Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You reek,” says Sam, looking up from his homework with a scowl as soon as Dean walks into the kitchen.

“Hello to you, too, bitch,” Dean tosses back, extra-casual to cover his spike of anxiety. There’s no way he smells like sex, is there? Maybe he’s just sweaty. He gives his pits a surreptitious sniff.

“Not BO, stupid. You smell like smoke.”

“Oh.” Dean swallows, remembering how Cas hadn’t even set aside his cigarette while Dean rode him. He’d held it between his lips and puffed the smoke up into Dean’s hair while Dean gasped and moaned and bounced on his dick.

“Were you smoking, Dean?”

Sam sounds way more scandalized than a high school kid ought to be. God knows Dean tried a cigarette or two under the bleachers when he was Sam’s age. Then again, he wasn’t an extra-credit, dipped-in-genius-juice nerd. No straight A’s for Dean. Or straight anything else, for that matter.

Unexpectedly, it’s John who saves him from the fraternal inquisition. Their dad stumbles through the doorway and grunts at Sam, “Don’t be a priss. A man’s entitled to his vices.”

As if to prove the point, he grabs a beer from the fridge, then waves it at Dean. “No cigs in the house, hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean makes a beeline for the shower, hoping that’s the end of it.

It isn’t.

The next evening, Sam ambushes Dean as he’s heading out the door, talking fast like the fine print in a commercial. “Smoking harms nearly every organ in the body, Dean. It causes lung cancer, heart disease, type two diabetes, reproductive–”

“Take a breath, Samantha. I’m not going out to buy smokes, I’m just gonna hang out with Cas.”

Sam’s eyes widen. He doesn’t know their neighbor nearly as well as Dean does, but ever since learning that Cas is a detective, he’s viewed the man with something near veneration. He sounds devastated when he asks, “Did Castiel get you started smoking? Is he, you know, like, a pusher?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, no. I don’t even smoke, okay?”

“But Dad thinks you do, too.”

“It’s better for Dad to think that I smoke than–” Dean cuts himself off. “It’s better.”

“Better than what, Dean?” Sam’s voice gets higher, louder. It’s damn lucky that John’s passed out in his room, dead to the world. “What are you doing with Castiel that’s worse than smoking?”

Dean slams the door on his way out.

But Sam is, unfortunately, very smart.

“So now Sam’s all up on my case about secondhand smoke.”

Castiel takes a pillow from the couch and drops it on the floor. Dean sinks to his knees, still talking, half his mind on what he’s saying and half on the filthy twist of shame and arousal that comes from realizing Cas has him as well trained as any dog.

“He figured out that we’re fucking, and I must’ve done all right raising the kid because he doesn’t care that you’re a dude or that you’re ten years older’n me, but he keeps leaving articles about smoking in my room. He wants you to quit, just hasn’t worked up the balls to tell you.”

Cas steps close and runs a hand through Dean’s hair. “Do you want me to stop smoking?”

Dean snorts. “Dude, smoke all you want, I don’t care. By the time it kills you, I’ll be long gone.”

Cas doesn’t argue. Dean has told him enough times how often they move, how any day John might get a wild hair up his ass, throw his sons and suitcases in the car, and burn rubber.

Cas just hums thoughtfully and cups Dean’s face in his hands, thumbs drawing warm circles on his cheekbones.

As usual, Dean is captivated by Cas’s intense blue stare. Minutes tick by, until Dean has to break the silence, even if he can’t break the eye contact. “Hurry up and stick your cock in my mouth before I get bored and ride you instead.”

It’s an empty threat. First of all, Dean could never tire of kneeling for Cas, and second of all, it’s not like the other option would disappoint either of them.

Cas’s lips curl in a faint smile, as if he heard everything Dean didn’t say. “Impatient,” he murmurs. He grips Dean’s jaw in one big hand. “Impudent.” With his other hand, he opens his pants and draws out his cock. “Show me what that mouth is good for, boy.”

So Dean does, choking on it, sloppy and eager while Cas stays quiet and restrained, even when he comes, flooding Dean’s mouth on a long sigh.

Afterward, Cas tidies himself up and moves to the couch. Dean follows, almost panting with his own pent-up need. Cas’s left hand finds the remote and resumes a nature documentary; his right settles in Dean’s lap. A gentle squeeze, a few firm rubs, and Dean’s coming in his jeans, pleasure crackling through his body as he white-knuckles the couch cushions.

He takes a minute to catch his breath, then goes to the bathroom to try to clean up. When he emerges, Cas asks out of the blue, “Does your father still think you smoke?”

Dean flops onto the couch next to him. “He’d better. If Dad knew I was sucking dicks instead of cancer sticks, he’d lose his shit.”

To Dean’s surprise, Cas actually turns away from the screen. He searches Dean’s face for a long time, but damned if Dean knows what he’s looking for.

“That’s–you–I don’t even know where to start,” Cas says at last, fumbling words in a way he rarely does. He shakes his head and starts over. “Dean, you’re an adult. You don’t have to stay with your father.”

“But Sam does, and I gotta stay with Sam. Anyway, if I don’t take care of Dad, who’s gonna?” Shifting in discomfort–only partly due to his wet jeans–Dean waves toward the TV. “C’mon, man, watch the show. You’re missing all your favorite bugs.”

That week Dean picks up more hours at the garage, and Cas’s schedule must change too, because they don’t see each other for days. It almost makes Dean wish he’d asked for Cas’s number. They’ve been fooling around for three months, and this is the longest stretch of time that Cas’s driveway has been empty whenever Dean looks. But Cas’s newspaper gets taken in, and his trash gets taken out, so he must be home when Dean isn’t.

Sunday Dean has off work. He makes waffles and bacon, because Sammy deserves some semblance of normality even if John is already drinking by the time the table is set. As Dean drowns his plate in syrup, trying to think of an excuse to go outside and check if Cas is home, there’s a knock on the door.

Dean jumps up to answer it with his mouth full. There’s Cas, wearing threadbare sweats under his trenchcoat, hair even messier than usual.

Delighted, Dean sings out, “Hey sunshine,” only it sounds more like “eyy thun-ine,” which is a good fucking thing because God forbid anyone in his family overhear such an affectionate greeting.

“Hello, Dean,” answers Cas politely. “I’m sorry to trouble you on a Sunday, but my car won’t start. I wonder if you could take a look at it when you have time.”

Dean gulps down his food. “’Course man, I’ll come right now.”

“You don’t have to–” Cas breaks off, his eyes tracking Dean’s tongue as Dean licks syrup off his lips.

Dean responds with a hot stare of his own, aiming to communicate how badly he needs what (he hopes) Cas is offering. “It’s fine, I was nearly done. And I’m not the growing kid around here anyway.” He grabs a jacket and shouts over his shoulder, “You better eat the rest of my waffles, Sammy, and the bacon!”

“It’s Sam!” his brother yells back. “What about the game?”

“I’ll be back in time to take you,” Dean promises, and scoots out the door with Cas.

