand-free.” He didn’t know if he believed that, but he’d give it a shot. The Seraph had also taken it upon himself to procure day-tripping items such as water bottles, sunscreen, beach bags, a stack of towels, and a small sack of personal items such as wet wipes and trash bags, hauling those onto the boat as well.

He didn’t bother asking how or where the angel had gotten the items because the credit card trick was still working like a charm and Dean didn’t want to jinx it.

“I meant an investigation,” Castiel said dryly, his gaze still on the shoreline ahead of him.

There was a good chance the angel knew exactly what was, and what wasn’t in the water. The likelihood there was an honest-to-goodness lake monster here was slim to none. Dean smiled to himself as he boated along the Red River, taking in the smell of the freshwater as warm air glided along his skin.

“That’s right, we’re supposed to be looking into the big bad monster in the lake. We should probably just dock the boat, change into suits, and spend hours questioning the locals, and then the Texas Parks & Wildlife Department. Also, Oklahoma, can’t forget them. Gotta hit both states just to be safe,” he explained in a very serious tone.

In his periphery, Dean could see the angel sigh, then push himself to his feet as he came around to join him at the wheel.

“If you even attempt,” he began in a threatening growl as he leaned in close to Dean’s ear, “to take this boat back to the Mill Creek Marina so we can go to our cabin and change, I will be forced to relocate said vessel back to this precise location, probably causing us to make the nightly news as boats don’t typically appear out of nowhere. I will reveal to the world that I’m an angel, and all of my time will be spent on talk shows performing miracles. The government will most assuredly attempt to capture me and I will be put in the awkward position of knocking thousands of military personnel unconscious to aid in my escape. This chain of events will leave me with very little free time, so it would be in your best interest to continue your current course to Hog Island so that we can have a picnic.”

Dean had no idea how to respond to that. Castiel seemed dead serious if his demeanor was any indication, but when he hazarded a look at the celestial, there was a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m in no mood to argue, not after that speech, so we’ll go to the island,” Dean said as he continued the proper path. “But why’s this so important to you?”

“Because you deserve it. A couple of months ago,” he began, draping an arm across Dean’s shoulders, “you told me you’d been homeless for roughly twenty-five years. While I know you were never car-less, living in your car isn’t the same thing - you were still homeless. That problem has now been solved as we’ve made a beautiful home filled with warmth, happiness, and honesty. There’s been a lot of honesty shared on the porch over beers.”

That was an understatement if Dean had ever heard one. Castiel had asked Dean about his childhood and growing up on the road. Although “childhood” may have been too strong a word. Dean didn’t have a childhood. He wasn’t allowed to be a child.

Initially, he’d been pretty reluctant to share anything, but Castiel had been gentle with him, truly wanting to know, and so Dean had told him everything. The angel could guess most of it, but Dean went deeper. How many times two children under ten years old had been left in a seedy motel room alone for a week. How many times he’d gone hungry so that Sam would have dinner. Constantly pretending to be brave for Sam despite crying himself to sleep most nights, having no idea how a nine-year-old was supposed to kill the monster under the bed.

It certainly hadn’t all come out in one evening, but over their time together in Montana, Dean had told him the whole story. Bared his soul to the man more than he ever had to any other person on the planet. Confided in him that he still felt inadequate even though he’d saved the world, and still felt helpless because he still had nightmares. Dean was an open book with raw pages.

“The problem that hasn’t been solved is that I somehow doubt you’ve ever been on vacation. Gone somewhere without the intent to kill something. I want that for you - for us. We can still find things to hunt and people to help, but not here, not today and not tomorrow. You’ve started the process of being good to yourself, taking what you want, and being comfortable with who you are, but Dean,” he implored, kissing the man’s cheek, “I want more for you. I want the best for you. I want to take care of you and make you smile. Let me. Please,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to Dean’s left shoulder, pulling the man in close.

As luck would have it, the pair were boating in an extremely wide section of The Red River, west of all the islands closer to Texoma Lake. Which meant the likelihood of crashing into something wasn’t high. It wasn’t zero, but it was still pretty low.

“This isn’t one-sided,” Dean said, his throat tight. He’d cried more in the past few months than he had since he was single-digit years old. “I heard you, Cas, and my god, I believe you,” he began, lacing his fingers through Castiel’s as the angel’s arm held loosely around his waist. “But this can’t just be about me. You’re 380 million years old, and not one single person has ever taken care of you. Nobody’s kissed your cheek and looked after your Grace while you ate ice cream. Nobody’s listened to what kind of furniture you want in your house, but now I know you like dark furniture in natural wood. Nobody ever taught you how to play cards - and that one I understand, you kick my ass most of the time. Nobody’s ever kissed your messy hair and held you while you rested, and that’s a f*cking shame if there’s ever been one,” Dean bit out with venom.

Thanks to a wonderful GPS unit, Dean was alerted that they were roughly thirty yards off the coast of Hog Island - it wasn’t like there were street signs, so he killed the engine. He’d let the current get them a little closer then drop the anchor. On the bright side, he hadn’t run into any other boats. Even though this area was very popular, it didn’t draw the crowds on a Wednesday afternoon, for which he was thankful.

“I want everything for you,” Dean said once it was safe to leave the wheel, turning to face Castiel. “Absolutely f*cking everything. I want to give you all the good things life has to offer for as long as I can. And sh*t, if I’m lucky enough to get old, then I’ll get old with you while you just keep on looking as hot as the day I met you.”

Castiel laughed, taking Dean’s hands in his. “I’ll get old too, I’ve already started, actually.”

Tilting his head to the left in confusion, Dean realized he’d taken on the mannerisms of the man in front of him. He didn’t mind.

“But you can’t… get old. You aren’t human. Wait - can you?”

“I’ll remain an angel, but I can allow my body to show age if I want to - and I want to. I want to age with you. I’ll be by your side until it’s time to move on to our next adventure,” he stated as he nodded once to the sky. “And who knows what kind of trouble we can get up to there,” he said with a wink. “For now, how about we just care for each other since our relationship is very far from one-sided.”

Yeah, it was a relationship, and Dean was in it. Strangely, it seemed… healthy. That was a new one. There wasn’t a power on the planet that could wipe the smile off of Dean’s face as he stared at the adoring man in front of him.

“Careful, this is starting to sound like it’s serious,” Dean said as he kissed Castiel softly.

“We passed serious a while ago,” Castiel supplied sweetly, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Get a room!” A booming voice screeched from a passing jet ski.

“I will suck this man’s dick right here right now on this f*cking boat! Do not test me!” Dean bellowed, whipping around to threaten his fellow lake enjoyer.

“Although I doubt he was able to hear you,” Castiel said through laughter. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” Dean stated.

“I know you weren’t. And I may take you up on that later. For now, hop off the boat,” he said cheerily as he peered over the edge. “It’s only about six or seven feet deep. I’ll drop the anchor. Find us a place underneath some trees and I’ll meet you shortly. Carrying our supplies through the water would be bothersome and impede our picnic, so I’ll cheat. I don’t see any other boats stationed here so I doubt anyone is there. I’ll be careful disappearing from the boat.”

“Alright then, I’ll find us a good spot,” Dean said with a grin as he hopped off the boat.

Hog Island was one of the smallest of several islands calling The Red River and Lake Texoma home. Dean doubted it was even a thousand feet long, and the width was maybe half that.

As he made his way out of the water and onto the shore, it occurred to him that he’d screamed at a complete stranger about his willingness to suck another man’s dick. He giggled as he walked through scraggly trees, allowing them to get a little thicker as he strode leisurely toward the middle. He hadn’t even thought before he’d yelled, just announced to the passerby that he’d give a blow j*b to the guy on the boat.

“I am really good at being queer,” he said to the sand, delighted as the words fell calmly on his ears.

He was glad he’d kept his strappy sandals on when he’d hurled himself off the boat, the broken seashells littered everywhere would have him reenacting the infamous scene from Die Hard had he not. Luckily, the further he walked, the fewer shells he encountered.

Deciding the area had enough shade, Dean stopped and turned around. He could still see the boat, just not the angel.

“So is that the label you’ve decided to give yourself?” A warm voice said from behind him.

Dean smiled and faced the man behind him, arms full of the old cooler, and a large wicker bag with a blanket spilling over the sides.

“Yep,” Dean said as he grabbed the slippery, sand-resistant blanket and laid it on top of the island floor. “It is. I like it,” he relayed contentedly, taking the cooler and sitting it on the corner of the bright teal barrier.

“It covers a lot of ground,” Castiel said as he had a seat, the picnic bag beside him.

“You know,” Dean said as he laughed, settling in with crisscrossed legs, “I’d had the same thought before. I’m with a great guy - who isn’t human. Not sure there’s a label that defines being with an inhuman, but queer works for me,” he stated easily, opening the cooler and dragging out a beer.

“Get one for me too,” Castiel suggested, pulling out his angel blade and the familiar glass bottle with its sturdy string. “I’ve never had sandwiches. I’ve also never had a picnic. This occasion deserves to be tasted.”

“By all means, go right ahead,” Dean replied calmly.

He’d gotten a little better each time Castiel emptied the majority of his Grace for a meal. Dean had seen it enough at this point to know the angel didn’t hurt, and wouldn’t be negatively impacted by the act.

He watched as the ethereal blue flowed calmly out of Castiel’s neck into the waiting container, not bothered by the strong breeze the afternoon offered, just going where the angel wanted it. Clearly, Castiel thought nothing about the act. He just wanted to eat a sandwich. Dean still viewed it as monumental. It would be like him draining all of his blood to have a piece of pizza.

“So what about you?” Dean asked as he opened a beer for his partner. “You ever think about what label you’d like? It’s okay if you don’t want one.”

Castiel healed the small incision as he hummed contemplatively, putting a stopper in the bottle.

“I have thought about that,” he answered, happily accepting the frosty beverage.

