Chapter Text
Cas let Dean sleep for too long. Dean didn’t seem to mind though. They had an honor-bar after all, and Dean said that they could do plenty of damage with just that. “Won’t Sam be mad if we max out the card with honor-bar purchases?”
Dean just laughed, “Cas, what have I told you about honor-bars?”
Cas squinted across the room at Dean as he was lifting a tiny bottle of bourbon out of the fridge. “That everything about them is honorable.” He said it almost as a question.
Dean set the bourbon back in the fridge. “Maybe we should go down to the bar. It’s late, but we could get something before last call. It might be cheaper too.” Cas felt his heart sink. He’d thought it would be late enough to keep them in. He’d hoped so anyway.
“Okay.”
Dean came up next to him and threw his arm over Cas’ shoulder, drawing him toward the door. “Don’t get all mopey. I promise to be entertaining. Besides, tomorrow we gotta work the case. So, tonight we should let loose.” Cas knew what Dean meant by ‘let loose,” and he wasn’t a fan of the plan. He went anyway.
He fell silent as they took the elevator up to the rooftop bar. The view of the city would be nice at least. Cas thought that maybe it might be windy and he could feel a little like he was flying again. That might be nice. The bar was actually still crowded for the time. Apparently 1:00 am wasn’t so late to some people. Dean grinned at his side. “You want me to find a table?” Cas asked.
“Yeah, I’ll get the drinks. You got a preference?”
“It’s all the same to me.” Cas wandered off to the edge of the bar, picking a table near the wall. There was a little wind there just like he had hoped. He watched Dean lean into the bar and wait for the bartender to notice him. The bartender, a red bearded man, gave him a little half salute of acknowledgement before tossing a towel over his shoulder and walking down to him. Dean seemed to be talking to him for a moment, then the man laughed. He leaned in close and seemed to be amused by whatever Dean was saying.
Cas noticed the way the man’s whole posture seemed to shift. It seemed almost like flirting. Dean leaned into the conversation too. Then Dean motioned at Cas with a casual jab of his thumb over his shoulder. Cas looked away. He felt guilty like he wasn’t supposed to be staring or something. He glanced up and noticed that the bartender had set a hand on Dean’s arm. It was more than friendly. Cas didn’t like it. Somehow this bothered him more than the other intimacies, and he couldn’t say why.
It would be easier to just not look anymore, so Cas stared off at the city. He took in the lights on the buildings, the slow roll of the cars below, the vastness of the place. It wasn’t like their usual cases. Somehow they rarely seemed to find themselves in big cities anymore. He knew nothing about the case. Usually, he’d read up on whatever Sam had pulled together for them. This time he just followed Dean, assuming that he’d figure things out for both of them.
He was pulled from his thoughts by Dean setting down a couple of glasses on the table, sliding one toward him. “Drink up.” Dean sat and smiled at him. “Got ya a bourbon.”
Cas looked at Dean a moment before lifting the glass. He looked at the color through the light that passed through it. “Bourbon is expensive. Hardly seems worth it.”
“Yeah, well it was free.” Dean lifted his glass then and clinked it with Cas’ before drinking from it. Cas tipped his head a little and watched the bob of Dean’s throat as he swallowed. “You can thank Mad Sweeney over there when you get us a second round.”
“Mad Sweeney?” Cas looked back at the bar. The bartender glanced up from what he was doing and gave him a smile and a little wave.
“Yeah, Mad Sweeney.” Dean waved back for both of them. “Drink up.” Cas drank. He processed the various flavors, the ones most might not even pick up on. It was enjoyable; although, he still thought it was wasteful. He’d have to drink quite a lot of it to feel any effect, and now that he had tasted it, no more was really needed. Dean was watching him in a way that seemed more like studying. “You didn’t read the book.”
“What?”
Dean set down his glass. He leaned into the table a little. “You didn’t get the reference. You didn’t read the book.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cas set his glass down too. He leaned into the table, feeling like Dean was about to challenge him or something. There was energy in the air all of a sudden.