There’s one house between Dean’s and Cas’s. As they walk past it, Dean sees that Cas’s driveway is still empty. “Where’s your–”

“I parked in the back.”

Cas’s narrow driveway goes alongside his house to a garage behind it, but Dean has only ever seen Cas park in the front of the driveway, just off the street. He once told Dean that the garage is crammed full of crap he’s inherited from various family members and doesn’t know how to get rid of.

When they turn to walk down the driveway, Dean finally spots the banged-up old Continental parked as far back as it can fit, right at the garage door. He wonders if Cas has been parking like this for a while. Maybe he was actually home, all the times Dean thought he was out.

“Why?” he asks.

Cas leads the way past his car and through the back door into his house. “So you could ‘work on the car’ in private, of course.”

“Oh. Right.” That doesn’t answer the question of whether he’s been doing it all week and, if so, why. But Dean is buzzing with anticipation, thrilled to be alone with Cas, and they don’t have much time. So he forgets about it, and starts to strip.

“You’re in a hurry,” observes Cas, taking off his shoes and hanging up his coat.

As Dean peels his shirt over his head, he says through the fabric, “Can’t take too long, gotta drive Sammy to a soccer game.”

“This is why I wanted you to wait, and come over when you’d have more time.” Cas sounds mildly exasperated. He moves close enough to pinch one of Dean’s nipples.

Dean yelps, fumbling with the button on his jeans. “I couldn’t wait,” he confesses breathlessly. “It’s been too long, I want–I need–ohhh fuck.” Cas has a thumb on each nipple now, rubbing in little circles. The stimulation sends hot sparks straight to Dean’s cock. It bobs in front of him, flushed and hard, as he pushes his jeans and boxers to the floor.

“Beautiful,” says Cas, in a tone of detached admiration that makes Dean squirm. He feels like a piece of art that has pleased Cas.

Then Cas yanks Dean forward by his nipples until he’s close enough to kiss. Dean moans with the electric-sharp sensation, which leaves his mouth conveniently open for Cas to explore.

Cas owns the kiss with tongue and teeth as his hands roam over Dean’s shoulders and pet through his hair. His touch is confident, but Dean’s is desperate, as he grabs Cas’s hips, lines them up, and grinds their cocks together through the cotton sweatpants.

“Shit, you feel so good,” Dean mumbles into Cas’s mouth.

He could come like this, with Cas’s hands on his skin and Cas’s cock hot against his own. He should do it, finish them both off fast, then get dressed and go home, but–

“Fuck me.” He pulls back to gaze pleadingly into Cas’s eyes, cupping one hand over the man’s cock. “Want this inside me.”

Cas actually thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “Bedroom.”

Time is of the essence, so when they get there Dean goes straight for the lube in the bedside table and dives onto on the bed. Two fingers in, he looks up to see Cas has gotten himself naked and is fumbling with a box of Trojans.

Dean blinks. They haven’t used condoms for over a month, not since they both got tested. “What’s that for?”

“Protection, Dean. For me, you, and your other partners.”

“Other–” Dean is equal parts mad and confused now. He takes his fingers out of his ass. “What the fuck? I’m not sleeping around.”

Cas looks at Dean, so damn composed, only a little furrow between his eyebrows. “You mentioned ‘sucking dicks’ the other day. I distinctly heard the plural.”

Dean gapes. “It was–it was just a fucking expression, Cas! I’m not sucking anyone else’s dick!”

“Oh.” Cas gives him a few more seconds of that inscrutable stare, maybe using his detective powers to figure out if Dean’s telling the truth, then nods and sets the box aside. “I see. A simple misunderstanding.”

He moves forward, as if Dean’s gonna want to let the whole thing slide and pick up where they left off.

Dean jumps off the bed and slams a hand in the middle of Cas’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Hang on, buddy. You thought I was screwin’ around, and you weren’t gonna say anything about it? Just buy a box of condoms and carry right the fuck on?”

Cas looks down at Dean’s hand, still wet with lube, then back at his face. “Yes?” He tilts his head. “Why does that upset you?”

“Because if I thought–if you were–” This is so obvious Dean can’t even explain it.

He shoves Cas, hard, making him stumble, and still the man’s face is a blank mask.

Usually Cas’s stoicism really does it for Dean. The way Cas fucks all slow and calm while Dean’s sweating and sobbing and begging to finish gets him off like nothing else. But right at this moment, Dean hates it. He wants to see Cas crack.

“Jesus, try experiencing an emotion for once in your goddamn life!” Dean shouts, and storms out of the bedroom.

Halfway down the hall, he hears heavy footfalls behind him, and then a hand on his shoulder is spinning him around and slamming his back against the wall. Cas’s other hand fists in his shirt, and Dean’s breath stutters. The mask is gone. The face in front of him is wild, blue eyes hot with fury, lips pulled back and teeth bared.

“You think I didn’t feel anything when you made me think I was only one of who-knows-how-many partners?” Cas growls. “It carved me hollow, Dean. I didn’t show you, because I thought you didn’t want to see.”

He leans in, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder, mouth burning against his ear. “You want to hear how I lay awake night after night, weighing the pain of breaking things off against the agony of carrying on? You want to know all the insane thoughts from the darkest parts of my soul? How I long to brand you, heart and soul, so you know you belong to me and no one else.”

“No, I don’t want you to tell me,” Dean answers hoarsely. He can feel Cas start to draw back, so he yanks him close again. “I want you to show me.”

Cas’s eyes darken, and his heart rate picks up where their chests are pressed together. “Are you sure?”

Dean swallows. This is dangerous talk, in a life shaped by loss and impermanence, but something about Cas makes Dean reckless in a way nothing else ever has. “Show me I’m yours, Cas,” he demands. “Fuckin’ claim me.”

Chapter Text

“I always see you in that trenchcoat, man.” Dean grinned at the hot neighbor who’d walked over to chat while Dean washed his car. Of course, this was exactly what Dean had been angling for when he’d spotted the guy smoking outside, and quickly changed into his thinnest t-shirt and the jeans with a hole (heh) in the ass before grabbing a hose and bucket. With a teasing wink, he asked, “Are you a flasher?”

“Not unless you find this risqué,” the man replied dryly, holding his coat wide to reveal the full suit underneath. “I’m a detective.”

“Whoa, cool! That explains the Columbo vibe. You a private eye?”

Hot Neighbor–Castiel, as he’d introduced himself–took a long drag of his cigarette as he looked Dean over. For a minute he seemed so distracted by perky nipples under wet fabric and skin showing though ripped denim that Dean thought he’d forgotten the question. Then he said, “No. I work with the police.”

“Oh.” That was disappointing. Maybe a dealbreaker. On the other hand, Castiel was still hot as fuck, so Dean decided to test his loyalty. “Y’know, I used to want to be a cop when I grew up. Saving people, hunting bad guys.”

Castiel switched his focus from Dean’s body to his face and asked earnestly, like he really cared about the answer, “What changed your mind?”

“I got old enough to watch to the fucking news, pal. The police ain’t exactly making a great name for themselves.”