Dean watched as his friend had some of the beer, grinning cheerily as if it were his first time enjoying it.

Castiel leaned forward and looped the cord around Dean’s neck for safekeeping. “To give you some background,” he began as he retook his seat, “for a brief time many decades ago, I visited Earth. I was in a female vessel at the time and–”

“Jesus - no,” Dean said as he shuddered. “God that’s so weird. I can’t even imagine that. I don– don’t want to imagine that,” he continued, stammering as he shook his head. “Oh god. No. You’re a man. You’re a hot man and the thought of you as a woman is seriously freaking me out,” he concluded, downing some of his beer.

Slowly, Dean looked up at his friend in the sun-scattered light of the island, hoping he hadn’t offended him, but found the man smiling contentedly at him.

“You’ve come a long way since Salmon, Idaho,” Castiel stated.

“No sh*t,” Dean said, laughing. “Sorry I interrupted you, I’m over it now,” he assured, not even realizing he’d been stroking the glass vial around his neck.

“No worries at all. Anyway,” he said as he enjoyed some of his beer, “it didn’t feel right but I wasn’t a female very long. Ever since I met you, I’ve been a male. This is no longer my vessel, as you know. It’s just my body now, at least that’s how I see it. Being in this body feels right. It feels correct, how I should be. It’s a comfort to me and what I prefer.”

“You deserve that, Cas,” Dean imparted, reaching out and massaging the man’s foot as he slowly worked up his leg. “I want that for you. I love that you’ve found how you feel you were supposed to be,” he said, squeezing Castiel’s calf tenderly as he sat back up.

“Thank you,” the angel said warmly.

“So what label have you chosen for yourself?” Dean asked as he sipped his beer.

“Very gay,” he responded seriously.

Dean knew he had roughly one second to turn his head to the right as the very gay man was seated to his left. Luckily, he made it just in time to spew a mouthful of beer all over the trunk of a tree before laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

When Dean turned to look at Castiel, the angel had a smug little grin on his pillowy pink lips.

“It seemed fitting,” he admitted as he winked.

“Cas,” Dean began, shaking his head fondly, “you are truly the most wonderful, funniest thing that has ever happened to me. I’m real damn glad you’re in my life.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have no plans of leaving,” He said as he fished two sandwiches out of the bag.

The pair enjoyed a breezy picnic on a small island, and as the afternoon slipped into early evening, neither seemed to care. All of their trash had been packed up for a while, but instead of leaving, they talked about nothing as the day progressed.

“You want to head back to the room?” Dean asked as the sun began to greet the low horizon, showering it in golden shades of red and orange.

“I would…” Castiel said as he stood. “But would you like to meet the monster first?”

Well, there was a question no one had ever asked Dean before. Slowly, he backed away from the blanket seeing as Castiel was about to fold it.

“You uh - I - why would - you want me to meet the monster? The lake monster?” He sputtered.

Castiel laughed softly, shaking out the blanket as he quickly folded it, stuffing their sand barrier into the wicker bag. Dean was impressed with the amount of sand left on it - basically zero.

“It’s not a lake monster,” the inhuman assured. “The bites on that woman’s leg match closely to the teeth of a fish who likes to make its home here, which I’ll show you if he doesn’t mind. The creature is far from small, which is most likely why she thought it was a monster. They can easily get up to ten feet long but aren’t aggressive. They’re quite docile. She probably just spooked the poor thing. I can ask if one of the fish would like to meet you as well,” he said casually, looking over the island floor one more time to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything.

“You can - wait - ask the…” Dean stopped speaking and leaned against a tree. Today wasn’t the day for complete sentences.

He tried again.

“Can you talk to animals?” He asked, his mind reeling.

“No, love. I can’t talk to animals, not like I’m talking to you,” he began, kissing Dean’s forehead softly. “But I can… sense them, let them know I’m of no harm, and that they’re perfectly safe to visit me, or you as well if you’d like. It’s difficult to explain, but it’s kind of like a conversation with no words, where both parties are still able to understand one another if that makes sense.”

“That makes absolutely no sense at all but I am so down. I want to meet the monster!”

“Not a monster. Fish. It’s an Alligator Gar, more specifically. I’ll fly all of this back to the boat. Come join me. Just walk into the water, I’ll be there waiting for you,” he instructed with a wink, and then vanished.

Dean had a ridiculously goofy smile on his face as he stood alone on an island in Texas - or Oklahoma. He didn’t know what state he was in. He gave himself a pass as he walked slowly back in the direction he’d come from earlier. In less than two minutes, he’d learned that his friend could “talk” to animals. His friend had also called him, “love.” Both of these facts left Dean wondering if his smile would ever go away.

Maybe it was just a pet name, Dean thought as he strode across the sand. Castiel had certainly used those before. Or maybe he loved him. Was in love with him. That…

He stopped for a moment, the shore finally in view. He could see the angel already swimming a few feet away from the boat talking to the water. Dean let the thought roll around his mind for a beat, then chuckled to himself.

Love.

He’d always thought it would be this mind-blowing, surreal experience to love someone else if he was capable - he often wondered if he even was. Instead of freaking out, Dean simply shrugged. Apparently… he was capable. He’d probably been in love with Castiel for a while. How long, he didn’t know. It wasn’t the earth-shattering realization he always thought it would be, it just… was. It was calming, reassuring, and grounding. He loved the man petting something underneath the surface of the water.

Maybe love was easy, he didn’t know, he’d never felt it before. As he made his way deeper into the river, he decided against questioning it, instead happy to just let it be.

“You sure I’m not about to get eaten?” Dean called out when the water was up to his knees.

Castiel seemed to be standing - at least Dean hoped he was. The water was almost to the angel’s shoulders.

“You won’t get eaten, he’s quite kind and doesn’t mind being touched,” Castiel began as Dean approached, more excited than nervous. “Come and say hello,” he said, beaming at the human.

Once he was closer, Dean could easily see the fish was massive, pretty damn close to the ten feet his friend had mentioned earlier. The olive-colored Gar was shaped like a torpedo, his body sloping down into a narrow head that was most likely filled with rows of sharp teeth.

“Or bitten?” Dean asked as he stood beside his partner, hand hovering just above the aquatic creature.

“We’ve come to a mutual understanding. He wasn’t the one who bit the woman, but he does know the fish. She was drunk and fell off a boat. As we know, she’s fine, but she certainly scared this fish’s friend. His scales are more like armor, so be careful when you touch him. Some of the edges are serrated. They’re impossibly strong and make for excellent protection.”

“Damn, okay,” Dean said as he hesitantly touched their river companion. “Holy sh*t!” He exclaimed, gently running his fingers along the thick, enamel-covered scales, which felt more like hard plastic than living fish.

The fish, for his part, remained calm, seemingly unbothered by the affection.

“He’s massive!” Dean said as their guest swam around them a few times in circles, then returned in front of the two men for more pets. “I really like this fish.”

“He’s quite content here as well,” Castiel said, stroking the creature's head. “I’ve already asked, and he doesn’t mind at all so long as we’re quick about it, but would you also like to see his teeth?”

“Of course I’d like to see his teeth,” Dean answered immediately.

Reverently, Castiel lifted the fish's mouth out of the water, the Gar easily opening his mouth for his two companions.

“That answers a lot of questions, bud. Seems to match up pretty good to the picture online,” Dean told the fish as he inspected the upper level of his mouth, which held dual rows of razor-sharp teeth. The bottom held only one row. “C’mon now fishy, let’s get you back under the water,” he said as he stroked his back with soft pressure, “I know you don’t like air so go back where you can breathe.”

“Thank you for visiting us,” Castiel told the Gar, “you can go back and lurk in the lake, go ambush your dinner little one,” he said softly.

Dean gave their new friend one last pet and watched the creature swim away. He’d almost laughed at the term Castiel had used for the animal, but it was probably very accurate compared to everything his partner had seen.

“See? That wasn’t too bad, now was it,” the angel said.

Smiling, Dean took the man’s hand as they walked through the water toward the ladder hanging off the boat. “Oh honey, you f*cked up. You f*cked up in a big way.”

Looking over his shoulder, Dean found his friend’s face cast beautifully in the sunset, washed over with confusion.

“How did I f*ck up?” He asked honestly with wide eyes.

“When we get home I want to pet a bear,” Dean said excitedly. “And a moose. Do we have moose? Find me an eagle. Can I pet a bison too?”

“Dear lord,” Castiel grumped as he tried to hide a smile, “now I see,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“And a wolf!”

Chapter 16: War

Chapter Text

Dean didn’t think anything bad would happen to the plants in the greenhouse when they were gone, and he had been right. Nothing had keeled over due to lack of water.

On their way home, they drove some of it, stopped in Tulsa to wipe out a nest of vampires, and then Castiel flew them back to the cabin.

Once their greenhouse had been properly constructed with an angelic assist, the pair had installed shelves. Dean hadn’t gone the route of planting anything in the ground yet, but he may. For now, he had an abundance of pots in varying sizes holding everything from squash, peppers, tomatoes, and more herbs than were reasonable.

Castiel didn’t have to do much to keep the small sprouts alive, mostly because it was summer now, but Dean loved coming out to check on the progress of the little leaves. He’d hike in the morning, then tend to and water the plants once he returned.

The squash in the largest pot was around four inches long. He didn’t think plants usually grew this fast since it hadn’t been that long since they’d been planted as seeds, but the inhuman probably had something to do with the growth rate. He couldn’t wait to make Castiel a dinner with vegetables they’d grown themselves.

As he locked the door behind him (never trust raccoons) he wondered if his friend would enjoy learning to cook. Smiling in the early afternoon sun, Dean began to walk back to the house when something slammed into his back. It wasn’t hard, it had felt soft and malleable, and the next thing he knew, he felt cold liquid run down his back, soaking his shirt and jeans.

It hadn’t hurt exactly, but it had stung. He wasn’t impaled, wasn’t injured, and was pretty sure he wasn’t bleeding either, but he was immediately on edge.