“When you were roaming all over with Crowley, I gave you American Gods and said you should read it. Lord knows you had time. You kept saying that he was driving you nuts and that you just needed a break.”
Cas did remember all of this, but Dean wasn’t focused on all the myriad reasons he had for not reading the book. Dean had been going on and on about the fact that a series on TV was being made for the book and that it was so well cast. Dean may have talked about it an awful lot actually. Cas had enjoyed their conversations. They’d been a welcome reprieve from the ones he’d had with Crowley, with all the innuendos and sometimes pointed comments on the things he and Dean did in the past. Jealousy never did look good on anyone, and Cas didn’t like that he was now painted in that green shade.
After awhile Dean’s conversations about the book shifted though. He eventually started talking more about the cast than just the characters. So after all of the Crowley interactions, hearing Dean go on about how one of the characters in the book, Shadow, was so perfectly cast, and then hearing the descriptions of his physique, well, Cas just didn’t think he’d like the book at all.
Dean gave him the book during one random meet up and had told him to read it, to pass the time. He couldn’t explain to Dean why that wouldn’t happen, why he didn’t need to have another vivid image of someone that Dean found attractive, someone that wasn’t him, someone that Dean would want. He was having a hard enough time reconciling the fact that when Dean was a demon, he’d have maybe had half a chance if there had just been some proximity.
What was more, was that Dean supposedly didn’t like men, but he had some exceptions. It didn’t matter so much in the grand scheme of things since Cas felt that Dean needed things in his life that he couldn’t get if they were together. Dean should have a life with someone that wasn’t so knee deep in the supernatural world, so mired in danger. Cas was sure that anything he’d touch would turn to rot. He couldn’t let himself bring that to Dean’s doorstep.
Now here they were with this Mad Sweeney guy reminding Dean of that book and that time. “You’re not even listening to me. What’s wrong with you Cas?”
Cas pulled himself back and stared at Dean a moment before saying, “I’m sorry.”
Dean set a hand on him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just let myself think too much sometimes.” Cas lifted the drink to his lips and took a sip. He set the glass back down and asked, “So, how did you get us free drinks?”
“Wow, you weren’t listening at all.” Dean laughed though. “I told him we were on our honeymoon. People like to give out free stuff to newlyweds and all.” Dean winked.
“Oh.” Cas shifted a glance at the bartender again. He was busy with another customer.
“Yeah, seemed like he’d be okay with it, given his pride bracelet.” Dean winked again. “I notice things.”
“Yes, you always do seem to pick up on the little things.” Cas rolled his eyes.
“Am I missing something?”
“No.” Cas finished his drink. “You want another round?”
Dean finished off his drink and said, “Yeah.” He set down the glass and said, “His names Colin, not Sweeney, just so you know.”
Of course Dean got the name. Cas made his way to the bar, and when he got there, waited for Colin to notice him. “Hey there. What can I get for you?” His smile was broad and genuine.
“Another round of bourbon for my husband and I.”
“You got it.” Colin reached out and tapped Cas’ hand. “No ring yet, huh?”
Cas looked down at his hand. “Maybe someday.” He glanced back at Dean. He was wearing a ring. He’d even moved it to the appropriate hand.
“Well, a ring isn’t everything. It’s the promises that matter.” He slid two glasses of bourbon over to him. “Five dollars.”
“Pretty sure it’s more than that,” Cas said.
“Yeah, well you put the extra into the ring fund. Not everyday, I get to be nice to my people.” He glanced down the bar and gave a person a nod of acknowledgement.
Cas slid a ten across the bar. “Keep the change.”
“You’re kinda undoing the ring fund there.” Colin laughed.
“You’re kinda making it hard for me to be jealous of you. I thought you were flirting with my husband earlier.” Cas thought it was funny how easily he let that word fall out of his mouth over and over. It was nice to use such a possessive set of words where Dean was concerned even if it was just in this moment with this complete stranger.
Colin leaned into the bar and whispered, “I was flirting. I’ve got no shame. I’ll flirt with you too.” He set a hand on Cas. His words were warm air passing over Cas’ cheek. He was attractive. He wasn’t Dean though.