Instead of getting defensive or belligerent, Castiel responded with a slow nod, which was more of a concession than Dean had expected. “So what did you decide to do instead?”

That earned Castiel even more points–assuming Dean to be a gainfully employed adult, which he was, thank you very much, even if he was also ten months shy of the legal age for buying cigarettes like the one Castiel kept sucking on.

Dean hated a lot of guys who smoked, because they tried to make it look cool, but he liked how Castiel didn’t do that. He seemed to smoke solely for his own enjoyment, without giving a shit what other people thought.

Dean realized he’d gotten nearly as distracted as Castiel had been, and pulled his attention from the man’s pink lips to the question he’d asked. “I’m a mechanic.”

Castiel smiled. “Saving engines and hunting, um, bad spark plugs?”

Dean threw back his head and laughed. “You don’t know shit about cars, do you?”

“I know how to drive one.” His eyes raked over Baby, checking her out in nearly the same way he’d been looking at Dean. “And I know that I like yours.”

“She’s perfect,” agreed Dean, preening. “But flattery won’t get you behind the wheel.”

Castiel took the cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “That’s all right. I’d rather get behind something else.”

Although Dean had been imagining this scene since the first time he’d caught Castiel staring at him, a couple of days after they’d moved in, his brain was momentarily fried by the blatant come-on. It made him certain that Castiel had seen Dean’s pose when he’d started the car wash, bending over to reach all the way across the hood, making sure everything got wet and soapy.

His mind spiraled directly into a fantasy in which Castiel hadn’t introduced himself with a greeting and a handshake, but had instead pressed right up behind Dean, kicked his legs further apart, torn the hole in his jeans wide enough to access his personal hole, and fucked him right there in broad daylight.

Dean glanced around, aware that every minute risked the chance his dad would get bored of the game on TV and look out the window. Now that it was clear Dean and Castiel were on the same page, it was time for a secondary location.

“You like burgers?” he blurted out.

Cas’s eyebrows raised, but he didn’t question the abrupt transition. “Very much.”

“Lemme rinse off Baby, and we can go grab some.”

“I’d like that. Very much,” Castiel repeated. He dropped his cigarette on the ground, extinguished it with his foot, then carefully picked up the butt and put it in a coat pocket. Like his smoking, he didn’t do it as if he were trying to make a good impression on Dean, but as if it were simply his own preference to tidy up after himself.

Cop or not, Dean was into this guy.

It got even better when Dean learned that Castiel hadn’t been kidding about his appreciation for burgers. The noises he made while he ate were practically pornographic. He must have felt the same way about Dean’s moans of pleasure, because twenty minutes later they were in Baby’s backseat in a deserted lot with a smear of ketchup on Castiel’s nose, pants shoved down to their thighs and hands on each other’s cocks, gasping sounds only a few shades filthier than the ones they’d made over their meal, climaxing so close together Dean wasn’t sure who came first. They caught their mess, barely, in crumpled fast-food napkins.

Dean let his head drop onto Castiel’s shoulder, heart still hammering from the best orgasm he’d had since moving to town. Actually, if he was honest, since a lot longer than that.

Castiel didn’t seem out of breath at all. He hummed as he ran his fingers over the seat leather. “This has been an extremely pleasant outing. What shall we do for our second date?”

Dean snorted. “You talkin’ to me or my car?”

Castiel pretended to think about it for long enough that they both busted up laughing. That was the first time Dean should have realized how fucked he was.

Another inflection point came five weeks and dozens of orgasms later, when Dean had gone over to Cas’s house after his dad and brother were both asleep. Cas had welcomed him in, given him a beer, and gone back to his latest documentary obsession.

So Dean was making a nuisance of himself. He rummaged through Cas’s kitchen until Cas said “Please be quiet, Dean,” then he rearranged the books on Cas’s shelves until Cas said, “Leave those alone,” then he played with the fancy standing lamp that had five different settings and a dimmer until Cas snapped, “Come here and sit still.”

Dean blew a raspberry. “Not unless you change the channel to something less boring, old man.”

Cas looked over at him with eyes narrowed. “You should show me some respect, boy.”

“Why?” Dean sassed back. “Cause you’re a cop, and you could cuff me and throw me in jail?”

“Of course not, Dean, I wouldn’t–” Cas stopped. His eyes flicked down Dean’s body, and his eyebrows climbed high. “You . . . want that?”

Okay, so maybe the combination of Cas’s stern voice and Dean’s own mention of handcuffs had gotten him just a tiny bit hard. He scoffed. “Don’t be stupid, I don’t wanna go to jail.”

“But you like the idea of me having power over you.” Cas muted the TV, got to his feet, and approached Dean with measured, thoughtful steps. “Being helpless, maybe? At my mercy?”

“Fuck, Cas,” groaned Dean, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. “Where are your cuffs?”

An hour later, when Dean was face down and ass up in Cas’s bed with his wrists cuffed behind his back, when Cas was calmly listening to Dean curse and beg as he screwed one, then two, then three fingers into his hole, withholding the heavy cock that Dean could feel brushing the backs of his thighs until Dean had remembered and apologized for every annoyance he’d inflicted on Cas that night, that was the second time Dean should have realized that he was in way too deep.

But it’s only now, when Dean is staring up at Cas from the floor of the hallway, feeling the rug burn on his back because they couldn’t make it to the bed, feeling the sting in his scalp where Cas has one hand buried in his hair, feeling the stretch in his leg where Cas’s other hand is holding him wide as he works Dean open with his cock, gasping every time he draws back like it hurts to be that tiny bit farther away from Dean, moaning every time he shoves forward like Dean is everything he’s ever wanted–

Now is when it finally hits Dean that he’s fallen in love with Cas. The realization steals his breath and blurs his vision. After a few dizzy moments he manages to suck in a sobbing gulp of air, then lets it out in a wail when Cas sinks as deep as he can go, belly pressed against Dean’s aching dick, eyes burning like stars. “You. Are. Mine.”

“Yours, yours, fuck yes, please fuck me, please, I’m yours, take me,” babbles Dean, saying anything and everything to avoid speaking the huge emotion that has taken over his chest.

Cas kisses him hard, then kisses him soft, then kisses him dirty, then stops kissing so he can get better leverage and pound Dean into the floor.

“Touch yourself,” snarls Cas. “Want you to come on my cock, want to fuck you raw and mark you inside so you know who you belong to. Go on, touch yourself.”

“Don’t need to,” gasps Dean, his nails digging in to Cas’s skin, which turns Cas’s grip on his body bruising. “You’re gonna make me come with just your cock, fuck yeah, right there, keep going, I’m–I’m–”

“Show me,” says Cas, echoing Dean’s demand that landed them in this position. “Show me now.”

So Dean does, spilling over himself with a shout as Cas’s frenzied fucking forces it out of him. The aftershocks become shivers of almost-too-much and then Cas is lost, too, his eyes squeezed shut at first as he begins to come inside Dean, but he opens them while his cock is still pulsing, and the blue irises are drowning in unshed tears, and his lips look ready to shape the same words Dean is holding back.