“What the f*ck!” He screamed, immediately whirling around from where the object came. A sunny, empty forest was all that greeted him. It didn’t respond.

Looking down at the ground for what had hit him, he saw a bit of bright pink rubber. A smile tugged at his lips as he bent down to pick up the floppy offender: a busted water balloon.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?” He yelled into the trees. “You just gonna snipe me and hide? I don’t see how this is fair,” he griped, squeezing the excess water out of his old t-shirt.

He scanned the bright green forest as he turned in a small circle, then looked to the top of the trees as well. For all he knew that jackass was perched on top of a pine tree.

Dean felt a strong gust of wind blow past him and turned his head to protect his eyes from debris. Once the sneaky inhuman was gone, Dean was left with a wide yellow bucket about a foot tall at his feet, filled to the top with plump water balloons.

Plucking out a red one, Dean bounced it up and down in his hand a few times.

“Too scared to try and beat me one-on-one?” He teased into the sun-kissed emptiness. “Think you can only win if you cheat?” He taunted, tossing his weapon of choice a few more times. “Why don’t you come on out here, let’s see what you’re made - you f*cker!” Dean screeched as another water balloon burst on his ass.

Turning around swiftly, Dean found a pompous celestial smiling devilishly holding a blue bucket of water balloons.

“Hello, Dean.”

The man didn’t even have a shirt on, just a pair of lily-covered board shorts and sneakers. He was utterly scrumptious, his tanned skin radiant, and Dean wanted to lick every inch of it. Even five feet away Dean still thought he was cheating. How the hell was he supposed to focus when the man looked like summer’s wet dream?

Dean took his time as he dragged his eyes slowly up Castiel’s strong chest, pausing at the now permanent, albeit faint white scar at his throat. He doubted anyone else would even notice it, but he did. Apparently, the balloon slinger could only heal wounds without leaving scars when he was at full capacity. Dean thought about the night they’d returned from their vacation/vampire hunt last week, his eyes still trained on the thin white line.

After watching an absurd movie about killer bats, they’d gone upstairs to bed. The couple had talked for a while until Dean was done with words and yanked his friend on top of him. He knew he’d never tire of feeling the man’s weight pressing him down, so he found no use in trying. Besides, it wasn’t like Castiel ever objected. Most of the time he was the one to start it.

After the clothes had been shed and Dean had blissfully wrapped his legs around Castiel’s waist, he reverently ran his fingers up Castiel’s arm where they came to rest gingerly on the now everpresent scar on his throat. He leaned up and kissed it, then ran his tongue along the location where the angel’s Grace would ebb and flow.

“Push yourself inside me again,” Dean had said, his voice laced with need.

Castiel had shuddered, moaning as he dug his fingers into Dean’s shoulders, grinding his co*ck against Dean’s even harder, but he certainly hadn’t misinterpreted what the human desired even though it had only happened once before.

Dean had gasped as he felt Castiel’s essence fill his tight channel, stretching him as he writhed underneath his partner. He couldn’t get enough of it, delighted in feeling so full even as he begged for more.

He’d asked Castiel if it felt good, to have his Grace inside of him instead of his body.

“While it may not be my physical body, it’s still me, it’s part of my true form, and have no doubt, it feels amazing Any part of me I’m lucky enough to push inside you, to stretch you with, to make you moan, to make you fall apart in pleasure, will always feel exquisite and leave me wanting even more of you the next time.”

“You’re down by two,” Castiel rumbled in his ear as he ran his tongue along the outer edge. “If you can somehow pull off a win, I’ll do it again. I know what you’re thinking about… what you want…” he purred.

He had no idea when he’d closed his eyes, lost in the salacious flashback and flat-out groaning at the angel’s words. Hell, Dean hadn’t even heard Castiel walk up beside him. Forcing his eyes open, he knew he had to rally. Running with a hard on wasn’t ideal, but goddamnit he was going to win. He still had the red water balloon in his hand, so he smashed it against Castiel’s shoulder, showering them in cool water in the warm afternoon. It helped deflate his desire.

“I’m only down by one now,” Dean said smugly, “and I got a whole bucket of balloons,” he reminded the celestial, his head back in the game.

Castiel stepped back a few feet and looked down at the left side of his partially damp shorts, scoffed at it, and then returned his gaze to Dean. “You’ve made me wetter than this before, wonder if you can do it again?” He asked as he took off sprinting into the woods, the bucket of balloons bouncing at his side.

“That asshole’s gonna kill me,” Dean said softly, dumbstruck at his friend’s words. “Yeah you better run you dick!” He screamed, galloping after the man with the head start. “You better hide too! I’m gonna kick your ass!”

“You’ll have to catch me first!” The voice echoed from Dean’s left.

For over an hour, Dean chased his best friend around in a forest. He also ran from him. Shockingly, the angel didn’t cheat once. Dean was sore as hell, parts of his body stung from being assaulted by water balloons hurled at him by an inhuman, and his throat was nearly raw from laughter at the end of it. Neither man knew who had actually won, but since Dean had run out of water balloons first, Castiel deemed him the victor.

That didn’t make any sense to Dean, but he didn’t argue with celestial logic.

“What the hell made you decide to do this?” Dean asked as he blew bubbles on the screened-in porch.

Once he was finished collecting all of the exploded water balloons from the forest floor, Castiel asked Dean to meet him on their porch whenever he got changed. When Dean felt dry enough, he found that the angel had already drained his Grace and had an assortment of popsicles in the weathered green cooler, as well as a few bottles of bubbles.

“Did you enjoy the day?” Castiel asked, utterly taken with the coconut popsicle he’d chosen.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean asked incredulously, watching the bubbles float across an array of aloes and snake plants. “I’ve had a damn blast! This day has been awesome. It’s only 5:00, it’s still early, and as good as the popsicles are, we should probably make dinner at some point. Since you’ve already emptied the tank, what would you think about cheeseburgers tonight?” He asked, nodding towards the stainless steel grill in the far corner.

Dean had always wanted a grill, and since money still wasn’t an issue, he’d gotten one. Three of the four walls were screened in on the porch, the other connected to their home, and the human figured that was good enough ventilation. It seemed so to him, but on the off chance he was wrong, he was in a relationship with an angel, so he wasn’t all that worried. He’d made a deal with himself to always grill with supervision.

“I was hoping that you’d make us dinner, but I still wanted to have dessert first. That was important to me.”

Dean turned to his left in the cushy wicker chair to better look at his partner, who was in a matching chair. He’d finished his popsicle and had returned his attention to the bubbles again. He almost asked why it was important, but he decided to wait. Castiel had a contemplative look on his face as he blew a single bubble through the wand. Dean watched as the man held his hand out and reshaped the sphere of soap film into a fat, round tree, watching it grow from roughly an inch round to over a foot tall.

The soft smile remained on Castiel’s face as the tree morphed into fish. More specifically, an Alligator Gar. Castiel blew on the transparent creature and sent it sailing softly toward a small collection of succulents.

“You’re amazing,” Dean said reverently, finally returning his attention to the man to his immediate left.

Castiel smiled shyly and ducked his head. “And you’re worth it,” he told his partner, eventually looking up to hold his gaze. “To answer your earlier question, I wanted to give you a day of…” he trailed off, taking a moment to set the bubbles down. “Of silliness. Of nothing but games and being absurd. I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell me about how you grew up, or,” he shrugged, “how you never got the opportunity to grow up seeing as how you were basically forced to be an adult by the time you were six. You never had a childhood, so I wanted you to have a day of childlike things,” he explained, smiling.

Dean should be used to his breath catching in his throat as his heart ached in the best ways possible, but the angel’s words still caught him off guard.

“Admittedly, I have no idea what children do. I was certainly never a child, but that was because I was never human. I had to google what children liked. I don’t understand what Pokemon is, nor what a Mario is - or his brother for that matter. The concept seemed familiar though, two brothers who hunted things. I thought you’d enjoy it. I wanted to get Mario and Luigi for you but I didn’t know how, and when I learned you needed a Nintendo for them, I thought I’d buy that too. That only led to me getting a headache, and technically I shouldn’t even get headaches. The brothers could be on a small handheld device, but then I was told I would need multiple cords if I wanted them to be bigger on a television. Other options didn’t have cords but I understood that less. The information was too much to process and I may have smote an oak tree. I found an acorn and replanted it shortly after that - it’s two feet tall now - but I also gave up on the animated siblings,” he explained with an annoyed smile, scooting to the edge of his chair, clearly not done with his tirade.

“Still, I kept searching. For summertime activities. Why are all of the things for children indoors? I know there are monsters in the world, but the monsters can also come inside a house. You aren’t safe just because you’re inside. Do children not go outdoors anymore? There is nothing wrong with nature, Dean, nothing! We live in nature and I love it!” The angel ranted.

Dean didn’t know if the tears streaming down his face were from the kindness that nearly broke him, or the fact his partner was 380 million years old, currently bitching about children, and that he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“I love nature too, Cas,” Dean eventually croaked out.

“Yes, you do. So I continued my aggravating search and found things like water balloons, popsicles, and bubbles and decided on that. I wanted to give you things that you never had. I hope I did alright,” he said sheepishly.

What in the hell was he supposed to say to that? All he could do was stare into the endless depth of Castiel’s blue eyes. Eyes that were filled with such happiness and hope. He couldn’t speak yet, so Dean repositioned his chair some so that it was facing his friend, reached out, and held the angel’s hands, rubbing his thumbs back and forth across his knuckles. He gave them a parting squeeze and ghosted his fingers up the man’s arms, shoulders, and neck, finally stopping once he had Castiel’s handsome face cradled.

“I love you. I am hopelessly, desperately, completely in love with you,” Dean declared resolutely, running his fingers through dark, messy hair.

