Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean flips through the channels without interest. He peeks at the on-demand erotica because it’s New Year's, and that’s as close as the mood’s gonna get to celebratory. Scanning the list of titles and descriptions, he frowns and shuts the t.v. off. The dick that killed Kevin could have his baby brother half-way around the world by now. Weeks later and even Cas can't locate them. That phone call had been one of the hardest he had ever made. In the present, the hunter’s just finished another crap job to keep busy and now the lull of inaction is pressing down on him again. Adrenaline still pumping, he cracks the blind and notes the last of the sunlight receding from the winter sky. There isn’t a drop of booze in the room and he’s starting to wonder who he thought he was kidding when he drove past the liquor store without buying anything. Christmas had never been a big deal, but this year it may have been. Now it’s New Year's and his family is gone.

“Fuck this.” Dean throws a jacket on and leaves, having to stop half-way to the Impala to come back and lock the room. Usually Sam is there to play guard giant. Huffing in annoyance, he watches his breath silhouetted in white puffs against the dark tint of his Baby as he approaches her. Forty-two minutes pass and Dean pulls his car back into the same spot and shuts the engine off, glancing at the paper bag riding shotgun. Swiping a thumb over the contour of one of the bottles within, he grins bitterly. His longest-lasting relationship.

For a while Dean simply sits there and watches the Holiday lights on the motel’s sign. Half the strand is burnt out and the other blinks feebly out-of-sequence. Icicles form over some of the bulbs, creating icy balls of colored light that might have been beautiful if the circumstances were different. He jerks his gaze away from the sign and stares at the room waiting for him at the end of the row. In there, it will be empty and full at the same time. That’s what the whiskey is for-it will drown out the demons that will expand to fill the absence of other people. God, he wishes Sam were here.

“Hey, uh…” Dean chuckles because he doesn’t even mean to say it aloud. “Nevermind.” He finishes quickly as he exits the car and braces himself against the wind. It isn’t as bad as the chill in Purgatory by far, but involuntary shivers still rack through him as he quickens his pace. “Honey, I’m home!” He calls out to the void that is disturbed only by himself and the flurry of snow that follows him. The shower is blessedly hot and the water droplets look downright erotic as they slide down the bottle. The Zeppelin songs he croons to it are interrupted only by the swigs he takes. It doesn't sound as good without the instrumentals. Incomplete.

His family keeps dying and he's at fault for it. Sam, Cas, Charlie, Kevin…and there is no coming back for Kevin, is there? Daring to hope feels foolish. Shutting the water off, Dean attempts to do the same with his line of conscious thought. Shaking out his hair, Dean leaves the bathroom and ignores the television altogether. Maybe in another hour the sound of alcohol accelerating his heart rate will be loud enough to drown them out. Even as he stands there he can hear the shouts of the people he failed. Oh-no it's just It’s a Wonderful Life cranked up in the room next to him. He’s seen it enough times to recognize the sound of Jimmy Stewart shaking that broad around and telling her how much he doesn’t want to love her.

“Hah,” he gulps down more precious whiskey and feels the warm numbness finally beginning to spread. “that’s cute,” he inhales and begins to pace. "that’s just…” Still in motion, he sets the bottle down and looks up at the ceiling. Screw it.

“I screwed up, I know. I’m sorry. I’m real goddamn sorry.” The near-silence presses on his ears and he tries to get over it like he always does, but its’ not working tonight. “I don’t care if you forgive me or not,” That’s a lie. “Just don’t punish Sammy for my idiocy.” His voice and clenched fists are shaking but he doesn't notice. “Find him, please.”

The air shifts, the sound of feathers already stilling as Dean turns to have Castiel nearly knock him on his ass. Dean catches him, holding him stiffly, waiting for his friend's breathing to even out. "I…haven’t found….anything.” Panting, Cas shakes in Dean’s tensed arms. “He’s using methods of concealment against other angels, which I am enough of that I am blind to him.” You'd think it was the end of the world again from his tone. Avoiding his eyes, Cas makes to push away but Dean holds on firmly against his better judgment. I’ve failed again. Castiel has lived longer than the entire human race and for some reason every time he fails Dean it feels on par with the end of the world.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. I really appreciate it, man, but you could have just called.”

“I didn't have enough change for the payphone and I thought this would be faster,” a trickle of blood begins to leak from one nostril. “but clearly it was a costlier than I anticipated.”

“Geez, Cas. That kind of thing can wait. Take a phone, I got a bag full.” Grumbling, Dean reluctantly lets go. Cas manages to steady himself against the bed. Still so human and yet not. So totally far from it.

Dean takes his eyes off him, brushing past to the bathroom. On the way, he tries to ignore the way the air crackles between them. It’s always been a tangible thing, but over the past few years it’s begun to change into something he doesn’t understand and is barely beginning to acknowledge. The latter only in private though. The only thing he's certain of is that ever since Purgatory, it’s scared the shit out of him. The human is too busy staring at the ground as he passes to notice the way the angel is looking at him. Cas has accepted the nature of his feelings much sooner than Dean, despite being immensely confused and conflicted by them.

“Keep it together, man.” Unraveling a few squares of toilet paper, Dean inhales deeper this time before returning to see Cas’ hands hovering awkwardly around his nose. Instinct kicks in before Dean can tell himself to just hand the damn tissue to the guy. Dean reaches forward, knocking his hands out of the way to wipe at the blood.

"T-thank you." Cas says it so quietly that if he wasn't standing right in front of him, Dean wouldn't have heard.

“You can thank me by taking better care of yourself.” He pulls the tissue back and turns it over, dampening an unused spot with his tongue and rubbing gently at the last vestiges of red on Cas’s skin. The room is warmer now that there’s someone else here. When Dean pulls back, his gaze flickers over Cas’ face and he smiles in spite of himself. Cas tilts his head and squints at him.

“What?” Cas doesn’t answer immediately and Dean is about to repeat himself when he does respond.

“We may have to use unconventional means to acquire your brother and whoever is inside him.” Unsavory means, most likely.

“Yeah, thought’s crossed my mind a coupla times but don’t really know who’d have the mojo-no offense,” Cas nods. “to pull something like that off.”

“Then I have some theories to go research.” Cas tenses as if for flight and Dean grabs at his sleeve.

“Woah, woah, woah that last jump hit you like a brick car.”

“Interesting image, if entirely illogical.”

“Point being, Spock-wha’d I just say? About taking care of yourself?”

Jaw clenching, Cas looks away and gets that self-hating look that Dean sees almost every single time he looks in the mirror. “I understand my limits, Dean. We have to find Sam.” This is top priority. Castiel doesn’t need the concern-he needs to secure the younger Winchester.

“Yeah and we will, but not by burning you out like this. You’re not even at full charge on a good day right now.” Cas straightens up. “When was the last time you ate or slept?” Raising his head, Cas squints at Dean again. He’s tempted to go look in the mirror and see what’s wrong with his face.

“It’s been fifty-six hours since I ate and four days since I slept.” Dean opens his mouth and is cut off for his trouble. “I require very little of both compared to human standards."

“Yeah but you still require some.” Cas shifts uncomfortably. Today is one where he can’t seem to completely will away the erection he gets in Dean’s presence. For no reason at all-he only has to be there. He doesn’t need reminding of the maddening vexation, it's already persistent enough. 