“This must be how you get all the tips.” Cas pointed at the jar that seemed to be almost overflowing with bills.
Colin laughed. “I do alright.” He seemed to glance past him. “Looks like your man is less than pleased with our proximity.”
They were pretty close. Cas turned though and looked at Dean, who was fiercely looking down at his glass in front of him. It was, in this moment, clearly, the most fascinating glass Dean had ever seen. He was entirely, singularly focused on it. “He might just be tired.”
“Nope, pretty sure I got the death glare from him just a few seconds ago. I know when to back off.” Colin gave Cas a little more space then.
“Well, I’m not sure what he’d have to be upset about. Not like I didn’t put a ring on it.” Cas smiled, all gummy and genuine. It wasn’t often he got to use a Beyonce line, and he kind of really liked it.
Colin just smiled. “Well, you better go remind him maybe.” Colin moved off to the other end of the bar. Cas picked up the drinks and went back to the table. He set them down and slid one over to Dean who was still drilling a hole through the table with all of his glaring.
“You okay, Dean?” Dean didn’t look up. Cas reached out to him.
“I’m fine.” Dean glanced up. He looked upset. He picked up his glass and drank some.
“You’re not.” Cas glanced at the bar again. “You didn’t want him flirting with me?” He wasn’t sure why he shared this theory. He was curious though about whether or not Colin had been right.
Dean looked a bit more angry. At least he was looking at him though. “Yeah, Cas.”
And because he used Beyonce once, he figured he might as well give it another go. “Well, if you don’t want people flirting with me, you shoulda put a ring on it.” He waved his hand in front of him in a silly little way that was meant to mirror one of the moves he’d seen Beyonce do before in some video.
Dean just stared at him. The anger he’d had painted there seemed to have entirely disappeared. “Well, okay then.” Dean swirled the ice around in his glass.
“I don’t understand why that would have made you upset. You practically shove me into such situations quite regularly with random waitresses and various other women.” Cas watched Dean’s face shift. It was like he was being startled over and over.
“Is this us talking about things, because I gotta say, I thought you’d drag this out for at least another month or two.” Dean took a deep drink of the bourbon and then set the glass back down with a decisive clunk.
Cas felt suddenly guilty. He had opened the door to a conversation that he just couldn’t have. Not only that, he’d opened it up by implying that Dean should claim him with a ring. That couldn’t happen. That wasn’t part of the plan. Dean needed something a bit more stable than a broken angel. He saw what it could be with the right woman. He remembered Lisa even if she didn’t have the luxury of remembering Dean.
That relationship wasn’t perfect or even close, but it could have been if Dean had been allowed a life separate from the supernatural. They could have children together and some semblance of peace. And Cas thought again, I could never give him any of that. Cas had some sort of false sense that Dean really wanted the traditional apple pie life with a wife and two point five kids. He thought that the life that Dean had currently with his hunting and an incomplete angel was the very opposite of what Dean wanted and needed.
Dean could have cleared that up easily if he’d been given a chance.
Dean got up suddenly. “Well, good talk man.” Apparently, Cas had let the silence go on for too long. Dean was already heading to the elevator. Cas got up and followed him. He didn’t know what to say.
Dean was standing at the elevator door when Cas caught up with him. “Nice of the elevator to take so long. I’d have been stuck riding it back to the room alone.” Cas glanced over at Dean who was not looking back.
“Kinda hard to storm off if you just follow me.”
“You want me to go back and hang out at the bar with Colin?” Cas thought he could make a joke of it, but this was not the right approach. He was also a little irritated with the situation and that may have come through in his tone.
Dean looked at him as the elevator door opened. No one was inside. They both got in and Dean jabbed at the button to their floor. “You wanna go back. No ones stopping you.” The doors to the elevator closed.
“Maybe next time.” Cas just stared straight ahead. He wasn’t sure where this was going or even how he wanted this to end. He knew he had to dial it back though. He couldn’t be mad. It wouldn’t help.