The look that washed over Castiel was joy. Pure, unadulterated joy, there was no other way to describe it. Dean imagined that would be the reaction he got, but the utter bliss on the man’s face as he gasped with surprise was a thing of beauty.

The thing Dean had not imagined was that giant black wings would manifest almost violently from Castiel’s back upon hearing his words. Said wings knocking over the chair as he stood, relocating the cooler to the far side of the porch, possibly hurling a plant inside the house, and then finally cocooning Dean in a hug once the angel had yanked the human to his feet.

“Holy sh*t,” Dean whispered as he wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist. It was the only reasonable location for them to go seeing as how his friend had plastered him to his chest, held tight in his arms - and his wings.

“I couldn’t help it,” Castiel began, kissing the side of Dean’s face. “I couldn’t even control it. I’ve never been this happy. I love you too - obviously. Very obviously. So deeply. Oh, I also have wings,” he explained as he rubbed his cheek against Dean’s.

“Well,” Dean began, laughing, “I kind of figured you did. I mean, you can fly,” he said, blindly reaching a hand out to feel the luxuriously soft, downy feathers. “I just never thought I’d see them - or even be able to.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Castiel said, stroking a hand up and down Dean’s back.

“That’s not what I meant,” Dean said, turning in the man’s arms so that his back was to Castiel’s chest. “I didn’t think I could see them - like…” his words were cut off as he took in the iridescent black cave he was in. Castiel’s feathers were stunning, like a constantly moving oil slick of the celestial variety. He ran his fingers through them and continued. “Like I wouldn’t be able to, as in it wouldn’t be possible for a human to actually see angel wings, so that’s why I didn’t ask,” he said absently, all brain power diverted to petting the ancient creature’s wings.

Dean got lost in running his fingers through the silky wings. After a while, he gently pushed the wings forward, allowing him to emerge from his black cave. Turning around, he put his hands on Castiel’s waist and repositioned him so that his wings could stretch the length of the porch instead of being confined to the much smaller width.

He wanted to trace every feather the man had but didn’t want to creep him out too much, so he walked to the tip of his left wing, examining the beautiful quills as he went. Making his way to the back, Dean continued his slow scrutiny, respectfully touching feathers big and small until he was at the tip of the right wing.

“I feel as though I should have revealed my wings to you sooner,” Castiel said with mirth in his voice.

Looking up, Dean brought himself back to the present, to his partner, complete with massive, majestic midnight black wings.

“You are so f*cking beautiful,” he said, still sounding like he was in a daze.

Curling the tip of his wing around the human, Castiel pulled Dean in close. “I hope you know that sentiment is deeply reciprocated,” he said, kissing the freckled tip of the man’s nose.

“I do,” Dean answered, blushing. “But yeah, you definitely should have shown me your wings earlier,” he added, having a random mental picture suddenly pop into his head. “Oh my god, can you please jump off the roof so I can watch you glide down to the ground? Holy sh*t that would be so cool.”

“Well,” Castiel began, humming a bit to himself. “That distance is a bit short, all things considered,” he said, taking his Grace back from around Dean’s neck. “I’ll need this. The wings are like any other part of my body so making them visible when I’m running on empty isn’t an issue. I’d rather not fly without a full tank. We live in a very remote location and I’m not worried about spectators, so how about I fling myself from the top of a tall tree for you instead? I imagine that… would… Dean…?”

Dean didn’t bother with the end of the sentence. Instead, he dashed through the screen door and down the back stairs two at a time. Castiel had wings, he’d catch up eventually.

Chapter 17: The Date

Chapter Text

Dean hoped that a drive into town would give him the inspiration he sought. His end goal was easy enough: take his partner on a date. But… what was he supposed to do? Castiel was 380 million years old, he’d seen just about everything the earth had to offer. Dean wanted to wow the man, give him the moon and the stars, anything he wished, but the ideas just weren’t coming.

He parked the Impala in front of the post office and went inside, a smile on his face as he gave his date-planning woes a rest. He grabbed a silly thank you card with a smiling cartoon llama on the front and addressed it to Officer Tony Grainger of the Custer County Sheriff’s Department in Challis, Idado.

Dear Tony,

Chances are pretty good you’re gonna remember me - I’m the guy who was having a sexuality crisis by a river a few months ago. Had a black 1967 Impala.

I wanted to reach out to let you know how much you helped me. You somehow got my jumbled mess of a brain to think properly. Once I left, I went back to the hotel to find that Cas hadn’t gone anywhere, and I told him I’d like to try. I didn’t even know what that meant at the time - just try.

Anyway, we’re totally a couple now and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I’m queer as a football bat and it’s awesome. Thank you Tony. I mean that. A lot. You’re a great human. Keep being safe.

Dan

Luckily, the post office was still selling Pride stamps even though it was the beginning of July, so Dean made sure a bigass rainbow was slapped at the top right-hand corner of the envelope for good measure.

He felt great - until he got back in his car, driving aimlessly around Whitefish. He was almost out of the city proper when he saw it - the Cinemark movie theatre.

“Oh my god!” He exclaimed, shockingly managing to stop at a red light he was about to run. “It’s perfect!”

He’d been overthinking the date to death, and right there, staring him in the face was a movie theatre.

Even when the light turned green, Dean still looked in all directions before proceeding, worried he was entirely too giddy to drive.

Castiel didn’t need to see another universe forming, he’d probably already seen one. He didn’t have any reason to watch a species evolve, he’d most likely seen thousands. But what he’d never done in his very long life was to be taken on a date to the movies, popcorn, candy, the whole nine yards.

Earlier, he’d dismissed taking him out to dinner, thinking it was much too boring and cliche as hell - now? He was taking the man out to dinner because no one had ever bothered to do so.

Once he was home, he more or less bounced his way into the office to collect an angel blade and the glass vial. When he left the post office, he'd texted Castiel saying he’d be back in a little less than an hour, and the angel had told him to meet him on their porch.

“Hey,” Dean said as he forced himself to calmly walk onto the porch, the blade and bottle hidden behind his back.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel replied.

He looked so at ease, so relaxed. The angel had his feet propped on a wicker ottoman as he sat a gardening magazine down on his lap. He wore a black t-shirt paired with sleep pants with Monstera leaves all over them.

Dean wouldn’t have known that a month ago, but now that the pair owned three Monstera plants, he could easily identify the large, shiny leaves anywhere.

“How was your day in town?” He asked easily, slowly taking his crossed legs from the ottoman and placing them on the floor as he turned to face the human.

“It was productive,” Dean answered honestly. “And, um… I was wondering…”

Dean had no idea why he was so nervous as he took the angel blade and bottle out from behind his back. It was just a date. Not that he’d had that many of them - proper ones, at least. Did picking up a woman in a bar and having sex with her in his car count as a date?

Probably not, even if he had paid for her drinks.

“Should I be concerned?” Castiel asked with mirth in his voice, standing to face Dean as he eyed the blade.

“No! f*ck - here. Take this,” Dean said, passing the items to his friend. “I wanted to know if I could take you on a date. A real one,” he queried quickly. “Like… out to dinner. I found a restaurant that overlooks Whitefish Lake. Then we can go see a movie. I’ll get us some popcorn, too. Anything you want.”

Castiel, it seemed, had a penchant for rom-coms. He enjoyed the occasional campy horror flick, but he much preferred people finding happiness. Before he burst into the cabin like the Kool-Aid man, Dean had looked up the movies playing in town, and not surprisingly, one of them was indeed a silly, sappy romance. If the joy on the man’s face currently was any indication, Dean had come up with the right date idea.

“I’ve never done any of those things,” Castiel commented, wonder in his voice.

“I know,” Dean replied, stroking a hand down the man’s arm, “I… really haven’t either. But I’d like to with you.”

“Then why don’t you be the one to get me ready for dinner,” Castiel said, placing the angel blade back in Dean’s hand.

Dean felt like he was in one of those horror movies where the tunnel vision hits out of nowhere. Staring down at the weapon he now held, everything but the gleaming object blurred out of focus. It was only about 3:00 in the afternoon and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but the more he looked at the blade, it may as well have been dark out.

“Hey,” Castiel said as he placed his hand on Dean’s left shoulder. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do that,” the human said softly as he blinked himself back to reality. “I can’t cut you, make you bleed - even if it’s just a drop,” he continued as he brought his gaze up to Castiel’s. “I can’t hurt you.”

For a few seconds, Dean thought Castiel was going to ask again, tell him it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal. He was holding the only weapon on earth that could kill an angel, and the thought of putting it to his partner’s throat - no, there was no way Dean could do it. Not even a tiny slice, just so the man could taste popcorn.

He watched as his friend’s face softened, Castiel finally taking the blade back. “It’s probably for the best you don’t anyway, you didn’t go to, nor did you graduate from Angel School, so you aren’t qualified,” he commented with a smirk.

It was then Dean remembered to breathe, relief crashing into him. He was still so out of it that he didn’t even think to laugh.

“What do I wear for a date?” Castiel asked as he turned toward the trees, his back to Dean. “I’ve only seen what people in the movies wear. Would a collared button-down shirt and a pair of slacks be acceptable? Will I need my tie?” He questioned further.

Yes, he was used to it, but Dean was eternally grateful that for this specific occasion, Castiel decided not to face him when he emptied his life force. He knew the angel had done it on purpose, too.

“I don’t think you’ll need the tie,” Dean finally said, pleased he could still speak, “but yeah, a button-down and some slacks should do the trick,” he explained as he gently put his hands on Castiel’s hips, taking his time as he looped his arms around his waist.

He pulled the angel in close to his chest, kissing the back of his neck. “But we should go packing. Take the angel blade. I’ll find somewhere to stick a gun. Maybe I’ll wear a suit jacket. We can always hide knives on us too. You’re low on Grace, and I don’t want anything to happen to you. I never took the grenade launcher out of the trunk, so that’s there too if we need it.”