“Cummon you’re running yourself ragged here.”

He swears the angel smirks at him as he asks “What exactly-”

God, he feels stupid. Dean glares at him and the prick grins shrewdly. “Just stay a bit, ok? Rest up, there’s booze and cable. We can get some food.” Saliva wells up on Cas’ tongue at the mention of food. “We’ve been at this for weeks. Shit, it is New Year's-let’s take the night off, celebrate! ” He winces internally at the word choice then tries to repair it. “There isn't much left to celebrate but..." He picks the bottle up and drinks, passing it to Cas. The Winchester way.

He takes it, bringing the bottle to his lips while he studies the single bed in the room. It looks strange; there should be a bed here for Sam too. It also looks soft and warm and Dean’s here, asking him to just stay. Hang out like friends. When Cas had died as a human, his soul had slipped back through the cracks into Heaven. He relived so many fleeting moments of a Dean whose bearing was temporarily free of the burdens that always found their way back to him. In the present, the angel turns back to his friend, unsure of his answer. The agonized pulsations of Dean’s aura hurt to even gaze upon. Maybe his place right now is here? Cas studies the man before him and it doesn’t take long to find his answer.

“I could stand to recuperate. I’ve spent the past two days searching the Antarctic.” A genuine smile breaks out on Dean’s face. “I’ll look into some sources tomorrow. That’s if…”

Cas catches the notes of anxiety and relief in Dean’s “Hah”. “We haven’t hung out since Idaho.” At the mention of it, Cas tries not to react. “We should do it more often.” Dean doesn’t notice if he does. The memory of it is so surreal that sometimes the angel wonders if he imagined it. Then he remembers the last time he sat in a bar with the Winchesters when he was human; he could see the memory of it playing behind Dean’s eyes and he knew that it was real. 

According to Cas, Dean’s blood alcohol level is past the legal limit so they end up walking to the diner next door. It has a crackling window mural of Santa and reindeer with beady eyes that Cas remarks appear demonic in nature. Dean agrees, rushing them toward the entrance. It’s a small franchise chain whose buildings have tall ceilings, a warm color scheme and a family-friendly bird mascot.

“It’s a magpie.” Cas informs him. The door has a hanging marquee of HA PY NEW YEARS-it’s pretty worn out, the foil showing under the glittery coating and one of the ‘P’’s is missing.

There are dollar store Christmas decorations still scattered around and hanging from the ceiling. The walls in the dining room are mirrored, which confuses Cas and Dean explains that it makes the place seem bigger. They get into a debate on human perception and aesthetics over coffee. The angel’s become fond of the stuff. They order pancakes; Cas gets apple and Dean taps on the menu

“Bacon.” The waitress is young, pretty and worn-down before thirty. He had that look back then too. She smiles, her eyes traveling between the two of them. She winks at Dean over Cas’ back. There are a handful of lone diners and huddled couples, but mostly the place is empty. A ragged-looking boy and girl sit on the same side of their booth with backs turned to Dean. Something about their hushed laughter, cuddling and occasional tender kisses makes the jealousy that Dean refuses to admit is there flare up in his chest.

Their waitress is also on cashier duty and she gazes wistfully at them as Dean hands her the cash. He’s about to ask what her problem is when she smiles sadly and sighs

“You guys are really lucky. I don’t have anyone beautiful to kiss at Midnight.” Dean balks at her, gasping like a fish on dry land. Cas thanks and politely corrects her, to which she stammers a horrified apology. Still spluttering like he’s been struck with something cursed, Dean is pushed into the vestibule by Cas, who tells him he left something behind. Dean is still too busy reeling at the comment to venture back inside. What is he sayingto her though?

“I wanted to let you know that you weren’t far from the mark.” She looked so distressed that Cas has to double-back to address it. To his surprise she beams and nods at him.

“I know I wasn’t, but your friend obviously hasn’t figured it out yet. Let it sink in,” she winks at him. “ ‘if a totally random stranger can see it’...” She trails off and bites her lip candidly, cheeks flushing visibly to make the light smattering of freckles stand out across her cheeks.

“And I wasn’t lying, you two, uh,” she looks up and away from Cas, who glances back over his shoulder to make sure Dean is still pacing confusedly where he left him. “would look really good together.” She finishes when he returns his focus to her. The girl makes an apologetic kind of squeak and hands him a set of mints from the dish next to the toothpicks. “Go get him!” She whispers at him and Cas memorizes her in every detail available to him so that he can find and repay her in the future.

After he manages to get Dean’s brain unstuck, they go back to the room and find some holiday special on the History Channel to watch. The bottle of whiskey is propped between them. Dean stops thinking about Sam and Kevin for once because he’s getting a rare moment just to chill out with a friend. Hell, his best friend. That’s all, he used to try so hard to convince himself. He’s getting tired of the lie though and he can feel it growing thinner every day. The alcohol doesn’t affect Cas as much as it did when he was human, but his cheeks are tinged with pink and his trench coat lays folded on the mirrored dresser next to the television. Dean has slowed his drinking, trying to find and maintain the precious balance between chill and foolish. He needs a little in his system at least, just to keep himself held together. The show is about alien technology and how it’s keeping the Earth’s axis on point.

“The crap some people believe.” Dean snorts through a mouthful of whiskey at a photo shopped image of aliens at Times Square-New Years 1929. Fucking faeries. Cas is thoroughly amused by the concept of alien interaction with Earth in general.

“There are real aliens, though, right?” Dean’s tone and face are more serious in this moment than they have been in actual crises before. Cas nods and Dean pumps the air in triumph.

“I knew it! Just never had verbal confirmation.” Cas shakes his head at the images of little green men on the t.v. set.

“I doubt they resemble these renderings, but I do know they are numerous in count, variation, culture and intelligence throughout the universe.” The bottle finds its way into Cas’ mouth as he cites this revelation as if it were just another factoid on a television show.

The human glances between him and the screen, jaw parted slightly. “You’ve never seen any?” Cas shakes his head sadly.

“Angels are meant to serve the realms of Earth. There was never any reason to stray outside that perimeter.” Dean watches Cas swirling the bottle’s contents. The angel chuckles to himself. “I always regretted not taking the time to do just that when I took it upon myself to don the mantle of God.”

Unwilling to let the silence suffocate the room once more, Dean frantically searches for a path off the ‘Godstiel’ one.

“Charlie--I’ve told you about her, right?” Castiel nods.

“Your lesbian friend with the impressive computer skills.”

Letting out a bark of laughter, Dean buries his face in one hand. “Short-version I guess, yeah.” He thumps Cas on the shoulder lightly. “Shit, well yeah she showed us a special, a real one-not this crap, it’s by that wheelchair genius guy…”

“Stephen Hawking?” Cas guesses and Dean snaps his fingers at him.

“That’s the guy. Anyway he wrote all these hypotheses on what aliens living on other planets, under different conditions would be like. So they animate these segments along to them-it’s friggin’ awesome.” Cas stirs a little because it occurs to him how close Dean’s moved throughout the night without him noticing somehow. “I’ll see if I can find it again and we’ll watch it.”

“It sounds interesting.”