It’s a damn good thing that Dean has to book it back home as fast as he can. There’s no time to say something they’ll regret.

And yet, Dean’s unspoken love beats in his heart and sings in his head all Monday, making him count the minutes until he can see Cas again.

Then he gets home from work, and everything goes very quickly to shit.

“Where’s Sam?” he asks his dad, who’s drinking in front of the TV.

“Throwing a hissy fit in his room because we’re leaving,” grumbles John.

“What do you mean, we’re leaving?”

“Ain’t hard to understand. Got a lead on a job out West.” John always has a lead on a job somewhere, and it always evaporates by the time they arrive. “Better for you boys. This place is turning Sam into a pansy and you into a fag.”

Dean’s face goes hot. “What?”

“Why d’you think that fairy cop down the street keeps giving you cigarettes? He wants to stick something else in your mouth. Get smart, son.” John slams his beer down on the coffee table. “Then he has the nerve to come after me for neglecting my boys. To threaten me! Nobody threatens John Winchester!”

Dean feels his hands curling into fists, but he has no idea what to do with them. “Dad, did you get in a fight with Cas?”

“Woulda done, but he backed off when he saw I meant business.” John scowls at Dean and jerks his head toward the bedrooms. “Tell your brother to man up, and get packed.”

Dean is almost as confused as he is angry. Together they make him stupid, stupid enough to make a bad decision and tell his father about it. “I’m going to talk to Cas.”

Luckily, John thinks talk means fight. Hell, he might not be wrong. “If you get locked up, I ain’t bailing you out,” is all he says as Dean stamps back outside.

“Cas!” Dean hollers, barrelling through the man’s front door without knocking.

Cas comes out of the kitchen with surprised joy all over his face. For a split second it knocks Dean’s anger right out of the room, but then he remembers we’re leaving and the fury comes roaring back. Dean doesn’t get to be happy, he should have known he never gets to be happy.

“My dad says you threatened him. What the fuck, Cas?”

“He says I threatened him?” Incredulity colors Cas’s tone. “He’s the one who tried to punch me.”

“Why’d he do that, Cas? What’d you say to him?”

Cas sighs and rubs his forehead. “Dean, listen. I was working from home today, went for a walk, and saw your brother coming back from school. He said hello, so I asked how his classes are going, and while we were talking your father came out of the house yelling slurs and telling me to stay away from his sons.”

Dean is fucking pissed at his dad, but his dad isn’t here, and Cas is, so it probably sounds like he’s pissed at Cas when he asks, “And then?”

“I told him that if he cares about his children, he should act like it. I’ve seen parents lose custody for behavior less appalling than his. That’s when he took a swing at me, so I left.”

“Jesus,” groans Dean. “Don’t you get how that sounded like a threat to him?”

“Are you seriously taking your father’s side, Dean? He’s a neglectful, abusive alcoholic. If Sam were younger, I’d be urging you to talk to CPS. As it is–”

“Fuck you, Cas! Are you a fuckin’ nark or what? You don’t get to break up my family just cause I’m puttin’ out for you. Dad made the right call. We’re leaving.” But Dean hates hearing those words in his own voice, and he just stands there staring at Cas instead of walking out the door.

Cas stares back at him, looking like a heartbroken mess. He opens his mouth and closes it again without finding anything to say. Then he lunges forward, reaching for Dean, and their foreheads knock together because apparently Dean was moving towards Cas at the same time without even realizing it. Their teeth clack, and Dean tastes blood in his mouth as they kiss with all urgency and no finesse.

They stumble to the bedroom, biting each other’s lips and scrabbling at each other’s clothes. What the fuck are we doing, thinks Dean, and then his head is spinning too much for him to think anything at all. Everything is a blur of heat and anger and desire until he’s naked in Cas’s bed where he belongs.

“How do you want it?” Cas’s voice is thick and raspy, as if he’s ill with how much he wants Dean, gripping Dean’s waist with one hand while the other pushes too much lube inside him.

Dean feels like he’s being opened up in every possible way, the raw need in Cas’s voice cracking him wide so the words spill out. “Want it hard, Cas, want you to fucking wreck me, want to feel it when I’m gone. I want you to fuck me so rough I think about you every time I sit down for the rest of my life.”

Even as he speaks, Dean knows it’s a weird, fucked-up thing to say. But if this is his last time with Cas, then it doesn’t really matter. And he doesn’t get any time to doubt, because Cas is groaning and pulling at Dean’s hole with both thumbs, like he couldn’t be any more on board with the plan.

“Now,” adds Dean.

Cas takes him at his word, lining up and punching his cock into Dean’s body, an electric shock right up Dean’s spine, the bedsheet tearing in his hands as he shoves back hard and greedy.

“Dean, oh, Dean.” Cas rumbles his name like it’s the filthiest word he knows and sets a brutal pace, fucking in and out like his life depends on it, the excess lube making wet nasty sounds that pair beautifully with the wild noises Dean realizes are coming from his own mouth.

His body burns, sending a medley of mixed signals to his brain, pain and pleasure and fullness and emptiness, and all Dean knows how to do with it is beg for more. Cas gives it and gives it and gives it to him, nails biting into his hips, cock drilling deep and relentless.

Dean wants something in his mouth, so he sucks on his own fingers until Cas notices and yanks his hand away to replace it with his own. It’s awkward to fuck Dean’s ass and mouth at the same time, but Cas makes it work, forcing two fingers back toward Dean’s throat as he whispers again, “Dean, Dean,” this time like it’s a holy word, a benediction.

Cas comes first, still chanting Dean’s name. He pulls out, but Dean hardly has time to miss his cock before he wrestles Dean onto his back and shoves the fingers Dean had been sucking into his sore hole. Then he takes Dean’s cock in his mouth, drinking him down to the root, and it’s a matter of seconds before Dean’s release crashes through him like white-hot lightning.

Afterward, he lets Cas arrange him on his side and curl up behind him, nuzzling the back of his neck like some tender little creature instead of the wild beast that mounted Dean and fucked his brains out.

“That was. Holy shit. Wow,” mumbles Dean.

“You said you wanted me to wreck you,” Cas murmurs against his shoulder, between kisses.

Dean chuckles weakly. “And boy, did you deliver.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” says Cas, sounding thoughtful rather than smug. “I did, too, but . . . I also want to do the opposite. I want to rebuild you, to construct you atom by atom so you know in your bones that you are precious, that you are worthy.”

Dean blinks his stinging eyes, glad that he’s facing away from Cas. “Okay, whatever, Casanova. I gotta go pack.”

He climbs out of bed and gets dressed, gingerly, without looking at Cas, even though he can feel the weight of Cas’s gaze on him every second. But Cas doesn’t say anything, not until he’s pulled on his bathrobe and followed Dean to the door.

Then he holds out his phone, showing the New Contact screen with Dean’s name already typed in. “Can I have your number?”

In an instant Dean’s rage flares back up. He slams a fist against the doorframe so he won’t knock the phone out of Cas’s hand, and shouts, “No! We don’t get to do this. You fucked up, I’m leaving, and we’re through.”