Castiel chuckled as he placed the angel blade next to a fern, then turned to face Dean, looping his Grace around his neck.

“Now you know how I feel every single day about you. I worry for your well-being constantly even though I know I can heal just about anything. Still, your health is always on my mind,” he confessed, stroking Dean’s cheek.

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel’s as he took a moment to breathe, run his fingers through the man’s dark hair, and just inhale his scent.

“I love you - so much it scares the sh*t out of me,” he began, his heart pounding in his chest. A chest that ached with how much he cared for his best friend. “Like I would kill everything if you even got a paper cut. I know you can’t get sick, but if you did get sick from something we ate tonight, I’d just f*cking blow up the state of Montana. All of it. There’s a lot of natural beauty here, Yellowstone, Glacier National Park, and I’d love to take you to both of those places, but if something about our dinner doesn’t agree with you, then they’re toast too. There are other cabins, we’d find one somewhere since Montana would be uninhabitable.”

“Oh Dean,” Castiel sighed, wrapping the human up tightly. “I love you too. So much that I would even provide you with enough explosives to render Montana a giant crater. It would most likely be terribly cost prohibitive, I’m not sure even the credit card trick would fully cover it, so we’d need to put all of our future vacation plans on hold.”

Few people on the planet could assuage Dean’s fears and calm him down while also making him laugh like the angel in his arms could.

“Okay I won’t blow up Montana,” the human finally said.

“We won’t need weapons for dinner either.”

“I get a knife, Cas,” he said threateningly. “One. Knife. Just give me that,” he growled, stroking his fingers up and down Castiel’s back.

“I will allow you a knife.”

“Cool,” Dean said agreeably as he pulled back to look at his partner. “Early dinner okay with you? 5:00 or so? The movie is at 7:30, we can get dessert and popcorn there.”

“I like this plan,” Castiel said with a smile that lit up his entire face. “What’s the movie about?”

“It’s a sappy romantic comedy with a happily ever after,” Dean quipped in an annoyed tone, not meaning a bit of it.

The bright smile on Castiel’s face morphed into a more suspicious grin as his eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen multiple romantic comedies with you. When the people in those films go on a date, to dinner and a movie like we are, the person who instigates the date typically hopes that the person who agreed to the date will have sex with them at the end of it,” he stated suggestively as he casually ran a finger back and forth the waistband of Dean’s jeans. “Are those your intentions with me this evening?”

Dean was sent reeling once again as he was reminded that the man in front of him was the penultimate king of topic changes, capable of sending his emotions from a love so fierce he’d nuke Montana to having no hope of controlling his quickly plumping co*ck.

“And what if they are?” He challenged as he met the inhuman’s twinkling eyes.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “If that’s the case, I want to look my best for you. Maybe I’ll even properly style my hair.”

“Do not touch your hair, do you hear me? I love how your hair is always a wreck. It’s a disaster! And I mean that in the best possible way, it’s so hot.”

And it was, Dean couldn’t get enough of the bird’s nest of disarray that was the angel’s dark hair.

“Well, in that case, I will style it in the theme of ‘freshly f*cked’ for our date tonight,” he said as he winked.

Then he disappeared.

For a moment, Dean simply stared dumbly at their porch, so beautiful and vibrant. So filled with life, just like he’d wanted.

“I’m not gonna survive this,” he told an African Violet.

***

Never in his life had Dean Winchester gotten dressed up to take someone out to dinner. Hell, he hadn’t even done that with Lisa. He hoped she was with someone who treated her the way she deserved.

Further, Dean would never in his life - willingly - go to some place called The Boathouse Restaurant located inside The Lodge at Whitefish Lake. The place was massive. It had a hotel, a spa, a restaurant, it offered boat tours, fly fishing, tours of Glacier National Park, and god knew what else.

They had a Mercantile too - Dean didn’t know what that was, but he did know that the Mercantile wasn’t in the thirty-acre wetland preserve - which they also had.

Castiel had wanted to sit outside, saying that he enjoyed eating sandwiches on an island, and more people should eat food in nature. Dean didn’t object, especially when he noticed most of the patrons wanted to sit inside.

Another never that got added to Dean’s quickly growing list, was that he’d never paid $75 per person per meal - and that didn’t include drinks. But it wasn’t like it was technically coming out of his pocket, so he simply grinned and got Castiel whatever he wanted - which was a steak. Dean followed suit and ordered one for himself, too.

Castiel had never had wine. Dean had, but he couldn’t tell you what kind it was, so when their waiter suggested a bold red, the men agreed. The angel decided he loved it, and Dean had to agree, it wasn’t bad.

The best part was sitting outside on a patio that overlooked Whitefish Lake. The water sparkled like diamonds in the sun. It was so still the trees surrounding the lake had a perfect mirror image displaced in the calm water below.

The first real, proper date Dean had ever had was with a man who wasn’t human, sitting outside by a lake in Montana. A man whose hand he held once their meals were finished, right there for anyone to see.

The entire evening had been surreal. He just kept replaying it in his mind as they sat in companionable silence, holding hands and looking at the lake.

“What’s a Tiki Bar?” Castiel asked, removing Dean from the daydream that was happily a reality.

“Uh… why?” He asked suspiciously.

“There’s something called a Tiki Bar just around the corner. I’m curious.”

Dean hadn’t known there was a Tiki Bar here, not that he found it surprising - apparently, everything was here.

“Well, it’s a bar, but it’s done more in the theme of the islands. Being on a beach. Think of tropical things and drinks that you’d find if you were beside the ocean - a lot of coconuts. That kind of decor, too. Coconuts on everything, basically.

He watched as the inhuman processed the new information. When the waiter returned to their table with the card which still miraculously worked, Dean thanked the man and continued to give Castiel all the time he needed to figure out what to do with a Tiki Bar.

“Since I can sober us quickly,” Castiel began as he leaned close to Dean, whispering, “I see no reason why we can’t get drunk and wander aimlessly around the lake. I don’t know if I like coconut yet since I’ve never had it, but I enjoy saying the word, so it stands to reason I’ll like the food as well. If we should tire of the lake, we can amble behind the property into the nature preserve and I’ll befriend a bear for you.”

It was only for a few seconds, but Dean was proud that was all the time he was rendered speechless at the angel’s latest statement. “We aren’t making the movie tonight, are we?” He asked, grinning eagerly.

“The movie will be there tomorrow, and I still very much want to go to a theatre with you, but how about some absurd spontaneity for the evening?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go get drunk!”

Chapter 18: Best Behavior

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find any bears for you,” Castiel remarked, lightly running his fingers up and down Dean’s arm.

“You found me a moose!” Dean reminded his friend. “I still can’t believe how massive they are. I could drive my car underneath one,” he said.

He and Castiel had indeed gotten drunk and wandered aimlessly looking for wildlife behind the lodge. In addition to over thirty birds, the angel was able to coerce a moose into a quick visit who seemed quite pleased with the attention and nose pets.

Once the celestial had reacquired his Grace, the companions were sobered quickly, allowing for a safe return to the cabin.

“Your car would not fit underneath a moose, and even if you had a car that would, I would have to strongly advise against driving under a moose. No outcome of that scenario ends well.”

“Fair enough,” Dean lamented as he stretched out in their bed. “But how about you get some owls or something to hang out at the cabin? You do the magic angel stuff and I’ll… uh…” Dean paused, scratching his head. “I’ll do something else. I don’t know what, but I just don’t want to use you too much, so I’ll help in another way.”

Castle chuckled as he leaned into his partner and kissed him on the cheek. “I’d be happy to. You can work on learning about and building nesting boxes and homes for them, and I’ll make sure to let them know they’re welcome, how does that sound?”

“That sounds great! I’ll go buy owl food too,” he added excitedly.

“They eat small rodents, the food is already here, we’d simply provide safe housing for the owls.”

“No mice in the cabin and cool bird friends? We have a project tomorrow, wanna go to a home improvement store with me?”

“I’d like that,” Castiel said contemplatively as he rolled to his right and propped himself up on his elbow. “But that is something set in the future, and I’d rather not think about it right now,” he explained, running his fingers up and down Dean’s bare chest.

“Is that so?” Dean queried, reaching up to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “What else is on your mind?”

They’d closed down the Tiki Bar earlier, and when they got home it was well past 10:00. The pair hadn’t bothered to do much besides strip down to their boxers and lay in bed, letting easy and unimportant topics of conversation flow through their bedroom. When the talk segued towards a very serious discussion of pancakes versus waffles for the following morning, Dean had gotten up to light some candles, then plopped back down as he and the angel discussed in depth whether or not to add bacon, sausage, or both to the first meal of the day. He wasn’t tired yet, Castiel didn’t sleep, so he may as well add some light to their frivolous talks.

“Well… you began a certain chain of events earlier by asking me out on a date. I accepted your invitation, so by doing that and following the proper protocol of what you instigated, I’m inclined to believe that specific acts would end the evening since you started all of this,” he purred, placing a kiss on Dean’s jaw.

“Yeah, I started it alright….” Dean said easily, unable to hold back a snort of laughter as he stroked his hand along Castiel’s back. “But right now I think it’s out of my hands, because from where I’m laying it don’t look like I’m in charge of jack sh*t anymore.”

“That’s because you aren’t. I’m glad you agree,” Castiel said easily as he sat up some, shoving his left knee in between Dean’s legs. “So long as I have your consent, and this is what you want, then no, you are far from being in charge tonight,” he declared as he situated himself in between the human’s legs.

The light, laid-back air of the room was forcefully shoved out the door at Castiel’s words. He really should’ve been used to his best friend changing topics and moods quickly, but sometimes it still took him by surprise. As soon as Dean’s slack-jawed gaze met the angel’s, his eyes were already immolating. Dean ran his hands up Castiel’s arms, bringing them to rest on the man’s neck, unable to help himself as his fingers began digging into the skin. When the inhuman had finally lowered his body to Dean’s, he could feel just how in charge his friend was as his erection rutted along his own.