 “You’d love it.” Cas watches a blush creep up into Dean’s cheeks. The lamp on the dresser is lit in addition to the television, so visibility is good. For some reason Dean insists on having the room well-lit. “Hell, play your cards right and you’ll probably be there when humanity makes first contact.” The angel’s human heart nearly stops. “You’ll have to find a way to sneak in to see me wherever I end up and tell me what they’re like.” Dean’s already raising himself slowly from the mattress. “That and if their women have six tits or some other kinky shit like that.” He smiles at the thought of Cas in this body, scaring the crap out of future hunters. Annoying the crap outta ‘em too. Maybe even…no, it hurts to think of that.

He could tell Dean that any aliens in existence capable of space flight would most likely be radically more intelligent than the human race and be completely uninterested in any kind of relationship other than subjugation. As humans colonize a forest, so an alien race would Earth. Second, he does not tell Dean that upon the hunter’s death, Castiel cannot guarantee his own continued existence. He settles on some version of the truth.

“Yes, of course I would. Assuming I make it to that discovery.” Dean’s features harden, his jaw clenching as something dark flashes behind his eyes.

“You’d better.”

Cas is left alone in the empty room with his head buzzing. Briefly, he considers leaving the room altogether. Being this close to Dean…and in the wake of everything their little misfit family had lost, it’s shameful. Shameful to be here and not out doing everything within his power to get Sam back. His best friend needs him here, he knows. But every second sharing his air is making Cas feel light-headed and…hopelessly smitten, as his siblings used to tease light-heartedly before it actually happened. He wants so badly to be able to hold Dean close and let his embrace deliver the comfort that words could not. I’m sorry for Sam, again. I’m sorry for the family you’ve had torn away from you by evil. For the new family you build, nourish and protect-only to have that taken from you as well. I’m sorry for the life you’ve had chosen for you and how much it has cost you to live it. How much it will continue to cost you. I’m sorry for all the hurt I’ve caused you and will probably continue to.

I ’m sorry for falling in love with you.

Dean hovers over the idly running faucet, wasting gallons of water because he’s not ready to face what follows that thought. Yeah, so what? But it’s a pretty big what.

“It freakin’ figures.”

 He gasps a little as he splashes cold water over his face. That Dean Winchester’s first love is a goddamn angel in the body of a freakishly attractive man. Because this is his life and apparently the cosmos wants to make sure it’s as fucked up as possible. And he doesn’t even know where to begin with how fucked up this is. He considers the small window and wonders if he can squeeze through it. Not that it would do any good; he wouldn’t get far before Cas would show up bleeding all over the place, pissed and buzzed. Even a weakened angel isn’t one he wants to mess with anytime soon. And Cas deserves better than that.

“Dammit.” He has to get out of this bathroom before his own thoughts end up doing him in.

Nearly flinging the door open, Dean turns his back to Cas when he closes it, fingers lingering on the doorknob as if its’ the only piece of stability left in the entire world. He avoids looking at the angel altogether. How much longer can this go on? He lets go of the knob and tells that voice to shut the hell up. Dean throws himself down on the bed and inches up to the headboard. Immediately he makes a grab for the remote, turning the volume up by three points. It's a noticeable increase. Cas quirks an eyebrow at him.

"I was having trouble hearing it before!" He has to speak up over the bass of some insanely tan dude in a Hawaiian shirt talking about the existence of an outpost buried deep beneath the North Pole.

It's a really rude thing to do and a terrible lie but Cas gives it to him because of the glint of panic screaming in his eyes. Panic doesn't really begin to cover what Dean's going through right now. He can feel his body heat and if Dean tilts his head a certain way he can catch his scent. He feels the need to reach out and touch Cas like an itch under his bones. To grab him. To devour him. Why can't he? Who gives a fuck what anyone else thinks. They're two consenting-ah, one consenting adult and one possibly interested celestial being? Oh, yeah well that may have something to do with it. He shouldn't even be having these kinds of thoughts. Not ever preferably, but definitely not here, not tonight when Sammy's still M.I.A. and Kevin's...oh, Fuck, Kevin...

Cas brings himself flush up to Dean's side and the sudden contact and the extent of it shocks him out of the previous strain of thought.

“Uh." Blinking, Dean forgets the no-scoping-the-angel rule he just made. He watches as Cas reaches for the remote. His hand hovers there and Dean nods slowly. The volume is brought down to a far more sensible level.

“Are you alright?” It doesn’t hurt to ask, even if he lies.

Shit. “Yeah, why?” A lie then.

“You’ve been acting strangely.”

Dean clears his throat, taking a long gulp from the glass of water next to the bed. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, Cas. I’m bound to be crackin’ a little around the edges at this point.” He intends to say it with humor, but Cas just frowns. Dean doesn’t mean to look at him. The angel stares at the hunter for a minute like they used to when they were so much less than they are now. Then he lowers his head to their hands on the bed and Dean does too-an explosion daring to set off inside his chest.

“I will not rest until I find your brother, Dean.” It goes off when Cas rests his hand on top of Dean’s, entwining their fingers and squeezing gently. It takes everything he has to keep his cool-to not make some embarrassing noise like a chick in a John Hughes movie.

“I know.” Dean mutters and squeezes back.

Time freezes and mentally he tries to slap himself sober. Cas begins to stroke the outside of Dean’s overturned palm with his thumb. It’s enough to make his cock twitch. The gesture is probably meant to be soothing and here he is starting to get a stiff over it. What the hell is wrong with you?

Hoping it will stifle the heat emanating through his gut, Dean stares down at the bizarre sight of their very male hands in this intimate position. They’re both rough, calloused and scarred. And big-Dean’s are bigger but Cas still has hands larger than any chick he’s ever been with. It doesn’t quench the heat-shit it may even feed it. Their hands look right like this, linked and loving.

It feels nice and every second with Cas’ warmth pressed into his skin still feels like its own eternity. The hunter looks up, feeling a bit dazed. He catches sight of the time on the television.

“Crap, it’s 11:56 already,” he fumbles for the remote with his free hand and goes back to 2, scanning until he finds the news coverage of the ball in New York. “can’t miss the ball drop.”

“You have interesting New Year traditions in this country...” Cas trails off, probably rebooting after retrieving a mental store of New Year’s traditions from countries where they’ve never seen a car before. Good ‘ol Nerd Cas; babble on with the bookish crap, that’s not a turn on at all when you do it. Shit. For several heartbeats, the silence stretches thin over them.

“In Idaho, I was awake.” Cas’ voice snaps Dean back to reality.

“You were awake?” What the hell is he...oh--“Oh fuck.” Dean jerks his hand away as he stumbles back up from the bed and the man that he had kissed on the forehead when he thought he was unconscious. “Hey, I was really, really drunk, okay?” I can wait, Dean. I can wait for you to answer me, but my patience has its limits and they tighten considerably in your hands. “I mean, how many cans did we put away?” His laughter shakes with a panic that makes Dean cringe. “I was pretty out of it, I mean,” And Cas is still just watching him. “ it’s no excuse but I’m sorry, man.” He's going to continue babbling himself into oblivion until Cas holds up a hand.

“It’s alright, Dean. I’m not…” Cas looks down, biting his lip.

The lump in Dean’s throat refuses to go away no matter how many times he swallows. Cas rises from the bed, stationary. Well at least he’s not running.

“We’re at a minute to 2014 here, folks. So grab that guy or gal beside you and SMOOTCH—THEM—UP! ” Bitch sounds hammered. Dean regards Cas wearily. You’re not…what?