Dean doesn’t see Cas again before they skip town, but as he’s checking Baby’s tire pressure the next day, he sees Sam walking back from Cas’s house. His first instinct is to look around for John, who’s luckily in the bathroom. His next is to glare and snap, “Why’d you visit Cas?”

Sam glares back. “Am I not even allowed to say good-bye to my friends now?”

“He’s not your friend, Sam! He’s a grown-up, and you’re a kid, and–and it’s his fucking fault we have to leave.”

“It’s not his fault, it’s Dad’s fault,” Sam spits back at him. “Anyway, I like Cas. I gave him my phone number so we can stay in touch.”

Dean is about to sneer something like why would a grown-ass detective want to stay in touch with a pimply teenager, but he immediately realizes they’re both huge nerds and have probably watched all the same documentaries.

Abruptly, Dean feels like a total asshole. It’s not just Cas; in the months they’ve lived here Sam has made friends at school, at soccer, even at the damn grocery store. Of course he’s furious about leaving. It’s not fair to keep doing this to him, to cut his roots every time they start to grow, but what else can they do? Their dad can’t stay in one place, and they can’t leave him.

Dean is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost misses Sam adding, “At least, I think it was my number. Come to think of it, maybe I gave him your number.”

“Sam!” yelps Dean. “What the hell?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” This bit of mischief has somehow restored Sam’s mood, and he bounds into the house almost gleefully to collect his bags.

“You little fucker!” Dean yells after him. “If Cas tries to call me, I swear to God I’ll block his number.”

Chapter Text

Unknown Number: Hello, Dean. This is Castiel. :) I hope the road so far has been smooth both literally and metaphorically.
Unknown Number: I thought you might like these small creatures I found in my yard.
Unknown Number: [photo]

Dean: dude did u send a pic of fuckin ladybugs
Dean: i mean ladybugs that are fucking
Dean: thats what theyre doin right??

Cas: I read that ladybug mating can last up to two hours, and often includes rapid vibration.

Dean: r u tryin to sext???

Cas: No. :)

Dean: lol ok have fun with the kinky bugs. im going to bed
Dean: my ass is sore from driving all day, wish it was sore for a better reason
Dean: ^ see that wuld be a good way to start sexting. for future ref

Cas: Thank you for telling me.
Cas: Are we sexting now?

Dean: nope im passing out fr

Cas: My co-workers assigned me a new case, “The Mysterious Death of the Coffee Maker.” It would be more exciting if everyone didn’t already know about Chuck’s vendetta against the poor machine.
Cas: How are you?

Dean: lol ur life is just like sherlock
Dean: im ridin along listening to tunes. dads driving cuz he hasnt started drinking yet

Cas: I know you don’t need me to say this, but please take the wheel if your father has even one drink.

Dean: don worry buddy couple years back he almost wrapped us around a pole. since then we all keep an eye on it
Dean: anyway wat r u wearing

Cas: Are you seriously attempting to sext while riding in the car with your family?

Dean: look theres not much privacy on the road, no ones lookin over my shoulder so it counts
Dean: tell u what im wearing, is that big fuckin hickey you left on my shoulder. glad its under my collar but jesus man you marked me up good

Cas: I wish I’d given you a dozen more. I want you to look in the mirror and see my signature all over your skin.
Cas: Although I suppose it would be a form of plagiarism, to sign a masterpiece I did not create.

Dean: u have NO idea how to sext do u
Dean: gotta go, its lunchtime at I Dont Caresville in the county of Ass Nowhere

Cas: That isn’t a real place, Dean.

Dean: me n sammy just watched that nerd show you recd
Dean: i was planning to fall asleep n snore real loud to piss him off, but it was actually pretty interesting once the dolphins started fuckin
Dean: now hes asleep but im awake an horny

Cas: I’m not surprised the reproductive biology segment stood out to you.

Dean: show u something that stands out
Dean: [picture]
Dean: also wtf does that mean, ur not surprised

Cas: You have a healthy interest in, and appetite for, sex. It’s perfectly normal for your age.

Dean: lol ok old man have u gone gray since I left?? sorry u cant get it up anymore

Cas: I believe you’re trying to provoke me into sending an explicit photo.

Dean: cmon I sent u one its ur turn

Cas: My penis looks the same as it did the last time you saw it.

Dean: wow thats like an anti-sext. least sexy sext ever. congratulations u win a prize
Dean: [picture]

Cas: That’s very rude.
Cas: Not only the gesture, but the fact that you can be so beautiful even when making it.

Dean: im gonna go jerk off but its despite u not bc of u

Cas: Where are you now?

Dean: city of Too Fuckin Hot, state of Broke
Dean: the last credit card stopped workin so im hustling pool til Dad gets another scam goin

Cas: Dean.

Dean: wat? we lived on ur street for months and u never figured out we’re criminals? some detective u r

Cas: Can I send you money?

Dean: no jeez man
Dean: been doin this for years
Dean: im fuckin amazing at pool 

Cas: I’m sure you are.

Dean: and im really cute as u may recall
Dean: got this babyface and pouty lips goin for me
Dean: i look all innocent and then i fleece em

Cas: Do you flirt with the men you hustle?

Dean: around here?? i dont have a death wish cas
Dean: but if it was u id flirt like crazy
Dean: throw u off ur game by leaning over the table and wiggling my sweet ass
Dean: rubbing my cue like a handjob
Dean: u wouldnt even notice how many balls im sinking

Cas: Hmm.
Cas: Are you familiar with anal beads, Dean?

Dean: uh that came out of nowhere
Dean: i mean i know what they are. never used em

Cas: Your mention of sinking balls made me think of them. If I were playing pool with you, I’d bring a string of anal beads, and for every ball you hit into a pocket, I’d push one more bead into your tight little hole.

Dean: wed get arrested so fast haha

Cas: I wouldn’t do it in real life, Dean. This is just a fantasy.
Cas: Imagine walking around the table, setting up your next shot, with that fullness I’ve put inside you. And you’d feel the rest of the beads waiting, moving against your skin with each step.

Dean: fuck im getting hard

Cas: Upon further reflection, I don’t think I would play against you myself. I’d be sitting nearby, watching you challenge other men, while you and I have our own little game.
Cas: Every time you sink a ball, you walk over to me. I bend you over, pull down your pants, spread your cheeks and rub your rim until you’re shaking, then press one more bead in.

Dean: is this a punishment or a reward??

Cas: That depends. Are you hustling, or playing an honest game?

Dean: im always hustling :)

Cas: Then I think you know what it is.
Cas: You’d be stretched and stuffed, but you wouldn’t be allowed to come. I’d keep filling you up, teasing your hole, but I wouldn’t touch your cock, and I wouldn’t let you touch it, either.

Dean: not even if I begged? id beg so pretty for u cas i swear

Cas: Hmm, would you? Out in public, in front of your opponent, you’d show everyone how desperate you are?
Cas: I’d love that, but no, I still wouldn’t give in.

Dean: what if I win the game? would u take out the beads and fuck me over the pool table?