“This is your show, Cas,” Dean breathed out as his voice shook with excitement, “I’m real good with being a willing participant.”

“I find your answer incredibly apropos…. I like you being good,” Castiel declared, licking slowly up Dean’s neck, pausing to nibble on his ear.

“Oh god,” Dean moaned, yanking one of the pillows out from underneath him so he could stretch his neck back more, “I can do good.”

Dean had absolutely no clue what had gotten into his friend, but there was no way in hell he was going to stop it.

Humming curiously, Castiel brought his lips to Dean’s to join them in a forceful kiss. Dean was more than happy to let his partner control it. He was thrilled to be on his back, loving the fact he got to wrap his legs around Castiel as the angel’s weight blanketed him in bliss.

As soon as Dean had finally allowed himself to give in to what he wanted, it hadn’t taken him long to get on board with it. And by “not long,” Dean was aware it took all of half a second once The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly had finally f*cking ended.

“So you’ll be good for me?” Castiel asked as he pulled himself away from the kiss. “Will you, Dean?” He queried further, arching an eyebrow at the man underneath him.

Dean whimpered at the words as he felt his co*ck jerk between them. The tightening and tingle in his balls verged on painful with how aroused he was. Feeling mostly mute, all he could manage in place of a response was to cradle the side of Castiel’s face reverently as he stared up at him in wonder, forcing himself to nod a few times.

“I enjoy the physical acknowledgment of my question, but I’m still going to need you to answer me,” he chided deliciously.

“Yes,” Dean rasped out hurriedly. “I’ll be good for you,” he breathed out as he closed his eyes, rocking his hips up.

The need rolling through Dean felt like ocean waves with a hurricane ten miles off the coast. Castiel had only just started with him and he already felt like he was going to be hurled off a cliff, pleasure pushing him to the base.

“What do you want me to do?” Dean asked, absurdly proud of himself for putting words together coherently.

“I want you to let me do whatever I want to you,” Castiel answered, his voice deep with desire.

Dean didn’t know he was capable of mewling, but he was discovering new things about himself all the time, so it really wasn’t that surprising. When a few dozen fantasies about your partner all come crashing together at once, words are rarely the answer when you realize what’s going on.

“I’m taking that particularly delicious noise as further consent,” Castiel stated as he buried his teeth just above Dean’s collarbone.

“It is,” Dean affirmed, raking his nails down the angel’s back. “Love it when you mark me.”

“Oh I plan on leaving evidence of myself all over you tonight,” he promised, raising to give the human a salacious grin.

Half a dozen different scenarios flooded Dean’s brain at once, and he wanted all of them. If he wasn’t already branded with Castiel’s handprint, he’d ask for that, too. Although he reasoned a second one couldn’t hurt.

Dean watched as Castiel flicked his fingers to the far corner of the room, the only action being a small gust of wind - then he realized their boxers were also gone.

“Best trick ever,” Dean gushed, leaning up to kiss his friend’s neck. “Where’d they go? Colorado again?” He asked, leaving a few marks of his own on Castiel’s skin.

“No…. Feels closer to New Hampshire, I think…,” Castiel admitted, reaching down to bury his fingers on the outside of Dean’s thigh. “My attention was diverted to more important endeavors.”

Sighing happily, Dean rocked his hips in time with Castiel’s as he slid his co*ck against the angel’s rigid length. He imagined they’d eventually get lube to aid the motion, but with as wet as he already was, Dean wasn’t horribly concerned.

He couldn’t keep his hands still. Stroking them up and down Castiel’s back, holding the man’s face as he kissed him, dragging his fingers through dark, silky hair, Dean wanted them everywhere. Each time they were together he wanted to drown in the man, to be flooded with everything that was Castiel.

As Castiel placed a particularly rough thrust against Dean, which had the human reeling, he also felt the angel’s Grace push through his hole, exploring and stretching him as the Seraph above him moaned just a bit inhumanly.

“f*ck, baby,” Dean enthused, trying and failing to push an ethereal flow of celestial intent even deeper as he shoved his hips down.

“All in good time,” Castiel soothed.

“Oh god,” Dean said, already sounding half delirious.

The angel chuckled darkly, rubbing the tip of his nose against Dean’s before claiming his mouth again.

For the first time, he hadn’t even had to ask Castiel to push inside him, the angel had done it on his own. That by itself had Dean feeling like he’d won the lottery, but add to that his partner was going deeper than his usual two or three inches, and Dean was shaking with how good it felt.

He left himself get lost in Castiel’s tongue filling his mouth while his essence filled his ass, stretching him, caressing his walls, and stroking languidly over his prostate. The angel swallowed every last moan Dean was able to make in between sucking down breaths of air.

“Do you like me filling you like this?” Castiel whispered in Dean’s ear after driving the human mad with pleasure for a while.

“Christ!” Dean exclaimed, both at the angel’s words and the fact the pressure inside him increased. “I love it,” he answered, kissing Castiel’s temple, “I can’t get enough of it.”

Castiel slowed his hips some as he allowed his Grace one final, deep preparation of the man underneath him, drawing it out for a while, and then slowly pulled out of Dean’s body.

“What the—“ Dean began indignantly. “I just told you how much I love it and you leave?” He asked, running his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “What in the hell kind of—-“

Dean was cut short when the inhuman pushed himself up to sitting on his knees and shot him a look of glowing threats that would most certainly have every creature in Hell running the other way. Unfortunately for Dean, it only turned him on more. His co*ck twitched at the glare, dribbling unapologetically onto his skin as the angel lifted a curious brow at the response.

“I thought you said you were going to be good for me,” he reminded his partner while snatching a bottle of lube off the nightstand. “Let me do whatever I want to you…” he began sweetly as he let the slippery substance drip onto two of the fingers on his right hand. “Not complain…” he went on, leisurely coating the digits.

Breathing came naturally to all humans on Earth, just not Dean Winchester - at least for the moment. He was hypnotized as he watched Castiel flex the fingers on his right hand, slowly coating two of them meticulously. A sound that was a cross between a whine and a growl filled the air, which surprised Dean when he realized he was the source of said noise.

For his part, the angel simply smiled smugly, pushing Dean’s right leg up to his chest as he began to circle slick fingers around his hole.

“Yes,” Dean breathed out as his eyes rolled back in his head.

It had occurred to him more than once that maybe he wasn’t the only one taking his time in the bedroom. Sure, Castiel had said he wished to be inside him, but Dean imagined his waiting on moving further was born out of respect, not wanting to rush him into anything. Although now that the physical aspect of his partner was poised to make its way into his body, Dean would certainly encourage it.

“C’mon, Cas, let me feel you,” he continued, trying ineffectively to keep his squirming hips still.

“Don’t be a brat, Dean,” Castiel scolded.

Dean gave him a moderately challenging look, although it was mostly begging with his eyes but held his tongue further.

Castiel huffed affectionately, then relented.

Having the angel’s true form inside him felt unbelievable, however having something corporeal, something firm he could clench around that was solid, was amazing of a completely different kind.

“Cas,” Dean gasped, bunching the blanket into tight fists, “holy sh*t you feel so good,” he praised as the angel slide two fingers inside him.

He opened his eyes a minute or five later when he heard Castiel whimper softly and found the man transfixed at his fingers disappearing in Dean’s tight hole, the angel’s co*ck leaking onto the bedspread. He loved it when Castiel lost control, gave into things he wanted, and took them outright.

“Oh god,” Castiel said, shuddering, “Dean,” he moaned as he began to scissor his fingers wide. “Did… did I use enough lube?” He asked, sounding completely out of it as he pulled his fingers almost the way out and then pushed them back in again slowly.

Dean smiled. He couldn’t help it. Even though Castiel probably didn’t know what country he was in right now he never stopped caring for him. “Yeah, Cas. You’re perfect.”

And he was. The care the angel was touching him with was frustratingly beautiful. Dean wanted more but was already overwhelmed at how slow Castiel was going, how he felt every last centimeter inside him as he got used to the feeling.

“And you’re wet with excitement,” he rumbled, eyeing Dean’s stomach like it was a buffet. “Let’s see how you taste,” he mused as he leaned down and ran his tongue along Dean’s co*ck, licking all the way to the tip. “Hold your leg open for me,” he said.

To Dean’s ears, that wasn’t a suggestion, but an order, and a groan escaped him as he quickly wrapped his right hand around the back of his knee. Castiel had shoved his leg back almost to his chest so it was well within reach.

Now that he had a free hand, Castiel wrapped it around Dean’s dick and lapped at the slit as he repositioned his fingers to push against his prostate.

“f*ck!” Dean cried, his left hand flying to the angel’s head, stroking his hair as his entire spine lit up with electric jolts of pleasure. “Jesus, Cas,” he bit out as the man swallowed him down, Dean’s co*ckhead pushing into Castiel’s throat.

He felt Castiel’s fingers begin to stretch him even further as he continued the relentless up and down suction on his co*ck. Dean clenched his hole around Castiel’s strong digits, sharply thrusting his hips down wanting more of them. He could feel his org*sm start to come to life, teasing him as the angel began sucking the head of his dick, playing along the slit with the tip of his tongue. No part of him was ready for this to end, so he grabbed a fistful of beautiful, black hair and began to tug on it.

When Castiel rose with the pull of his hair, eventually releasing Dean’s co*ck, the glare the human received may have caused internal bleeding. The next thing he knew, both of his hands were roughly pinned above his head, the celestial’s Grace holding them firmly in place at the wrists.

The noise that bellowed out of Dean was vulgar, utterly p*rnographic, and he couldn’t even be embarrassed about it, not remotely. His co*ck strained against him as his ass clenched like a vice around Castiel’s fingers, and with the amount of precome that leaked onto his stomach, he thought he’d had an org*sm and wouldn’t have even been mad if he had.

