FRIDAY, APRIL 18TH. 4:36 PM
"Winchester!"
"Winchester!" Someone slapped him.
Dean jerked awake, looking up at several dozen staring faces and one very annoyed Ellen.
"Wha…? I miss something?" He rubbed his face, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.
"Oh, haha. Yeah, you missed more than half of the whole damn meeting!"
Shit.
"I'm sorry Ellen, I - " His words were cut off by a yawn.
"For crying out loud, somebody get this boy a coffee." Ellen sighed, gesturing to the secretaries with a hand on her hip. She was wearing VM's standard work out uniform; cargo pants, combat boots, a brown tank top and a black jacket. She looked menacing. Two of them rushed out the door, and she turned back to the meeting.
"Now, before we were rudely interrupted by a snoring Winchester, I was reminding you all of the rules. You all still work at Indagator, and we still sell security software. However, some of you have been neglecting to follow the rules, and now because of that, an anonymous source has informed us that the locals are becoming suspicious.
"So! Because of your carelessness, the rules will not only be posted on every bulletin board, they will also be posted on the doorway of every exit and entrance out of VM!"
Several people groaned and Ellen scoffed, picking up a whiteboard marker.
"No, no don't give me that. You did this to yourselves. Now. Can anyone remind me what rule number one is?"
Sarah, the secretary, raised her hand. "Absolutely no weapons on the upper floors."
Ellen nodded and wrote it down, and the others rushed back in, carrying an expresso. One of them set it down in front of Dean, and he thanked her with a smile. She blushed and staggered away, bumping into the wall. He sighed, taking a sip of the coffee. It reminded him of Cas.
"No weapons on the upper floors. We have this rule for a reason, and I'd like to think you all know why." She stared at the room for a couple seconds, and everyone responded with a "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. How about number two?"
"If you forget your keycard, then you can't get in, no exceptions!" Someone shouted from the back.
"Yes! And you know why we have this rule?"
"So that unwanted persons don't end up in the basement, or VM offices." Sarah answered.
"Exactly, Ms. Blake. Each and every one of you are required to slide your keycard before the elevator takes you down. I don't care if there's fifteen of you squished in there." Ellen added the second rule to the whiteboard.
"Now. Number three - yes, Mr. Walker?"
Gordon put his hand down and stuck it in his pocket. He was wearing cargo pants and a beige t-shirt, the same uniform as Ellen. "I'm one of the field agents. I'm an assassin. I don't understand why I have to sit through this meeting."
Ellen crossed her arms and stared at him.
"The rules apply to everyone, Mr. Walker."
"Yeah, but I'm not the one breaking them."
"And neither is Mr. Winchester here, who is also one of our assassins. But other people have, and now you're suffering the consequences of that. You take it out on them, not me. Now shut up and pay attention."
The room was dead silent, and Gordon crossed his arms.
"Right, rule number three. Harvelle?"
Jo was also wearing the uniform, but with a black tank top. She and Gordon stood out from the rest of the group, who were wearing gray and black suits and pencil skirts. Now that Dean was more awake, he was suddenly aware he was the only assassin in the room in a suit and dress shirt. He rubbed his shoulder.
"Dean!" Jo was shouting at him from a couple feet away, running away from the building at top speed. He was hunched over, feeling his own blood, warm and slippery, drip from his fingers where they were pressed against his abdomen. The stab wound wasn't the problem, not at all. It was the bomb twelve feet away.
"DEAN!"
He heard a high pitched beeping and hit the ground, an explosion rocking the area and knocking out his hearing. Waves of heat blasted his side, and he felt the pelting of stones and glass, then everything went black.
"Employees of both the cover company Indagator and the organization VM are required to exit and enter from the official entrance and exit only."
"And number four?"
"All assassins and employees that change during hours are required to change back into civilian clothing before exiting the building."
"Exactly. So that means even if you're missing little Tommy's birthday party, you are required to change and use the front entrance before leaving the building. No. Matter. What."
A lady with strawberry blonde hair raised her hand. "What about during an emergency? Like a fire or something?"
Ellen finished writing rules three and four on the board and capped the marker. She turned on the projector, and an architect's map of the building appeared. The ground floor and up was highlighted in blue, the basement in red, and the five floors underneath that - the organization VM, was in purple. There were two blocks of purple with lines leading to the last level of VM. Ellen pointed to those.
