Archive of Our Own ^beta

Really, Dean thought this hunt was a terrible idea, even before it started. It was just supposed to be one or two vampires, hiding out in the middle of the city and killing innocent people. At least, Dean assumed they’d killed all of their victims.

Apparently, they had not, as Sam and Dean stand back-to-back, completely surrounded by at least twenty hungry vampires and swinging their blades at any that come too close for comfort. Dean presses closer to Sam’s back, trying to be as close as possible. He likes to think positively on hunts, but this isn’t looking too good. Dean would rather try and make sure Sammy knows how much he loves him in these (possible) last few moments than not.

Suddenly, the room is filled with the pleasantly familiar, yet still vaguely painful, bright light that signifies Castiel vanquishing all non-Winchester beings from a room. Dean lets out a relieved sigh as the light fades away, and they are met with the sight of the perpetually disheveled angel.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says, dropping his blade to the ground with a loud clatter.

“You really saved our asses,” Dean agrees, clapping his hand onto Cas’s firm shoulder. He can’t help but want to touch more than his shoulder sometimes. Like, right now, with Sam right there. Dean shakes his head, trying to get his head out of the gutter.

“You’re both welcome,” Cas responds, watching Dean’s hand on his shoulder. For a human, Dean’s not too rough on the eyes, but Cas tries to distance himself from thinking about it too hard. “I’m not sure why you had such trouble. You’ve fought more dangerous things than vampires, like, I don’t know, Lucifer?”

Dean would never admit it, but he loves how sassy Cas has become in recent months, with less angel interaction and more Sam-and-Dean interaction. He’s learning how to behave like a regular person, and Dean loves it. Castiel is witty, funny, and rather intelligent in a more practical way than before. Sam enjoys Cas’s company more now, but Dean finds him incessantly charming, thinking about Cas in all his free time.

“We just weren’t prepared for so many,” Sam grumbles, cracking his back.

“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Cas winks at the boys, which causes an odd pulling at Dean’s stomach. He ignores it as Cas reaches out to Sam and Dean, presumably to “angel” them back to the hotel. Dean can’t wait for the split second skin-on-skin contact.

~_~_~_~_~_~

Dean’s trying to pretend he doesn’t have a crush on Castiel, even as the memory of a particularly vividly inappropriate dream is making no effort to dissipate from Dean’s mind. Cas’s lips are suddenly sinful, and his hair seems like omnipresent sex hair.

“Dean, are you listening to me?” Cas asks, drawing Dean’s attention away from Cas’s impossibly tight shirt. How did Dean get talked into taking Cas shopping? He didn’t have to be talked into it, necessarily, but Sam didn’t want to do it, and Cas didn’t want to go alone, and, well, Dean wanted to see Cas trying on clothes.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean mumbles, ignoring his burning cheeks and trying to focus on Cas’s voice this time.

“I’m not sure this fits like my old clothes,” Cas says, simply, as he pulls the tight material away from his skinny body.

“No, it’s even better,” Dean says quickly, before he can censor his thoughts.

“Huh,” Cas says, under his breath. He slips back into the dressing room, placing the shirt Dean seemed to like on his “to-keep”
pile. He liked the way Dean looked at him when he was wearing it.

After twenty more minutes of fairly uninteresting shopping, Cas feels good about his new wardrobe, and Dean is satiated for a few more days, hopefully. He’s not sure how much longer he can go without putting his hands on Cas and reenacting all those dreams he’s been having.

In the car, Castiel may have sat a little closer to Dean than usual, in the hopes that their knees would touch or that Dean would turn to look at him and his eyes would be filled with that perfect combination of lust and admiration again. However, when he notices Cas’s proximity, Dean forces himself to focus on the road, as to avoid any car crashing.

~_~_~_~_~_~

He’s wearing it again.

That goddamn almost see-through white tee-shirt that stretches over Cas’s subtle muscles so well.

That fucking shirt gets Dean’s blood boiling every time Cas wears it, and, this time, Cas is pressed up against him, watching television, innocently, as if he isn’t a completely sexy god. Dean swallows hard, hoping Cas doesn’t notice when he casually slips his arm around Cas’s shoulders.

Oh, Cas notices, but he doesn’t mind. Instead, he leans into the warm comfort of Dean’s chest, nuzzling with his rough cheek, and nothing has felt better in his entire life. Suddenly, Dean can’t control it anymore.

“Sorry, Cas,” he murmurs before cradling Cas’s face in his hands and pressing his lips to Cas’s. It’s a chaste kiss, and it’s over in an instant, but it’s absolutely perfect for Dean. Cas’s lips are soft and pliable, just like Dean imagined, and the way Cas absolutely relaxed into the kiss is better than anything Dean could’ve conjured up in his mind.

Cas just grins, loving the surprised look on Dean’s face, as he leans forward again and places his lips on Dean’s before pulling away. “What took you so long?” Cas smirks, as he begins a fresh assault against Dean’s beautifully perfect mouth.