They arrived at their floor. Dean stalked off ahead of him. He got out his key card and opened their door. He didn’t close the door on Cas, so there was that at least. He moved off to the big windows overlooking the city. He pressed a palm into the wall and ran a hand up into his hair. “What are we even fighting about, Cas?”
Cas stayed back by the door. He was afraid to close the space between them. He was afraid of how he’d feel, how he’d act, if they were any closer. “I don’t know.” He knew, sort of. Dean’s head dipped to the glass. Cas felt a little guilty.
“I don’t know why I even listened to him. It’s not like Sammy has any clue about this sort of thing.”
Cas was confused. He walked over to the window. What did Sammy have to do with anything? There was a window seat. Cas sat with his back pressed to the wall opposite Dean. He was still standing there with his head pressed to the glass. Cas looked down on the city. It was very late. Dean sat down on the window seat facing Cas. ‘You want to talk?” Cas wasn’t sure why he was opening up this conversation again. it would be better to let it go. Dean just looked so defeated in the moment. He had to do something.
“Sam said we needed to sort our shit out.”
“I remember.” Cas also remembered the comforting press of Dean at his back. He remembered what it was to be held by him in this body, in his own body.
“Not talking about then. He said it before this case. He set up this case for us.”
“Not like dealing with hauntings usually offers up a lot of spare time.” Cas pulled his leg up onto the window seat a little more and faced Dean fully.
“Have you not been paying attention to anything?” Dean rolled his eyes on a sigh. “Not sure if Sam could have been anymore obvious.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dean got up and opened one of the dresser drawers. He pulled out a black binder, the kind hotels had in the rooms so that a person could see all the amenities and local events. Dean started turning pages and eventually stopped midway through. “Here. Look at this.” Dean passed the binder over.
Cas looked down at the picture of “Carver House: the most haunted house you’ll ever encounter.” Cas looked up at Dean. “Is this the case?”
“Yeah, I think we just solved it.”
“We did?”
Dean laughed, “Yeah, It’s haunted by tourists and PR.”
Cas handed the book back to Dean. “Why would Sam send us there?” Cas looked around the room. “And spend a lot of money on this hotel?”
“Like I said, Sam thinks we need to sort our shit.” Dean reached out and set a hand on Cas’ leg. “He’s not wrong. You’ve been unhappy, and you won’t tell me why.”
Cas looked out the window. “I’m not unhappy.” The lie came so easily. Dean squeezed his leg. Cas looked back at him.
“You promised me you’d stay.”
“I did.”
Dean swallowed and continued, “It was selfish of me to make you promise that. I should feel guilty about that, shouldn’t I?”
“No.” The answer came quick. Cas didn’t want Dean to ever feel guilty.
“Do you still want to bolt?”
“Sometimes.”
“Like now?” Cas could feel the worry rolling off Dean.
He set his hand on Dean’s which was still sitting on his leg. “Not at this present moment.”
“Where would you go if you did bolt?”
Cas sucked in a big needless breath. “Somewhere high where I could feel the wind on my face.”
“So Sam was right about some other things too.” Cas tipped his head as if to question that. Dean explained, “He said maybe angels weren’t meant to live in bunkers. He said that maybe being cut off from the sky was a little miserable for you.”
“Oh.” Cas shifted and his hand fell off of Dean’s. “I miss some things like flying, the wind and sun on my form. The bunker feels like home now too though.”
“Does it?” Dean’s tone sounded incredibly doubtful.
Cas let his hand slide off of Dean’s. He turned and let his back press to the window behind him. “It’s one of the only places where I feel wanted. I don’t serve any purpose anymore in heaven. I am unwanted there, and frankly the feeling is mutual.” Cas folded his hands in front of himself and leaned forward. He glanced at Dean. “So, although there are times I want to,” he made air quotes, “bolt, I won’t. I want to be where I am right now.”
“In an over-priced hotel?” Dean smirked.
“It’s where you are, so yes.”
Dean sucked in a breath and moved closer. His leg lined up with Cas’. His posture mirrored Cas. “Then what is making you so unhappy?”