“Wow,” Castiel remarked calmly. “I was expecting a favorable response to my restraining you, but… wow. Did you just…”

“No,” Dean replied through ragged breaths, “but it was really f*cking close. I’m still considering it,” he said as he tested out his invisible bonds. Upon finding no give to them whatsoever, he moaned again.

The angel hummed amusedly as he sat back on his calves, smiling at the human as he picked up the bottle of lube. He extracted his fingers from Dean’s body and added some more of the slippery substance.

“Be good, Dean. Don’t come yet,” Castiel warned, then met Dean’s gaze as he pushed back in with three fingers this time, once again shoving the man’s right leg to his chest.

“Oh my god angel,” Dean gushed, his eyes crossing at the sensations. He’d never been so full. At most, Castiel’s grace was roughly two fingers, but now, the stretch and pressure were sublime as he slowly eased his way in and out of Dean’s body, occasionally stopping to stroke along his prostate.

Before he knew it, Dean’s org*sm was building again, and Castiel wasn’t even touching his dick. He watched as the angel focused intently on his fingers gliding in and out of his stretched hole, the man’s lips parted as his breathing picked up. Dean dug his teeth into his lip and writhed against the angelic bonds still holding his arms above his head while his friend pleasured him to near oblivion. He could be good, he wouldn’t come, and he wouldn’t beg. He’d let Castiel prep him as long as he wanted to because the look on the man’s face was miles past lost, he was in love with his work.

He wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t say a word. Dean would be so good as sparks and jolts of bliss shot through his body, racing along his spine and turning his nerves white hot with need. He was silent apart from a garbled litany of noises that floated through the candlelit air. And silent he would stay, he knew he could do it.

The problem was that he couldn’t shut his thoughts off, and even though he tried his very best to keep them to himself, tried to slam his mind like an iron door, some of them still leaked out.

f*ck me… Castiel, please f*ck me… Want your co*ck in me, want you to f*ck me hard, please… Need it… Own me, stake a goddamn claim on me, please f*ck me… I want you to feel good too, it’s—

The roar that ripped out of Castiel made some of the smaller pieces of furniture shake, and Dean was intimately reminded that the man above him wasn’t human. The power looming over him probably should’ve scared him, but no - it only turned him on even more.

With shocking restraint, Castiel eased his fingers from Dean’s hole, then once again grabbed the bottle of lube.

“Finish your sentence, Dean,” he instructed as he withdrew the hold he had on the human’s wrists.

“Oh my god, I don’t even know what I was thinking, or praying, or saying,” Dean began, wiping sweat from his brow. He knew he wanted Castiel to feel good, because… because… “I want you to feel good too, it’s your turn Cas, my god is it your turn, just use me, I want you to feel as blissed out as you’ve made me feel tonight… it’s… goddamn Cas…”

He’d gotten his point across, so Dean saw no harm when immediate onset muteness overtook him as he watched Castiel drizzle a slow stream of lube onto his co*ck, then stroke the liquid up and down, coating his rigid length.

Taking a moment to pull himself out of the penis-induced trance he was in, Dean looked up into the man's still-glowing eyes. The angel smiled at him, sweetly and wickedly all at once as he made his way out from the middle of Dean’s legs, just to the right of the near-catatonic human, never missing a beat of stroking his dick.

Dean wasn’t sure why he was moving, but he was still giving him one hell of a show, so Dean would just watch him wherever he went.

“Roll onto your right side for me,” Castiel soothed as he began gently pushing Dean in the direction he wanted him, happily sinking onto the bed and curling up next to him.

“f*cking hell, Cas,” Dean breathed out as he repositioned himself. He was so turned on, so excited, and so impatient he briefly wondered if he had his own vibrational frequency.

“You look,” Castiel said shakily, running his fingers up and down Dean’s side, “so beautiful like this,” he stated reverently, tracing lightly from the human’s left butt cheek and along his thigh, making his way to behind Dean’s knee.

When Dean felt Castiel wrap a strong hand behind his left knee, pushing his bent leg toward his chest along the crumpled blanket, he sighed contentedly as the angel repositioned him any way he wished. He could feel his friend’s leaking co*ck pressed against his ass, and couldn’t help but grind against it, bringing their spooning position even closer.

“I don’t have words in my head to describe what you feel like right now, pressed behind me so f*cking close. I can feel how wet you are,” he whined, not caring in the least what he sounded like, “Cas, I— oh god,” he groaned, arching his back as best he could as Castiel’s hand dug into ass cheek to spread him wide.

“And I can feel how much you want me,” Castiel whispered in his ear, nipping it for good measure, “but I need you to try and relax, just for a minute, can you do that for me?” He asked as he rubbed the head of his dick around Dean’s hole.

Taking a deep, albeit ragged breath, Dean efforted his best to relax. “Yeah, I can do that,” he answered as he poorly attempted to channel all the strength in the universe to not shove his hips backward and impale himself on the angel’s co*ck.

Blessedly, Castiel didn’t leave him waiting for long. Dean felt the man’s fingers attempt to bury themselves in his left hip as the head of Castiel’s co*ck slid slickly inside him, squeezing itself past the ring of muscle.

He gasped at the sensation grasping at nothing until he realized Castiel’s right arm was snaking its way underneath him, reaching out until their hands clasped.

“Dean,” Castiel said in a hushed, concerned tone, fingers loosening on the human’s skin as they began to stroke gently along his side.

”Don’t you dare stop,” Dean managed to make audible as his head swam.

He knew there would be some pain, and he was thankful for it. The sharp, initial burn was the only thing that stopped him from exploding into org*sm the second Castiel entered him. The stretch though, the fullness he felt as the angel kissed the back of his neck and inched further inside his tight channel was unlike any form of pleasure he’d ever known. And it wasn’t just the physical aspect of it either, it was the mental awareness as well. Actually letting someone inside of him, trusting a person that much was incomprehensible to him.

Wrapping the arm he had underneath him around Dean’s chest, Castiel pulled him close as he bottomed out, his breaths uneven.

“Oh god Dean,” he panted, placing unaimed kisses on the side of his partner’s face. “You feel…” Unable to keep himself still, Castiel pushed his hips forward only slightly, groaning as he did. “f*ck - so tight, you’d wrapped around me so f*cking tight,” he continued, his fingers starting to dig into Dean’s hip again.

The amount of fully functioning brain power Dean had left wasn’t much, but he did manage a smirk at how abysmally lost Castiel sounded. He wasn’t any better. He was sunk, absolutely trashed on the breath-stealing sensations of fullness. The stretch was insane, but it wasn’t like he was surprised, Castiel had a thick co*ck, and Dean loved every last inch of it as the man behind him failed spectacularly at keeping his hips still.

Not that Dean wanted him to anymore.

“You can move more than that, I’m good, promise,” he assured, grinding back as much as he could. “Goddamn you’re f*cking huge, I love it,” he praised.

“And you take me so well, I knew you would,” the angel encouraged, pulling out halfway before sliding back in with with purpose.

“Again,” Dean groaned, clutching onto the arm Castiel had wrapped around him.

“I can give you a lot of agains,” the Seraph assured as he began to set a steady pace.

Dean felt everything so acutely, so deeply, that each powerful thrust of the angel’s dick felt like it was hitting his soul, not just assaulting his prostate. Every time the head of his co*ck targeted that blessed bundle of nerves, Dean felt the resulting surge bloom throughout his body, radiating from a nuclear point of heat that was once again building inside him.

“Cas,” he choked out, rotating at the waist to roll over a little and press his lips to the man behind him. “Oh god, baby,” he gasped, stroking a hand down Castiel’s face before plunging his tongue inside the angel’s mouth.

Castiel wrapped him up tight with the arm that was still slid underneath him, kissing him back with nearly the same force he f*cked him with.

Glancing down, Dean watched as Castiel’s left hand moved from behind his knee to the middle of his thigh, on top of his leg, slowly making its way inside his legs where the angel squeezed and gripped the tender skin on Dean’s left thigh.

“If you want to leave another handprint on me, that’s as good a place as any,” Dean said dreamily.

Both men groaned as Castiel began to pick up the pace of his hips, driving into Dean even harder.

“I don’t think it would be entirely pleasant, it may feel like a burn or a brand,” he commented as he confidently pulled back on Dean’s left leg, spreading the man wide for him once again as he continued to pound into him from behind.

The change in the angle sent Dean’s vision to static momentarily, as a deluge of curses fell from his mouth. He dug his nails into the arm wrapped around his chest as he miraculously remembered something Castiel had said earlier, something he couldn’t do yet.

“I want another handprint on me,” he gritted out, taking every inch of Castiel’s forceful co*ck each time he gave it to him, “but I’m gonna come, and I don’t think I can hold it off again, please let me, oh god please, Cas, can I?” He asked, shaking with the precarious balance of pleasure and control he was holding onto.

“Now that I’ve gotten you where I want you, and can watch your co*ck make a mess all over your chest without me even touching you, yes. Come for me Dean, show me exactly how I make you feel, my good boy,” he whispered serenely.

Dean didn’t have an answer for what Castiel’s words did to him, how they set him on fire, catapulting him into the abyss where only euphoria waited to catch him. He felt his entire body light up with heat as the feeling deep within his groin turned into a magnet, pulling all the sensation toward it.

“Do it Cas, mark me again,” Dean was able to force out, just barely audible right before he erupted.

Ecstasy slammed into Dean so hard as he came he didn’t see stars, nor did he see static. For a few seconds, he only saw white. He couldn’t even make a sound as he simultaneously felt his chest become sticky with his hot release while the skin on the inside of his thigh began to heat up. As Castiel continued his unrelenting pounding into Dean’s body, the human finally sucked in a breath, only to release a groan at the sensations pouring into his body. The feeling of the angel claiming him again was tingly, and it was hot, but not entirely painful. It was Castiel’s Grace, leaving another handprint on him as it flowed throughout his body, mixing with his org*sm. The only thing Dean could do as he was assaulted with pleasure was float as it overtook him.