"Since some of you seem to have forgotten, this is the map of the company Indagator's building. All 25 floors in blue and the basement in red are on the official plan of the building. The levels in purple are not. The levels in purple are only accessed from an elevator in the basement. The levels in purple, are the organization VM, or Venetur Malum. You all here, especially those who carry out assignments," she glanced at Gordon, "should be familiar with this organization, since you work there.
"Now, these lines here, are tunnels, leading to these." She pointed to the blocks of purple, "These blocks are bomb shelters, with enough food, water, and clothes to last thirty-five people three weeks. If there were a fire, everyone in normal, civilian clothing, would rush out the front and back entrance. Those in drill clothes, such as myself and Ms. Harvelle, would make their way to these bomb shelters until police and firefighters leave the area. There are devices in there that allow cell phones to work, so those of you waiting will be able to contact family."
She switched the projector off. "Remember people, this is a secret organization, and we'd like to keep it that way."
"Now, someone tell me the last and most important rule we have."
Dean raised his hand.
"Winchester?"
"Under no circumstances are employees and agents of both Indagator and/or VM allowed to disclose information regarding anything pertaining to VM and/or VM's assignments." He recited. He knew the rules by heart.
"Perfect." She underlined this rule twice. "And for god's sake people, use some common sense. If it seems like there should be a rule against it, don't fucking do it."
She sighed and looked at the clock. "Alright. You're all free to go. But if you plan on breaking any of these rules - just remember we have a team of highly skilled assassins who have killed, and are willing to do it again."
The group chuckled and people started pushing out the door, Ellen watching them. Dean stretched and got up, throwing his now empty cup of coffee into the trash.
He approached her as the last person filed out.
"Ah, Dean. I expect you hung back to find out what you missed while you were sleeping." She grinned at him and he smiled sheepishly.
"Uh, yeah."
"Look, I know I practically raised you, but I can't keep letting you slide. This is the last time you get to sleep during our meetings and get away with it."
"Yes ma'am."
She sighed. "The gist of it was that we're on high alert now. Our target should be moving into prime position sometime next week."
Dean nodded.
"Hey, how is your brother anyways?"
Dean grinned proudly. "He proposed to Jess last month."
"He did? Well, tell him congratulations from me!" She looked him over and smoothed down the collar of his shirt. "When are you gonna get married, huh? Find someone, fall in love, have kids. That just not your thing?"
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe when I retire." Maybe then we'll hold a bigger wedding.
She laughed and patted his shoulder. "Fine, when you retire. But I better be invited to your wedding."
"Yes ma'am."
"Yo! Winchester! They fix the coffee machine?" Ash yelled, seeing Dean approach with his second cup of the day.
Dean smirked. Ash was stationed in front of three monitors, as usual, with Charlie across from him, typing furiously.
"Apparently, yeah." Dean put his coffee down and looked up, only to see Ash already halfway across the room, sprinting to the elevators. He snorted and shed his suit coat, placing it on the arm of his office chair.
The intel room on level 2 of VM was spacious, decorated in black and gray and red. There were stations set up everywhere, much like a lab, and each station had at least two people and four computers assigned to it. Everyone was bustling about, and now that they were on high alert, planning was starting. After planning came the confirmation, then the positioning, and finally the execution. Positioning was supposed to take less than a day, and execution a matter of hours. Most times the team were gone for three days or less.
He sighed and sat down, starting up his computer and opening up the email with all the information about their current target. He was in the middle of reading through the offenses when he heard a whoop and a "Booyah!" from across the table.
He looked up to see Charlie aggressively fist pumping. She flopped down with a happy smile, obviously pleased with herself.
"What?" He asked.
"I hacked into his email!" She nearly shouted.
"But - I thought we already got the target's email?"
"The email address he gives to clients, yeah, but this is his personal email."
"When'd you guys find that?" He inquired, leaning back in his seat.
"About … ten minutes ago." Charlie grinned.
"Awesome." They leaned forward and fist bumped, and Ash came sauntering back, a hot cup of coffee in his hand.
"What'd I miss?" He questioned, putting the coffee down and leaning over to catch a glimpse of what was on Charlie's screen.
"Charlie hacked into our target's personal email."
"Hellz yeah! You shown Garth yet?"
Charlie glanced at Dean. Garth was the operation's leader, but he had taken over after Dean had been removed from the field. He flexed his shoulder, the sting of a simple sentence still lingering.