“I just wanted to ask why you did it.”

It feels like all the air has been vacuumed from his lungs. Dean opens his mouth but no words come out. He shakes his head and tries again. “I, uh..” he coughs because his brain is moving too damn slow and a good explanation has to be out there somewhere. He’s gonna punch Cas if he doesn’t stop gazing up at him with those stupid beautiful (shit, not beautiful they’re just real fucking blue) borrowed eyes. You’re loosing it, Winchester.

“What? People kiss their family like that.”

“Yes, but you don’t.” Aw, hell.

“Was just glad to see you were okay. Really relieved, I mean I hadn’t heard from you in forever and I kept thinking what if something happened, it would be because of me and-"

“Dean?” Why is it always your fault? They aren’t more than an arm’s length away now.

“Yeah, what?!” The last words come out in a panicked snarl.

“You have many creatures to fear in this world, Dean, but I am not among them.”

“You say that now.” It stings Cas so deeply that Dean can see it on his face. “Sorry that was a dick thing to say-”

“I am among the least of them, then.” He corrects, features softening at the storm of emotions wracking so visibly through Dean’s trembling body.

Cas begins to raise an arm, reaching towards Dean before he pulls it back and gulps, eyes suddenly far too goddamn glowy as they search over the hunter’s features. Before his own eyes burn out, Dean has to look away from that intensity the man is fixing him with.

“Dean.” Cas repeats, intoning the name softly like a prayer and this time his fingers do make contact, brushing against the stubble of Dean’s cheek. There’s no way in hell this is real. Dean may have said this aloud, but he has no idea because Cas is touching him. Nothing else matters. With his free hand, Cas gently cups the other side of Dean’s face. Wait, not true, a shit ton of other stuff matters. Bad idea, terrible idea, needs to stop.

“Cas,” Dean finally manages, fear beginning to climb up his throat. “Cas what the hell are you doing?” He’s so close that Dean can smell the whiskey on his warm breath. His resolve is crumbling to pieces faster than he can build it.

“I’m not sure.” Cas is as breathless as he is when Dean snatches at one of his wrists.

 If Cas were a human it would be hard enough to bruise, to hurt, to grind bones cruelly against each other. The hunter intends to steer it away but he can’t. He feels the blood pumping hot through the main artery under the soft skin of Cas’ inner wrist. He watches in fascination as he mirrors the stroking motion from earlier, feeling over the predominant tendon that rises up sharply from Cas’ skinny arm. It feels like someone else is in control of his actions. Cas moves a finger and he can feel it twitch under his vice grip.

The cheering in the background intensifies. “10, 9, 8…”

They both feel it, the weight of what they mean to the other. What they’ve endured together. Because of the other. They are bonded in ways too profound to unravel. Was it inevitable or did it just happen? In truth, neither knows but each has their own theories. Right now both of them could care less how it happened, only that the other is there and wanting him too.

 “7,6,5…”

Dean knows this moment for what it is and now that it’s finally here he doesn’t know whether to plunge into it or to run out the door and never stop. His lungs begin to ache from the lack of oxygen he seemed to be taking in.

“ 4, 3, 2…”

Cas feels the exact same way. He tentatively brings his fingers up to rest against Dean’s hairline. He tries to express it all with his eyes. The apologies, confessions, laments, questions—Dean sees them all. He takes a shaky breath, meeting the most important question in Cas’ eyes with a nod and a breathless “Yeah”

“1,”

Before closing the distance between them and pressing his mouth firmly to Cas’ lips.

“Happy New Year!!” A few feeble fireworks are set off outside along with drunken cheering and clapping from neighboring rooms and the parking lot.

Pupils blown wide, Cas stumbles and then pushes himself into Dean a little as he returns the kiss. Dean wraps his free arm around Cas’ waist, pulling him closer. We’re kissing holy shit we’re kissing. The other man makes a small noise and Dean rubs at the soft flesh of his lips, tasting them with the tip of his tongue. Cas reels back for air.

“You don’t even need it.” He bites Cas’ lower lip; hard but only enough to draw out a whine instead of blood. Dean maintains his hold on Cas’ waist, grabbing at the material of the crisp shirt beneath the suit jacket, which is pulled up at an angle. He can feel more of Cas’ precious heat veiled from his fingertips only by the fabric ghosting over his skin. This is already by far the best New Year’s story he has even if he doesn’t intend to share it. ‘So there I was, making out with Cas-you know, Castiel, Angel of the Lord on New Year’s. We were gettin’ pretty into it.’ ‘He was giving me the hardest boner I’ve had since before I died. Oh, no, I meant the first time.’ Yeah, keep that part to himself.

“From all of us at Channel 5, wishing you and your’s a new start in 2014!”

Cas gapes at him, hormones, pheromones and the love that’s built between them pushing him helplessly into Dean’s embrace. The-no, his human lets go of Cas’ purpling wrist and pulls the angel’s lean body into his. Their noses bump, and Dean nips at Cas’ lips again before the latter initiates another kiss. It surprises Dean when he feels Cas’ tongue pushing insistently at his mouth, but he accepts greedily, taking it in with a quiet noise not uncommon in larger dogs. Cas shivers in his arms, tracing the wet contours of the inside of Dean’s mouth. He wonders passively, if parts of the canine’s consciousness were left in Dean after the ritual Sam told him about. Dean relinquishes his hold half-way, bringing his hand up to plant it roughly on the back of Cas’ head, fingers locking into the roots of his hair.

Cas pushes his fingers through Dean’s short hair, slowly scratching his nails against the follicles buried in his scalp. The hunter makes a needy sound that sends another throb through the angel’s cock as Dean grips Cas tightly by the arm. They explore each other’s mouths with maddening uncertainty. The question being whether to savor the other or devour them whole. Dean sucks on Cas’ tongue, earning a whimper. His jeans are too confining. He groans, fighting the urge to grind helplessly into Cas’ groin.

“I said no, Arnold!” The woman in the room next door screeches in a thick Brooklyn accent. The door slams and a man’s voice pleads after her.

Cas pushes Dean away gently. It hurts more than when the Leviathans ripped him apart from the inside but it’s…right. Even when everything within the angel is screaming at him that it’s not.

“Wh-” Dean stares at him, eyes wide, lips darkened and swollen, hair mussed and his chest heaving. A very cruel sense of humor, indeed.

“This,” Cas swallows, a pained expression crossing over his face. “isn’t right. You’re in distress and grieving-” Dean slaps him. Not hard, but enough for him to get a word in.

“ ’s got nothing to do with this.” The hunter’s voice is rough, struggling to keep steady despite the torrent of all the emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him at any second. Cas is terrified he’s made a mistake when Dean steps forward again and takes him by the shoulders, squeezing. “I have wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea.”

Cas fends off the happy fluttering in his chest. “It does. You wouldn’t be acting this way if circumstances were different.” Dean wants to slap him harder.

“Fuck the circumstances. Is it bad timing? Maybe.” Lifting his hand from his warm shoulders (broader than he’s used to), Dean openly caresses the curve of Cas’ jaw, lifting the angel’s head with a tilt of his index finger. They’re both gazing now, Dean thinks-Eyes sparkling like a goddamn novella.