“Wanting something doesn’t make it right.” Cas sighed. “I’m a bit of a trouble magnet. Good things don’t come to people or angels that know me. I should not have promised to stay. It is making it difficult for me to do the right thing.”
“The right thing?” Dean asked.
“Yes.” Cas felt his heart drumming away. His body was responding to this moment with something like fear. “Leaving would be the right thing.”
Dean got up and began pacing. “So, I need to worry about that, about you deciding one day that promises don’t matter, that you need to just pop off.” Dean sounded a little angry. Cas’ head dropped. His chin nearly rested on his chest. Then Dean was standing over him. Cas looked up at him. Dean was stifling a yawn. “It’s really late.” His hands were curled at his sides. “We should go to bed before I say anything stupid. We always try to have these talks at the worst times.”
Cas nodded and waited for Dean to take a step back before he got up. “I don’t require sleep, and my communication would be the same now as it would be in the morning.”
Dean moved off to the dresser and his duffel bag. He began pulling out clothes to sleep in. He had two sets of sweats and two t-shirts. He began changing. Cas felt all need for communication fall away. It was far easier to just watch with quiet awe. “I’m not so sure I buy that.”
“What?” Cas had completely lost the thread of their conversation. Dean was taking off his shirt, and his broad chest was on full display. His arms, the very ones that held Cas with such tenderness, were unclothed now. The muscles in Dean’s back needed to be touched. Cas wanted to trace the contours there, explore all of Dean’s paths.
Dean had stepped up to him. He maybe even said some things, but Cas didn’t hear him. His head was all swimmy, and he was pretty sure that angels weren’t supposed to feel like this. Dean was holding out the sweat pants and t-shirt toward him. “Put these on, Mr. I-Don’t-Require-Sleep.” Cas took them. Dean moved off to the bed.
Cas just stood there a moment. Changing clothes should be easy. He’d done it before, but it wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence. In fact, the very few times that it had just happened, like when he was snapped back to earth in some other coat and suit, it had thrown him a little.
His fingers fumbled at the buttons. The order was wrong though. He shouldn’t have started with his button-up. He was still wearing layers over it, and his shirt was tucked into his pants. He could have used his mojo, just zapped into the new clothes, but something in his head was misfiring. He looked at Dean and the bed across the room. Cas’ buttons were half undone, and his fingers stalled on the next one.
Dean was under the sheets, propped up on an arm and some pillows, watching him. “You need some help there, buddy?” Dean smirked.
“I know how to change clothes.” Cas turned his back on Dean. He had thousands of years worth of memories. He had seen everything, and yet here he was fumbling with buttons. He finally realized that he needed to take off the outer layers first. He gently set his trench coat on the back of a chair.
At least now he was down to just the shirt and pants again. Cas felt the moment though, the long drag of time that seemed to be overtaking all of his simple actions. Then Dean was at his back again, like he had been in that motel before. His arms moved around Cas’ waist. His chin settled in on Cas’ shoulder. “Let me help you.”
His hands ran up Cas’ chest and then back to the damn buttons. Dean’s fingers brushed over them. He seemed to be in no hurry, and this position was not exactly the best one to be in for a speedy undressing. Dean undid Cas’ belt first and slowly dragged it free. He reached out to their left and dropped it near the chair. Then Dean was pulling Cas’ shirt free of his pants. He was unbuttoning the shirt. When he got finished with the last button, he dragged his hands back up over Cas’ chest, to his shoulders, and down his arms. When he got to Cas’ wrists, he paused and let his thumb stroke Cas there.
Cas felt all of his focus go to the points of contact--Dean’s hands dragging over him, Dean’s chest pressed solidly to his back, Dean’s mouth, lips slightly parted, letting out little, ragged breaths. Dean unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt. Dean was hard and pressed against Cas too. He didn’t let himself think about how this was different. Instead, Cas closed his eyes, and pictured them moving together, the warm drag of his own hands on Dean’s body. He wanted, and still he knew that he couldn’t ask.