"Look, I really don't want to do this, but damnit boy, you're my son. I can't let you take on any more missions." Bobby stated, staring at Dean. The bandages on his ribs and shoulder were due off next week, and he had been eager to get back to regular work.
"What - What do you mean I can't take any more missions? Bobby, I'm the best out there and you know it-"
"And that's why I can't afford to loose ya!" He shouted, slamming his fist down on the table.
The silence seemed to reverberate throughout the room.
"I'll uh, I'll do that now." She stammered, jumping up and rushing away.
She came back a few minutes later, Garth and Bobby trailing behind her. She sat down and both men peered over her shoulder at the screen.
"Huh. Great work, Bradbury. I want you to forward all of these to my email by the end of the day." Bobby remarked, straightening up and patting her on the shoulder. He walked away while Garth continued to look at the screen, grabbing the mouse and scrolling down a bit.
"What's that?" He asked, pointing to something. She opened up the email and they both looked through it, eyes widening.
"I need this and every other email in here forwarded to me too, Charlie. Fast as you can." He straightened up and rushed away.
Dean frowned. "What was that about? What's in there?"
Her hands were already flying across the keyboard. "I need you to add child pornography to the list of offenses."
Dean sat up, putting the coffee down and opening up his company email account. He typed up the message and sent it to everyone involved, and leaned back and sighed. Their current target was the type of guy Dean used to go after. He was always number one on the list when it came to sex offenders, rapists, shady politicians who got their kicks the nasty way. But nowadays he was sitting in his chair, looking for scumbags that the world would be better without. He was the one who planned how the entire assassination was supposed to go, but he was also the one who was stuck at home when everyone else went out and played guns and robbers.
They still had no clear confirmation on where their target was going to be, so Dean had nothing to do. He closed out of his email and opened up some flash game, shooting zombies with ease.
He was about to start another game when an ad in the corner caught his attention. It was advertisement for a ski resort. Which reminded him of something.
"Hey uh, I need to go talk to Bobby about something, you okay here?" Dean asked, getting up from his seat and stretching.
Ash turned and stared at him, and Dean snorted.
"I'll be back." He muttered.
"Sure thing, terminator."
He wove his way through the stations and software, reaching the door that was labeled 'Superior, Bob Singer', and knocked twice.
"Later!" A gruff voice shouts, and Dean sighed.
"Bobby, it's Dean."
He heard murmuring and then the thud of footsteps and then the door was opening and Bobby was sticking his head out, staring at him.
"What is it?" He asked, clearly in the middle of a conversation.
"I need to … ask you a question … pertaining to my home life." Dean replied, looking over his shoulder. Bobby hesitated then copied him, looking both ways before opening his door wide enough so Dean could get through, shutting it almost immediately after.
Jo was sitting in one of the chairs facing the desk, and she looked over at Dean as he entered.
"Dean." She smiled.
"Jo." He nodded.
"So. What's so important about you an' Cas that you had to interrupt my meeting?" Bobby growled, unbuttoning his suit. His hair was combed over, and his tie was yellow. They were on alert.
"Uh .. well .. " he fidgeted nervously, "I … me and Cas' anniversary is in three days, and well-"
He was cut off with a squeal from Jo, who clapped a hand over her mouth. He glared at her before continuing.
"And I know we're on high alert, but I was wondering if I could take a week off to spend time with him."
Bobby sighed and stared at the papers on his desk. "Boy, you're askin' me to let you take a whole damned week off - in the middle of one of our highest profile missions this year?"
Dean gestured to the papers. "Yeah, well, it's only April. And you're the one who said my time in the field has been cut to practically zero."
Bobby continued staring at his desk, and Jo huffed.
"C'mon Bobby, it's their anniversary. Let the lovers be."
Dean felt himself going pink.
"Yeah." Bobby finally answered. "Yeah, you can take the week off. But I want that phone on and on your person at all times. You hear me?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Now get out of my office."
FRIDAY, APRIL 18TH. 5:47 PM
Cas walked into the community center's locker room and pulled off his shirt, wiping away the sweat dripping from his face. He shed his clothes and stepped into the shower, the cold water a relief to his overheated body. He had been working out for the past hour and a half, and the feeling of his underwear sticking to himself had been unpleasant, to say the least.