“It’s extremely poor timing.” Cas grumbles, tensing again and for one terrified second Dean thinks he’s going to take off. He needn’t have worried though because Cas wouldn’t have-couldn’t possibly have left his side at this point.

“You asked me why I kissed you in Idaho?” Dean’s voice becomes softer. “Why do you think, genius?” He leans in and claims another before Cas has time to react. “I don’t know if you noticed-you probably did, but just in case you didn’t, I’m kind of…” Dean inhales and Cas places a hand on his chest, stroking in reassuring motions.

“I’ve had..fuck, I’ve had feelings for you for a while now.” His mouth hangs open a little; it feels like there’s more to say but he’s having difficult thinking with so much of the blood drained from his brain. Those few inelegant words take more out of him than they probably should.

Cas leans in, kissing Dean softly, with a patience that impresses both of them. “I’m in love with you, Dean.” He looks so happy as he stares up at Dean that the hunter actually laughs as he pulls the angel into a tight hug.

“I know,” he grins into Cas’ messy hair. “Aw, who’m I kidding? I love you, too.” Cas hears the break in Dean’s voice and feels his lips brushing up against the side of his head.

His…what is Dean to him now? Whatever he is, Dean pulls him in tighter, if possible. He’s running both hands through Cas’ hair now, speckling kisses at random all over his head and face.  

“Now that it’s out,” Dean grimaces a little at the pun. “Can we just accept it, and not waste another second pretending otherwise?”

If Sam was here, not that Dean would ever let him anywhere this Battle of Tongues; but if he was here, he would have been impressed by the maturity with which his brother was handling the situation. Hell, even Dean’s proud of himself. Blinking, Cas runs his hand up over the curves of Dean’s bicep, where he brushes the fabric of the flannel over-shirt. Dean has a very valid point that he has to repeat only once before Cas interrupts him, pushing their mouths together again.

Dazedly, he reciprocates in fluid, desperate movements. He’s gripping at every inch of Cas he can reach-still unable to believe that he’s finally caressing his face, his neck, his shoulders-oh God his chest. Tugging the suit jacket off, Dean gets two buttons of the crisp white shirt undone before a tugging sensation alerts him to Cas pulling at his flannel.

“Don’t make me rip it off,” the angel hisses against his lips. They’ll be bruised in the morning. “I like this shirt.”

Cas sucks Dean’s tongue into his mouth and the hunter responds with a strangled sound as his eyelids flutter briefly before closing again. Oh yeah, the shirt. Dean shrugs the shirt off and Cas is instantly digging into the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling it insistently upward. Dean yanks that off too and doesn’t give Cas a chance to survey his bare chest because he has buttons to undo, quickly.

After Dean throws the dress shirt on the ground, Cas yanks him back in with a small huff. He presses their naked chests together, followed by his erection against Dean’s. He lets out a low whine that encourages Dean’s straining bulge against him. Cas grins lewdly at Dean, who grabs onto his ass through his pants, gasping and rubbing their tragically-clothed crotches together. It should feel weird but more than anything it feels hot and extremely necessary.

“Holy Fuck.” Teeth clenched, he’s just begun to give into the friction when Cas pushes him off again. Dean glares at him furiously and the tease returns it with a smirk. He turns the television set off and slinks back towards him, reaching out to stroke Dean through his jeans.

Cas lets out a small ‘ooo’ of curious desire as he makes contact, squeezing and making Dean’s breath hitch in his chest. He wonders if Cas got the sound from porn. It feels like he’s melting from the rhythm that Cas is experimenting with. Panting, Dean reaches out to trace the hard planes of Cas’ chest. No breasts to squeeze and suck on but there are still nipples-which he pinches, grinning as Cas jerks a little but merely bites his lower lip as he continues his stroking with ritual-like concentration.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean doesn’t know where the words come from. Then again, all of his decisions tonight feel kind of desperate. Not in a bad way-he just has to make Cas understand before the world has the chance to kill one of them off again. “Not just, you know-” he presses his hand to the pectoral and feels the muscle working under the skin as Cas squeezes his stiff through his jeans.

“Ah…damn.” He leans into Cas. “-Like this, although I am a huge fan of this.” He brushes a finger over his lower lip on emphasis and Cas smiles back at him.

“I remember sometimes, if I try really hard. When I met you in Hell.” Cas squints at him and Dean’s smile widens. “It’s pretty blurry, I mean it’s hard to remember all the details of something as massive as the Chrystler Building.” Cas halters a little but then he reaches for Dean’s belt, unbuckles it, and pushes Dean’s jeans past his hips, exposing him. Dean laughs, shaking his head. “Talk about feeling inadequate.” Cas stares up at him. He didn’t know any of this before now. “But from what I remember, Cas, you’re the stuff that very literal dreams are made of. When I saw you I knew you couldn’t be from Hell because they could never conceive of a being so pure and,” he moans when Cas closes his hand around his bare cock. “Radiant-ughh not…shit, not so fast. You too, cummon.”

He gets the remaining pants off and they both stare at each other for several long heartbeats.

“You are the one who is radiant, Dean,” Cas allows his eyes and hands to roam uninhibited over every inch of Dean he can reach. He nuzzles the tender skin around Dean’s neck and lets his fingers trace over the details he remembers from when he remade Dean’s body after the siege of Hell. “I fear I am no longer the being you glimpsed there, my wings have all but withered,” he looks up over his shoulder with dismay at something Dean can’t see but can guess at. “this grace isn’t mine, it doesn’t even recognize you.”

He sighs sadly and Dean nods sympathetically, brushing the skin of Cas’ arm. It isn’t unexpected. He’s always felt the pull to Cas in an alien sort of way; it radiates from somewhere beyond conscious thought. The bridge is built into his being, scorched there by Castiel’s fingers when he had first touched him. He hasn’t felt the connection on that level since Metatron took Cas’ grace. It does nothing to affect his desire for the being who rebelled for him what feels like lifetimes ago.

“And all the blood has stained my hue to something…unrecognizable.” In the lull Cas looks away, disgust flaring in his eyes. Dean brings him back, pushing their, human, male, compatible bodies together. Cas looks up, smiling when he sees Dean’s saddened eyes.

“but your soul is the brightest I have ever seen.” He cradles Dean’s face in his hands, gazing at the random assortment of genes that make him physically beautiful as well. Shallow and absurd as the concept is, Castiel can appreciate it. “All souls can visibly be expressed as a living network of connections-all the knowledge, experiences, relationships, etc. that make up one unique, individual person.” Dean can see where this is going and it feels like too much to take in on top of everything else. He fights it though because its’ a stupid reaction and he needs to fight for Cas.

“Those wavelengths illuminate a soul from within. Most shine, a few are dull even but your’s, Dean,” he laughs, a joyous sound that brings a smile back to his human’s face. “your’s blazes as if it truly is a star. It even hurts if I stare at it for too long.”

Laughing to keep from sobbing in the face of all of this, Dean lets go of Cas hesitantly. Part of him is still afraid that if he stops touching him, Cas will vanish but he needs a second to collect himself. He might explode otherwise.

“Yeah well, as true as it may be,” he snorts, tilting his head to smile at Cas. “All this talk of soul-peepin’ is making me go soft.” It’s true; the intimacy behind the words is too terrifying to feel arousal. He won’t feel this way in two months.