Cas: I’d rather leave them in a while longer, so I could watch you squirm and sweat. But perhaps after you won I’d let you suck my cock.
Cas: If you asked very nicely, I’d fuck your face. You’d feel so full at both ends, so well-used.

Dean: please cas. please let me cum please

Cas: I suppose I could put my foot against your cock. Give you something to rub on.

Dean: cas holy shit
Dean: u made me jizz in a bar bathroom stall

Cas: I take it that was acceptable sexting.

Dean: dad got a pack of cigaretts for me and an ice cream for sammy bc sometimes he remembers hes sorry for being a shit father
Dean: I ate sam’s ice crem, dad forgot he doesn like chocolate
Dean: the cigs are nasty but they smell like u so im smokin em slow

Cas: I wish you wouldn’t smoke them at all. :( 

Dean: pretty fuckin hypocritical

Cas: I quit smoking the day you left.

Dean: wat why??

Cas: I promised your brother that I would, in exchange for your phone number. It hasn’t been easy, but I take my promises seriously.

Dean: was that his idea or yours???

Cas: His.

Dean: devious lil bastard. im kinda proud of him

Cas: Me, too. :) 

Dean: ill get him a vanilla cone in the next town
Dean: [picture]

Cas: Thank you for throwing the cigarettes away.

Dean: fuckin sam!!! nvr buyin him ice cream again

Cas: Why do you say that?

Dean: he won at rock paper scissors to decide where we r goin to eat and he said Harvelle’s

Cas: I don’t know it.

Dean: yeah cuz its not a fucking fast food chain like he was supposed to pick!!
Dean: its my aunts restaurant
Dean: so now were driving eight fucking hours out of the way

Cas: It’s very generous of you to accommodate his choice. You’re a wonderful brother.
Cas: I hope you’re not texting and driving.

Dean: no worrywart we r at a rest stop

Cas: From what I’ve understood, John didn’t have a particular destination in mind. Perhaps you could all stay with your aunt, at least for a while?

Dean: im sure thats what sammy wants
Dean: dads pissed but I just turn up the music real loud when they start arguin

Cas: What do you want, Dean?

Dean: well aunt ellen is cool
Dean: at least she was, its been a few years
Dean: her daughter had a big crush on me last time we visited lol

Cas: Isn’t she your cousin?

Dean: nah we’re not actually related
Dean: ellen and my dad used to be friends i guess

Cas: Are they not friends anymore?

Dean: think dad pulled the plug on his friendships when he decided booze was more importnt than ppl

Cas: I imagine Ellen will be very happy to see you and Sam.
Cas: Where does she live?

Dean: Boringtown, American State

Cas: Dean.

Dean: ur a detective u figure it out

Cas: OK. :)

Chapter Text

“So who is she?” Jo demands, flicking Dean’s ear as she slides his burger in front of him.

He sets down his phone and grabs the ketchup, too happy about the food to be annoyed by her pestering. “Who is who?”

“It’s a girl, isn’t it? You’re always on your phone with this dopey smile. Where’d you meet her?”

It’s only been a couple of days since the Winchesters stepped off the road into Harvelle’s, where Ellen and Jo welcomed them with shouts and hugs and full plates. Apparently, that’s long enough for Jo’s imagination to run away with her.

“There’s no girl, so you can give it a rest, Mrs. Kravitz.” Dean shoves half the burger in his mouth. He really needs to get a job so he can stop eating Ellen’s pity for every meal, but damn, Ellen’s pity tastes good.

“You’re disgusting and a liar.” There’s nothing flirtatious in Jo’s tone; she sounds like Sam complaining. The evaporation of her crush is a ding to Dean’s pride but overall probably a good thing. “One of these days I’ll steal your phone and find a picture of your girlfriend.”

“Joanna Beth, you better leave Dean alone if you don’t want itching powder in your underwear. Go ask Sam what this menace is capable of.” Ellen joins them and waves toward the younger Winchester. He’s at another table playing board games with an excitable redhead and a kid with a mullet, because it takes nerds less than forty-eight hours to find their own.

Jo rolls her eyes, unimpressed, and steals a handful of Dean’s fries before heading back to the kitchen.

Ellen sighs. “Sorry about her. We’re both glad you found someone who makes you happy, even if Jo can’t be normal about it.”

Dean swallows, keeping his eyes fixed on the burger. “Ellen, there really isn’t a girl.”

Ellen touches his shoulder. When he looks up, she gives him a soft smile. “I know.”

Dean’s throat is suddenly dry, his heart pounding as his brain struggles to catch up with what his body instinctively understands.

“It’s okay, Dean. I’m not John.” Ellen nods at Dean’s phone. “If your friend ever comes to visit, there’s a warm welcome here for him.”

Dean: how come u nvr call

Cas: I have it on good authority that would result in my number getting blocked.

Dean: oh ffs did sam tell u i said that

Cas: No, I used my mighty detective powers of hearing what was shouted just down the street.

Dean: f u imma block u just for that

Cas: For what it’s worth, I’m fairly confident that your phone has the capacity to initiate outgoing calls.

“You’re such a goddamn smug asshole,” Dean says, the instant Cas picks up.

“I love you, too.”

The rumble of Cas’s voice touching his ear is almost as devastating as the words themselves. Dean sits in Baby’s front seat, shivering and speechless, certain that he should hang up, incapable of doing so.

Cas seems unperturbed by the lack of response. “Did you want to talk about something?”

Oh, right. “Sam’s going to Stanford in the fall.”

“This fall? I thought he would be starting his senior year of high school.”

“So the fuck did I! But apparently there’s some bullshit called early acceptance, and the little bitch applied without–” Despite Cas’s words, an awful idea snatches at Dean. “Did he tell you? Did you know?”

“No, Dean. I had no idea,” Cas reassures him. “But I’m very impressed with his initiative. Please pass on my congratulations, when you’re done sulking.”

“I hate you so much,” says Dean, but a laugh squeezes past the achy lump in his throat. “Of course I’m proud of him. I just–I thought we had another year together.”

“Yes. It’s understandable to have mixed feelings.” The words are trite, but Cas says them so earnestly that they soothe. “Did he tell your father yet?”

“Yeah. Gave us the big news and then outed me, so it’s been a real banner day.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. “What?”

Dean drums his fingers on the steering wheel and looks around. He’s parked in the lot of the shitty motel where they’ve been staying. He knows that Sam went over to Mullet Kid’s place, and their dad is almost certainly at a bar, but still–he looks.

The lot is empty. So he talks. “Sam told us about Stanford, and it turned into a big damn fight. I was tryin’ to make him understand that family’s got to stick together, and he was saying shit like ‘Don’t you ever think about what you want?’ and then out of the blue he yelled ‘Go back to Castiel, I know you two–’” Dean’s teeth click shut on what Sam said next. “And Dad was right fucking there.”

“It sounds like . . .” Cas hesitates. “Outing you was an accident?”

“Yeah, the dumb kid didn’t mean to. I’m still pissed, but–kind of relieved, too. Now Dad knows, so. Yeah. Fuck it.”