Dean turned him around and thoughts scattered, Dean pushed his shirt off. He pulled the undershirt up and over Cas’ head next. He tossed both onto the chair that already held the trench coat. Dean reached past him to the dresser. Cas didn’t even remember setting down the sweats and t-shirt. Dean picked up the t-shirt, and before doing anything, set his palm flat against Cas’ chest. “You think you could put this shirt on yourself?”
Cas swallowed and took the shirt. Who knew putting on a shirt could be such a clumsy business. Somehow he managed to get both his head and arm through the head hole. He quickly fixed the mistake though, and Dean didn’t laugh. He just watched, all smirky, from way too close. Dean smoothed his hands over the shirt, like he needed to straighten it out or something. If he just stopped touching Cas, then Cas might be able to figure out how thinking worked again.
Dean had no such intentions. His fingers dragged down to the waistband of Cas’ pants. He grazed over the area. Dean’s fingers trembled a little as they moved toward the button and fly of Cas’ pants. Cas watched Dean’s face then, and Dean focused on his task. He unbuttoned and unzipped Cas’ pants, sending them to the floor. Dean reached past him again, his chest brushing against Cas’ as he picked up the sweat pants from off the dresser.
“Now put these on, one leg per hole.” Dean smirked again.
“I know how to put on pants,” Cas said sounding not at all confident.
“Sure you do, buddy.” Dean smiled and walked away, back to the bed.
It was a little easier, getting into the pants, because Dean wasn’t so close anymore. Cas looked down at himself. The shirt was too tight. He felt naked in it. His broad chest and his muscles there were very much on display. The sweats were baggy enough in places. The waist was loose, but the part around his legs was a little tighter. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just revealing in a way that sweats typically weren’t. He was still wearing socks. “Should I take off my socks?” It was an odd question.
He could hear the smile in Dean’s response. “Do your feet get cold at night?”
“No.” Cas looked up at him. Dean was propped up on some pillows, just looking so smug and also a little sleepy. His hair was all ruffled up, like he’d raked his hand through it some more when Cas wasn’t looking.
“Then take them off, and come to bed.” Cas awkwardly stood on one foot and pulled up his other leg like he was a flamingo or something. He peeled off one sock like that then shifted legs to take care of the other. He moved to the empty side of the bed and just stared down like he’d forgotten what came next. Dean pulled back the sheets. He reached up to Cas and said, “Come ‘ere.”
Cas got into the bed. Dean snaked his one arm under Cas. He used his other arm to reach out and pull the sheets and blanket up over them. For a moment, Cas laid there on his back all stiff, Dean’s arm beneath him. “Are you comfortable?” Cas asked.
A low rumble of a laugh came from Dean as he shifted his position. He was laying on his side now and moved Cas into a little spoon position. Dean’s body curled around Cas’. His free arm draped over Cas’ hip and pulled him closer. “Am now. You?”
“Yes.” Cas stared straight ahead. The feel of Dean solid at his back was maybe every good thing. He closed his eyes and pictured it all, the future he wanted but couldn’t have, Dean happy and safe with him.
“Stop thinking. I can feel you thinking,” Dean said. “Try shutting it down for a bit. Sleep with me.” He could feel Dean press a kiss into the space between his shoulder blades. “In the morning, we’ll talk about whatever pops up.” Dean laughed a little, a sleepy melody, that made Cas smile.
“Is talking a funny thing?”
“My little joke is.”
“I suppose I missed the joke,” Cas said.
Dean pulled him tighter to him. “And that is why we need to talk when I’m awake, and less capable of screwing this up. Pretty sure you’ve missed a lot of absolutely obvious stuff this past month, and I’m going to set you straight.” Dean laughed again, “or not straight. Words.” He was mumbling into Cas’ back, as sleep finally claimed him. Cas tried shutting down like Dean told him to. It took some time, but eventually his thoughts whittled down to just warmth, and the happy sound of Dean’s gentle breathing.
Morning came. Dean was snoring into his back. Cas focused on the warm press of him there. It was nice. He wondered if they’d do this again, if every night in this hotel could be spent wrapped up in each other like this. He didn’t focus on the worries or the old obstacles that he continually assumed were in their path. Instead, he just let his mind swim around in the moment. Dean was holding him. Dean was safe and happy.