Dean certainly doesn’t stay soft for long. After switching off some of the more unnecessary lights

“Some help you were.”

Dean beams at the bulbs and almost barrels Cas into the bed. They’ve spent too much time talking and not enough touching. He presses himself down on top of the angel, the blood in his body eagerly resurging to his groin. He can’t get hard as instantly as he did in his teens and early 20’s but he’s picked up worlds of experience since then. Sure, he’s never used those talents on men; not willingly (he swats memories of Hell away) but he’s seen some gay porn. Not a lot but it’s not like it’s that different with a guy.

“You’re thinking far too much.” Cas complains and flips Dean easily, pinning him and nipping at the skin under his ear.

In the same movement, Cas grins evilly down at him and thrusts himself in between the cleft of Dean’s thighs. He moans and repeats it twice. Mid-cry Dean captures his mouth and pushes his tongue down Cas’ throat. Unobstructed by clothing, Dean digs his nails into the tender flesh of Cas’ ass, thrusting up in an imitation of his partner’s movements. Goddamn that ass-Dean growls low in his throat, biting his lip as he kneads the exterior muscles.

There’s a struggle for dominance here, Cas manages to formulate mentally as he sucks on Dean’s tongue. His body feels so perfectly attuned with Dean’s. Cas agrees with his lover’s statement from earlier; Hell feels more real than this because pain in understandable. The Righteous Man he fell for moans his name into his mouth when Cas encircles both their shafts and starts to pump his hand up and down.

“Where did you learn this stuff?” Dean grunts into his shoulder. “Porn?” Both of them are veterans at the hands of pain and suffering but this ecstasy (some corner of his brain supplies impressively) is foreign, electrifying, terrifying.

“Some from porn, yes.” He answers, placing a comparatively chaste kiss on Dean’s parted lips. “A lot of this,” he reinforces the kiss, licking the inside of Dean’s welcoming mouth. “is instinct. I venture it has something to do with the nature of inhabiting a speci-mmh—” Dean surges upward to claim his mouth once more, playing with his tongue before the angel can start getting technical about them rubbing their dicks together.

It takes a bit longer for the thought to reach Dean through the haze of kissing and stroking and friction. Which one of them will be on top?  All the other basics are on a list ten miles long of things Dean wants to do with Cas in the sack but this time, their first time has to go down with penetration. They’re on their sides at this point, still kissing and groping but the need is becoming unbearable for both of them. Something has to break in order for them to come together and every second its’ not happening is a sin.

 “Cas, I,” he swallows, the blush returning to his cheeks as he inhales. The words sound like they come from someone else, but Dean knows that they’re his. “I need-I want you, inside,” He doesn’t know where they come from, just that he means them-possibly more than he’s ever meant anything else. Cas pushes two fingers inside of Dean’s mouth. He lets the saliva well up, licking and sucking obscenely at the joints laying atop his tongue. This feels hot too. The digits are yanked from his mouth with a wet pop, strands of saliva linking them momentarily to Dean’s darkening lips. Cas’ own aren’t fairing much better. Neither are used to kissing like this.

“Good thing I showered, huh?” Cas squeezes his hand briefly when the nervous laughter subsides.

Ahhhh, crap this is insane. Dean tries to relax when he feels Cas’ hand nudge his junk aside, slick fingers reaching down to part the skin there and rub at his entrance. And kinda weird. Cas presses lightly there and Dean’s back jerks, straightening him a little. Cas, breathless, his fingers coating Dean with his own saliva, has to force himself to stop.

“W-What is it, what’s wrong?” Dean’s eyes widen with fear. “Do you…?”

“No, never, my love.” Cas tries out the human term of affection as he leans down to nuzzle his man on the forehead. It certainly makes Dean blush, although that could also be from his renewed motions further down. Dean groans and leans into it, clearly agitated at the hesitation but he has to be sure. Really sure because Castiel loves this tiny little creature so dearly that he can’t afford to make any mistakes here.

“Are you sure that…” he trails off with a sigh and pauses, stilling his previous actions much to Dean’s distress.

“What, you mean ‘cause of Hell?” Cas pales, and Dean looks away, momentarily ashamed. “Maybe I want to replace that with something better.” He reaches up to touch Cas’ cheek, who turns his head to lean into the rough palm offered to him.

“You have no idea how much I want to, but this is a lot for anyone to process, Dean-”

“Please.” He’s spurred on by Cas saying he wants to be inside of him. The plead in his own voice sickens Dean, but he needs it  to work because if he has to go one more second with Cas just hovering there- “It is, yeah. Not gonna lie,” he props himself up enough to nudge playfully at Cas’ lips from the awkward angle. “but I mean it in every sense of the word-please.” His voice cracks on the last word as he cups the face he’s come to associate with this incredible force (because that’s what Cas is) that’s saved him more times and in more ways than he knows. He glares at Cas with a ferocious demand that feels like its’ blinding him to everything else. Then he feels his own resistance breaking as Cas pushes one long finger in

“Unngh..” Dean mouths wordlessly as Cas begins his exploratory stroking of the muscles there. It feels kind of weird but it’s not bad. As he works to stretch the precious opening, Cas feels every muscle in his own body tensing. He’s not sure if he’s doing this perfectly but he’ll learn-he’s determined to. Whether he does it perfectly or not matters little to Dean, who’s started up his own corresponding motion to Cas’ digit.

“If at any time it hurts too-”

“Anything good is bound to.” Dean winks at Cas, who still looks as if he needs convincing. What part of the nature of our fatalistic lifestyle doesn’t he get? “and Cas, especially after all the crap we’ve been through, I definitely consider being fucked by you to be a good thing.” He makes sure to add just the right note to his voice that he knows will hasten Cas’ fingers. It works.

“More.” Dean stretches out his leg when he readjusts himself further up the bed and Cas can feel the pull from within as he follows. Cas lines his middle finger up against the other one and pushes that one in too.

Hissing a little, Dean looks at Cas with shining eyes. He won’t cry, not now; he can at least retain some of his masculinity with another man’s fingers inside his ass. Dean can hear the obscenely wet noises of Cas fingering him and if possible it makes him harder. He jerks it, reaching up to plant his free hand at the base of Cas’ neck. He pulls his angel down into a wet kiss. He brushes the skin there, feeling the short hairs prickle against his fingertips. Cas begins to massage Dean’s lips and ass in the same rhythm; it would be an impressive feat for a human. The dual sensations are ricocheting back and forth with Dean’s cock getting slammed in the middle. It jerks, only slightly neglected but leaking pre-cum.

Dean makes a deeply embarrassing noise into Cas’ mouth when he angles his fingers and touches it. Dean can only assume that this is the fabled prostate because of the way he’s shaking and cursing under his breath as he works himself open on Cas’ divine fingers, mindlessly seeking more.

“I’ve wanted so badly to feel you tighten like this around me,” Cas complies, a frighteningly and incredibly hot predatory leer spreading over his normally (pun aside) angelic features. Dean whimpers before Cas rubs at it again, circling in a way that knocks the air from the human’s lungs. “ to spasm and cry out to me as you do now.” Dean keeps imaging all the things he’s seen these hands do through the years-all the destruction he’s seen them cause. Now one of those hands is being used to stretch him out and the other is cradling the back of his neck, pulling him up to Cas’ chest.

