Serious Thinking
The pie sat on the table, steam wafting from it like the gentle laughter of a child who is falling asleep. Inside of the perfectly golden brown and sugar dusted crust, soft, plump, cooked apple and cinnamon rested deliciously, waiting to be devoured. It sat comfortably in a glass pie tray with a little silver fork next to it. The table it was on was a small coffee table in the middle of a living room in a rented house off of some highway somewhere in Nebraska. Behind the coffee table was an old green couch and on that couch sat a man no longer an angel, wearing an AC-DC t shirt and jeans. Sharp blue eyes staring blankly at the pie, pastel pink lips being licked and bit, he was holding himself up by his elbows on his knees.
The Impala's engine rumbled to a stop in the garage. Cas didn't flinch. He had been doing some serious thinking while Dean had been away, and now – finally – his plan was taking action.
Keys jingled and locks clicked open, door hinges squeaked and floorboards whined. A familiar musky smell slowly joined the smell of cooked apples and a loud grunting cough to clear the throat echoed down the hall way.
Cas looked up and, the tips of his eyebrows knitting above his nose, licked his lips as Dean walked in. Dean had no eyes and no ears momentarily. He was solely and completely nose. He dropped his bag at the door and walked hurriedly into the living room. His eyes darted across the room, wide with promises. He located the pie and stepped towards it, the corner of his mouth hitching up into a smirk. Cas licked his lips again and smiled.
"Pie?" Dean asked, quietly.
"Pie." Cas assured.
"My pie?"
"Your pie."
Dean nodded slowly and at next to Cas so that their thighs pressed against the other. He slapped the inside of Cas' thighs, ensuring the constant sexual tension between them, the thick force that they based their relationship on without acting upon it. Cas swallowed hard.
For as long as he could remember, he had been fine with the tension between them. Hell, he enjoyed it! But after his patch of serious thinking, he looked at the tension in a new light.
Dean picked up the fork, hands shaking, breathing deep. He plunged the fork deep into the centre of the pie. A fresh jet of steam is released, along with a strong punch of smell. Cas smiles as Dean lifts the fork to his mouth, his eyes never leaving the piece of baked good, as if it were to disappear. His mouth closed over the fork and he dragged it out slowly, his eyes crunched up. Cas' hand wandered to Dean's knee. Dean chewed and swallowed, slowly, and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Did you make that?" Dean asked, turn to Cas. He was smiling now. Dean smiling is a rare treasure that few people get to enjoy. Cas delighted in the moment.
"I did." Cas replied, eyes dating from the mossy green eyes of the other and his thin and probably delicious lips.
"Have you tried any yet?"
"I haven't."
Dean dug another lump out of the pie and held it in front of Cas' face. He swivelled around so his leg was resting on top of the Cas' and their bodies were facing each other.
"Go on, open." Dean said. Cas raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, keeping his eyes locked with Dean's. Dean put the fork in his mouth, smiling open mouthed. He too slowly savoured the miraculous sensation inside his mouth. While he was chewing, he closed his eyes. He then let his hand wander farther, up Dean's leg, along his thigh. He was leaning ever so slightly forward, subconsciously wanting to be as near to Dean as possible.
"Mmm," Cas moaned. "Damn, I'm good."
Dean recoiled from shock. His eyes widened again and he almost dropped his fork. When Cas opened his eyes, he was instantly scared he had done something wrong.
"Damn?" Dean repeated slowly, raising his eye brows and squinting a little, "I'm good?" He paused again, a smirk taking over his face. His gorgeous, perfect face. "Damn, I'm good…" He said, quieter. "Yes, yes you are." He winked and turned back to continue eating the pie.
Cas kept his hands on Dean, on his back, on his leg. He resisted playing with his hair. Dean kept his eyes focused on the pie, and both men were quiet. Dean enjoying his pie and Cas enjoying his Dean.
While he ate, Dean had a small patch of his own serious thinking. It went like this:
Cas is all over me. (This repeated itself for several minutes, all in different tones and with different meanings.) Why? Usually he keeps to himself, usually he doesn't like being touched. Maybe it's not Cas. And he made the pie, would Cas do that? I think so.
Yes, it is definitely Cas. I would have noticed if it wasn't.
Holy shit, this is good pie.
Maybe Cas wants to do something. Maybe Cas read my diary. (He didn't think that last one, but wouldn't it be great if he did?)
Maybe Cas wants to do something. Do I want to do something?
I do.
I love pie.
But what if Cas doesn't? I don't want to make a serious move and freak him out. I don't want to push him, I don't want to make him uncomfortable or scared…
But he's all over me!
Pie and being felt up Cas? Man, this is a good day.
I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna do it.
What if he doesn't want it?
Of course he wants it, it's me.
What if he doesn't…?
He's all over me…
Pie…
Sex?
And then he finished the last bit of pie, sat up and turned to Cas. One last through of: oh, fuck it, and he leaned into Cas, his hands darting behind his neck and his lips pressing hard onto the baby pink lips of the ex-angel sitting across from him.
Cas was startled, to say the least. Momentarily, his plan was totally ruined. But things ticked over in his mind, as he subconsciously kissed Dean back, and he decided that yes, he could roll with this.
Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him closer. They shifted around a little so that Dean was sitting practically on top of Cas; his legs bent straddling Cas' own legs. Denim rubbed against denim and Dean's jacket was long gone in the blink of an eye. Shortly followed by Cas' AC-DC shirt.
Dean ran his hands along Cas' chest, palms flat. He felt the throbbing beneath the skin that was his heart. He felt the heat radiating from his body. Dean moved his head round to look over the gorgeous body that he could never have imagined owning like this (well, he could, and he had, but he didn't think it would actually happen.)
Cas moved his lips down along Dean's neck, sucking hard on some rather sensitive spots. Dean, with his hands grabbing Cas' sides, gasped and grunted as Cas left marks on his neck and nibbled on his ear. Dean stretched his neck out, giving Cas room. Dean's hands followed the line of muscles down his stomach and into the 'v' that led into the pants.
Dean noticed that Cas' breathing had changed. It seemed more panicky. He sat up, smiling and panting slightly.
"You alright?"
A long pause as Cas' breathing slowed. "Y-yes. I am enjoying this, Dean."
What happened to 'Damn, I'm good?' "So am I. But…" Damn it, Dean, what are you doing! "I don't want you to go further than… than you're comfortable with…" He held himself up with his arms stretched out behind him. Luckily his jeans were tight because he had a real hard one for Cas right then. He really, really, wanted Cas to be alright with going a little further. Hell, he hadn't gotten laid in ages. But at the same time, he wanted to… respect? Yea, he wanted to respect Cas.
Another engine pulled in to the garage. Cas and Dean's eyes widened in shock horror. Dean let out a little laugh as Cas practically threw him off to get his shirt. He had only just pulled it on when the door opened.