Hours passed for him like that. He should have let his mind fall back into the semi-sleep he’d been in before. It was nice though, having this moment. Eventually though, he let his old thoughts return. The old demon thoughts reminded him that he could never give Dean what he really wanted. He even convinced himself that Dean didn’t know what he wanted himself. He knew Dean though, knew what he needed, what would fill his life with peace.
Cas was an angel, and a broken one at that. He wanted Dean, and he also wanted Dean to have everything. After all Dean had worked tirelessly to save the world. Everyday with Cas was a risk. If angels weren’t hunting him with murderous intentions, then it would be demons, or Eldritch gods. He’d managed to anger something in all categories at some point in his existence.
Dean’s arms tightened around him. His fingers grazed over the muscles on Cas’ stomach. He was in that pleasant state when dreams turn to waking. Cas let Dean pull him closer. “Mornin’,” Dean’s words were mumbled into Cas’ back.
Cas just hummed back. Dean’s hand was tracing over muscles and flesh. Cas soaked up the attention. His thoughts seemed to slip back into pleasant territory. “Good morning, Dean.”
Dean rolled his hips a little, and Cas felt Dean’s hardness against his own body. “I know I said we’d talk, but,” Dean said as he rolled his hips again. One hand slid down to the front of Cas’ sweatpants. He palmed Cas through the fabric. Cas tipped his head back. He thought that he should stop him, but he didn’t really want to do that. Dean seemed to feel encouraged and moved his hand under the waistband of both the sweatpants and Cas’ boxers. “You like this?”
“Very much,” Cas practically stuttered out. He rolled his own hips back into Dean’s body as Dean took him in hand. “We should talk though.”
Dean was kissing into his neck and down into the little divot between his neck and shoulder. Cas thought of just how kind Chuck was to give bodies so many nerve endings with which to feel pleasure. Dean’s hand was picking up the pace. “You want me to stop or talk while we do this?”
Cas was writhing with the contact, body slick now from Dean’s attention. He reached behind him and awkwardly palmed at Dean. “Want to touch you.” It was all he could say. He had somehow shifted from the deep desire to cut and run, to never wanting to stop this thing they’d started months ago. Dean rolled him onto his back.
“You can do that.” Dean smirked down at him now, all confident and pleased with the direction things were going. Cas seemed to realize then that this was entirely different for them.
“It'll be hard to find a willing vessel this early.” Dean just stared at him. In the few moments of silence Cas also realized that he'd just said out loud what they'd been doing. It was the first real acknowledgement.
Dean reached down between them and began sliding Cas’ pants and boxers off. Dean stared at Cas’ newly revealed body, hard and leaking. “Seems to me that it won't be hard at all finding a vessel that's into this.” Dean dragged his fingers up Cas’ leg, stopping just short of the goal. “Do you want me, Cas?”
Cas swallowed. Dean looming over him was enough to make him imagine all sorts of things. Most of those things were very carnal. “It's clear what I want.” He really couldn't deny it. The evidence was right there between them.
Dean let his hand slip off of Cas’ leg. He stared down at him. Cas wanted to pull him down to the bed, crush their bodies together, but this wasn't what was best for Dean. This wasn't what he'd intended. “You just have issues with being with me while you're in this body then?”
“No.” Cas thought about the question though. He could see how Dean might think that, and maybe he wasn't wrong. “I thought, at first, that you only felt desire for women, except in rare circumstances.”
Dean stood beside the bed and stretched his arms up over his head. He was beautiful, all taut muscles. The early morning sunlight in the room highlighted him in golden hues. Cas wondered, not for the first time, if Dean was a god. Then, Dean pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his pants and underwear. Dean looked down at him. “Guess it's pretty clear that you were wrong.”
“About that, yes.” Cas eyes drifted over Dean's body. Dean moved back onto the bed and crawled over him. “Later, I thought that it would be easier on both of us when it came time for me to leave. We could just pretend nothing ever happened.”