“Did he say anything?”

“He just looked at me. At both of us. Like he couldn’t believe we were his. And then he left. He’s probably drinking himself into a coma right now.” Dean sighs. “Which is pretty much my plan, too.”

“I don’t think that’s a good solution, Dean.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Cas,” Dean mocks.

“And yet you called me to inform me of it.” Cas’s voice is dry as dust. “Besides, aren’t you too young to buy alcohol?”

“Okay, Officer, I’m hanging up now.” Dean ends the call, and turns off his phone for good measure.

“You think I don’t remember your birthday, kid?” snaps Ellen.

Dean slips the fake ID back in his pocket and shrugs. “Faster to go to the liquor store, anyway.”

“Wait.” Ellen grabs his wrist before he can walk away. “For–for the love of everything, Dean, stay here. I’ll serve you a couple drinks if I can keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks, Aunt Ellen,” says Dean with his best puppy-dog smile. It only seems to annoy Ellen, but she still pushes him to a corner table and brings him a beer, so he considers it a win.

He nurses one beer after another, and he downs the shots Jo slips him when her mother isn’t looking. He watches people come and go. Every few minutes he reaches for his phone, then remembers he doesn’t want to turn it back on.

As the night wears on, he struggles to remember why, but he assumes there must be a good reason.

Consequently, it’s a complete shock when he sees a familiar trenchcoat walk through the door, crowned by a familiar head that turns side to side to scan the room.

A shock, and yet not even a surprise. Of course Cas would come, of course he should be here.

Dean considers waving, but he’s too busy admiring the sharp lines of Cas’s profile, the softness of his lips, the scruff along his jaw, and the furrow between his eyebrows that disappears when his gaze lands on Dean.

Cas lights up and strides toward Dean, who stands to greet him, only to discover that his legs weren’t prepared for the challenge. Luckily, Cas’s arm is close enough to grab. Dean uses it to steady himself and exclaims, “You got here fast!”

“I started driving long before your call. As soon as I located Harvelle’s on the map, and made a few travel arrangements.” Cas’s free hand wraps around Dean’s shoulder, holding him up.

“You’re so smart.” Dean wants to grab his face and kiss him, but he also wants someone else to appreciate how smart Cas is. He spots Ellen, her eyes already on them, so he waves her over. “Ellen! This is Cas! He found me even though I never told him where I was.”

“Hello, Cas. Good to meet you.” Ellen offers her hand.

“I’m glad to meet you, as well.” Cas lets go of Dean to shake hands, so Dean leans against him, his head tipping onto Cas’s shoulder. He inhales the familiar blend of salt and soap and spice, but something is missing. He presses his face against Cas’s neck to figure out what.

Cas tries to straighten him up. “Dean, are you drunk?”

For a smart guy, Cas asks some pretty stupid questions. Dean has a much more intelligent one. “Why don’t you smell like smoke?”

“I quit, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right! Because you wanted my phone number.”

Ellen chuckles at this exchange, but Cas turns to her with a judgmental squint. “Dean appears to have consumed a significant quantity of alcohol.”

“No, I haven’t,” Dean insists. “Ellen, don’t tell him anything. He’s desa–devate–desh–very handsome, but he’s a pig.”

Ellen laughs. “We’re out of his jurisdiction, and the sheriff is a friend of mine, so I'm not too concerned.” Her humor fades into a sigh as she responds to Cas. “Look, if I didn’t serve Dean here, he was just going to get wasted on his own.”

“He’s underage!”

“And you sure aren’t,” Ellen fires back.

Cas blinks, momentarily startled, then nods in acknowledgment. “Yes, there is an age gap. I am thirty-one. But, unlike Dean, I have never supported a family, so in some ways he is older.”

Ellen looks sad. Dean doesn’t like it; her face is better when she’s ordering people around or making jokes. “Poor kid had to grow up too fast,” she says, with that terrible expression. Dean turns into Cas’s shoulder again so he doesn’t have to see it.

This time, Cas holds him close. He says to Ellen, “For the record, I can assure you that my intentions toward Dean are entirely honorable.”

At that, Dean is so offended he jerks away and almost falls over. “They’d better the fuck not be! If I don’t get your dick in–”

Cas slaps a hand over Dean’s mouth as Ellen chuckles. “All right, you lovebirds, get out of here. I expect a longer visit tomorrow.”

“Of course,” says Cas gravely, and he guides Dean to the door.

The walk to Cas’s car and the drive through town are both a bit of a blur, as Dean is preoccupied with trying to touch Cas as much as possible.

“Underage drinking and public intoxication,” mutters Cas, shepherding Dean through the hotel lobby.

“Ooh, are you gonna arrest me?” says Dean, thinking it might be the funniest joke he’s ever made.

Cas doesn’t even laugh, the asshole, just manhandles Dean into the elevator. “No, but I am taking you into custody.”

“Take me anywhere you want, baby.” Dean tries to kiss Cas for the hundredth or maybe the millionth time tonight, but Cas pulls away like he has every time before. Dean blinks rapidly. “Don’t you want me?”

“More than you can imagine,” is Cas’s instant answer. Dean’s face burns under the heat of his gaze. “Once I start, I won’t be able to stop. So we’re not starting until we’re in bed.”

That’s gratifying, though it doesn’t exactly calm Dean down. He gropes for the shirt buttons under Cas’s coat and fumbles with Cas’s belt buckle until Cas finally captures both of Dean’s wrists in one big hand, squeezing them tight while he finds his keycard and lets them into the room.

“Shoes off,” says Cas, as soon as they’re inside.

Dean immediately clatters to his knees and tugs on the laces of Cas’s brogues. He hears a muffled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh, but the task is hard enough already and he doesn’t want to look away.

He’s barely gotten both shoes untied when he’s yanked to his feet. Cas’s mouth is hot against his, murmuring, “You are something else, Dean Winchester,” then kissing him with all the pent-up intensity of their weeks apart.

There’s not a shred of self-control from either of them in this kiss. Cas sinks his teeth into Dean’s lip, and Dean returns the favor. Cas stakes a claim with his tongue, and Dean sucks it in deeper. Cas kisses like a wildfire, a tsunami, an avalanche, and Dean moans with delight as he’s burned and drowned and buried.

When Cas puts a millimeter of space between them so they can catch their breath, Dean manages a weak grin. “Thought you were waiting for the bed.”

“So obedient you follow orders I haven’t even given,” Cas marvels, “and still such a brat.”

Dean promptly finds himself hauled across the room and deposited on the edge of the bed, where Cas kneels at his feet to take off his shoes and socks. At eye level with the bulge in Dean’s jeans, he pushes Dean’s knees apart and leans forward to breathe hot air over it.

“Can we take our clothes off now, please,” Dean begs.

Cas gazes up at him with a face full of hunger and promise, then slowly gets to his feet and begins to strip. For a minute, Dean can only stare, but then Cas raises one eloquent eyebrow, and he hurries to peel off his own layers.

Naked, Cas crawls over him on the bed, and, naked, Dean falls easily onto his back.