“All the,” he sighs when Dean’s hand begins to pull at his hardness insistently. “Urges that have been awakened while I have known you,” Cas’ eyes water from staring so hugely at the sight before him. “are slightly overwhelming.” He pants, unable to look away from Dean spread out before him, sweat dappling his naked form as he teases Cas’ cock and rocks against the digits inside him.

“Yeah,” Dean mutters, fascinated by the bewildered and animalistic change that’s come over his best friend. “Not in the exact same boat but this is, ah…” The probing is becoming more frenzied, which is good because with every passing second Dean wants more, more, more. “pretty new and, ngh-crazy for me too.” Cas is looking at him like a piece of prized meat and something has to give-it’s too much. Dean grabs his own cock again, fisting frantically into his palm for a few seconds before he forces himself to stop. He’ll come if he keeps up.

“Inner-inner left pocket of-” Dean doesn’t have to finish because Cas is already settling back on top of Dean’s pelvis, wings stilling with a tiny plastic bottle between his thumb and index finger. “Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grinds out as he scrambles up, snatching the bottle from Cas’ grip before the other has a chance to pop the cap. He squeezes a good amount into his hand and works it onto Cas’ length. He smears the lube up and down the shaft and over and around the head, grinning when Cas bucks into him. His angel clutches at his shoulder, biting and murmuring something Dean doesn’t catch.

The elder Winchester inhales, fighting the panic that’s returned and threatens to overwhelm this moment. Cummon, dammit-you’re Dean Fucking Winchester. You’re the thing that monsters check under their beds for. His anxious attempt at internal pepping is cut-off by Cas catching his chin between slender fingers and meeting the anxiety with reassurance. He pulls Dean in close, fighting the urge to knock him over and mount him without a thought. Instead, he kisses Dean’s lips, his nose, the freckles under his eyes and along his cheeks, his brows and finally comes back to press a loving kiss to his mouth. Dean holds on, misgivings silenced by the small encouragements he knows it must be killing Cas to stop and make.

 Luckily for both of them, the need that spurred Dean to offer himself to Cas in the first place soon overrides everything else. Dean lies on his back, pulling Cas down on top of him. They look at each other as Dean lets his legs fall open, wrapping one around Cas as the angel takes himself in hand and begins to—

“Ah—nnngh-fuckkkk!” Digging his nails into Cas’ back, Dean feels the head go in. The resistance is still there and Cas has to nudge it in slowly. Neither can take their eyes off the other’s face, each committing the sight to memory. He gets the entire head in, gasping as Dean’s muscles clench furiously around the intrusion, attempting to halt it’s progress. Cas claws into the pillow next to Dean’s head, shredding down into the soft cotton as he gently but firmly pushes in. His mouth gapes and his eyes widen as Cas stares down at Dean unbelievingly, sinking further into the tight heat.

“Uuuh…” Unable to hold them back, Dean feels the tears he’s been holding back spring forth. It hurts oh fuck it feels like he’s being split open in one searing, endless thrust. But it’s so fucking good, and a single thought manages to float across his consciousness; ‘Cas is inside of me.’ With effort, he begins to rock himself up and down Cas’ length. He doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until Cas is sweeping the tears away with his perfect lips.

His tongue darts out to snatch up the miniscule drops left in the wake of Dean’s tears. Cas lets go of his cock, its position secured by the un-earthy grip of Dean’s muscles. He dries the remnants of tears even as new ones begin to cascade down Dean’s shining face. Cas must appear alarmed because Dean chuckles raw, his voice breaking-it has to have happened more times tonight than in the entirety of puberty. Friggin’ embarrassing.

“ ‘s alright, sorry-I’m fine, I’m fine.” He sniffs, wiping away a tear he would never be able to shed in any one else’s presence. “It’s just you a-ah,” Cas shifts his hips and Dean feels it, shocked momentarily back into the world that existed only between their legs. “a-and me,” he tries again, but Cas slides deeper and whatever inane thing he was trying to express with his words is momentarily forgotten.

“And?” Cas grates out as he exercises every last drop of Heavenly willpower he has not to force his way into Dean, faster, harder than they’re managing right now.

“Like this.” He sniffs again, getting a good hold on Cas’ shoulder before he pushes himself back at Cas. “Nngh..it’s like…” Cas bites into his collarbone hard, making Dean jerk upwards, rutting his head against Cas’ with a whine. He barely has any idea what he’s saying-there’s an angel half-way up his ass. “It’s like it’s supposed t-fuck,” he sucks at communicating but this is important. “ah, like we fit or-ah, shit, Casssss!!!” There is something important, but the sensation when Cas pulls out, angles himself back up and plunges back in blows everything else out of Dean’s head.

Cas’ quiet gasp is drowned by the yell of his own name ground from between Dean’s clenched teeth. The man he fell for is panting, gazing up at him with barely drying eyes. He reaches up and pulls Cas into a passionate clash of teeth and tongues. Cas continues to thrust, the loosening of Dean’s muscles bringing an actual flow to their sex. He only does it a few more times before Dean huffs, pushing Cas into a seated position and following, refusing to sever the connection between them. The thing inside of him that usually screams for blood is screaming for Cas now.

Smirking at the sweating man beneath him, Dean readjusts himself, gets a good grip on Cas’ slippery shoulders and starts to ride. Cas yells something in Enochain that Dean thinks he’s heard him shout in the heat of battle. The angel claws at Dean’s back with great restraint-he can feel every single muscle in Cas’ body tensed with the effort. He bites at the shoulder, coiled like a spring, in awe of the creature that could tear him to pieces with barely a thought.

“Now you listen to me you sonovabitch,” as Dean rocks, he firmly takes Cas’ face in both his hands and fixes him with a look half-way between fury and desperation. “you don’t get to just take off, shut me out,” Cas meets the possessive ferocity, biting his lip and fucking up into Dean as he takes hold of Dean’s leaking cock. “do anything reckless or die ever again.” Too important-speak now or forever hold your peace. “You’re mine, you understand?” Tears return but Dean pushes past them angrily, grinding himself down on Cas’ length. “You belong to me, Cas-no one except me gets to claim you, ever.” He growls the last part as Cas finally fills him entirely.

It stuns Dean into stilled silence because he’s found the answer to a question he didn’t even know he had. The yawning chasm inside of him that he’s spent a lifetime filling with booze, women and violence is suddenly gone, and all that’s left is Cas. In all his millennia of existence this is the first time that Cas has ever felt the majesty of creation. It’s all right here, contained within these two bodies-the one he’s borrowing and the one that belongs to the human he loves. Especially the latter, he thinks as his testicles come up flush against Dean when he enters him fully. All of existence is narrowed down to the glorious heat pulling him, holding him. He gulps, hand spasming on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter pulls him into a deep, slow kiss, picking up his pace and moaning low into Cas’ mouth.

“We,” he pants, tightening his grip on Dean’s cock, which he can feel pulsating with increasing frequency. “have always been bonded, Dean. We belong to each other in ways-” Cas groans, so close to his limit it seems unfair. “-that cannot be undone by any force in creation.” He never wants to stop making love to Dean, who’s so close to orgasm its’ painful to hold it off. This is it-the culmination of five years of fighting, crying, laughing, dying and saving the world together. Dean feels like his entire being is igniting because of it.

“I am yours.” He places a shaking kiss on Dean’s damp forehead.