Dean rolled his hips. He took Cas’ face in his hands. “You promised not to leave.” Dean sounded earnest, and his body shook a little as he pressed in closer to Cas. He repeated, “You promised.”
Cas moved his own hands around Dean's back, a move meant to comfort him. “I know. Someone once told me that sometimes when you want something really bad, you lie. I intended to leave you even as I made the promise.”
“Intended, past tense?” Dean sounded hopeful. He rolled his hips again and again. Can held him tighter. He wanted this, more than he ever did in those other bodies. Yes he and Dean had been together before, countless times now, but this was different, this was him. This was Dean wanting him as he was. This was what it was too be really wanted. Cas never wanted it to end.
“Present tense too. I'll bring you nothing good if I stay.”
Dean leaned down close and rested his forehead against Cas’ own. He slowed down his movements which had become a little erratic. Now he moved slowly, languidly. “I use to think that way but in the other direction. Thought I was ruining your life. You're an angel, and I'm what? Just some guy that got shoehorned into an apocalypse. You deserve better.”
“I don't.”
Dean kissed him and cut off whatever else Cas would have said. Cas let himself drown in the warmth of Dean's mouth. How could Dean ever think he wasn't enough? And then it hit him, all the choices he'd made that had contributed to Dean's feelings of inadequacy. Dean broke the kiss, likely feeling the change that seemed to overtake Cas. “You okay?”
“You think you're not worth loving?” Cas asked.
“Use to think that. Use to think that it was a lot of work for you to be anywhere near me. Felt bad for you. I figured it was part of why you were always leaving.” Dean leaned down and kissed Cas’ head.
“You said 'use to.’ You don't think that now?”
“Not even a little.” Dean smiled, big and genuine. “Look at us Cas. We're perfect for each other. You're a mess. I'm a mess. And somehow we make it work.”
Cas let the words flutter about in his head. “I'll make you miserable.”
“Not likely.” Dean kissed him again to punctuate the point.
“Someone will come along wanting revenge. I've pissed off a lot of beings.”
“Sounds like par for the course.” Dean brushed back Cas’ hair. “We've faced plenty before, died a few times too, and you know what?”
Dean paused like he was waiting for Cas to respond. “What?”
“The universe wants us to be together. And I say, who're we to argue with that?” Dean laughed, and the sound of it rolled through Cas. He smiled back. “I love you.”
It made sense really. And in the end, he really didn't want anything but this. He stared up into Dean’s eyes, bright and so full of love for him. Cas knew he could give him something good, even if it might be easier for Dean to have someone else, someone less dangerous. They’d be hunted; they’d fight, live, and maybe even die, but nothing mattered but this. “I have loved you; I still love you; I’ll always love you.”
Dean slid his arms up under Cas’ back and cradled his shoulders. “Then, just so we’re on the same page, we stay together.” Cas nodded. “You stop hopping off into new vessels.” Cas nodded again. “We have mind-blowingly good sex.” Cas smiled then nodded. “You get that you’re what’s best for me?”
“I get that you think that.”
“Look, Cas. You’re my win, my one good thing. If at the end of the day, I’ve done some good, and the world is safer.”
Cas interrupted him, “It is.”
“Okay, well then, I wanna share the peaceful time with someone that makes me happy.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Cas. “And you know what?” Dean’s smile was close. Cas kissed it quick. “You make me happy, you asshole.”
Their bodies were close, and Cas felt sure that this was right. Dean's orgasm was fast approaching. He could feel it in the way his muscles tightened and his breathing became ragged. Cas thought that he'd maybe regret some things, doubt that he’d done the right thing, but Dean seemed happy, so how could those doubts last? He rolled his hips and thought of the many ways that he could use this body to make Dean incredibly happy. He looked into Dean's eyes as they held each other through the moment, through the final roll of hips. Dean slumped down to him. His head rested against Cas' chest. Cas raised a hand to his hair and let his fingers weave into the softness there. His body felt good with Dean near it. It felt right. He breathed him in, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You make me happy too, you asshole.”