He grabbed his soap from the shelf and rubbed himself down with it, the smell reminding him of Dean. It was his favorite.
He rinsed and got out, wiping himself down with a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He checked his phone for messages, finding none, as usual. His and Dean's anniversary was on Monday. He sighed heavily. Dean wanted to take a week off and relax, and Cas heartily agreed; but that meant that they had to talk to their managers, something neither of them wanted to do.
He had a day left.
Cas opened up his contacts and scrolled through them, landing on Crowley. He pressed call.
It rang twice before picking up.
"What is it?"
"Crowley, it's Castiel."
"Yes? What do you want?" He growled.
"I - I need to take a week off."
"You - A week?!" Crowley shouted.
"Yes."
"What in bloody hell for?"
"I'm having a, uh, family crisis."
"A family crisis."
"Yes."
"And what am I supposed to do with the rookie while you're gone?"
"I was hoping Gabriel would take him."
There was a sigh and a pause. "You get five days."
"But-"
"FIve. Days." He growled, then hung up.
Cas groaned and tossed his phone away. He ran a hand through his hair, standing up and letting his towel drop. He had just pulled on a pair of boxers when he heard a knock on the door, and looked up to see Anna standing there, arms crossed. She was wearing regular clothing, having finished her workout earlier in the day.
"You're leaving?" She asked, eyebrows raised.
"What?"
"I heard some of your conversation with Crowley in here. You're leaving? And dumping Alfie on Gabriel?"
"How did you-"
She tapped her temple. "I hear better than most, remember? So why are you leaving?"
Cas growled something about privacy and yanked on a shirt. "Family crisis."
"Right."
He glared at her, and she shrugged.
"Fine, but you're gonna have to deal with the others."
"I know, Anna. Now, if you don't mind, this is the men's locker room." he snarked, and she rolled her eyes and left.
He sighed, pulling on a pair of jeans and shoes. He stuffed his boots in his locker and shoved his sweaty clothes in a backpack; slinging it over his shoulder and walking out, locking the door and shutting off the lights. It was a little past five, and the community center had just closed. He made his way through the weight room and the game room, stopping at a door conveying that only employees were allowed past this point. He pulled out a set of keys and unlocked it, running up the stairs and down a hallway before entering a room labeled "Equipment". He knocked.
"It's unlocked." A voice called out, and Cas stepped in. The room was L-shaped, the short side on the left. The walls were covered in floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinets, and Gabriel was standing in front of a shelf, unpacking ammo from a box and placing it in stacks. He looked up as the door opened.
"What can I do for you, Cassie?" He was wearing his usual gray jacket with his hair slicked back, a few day's worth of stubble on his face.
"I have a … favor to ask of you."
"Ask away."
"I'm leaving for a five days and I - I need you to work with Alfie during that time, seeing as I will be out of the state." And out of the country.
Gabriel stopped unpacking and looked up.
"You're gonna be out of the state? When the fuck is this gonna be?"
"I leave tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?!" He shouted. "And you didn't think to give us a little warning first?! Y'know, like a polite human being?"
"It's - It's a family crisis! I wasn't given any warning either!" Cas shouted back. Someone knocked on the door.
Cas whipped around to see Michael and Zachariah standing there, both with boxes in their hands.
"Something wrong? We heard shouting." Zachariah asked, stacking his box on top of Michael's, who brushed past Cas to stand opposite of Gabriel.
"Cas here says he needs five days off. And I get Alfie." Gabe fumed, dropping the box of ammo in his hand.
Michael snorted. "As long as I don't have him, I'm fine with it." He ripped open the top box, pulling out three or four smaller boxes of ammo in each hand and stacking them on the shelf.
Cas turned from Michael to see Zachariah staring at him.
"Why do you need to leave?" The older man asked, maintaining eye contact. Zachariah was one of Cas' least favorite coworkers. Not only was he creepy, he was an asshole as well.
"Finally sick of never getting laid? Gonna go out and buy five day's worth of hookers?" He chuckled, and the others laughed with him.
"Family crisis." Cas growled, glaring at him.
"What? Did your mother finally kick the bucket? Congats." He patted Castiel on the shoulder. Cas resisted the urge to rip his arm from his body, hands clenching into fists and unclenching again.
"It's none of your concern." He replied.
Zachariah huffed and leaned against the door frame. "Fine."