It’s enough to send Dean crashing into his orgasm, crying out for Cas over and over as his cum shoots between them. Cas isn’t far behind, still wringing Dean for every last drop as he cums into Dean’s ass, practically singing a string of Enochian curses. Every lightbulb in the room explodes, glass raining to the floor. Cas waves his hand lazily and the glass is gone, already being compacted in a Wyoming recycling center. They continue to move against each other in a daze, kissing and stroking until Cas lifts Dean gingerly from his lap.

The hunter falls backward with a drunken giggle. “Blew your fuse on that one.” He giggles, actually giggles again, blinking up at a dark ceiling. Cas can still see him though and he stares down at the face of the man beneath him. It hasn’t been this free since the man was a boy with an unbroken family and a home full of love. That’s what Cas is to him, family and home rolled into one feathery package.

“Come ‘ere, assbutt.” In the darkness, they both chuckle.

“How do you still even remember that?” Cas pants, smiling with his arm draped over his forehead.

“Kinda hard to forget.” Dean can’t stop smiling, even as that day threatens to replay. He doesn’t even have to force it away because Cas is pulling him in and he smells like Dean and sex. “Ugh, could you do somethin’ about the…” Dean gestures in the dark to the still-warm cum that covers the both of them and the bed. He does.

The two of them recover, drifting in and out of awareness. “Happy New Year’s.” A gravelly rasp snaps Dean back to it, who smacks a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes as he gropes around in the dark for the water.

“Happy New Year’s.” Dean repeats, the idiotic grin still in place if his voice is any judge. He takes several gulps before he passes the water to Cas, who drains it. He hears the soft tap of the cup coming to rest on the drawer beside the bed. It’s the first sound Dean can hear clearly; his post-sex deafness wearing off. The second the cup is out of his grasp, Cas wraps himself around Dean and the embrace they share feels infinite.

Flashes of who they were, who they’ve become together flit through Cas’ mind. It seems impossible, to be here. At first the attraction to Dean had confused and enraged him. How could it not-humans were tiny things that lived, loved, fought and died in the blink of an eye. What terrible flaw did Castiel have that he could feel something so strong for something so weak? The years passed and the attraction grew into more. He stopped thinking of humans as weak for their limitations. Angels had no drive to do anything except for following God’s law. Humans were forced to exist in such a way that they flourished under the pressures of time and death. They were small and so they sought to be bigger. They could not see, so they climbed and built higher until they took to the skies of their planet. They were fascinating creatures that he had always admired but loving one? Knowing Dean though…it changed everything.

“I’m proud of us.” The sleepy voice beside him brings him back to the present.

“Hm?” Dean’s fingers lazily rove through the light covering of hair over Cas’ chest.

“First time we met, I stabbed you.”

“I can recall.” The memory is vivid, of that night in September.

“ ’Cause you were a dick with a flair for showing off.” They laugh and Cas inhales Dean’s scent, unsticking some of the damp strands of hair he finds from Dean’s skin.

“Because you stabbed me after I saved you. You have your events out of order.”

“Which I am really sorry for, I told you before, right?” Dean smiles endearingly up at him and Cas ruffles the hair he was smoothing out a moment ago.

“I’m proud of us too.” They beam at each other like idiots in love.

When Cas eventually succumbs to sleep, Dean holds onto him, unsure of how to feel. The happiness is a precious thing that he wants to grab and devour so that it won’t be taken from him. Reality however, always has different plans. The actual year keeps ringing through his head, and along with it, memories of the 2014 he saw. The one where the world had ended, Lucifer walked the Earth in Sam’s body and him and Cas had been in some kind of abusive open relationship. He hadn’t been sure at first, but months later the memories would continue to flow like they do tonight and the signs became impossible to ignore.

The Cas he holds now is an angel, but only just. Grace seems to be a slippery thing to hold on to these days. He’s not the Castiel Dean held at arm’s length on the side of the road and told never to change. He’s not the Castiel from that version of 2014 either, but Dean fears what he’ll become if the two of them would ever be a couple. And isn’t that a bizarre thought? Cas and Dean. Dean and Cas. What’s the mash-up for that anyways? Can? Destiel? He scoffs quietly. Freakin’ ridiculous-sounding.

He doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to love someone or keep them safe and uncorrupted. And he has corrupted Castiel. No matter how fire and brimstone he was before, Cas never wanted to kill himself before-

Cas stirs, rolls over and plants an awkwardly angled kiss on Dean’s chin. “Love you.” He murmurs, nuzzling up under Dean’s jaw before rolling back and almost instantly falling back to sleep. You wore the guy out. He smiles and scratches passively at the skin of Cas’ back. He has to fight the part of himself that wants to stay in the dark. The dark is safe and familiar. But the light is literally beckoning to him and he can’t stay behind any longer. A larger part of himself doesn’t want to.

Every living creature has the capacity for change. So yeah, maybe Cas is changed because of him. Not entirely for the worse. They had once been aimless instruments of destruction whose sole purposes were the mission. Hadn’t they seen that reflection in each other and decided together to change? Together? To use their skills to reshape the world into something they could believe in? It’s never as simple as one person corrupting another. Upon their meeting, both had left a mark on the other. Not of corruption, but of transformation.

Now as he lies here in the dark with his angel in his arms, Dean frowns in thought. They’re both wanted men and they probably will be until the day they die. Being like this may even hasten that day and it will be all the more terrible because of this newfound link. There’s a reason though, why Dean prayed to Cas tonight, had asked him to stay and had finally laid claim to him. There couldn’t be much of this left. Much of Team Free Will saving the day-again. Eventually their luck would all run out and Dean doesn’t want any of them to be alone when it does.

But more importantly, he realizes that he doesn’t want to keep Cas at a distance anymore because it might hurt. Shit yeah it’ll hurt. Dean has no doubt that having Cas torn away from him for the last time will finally be the point where he shatters, irreversibly destroyed. But what hurts even more is lying to himself. He’s seen what that gets him all too well with Sam and Kevin.

What their relationship will be like, he has an idea. It’s scary, sure, but he sees the happiness they shared tonight in it. They deserve it. At some point, maybe it was in Hell, maybe Purgatory, maybe somewhere in between-but somewhere along the line they became linked. He used to think it was a weakness but as he listens to the quiet breathing of Cas as he sleeps, Dean thinks there’s more strength there than anything else.

“Thank you.” He whispers to the sleeping angel. For saving me all the time. For trusting in me and believing in me. For showing me greater kindness than I’ve ever thought possible. For giving me something greater to believe in. Thank you for loving me.

Dean has a vague idea of what the future holds too. They’ll go back to pulling their hair out over Sam. Cas will probably hold Dean when he cries about Kevin once or twice. Dean’ll shove a blade through the angel who’s directly responsible for all this shit. Angel war, demon war. A few monsters of the week and some really huge deal at the end of it all that they’ll either just barely scrape by or…or maybe this time he’ll bring beer when he meets Death. It certainly won’t be easy, because it never is. But whatever it is, they’ll face it together and this time it won’t be alone.

Before unconsciousness finally claims him, Dean gropes around for Cas’ hand and laces his fingers through it. Cas stirs again, mumbling into the pillow.

“Wha?” Dean smiles and kisses the back of his head.

“Nothing, Cas. Your human’s here to watch over you while you sleep.”