He truly had no idea how much time had passed, but Castiel’s voice broke him out of whatever distant world he’d skyrocketed to.

“f*ck Dean,” Castiel growled, his left hand now clamping down on the human’s hip as his body stilled on a final, powerful thrust.

”Oh god, Cas,” Dean said with a sigh, shivering as he felt Castiel’s co*ck pulse inside him. “I can feel you coming, holy sh*t that’s so f*cking hot,” he gushed.

Dean loved feeling the angel’s co*ck buck inside him as the last of his org*sm poured inside his body. He’d wanted Castiel to claim him, to own him, to mark him, and by all accounts, as the pair relearned how to breathe, Castiel had done just that.

”I have never,” Castiel began, allowing himself a few more pumps of his hips, “ever, in my exceedingly long life, felt anything as good as your body,” he concluded, moaning as he finished.

Taking a moment to remember how his limbs worked, Dean interlaced his fingers with Castiel’s, wrapping the man’s left arm around his chest to join the right one.

“I haven’t had an exceedingly long life, but I never thought I’d make it to where I am now. That being said, the same goes for me. Your body, goddamn Cas. Once we can move, which I don’t think I can do now, we’re doing that again.”

Aftershocks shot through his body as Castiel’s softening dick slipped out and he groaned, knowing he’d be feeling it again in the exceedingly near future.

Castiel chuckled softly behind him, kissing his neck a few times. “I have no problems with an encore.”

”Good,” Dean said, gazing down at his body.

There was indeed a second handprint on the inside of his left thigh, just like he’d asked for. He squeezed Castiel’s hand and then released it, tracing the new mark on his skin. It was tender, but Dean thought it felt amazing.

“I love it. Thanks, Cas,” he said warmly, still tracing the angel’s left handprint.

“You cheated,” Castiel grumped fondly, tracing Dean’s hand as it continued to explore his new mark. “I never would have done that to you had I not been inside you at the time. You caught me in a moment of weakness.”

”Okay fine, I’m a cheat. I’ll own that sh*t.”

”Well,” he began as he pulled Dean to his chest. “If you’re a cheat, then I may be a liar because it’s very possible I lied to you at the hotel in Washington State.”

“Pfft,” Dean scoffed, snuggling into the warm body behind him. “What’d you lie about?”

”When I said it was impossible for me to sleep. At the time I’d meant it. Now…” he mused, yawning, “for the first time in my life, I think I may actually be able to sleep.”

”Oh my god, that’s awesome,” Dean responded, his eyes already closing. “Can you angel the candles out so our house doesn’t burn down when we’re unconscious? I honestly don’t think I could stand if I tried.”

”Of course,” Castiel said with a flick of his wrist. The room fell into darkness as Dean heard a loud thud on the opposite side of the room.

“What was that?” He asked, cracking an eye open. He didn’t see flames so he doubted anything caught on fire.

”I think I also moved your boots. Or I knocked over a chair. I’m not sure,” he guessed, yawning again, “but I promise you that all the candles are out. I’ll deal with the fallout of misplaced items later.”

”Thank you, you’re so cool,” Dean mumbled, already half asleep.

”You’re always welcome. Good night, Dean.”

”Night Cas - for real! First time for sleep, such a cool angel….”

The last thing Dean remembered before falling unconscious was a smile on his face and warm arms wrapped around him.

Chapter 19: The Actual Monster

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They were supposed to go buy pumpkins today. Dean knew he was forgetting something.

The week before Halloween was upon Whitefish, and Montana knew it. The balmy temperatures of just a month ago were long gone.

Their summer had been blissful. Hikes, hunts, and happiness, that was the majority of it. Fall had come earlier than Dean had expected, but he welcomed. And for once, he was going to have a Halloween that didn’t involve something trying to end the world.

Once he figured out where he was.

And why he was lying on his back.

And why he was cold.

And why it smelled faintly of burnt fish.

He felt fingers begin to comb through his hair, so at least Castiel was there.

”Hey… Cas…” he croaked out.

He opened his eyes some and saw that it was nighttime, the half-moon high overhead.

Okay, so he was outside.

”Hello, Dean,” the angel said softly. “How do you feel? What do you remember?”

”Uh….” He queried as he sat up. “I, uh….”

Dean took a minute to look around. They were somewhere really remote, and there was a massive lake to his left, the water calmly lapping at the shore. When he looked at Castiel, the man smiled at him and placed a kiss on his forehead.

That’s when he realized they were both wet.

”Oh f*ck!” Dean shouted, looking around him as the recent past came crashing into him. “Where is it? Where’s the f*cking lake monster?”

”It made me angrier than I’ve ever been in my life, so I smote it,” Castiel said with pride.

“Oh god, how long was I out?”

”It’s only been about ten minutes, do you feel okay, love?”

”Yeah, I feel fine, I…. Holy sh*t… I should be bitten in half, that’s the last thing I remember….”

They’d followed up on a few leads about a lake creature somewhere around Lake Siskiwit in the Isle Royale National Park, an extremely remote location in Michigan. So remote that there are no cars allowed on the island, and Lake Siskiwit is a lake, on an island, in another lake - Lake Superior, to be exact. On the way there, he and Castiel had joked and laughed the whole way, saying there was no such thing. Alligator Gar didn’t live anywhere in the area, so it must have been some other fish.

The pair had been woefully mistaken. As they made their approach to the water, a creature that Dean recalled slightly resembling a classic Chinese Dragon rose out of the water. It wasn’t nearly as beautiful as the Asian creatures, it had been horrifying, covered in putrid brown and green scales and spikes. The part he could see was easily thirty feet high as it reared back, its gaping maw disgusting, filled with teeth, and about five feet wide.

For a split second, Dean thought he was dead. The .45 in his hand was laughable against the monstrosity looming above him. He was done for. And the last thing he remembered was….

“Did you… did you clobber me with your wing?”

”Dean, I panicked,” the angel admitted. “That… that thing was seconds away from eating you and I panicked,” he said, pulling Dean into his chest. “And while ‘clobbered’ isn’t the word I would choose to use, I did use my wing to get you out of harm's way, if getting you out of harm's way actually translates to me flinging you about fifty feet backward then crashing your already unconscious body into a pine tree. Yes, that I did. But I fixed all of the damage already. Also, I guess lake monsters do exist, so I stand corrected,” he added, rubbing his hands up and down Dean’s back.

Nothing on Dean hurt as he exploded into laughter. He couldn’t stop laughing even as he cradled Castiel’s face and began kissing him.

“Oh my god,” Dean said, eventually getting his hysterics under control. “With you that pissed, I almost feel bad for the lake monster, f*cker never stood a chance, did he?”

”No,” Castiel growled, “most of the remaining dust has already been claimed by the lake. You truly are just fine, I promise. I tried to wake you up gently as well.”

”Thank you, for everything, most importantly right now thank you for probably breaking every bone in my body and then healing me back, because it’s a hell of a lot better than being eaten.”

”I’d like to take a break from lakes if that’s alright with you. And I don’t think it was… every bone, but it was probably most of them. Bones - and organs - I can heal. You being bitten in half? That may be beyond my capabilities.”

”Cas, I trust you, one hundred percent. And I feel fine, and more importantly alive, because of you. And yeah, let’s just stay away from lakes for a while. I know Beaver Lake is pretty close to the cabin but—“

”I’ll f*cking drain it if I have to just to ensure there’s not another lake monster in it,” Castiel said with conviction.

”One lake monster in 380 million years is a pretty good track record, doubt we’ll ever see another one.”

Castiel sighed. “Fine, the lake can remain,” he said flatly as he got to his feet. “Would you like to go home now?” He asked, reaching down to help Dean up.

”I’d love to go home,” he said happily, pleased to see all his limbs worked. “We are disgusting and smell worse than we look.”

Dean vaguely remembered a lot of drool coming from the aquatic beast.

“Joint shower?” Castiel asked hopefully.

”Like you even have to ask - yes, of course joint shower!” Dean enthused. “Let’s scale back a little on hunting for a while. Maybe a salt and burn next, that sound good?”

“That sounds perfect. But we get to make jack o'lanterns before that, yes?”

Dean smiled. He got to carve pumpkins for no other reason than the fact they wanted their porch decorated with them. It’s not like they’d get any trick-or-treaters.

“All day tomorrow.”

”Well, I’m hoping that it won’t be all day. You did also mention there would be pumpkin pie, and I’ve never had that before, and was looking forward to it.”

”You know what?” Dean asked, taking Castiel’s hand as they walked back to the Impala through the trees. “Why don’t we make the pies first? Then we can get around to the pumpkin carving… eventually.”

”Yes. Eventually.”

Notes:

If you're new, welcome to Ripleyville! I write fluff and smut - and it's always happy and incredibly stupid.
If you're a returning guest, welcome back!
I have a loose idea for a Halloween type story - or at least in the spirit of the best holiday on earth. Knowing me I'll publish it by Valentine's Day, but I'm still gonna shoot for October 31st.
Thanks for reading! Be good to yourselves!!
<3

The Eventual Football Bat - Ripley_LV426 (2024)

Chapter 1: Nope

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Chapter 2: To Protect and Serve - and Listen

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Chapter 3: The One With The Apology

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Chapter 4: Hardiness Zones 5a & 5b

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Chapter 5: The Lifted Weight

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Chapter 6: Anger Management

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Chapter 7: Table for Two

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Chapter 8: Double Occupancy

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Chapter 9: Heavenly Objectification

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Chapter 10: The Good, The Better, and The Great

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Chapter 11: f*ck Closets!

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Chapter 12: Castiel, M.D.

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Chapter 13: The Power of Prayer

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Chapter 14: Age Gap

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Chapter 15: The Monster

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Chapter 16: War

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Chapter 17: The Date

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Chapter 18: Best Behavior

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Chapter 19: The Actual Monster

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