Wherever their skin touches, it sparks and fizzes like a short circuit, like a chemical reaction, waking nerve endings Dean didn’t know he had. He needs this more than air, wonders how he ever lived without it. It’s better than alcohol, more addictive than nicotine, this high that he and Cas create when they’re together.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Dean chants between pressing kisses to Cas’s face and neck and chest, but his voice is soft and breathy and it sounds like love you, love you, love you.

Cas blankets Dean with his body, his mouth busy renewing the mark that had long since faded from Dean’s shoulder, then adding more to keep it company. His hips settle against Dean’s and their dicks line up in an electrifying slide.

Dean reaches down to take them both in hand, as much in wonder as lust. He never thought he’d get this again, and he feels strangely sentimental about seeing the two stiff cocks snuggled side by side in his palm.

Cas levers himself up on one arm and spits into his other hand, then holds it to Dean’s mouth in silent command. So Dean spits too, shivering with the dirty desperation of the act. Cas’s hand joins Dean’s around their cocks, easing the dry friction.

Dean rocks his hips. Cas tightens his fist. Dean thinks maybe this is even better than getting fucked, this intimate entanglement where each little pleasure-seeking movement ricochets madly through both of their bodies.

Still squeezing them together, Cas uses his thumb on the head of Dean’s cock, teasing the slit as he whispers in Dean’s ear, “My own, my beloved, I missed you so much. Let me show you, let me ruin you, fall apart for me.”

It’s more than Dean can take. He clings to Cas, hips jerking without rhythm as he comes all over his stomach and Cas’s hand. Cas groans, thrusting into the mess for a handful of seconds more until he stops and shudders, mingling his own release with Dean’s.

In the silence that follows, Dean listens to the syncopated beating of their hearts and realizes that he’s no longer drunk on anything but Cas. He’s sweaty, sticky, sleepy, and happy.

But, being himself, he needs to know when the other shoe will drop.

While Cas grabs a shirt from the floor and uses it to clean them both up, Dean asks, “How long are you in town?”

Cas throws the shirt back over the side of the bed. “As long as you are.”

“What?” Dean shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s crazy, man.”

“Why? Many people move greater distances to be close to their partners.” Cas tucks Dean into his arms and pulls up the covers. “I was tired of a long-distance relationship and gathered that you were, as well.”

Dean’s mind spins back to things he’d typed in the heat of the moment, in the middle of the night in a motel bathroom or alone in Baby’s front seat. Wish I could touch you. Want you inside me again. I’d make you feel so good if I were there. It’s not hard to understand how Cas interpreted them, but there’s one glaring fault in his logic–

“Buddy, we’re not in a relationship.”

Cas stares at him, perplexed, for a moment. Then his face clears. “Oh, yes. Sam warned me about this.”

“Sam what the fuck now?” yelps Dean, trying to jump out of bed, but Cas tightens his grip with deceptive ease, and nope, Dean’s not going anywhere.

“When we were saying good-bye,” Cas explains. “He told me that you struggle to express love and commitment in words, to the point of outright denial, but you convey these sentiments through your actions instead. He said he’s never seen you as happy as you’d been with me, and he hoped I wouldn’t let you sabotage the relationship with your self-worth issues.”

Dean’s mouth hangs open. He croaks, “And then he gave you my phone number?”

“And then he gave me your phone number,” confirms Cas. “After extracting my promise to quit smoking.”

“That intrusive little shit. That nosy fucking bitch. I’m gonna–I’m gonna–I’m gonna buy him a Cadillac.” Dean buries his face in Cas’s shoulder, blinking hard.

“He might appreciate a simple ‘thank you’ more.” Cas kisses the top of Dean’s head. “We could text him right now.”

Dean practically breaks out in hives at the thought, but then he realizes– “Oh shit, my phone’s still off!”

This time Cas lets him scramble out of bed, watching as Dean fumbles the phone from his jacket pocket. It was stupid to turn it off in the first place, stupider to leave it off, because what if Sam needed him, what if Dad, what if, what if ?

Sam: Crashing at Ash’s place.
Sam: I’m really sorry. Not about Stanford but, you know. I didn’t think.
Sam: Please be safe.

So Sam is fine. But there’s a missed call from an unknown number, which makes Dean’s heart race. He puts the voicemail on speaker and sits on the bed so Cas can rub his back.

“Hi, Dean. This is Sheriff Mills, Jody Mills. You may not remember me, but I remember you. Anyway, your father got picked up for disturbing the peace, and, well, if you want to come to the station and get him, I can’t stop you. But frankly, with the crap he’s been spewing, I’d rather you left him here and got on with your life. Heard about your nice young man from Ellen, hope I get to meet him. Bye now.”

Dean’s first instinct is to drop everything and go haul his dad out of jail. But he stays on the bed, and he tries saying out loud, “If you get locked up, I ain’t bailing you out.” It sounds good.

Cas looks at him with one side of his mouth slightly upturned in a sad sort of smile. “You asked me once, if I don’t take care of him, who’s gonna? ”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It was rhetorical, Cas.”

“Well, it sounds like you have an answer, anyway. The law’s ‘gonna.’”

“You and your air quotes. You’re such a dork.” Dean’s fingers hover over his phone for a few seconds, and then he taps back to the conversation with Sam.

Dean: im safe bitch
Dean: dads in the drunk tank
Dean: cas is in town. breafkast harvells 10am

Sam is probably asleep, but hopefully he’ll see the message in time to join them, giving Cas another friendly face to support him through any interrogation Ellen might have planned, and to help him cope with meeting Jo.

But Sam writes back immediately.

Sam: Good, let Dad rot.
Sam: AWESOME CAS IS HERE! Is he moving to town or are you moving back with him?
Sam: You guys should come to California!

“That’s not a bad idea,” says Cas, reading over Dean’s shoulder.

Dean glares, less annoyed at Cas's invasion of personal space than at his blatant disregard for the million problems with that idea. “You can’t just–what about your job?”

“Oh, I quit that too. You were right, police misconduct is a serious issue, and I’m glad to have cut my ties. Perhaps I’ll go into business as a private eye.”

“Well, what about your house?”

“I gave my landlady notice, and I told my family they could come and get their things from the garage or let her repossess it all. I don’t care.”

Dean tries to remember the other problems, a million minus two. “And what about . . . what about . . . me.”

“Yes, that’s the reason I would move anywhere. To be with you.” Cas kisses his cheek. “I love you.”

“But I’m–”

“Extremely lovable, yes, I’ve noticed.”

“Shut up. I’m not. I’m really, really not.”

“Luckily, it’s not up to you.”

“Asshole. I hate–” Dean stops himself.

What the hell. What the fucking hell.

He hides his head in Cas’s chest, and closes his eyes tight for good measure. “I love you, too.”

“Oh, Dean,” breathes Cas, as if he didn’t know, as if Dean hadn’t been stupidly, obviously, head over heels in love with him for much too long.

So Dean takes a deep breath, and looks Cas in the eye, and says it again.

They’re late to breakfast.