When he said nothing more, Cas turned back to Gabriel, who was stacking the shelves again.
"Will you fucking take Alfie or not?" He exclaimed. Anna was his second choice, but she had already left, and Cas wasn't too fond of the idea of having to call her.
"Yeah, whatever." Gabe grumbled.
"Thank you." He enunciated, turning on his heel and shoving past Zachariah.
"Lock the door after you!" One of them shouted, and Cas barely avoided punching a hole in the wall.
FRIDAY, APRIL 18TH. 7:03 PM
Dean came home to the smell of pizza and an empty living room.
"Honey, I'm home!" He called out jokingly, walking into to the kitchen to see Cas standing next to a box of pizza. He was in a pair of boxers and a shirt, the dryer running softly in the background. Dean threw his keys onto the island and dropped his suit coat on the stool, rolling his sleeves up and assessing the food in front of him. It was meat lovers, his favorite. Cas was still standing opposite of him, smirking. Dean smiled.
"No home cooked meal?" He asked, still grinning.
"Too much work." Cas replied, slinking over to Dean and pulling him in to a kiss by his tie. It was quick and sweet, more of a hello than anything else. They broke apart, and Cas tugged on Dean's shirt.
"You need to change. My laundry is almost done, you can do yours after. The suitcases are in the bedroom." He murmured, sending shivers down Dean's spine. Doing laundry meant they were both going to be walking around in their underwear. Dean tipped his head back and cursed whatever god was up there for five am flights. It was a tradition of theirs, to walk around the apartment in just underwear or entirely naked on laundry day. It was a game of chicken, a game Dean seemed to loose almost every time.
"I'm only getting undressed if you take your shirt off, princess. I wanna see those wings of yours." Dean whispered. Cas took a step back and yanked it off, exposing his tattoos. He had two black rings wrapping around his left bicep, one thicker than the other, and when he raised his arms to stretch, he showed off the wings that were on the underside of his upper arms. Dean sucked in a breath and Cas smirked, slowly backing up to the fridge, purposefully bending over to grab the iced tea, since Dean had refused to have soda in his house.
"Oh my god, Cas, we have to get up in 8 hours." Dean groaned, leaning back against the island and scrubbing a hand over his face. He was half-hard already, and it just wasn't fair, because they had to be awake and ready by 3 in the morning.
He heard a "hmm" and the clink of glasses. Dean let his hand drop and turned to see Cas pouring two cups of iced tea. He reached out to grab one but his hand was smacked away.
"What the hell?"
"You're still dressed."
"Cas, we'll have the honeymoon suite all to ourselves for over a week. You can wait one night." Dean uttered weakly.
Cas froze. "Uh. Right."
"Cas?" Dean questioned, concerned with Cas' sudden change in behavior.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw and sighed. "I spoke to Crowley today. I only got five days."
Dean stared at him before letting out a gust of air, choosing to glare at the pizza instead. Cas worked every day except Sunday, but his hours were shorter than Dean's. This meant they had to be back by Friday instead of Sunday, cutting even more time out of their vacation.
"…Dean?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll go change the flights." He answered, walking back to their bedroom. He stripped and threw everything but his underwear into his hamper, silently thankful that Cas and his' laundry was separated. He pulled his phone out of his jacket before dropping it back with the rest of the clothes, opening up the airline's page and switching their flights around so that they'd get back Thursday evening.
He dropped his phone on the bedside table and walked over to the mirror covering the right wall. He stared at his scars, wishing for the thousandth time that they didn't exist. The skin over his right shoulder and ribs and some of his hip was stretched and ugly and pinkish, reminders of the one mission he had failed. He traced his fingers over the lines and the lumps, wrinkling his nose. There was nothing he could do about it, and he accepted that, but it didn't stop him from hating every inch of it.
He awoke to jostling, his side throbbing and burning. It felt like he was on fire. Dimly, he heard himself shout, with a few voices answering, but he was ridding waves of pain, everything hazy and sluggish. He felt someone press hard down on his abdomen, and he thrashed; the pressure causing the stabbing stinging pain to spread to his abdomen. Arms grabbed his legs and hands held them down, while someone cut off his vest and shirt. He heard something about pants and his name and then he was slipping, the searing pain and the heat dragging him under.
Dean had told Cas that there had been some accident when he was a teenager. It was a flimsy lie, one he wasn't sure Cas believed, but it had been all he could come up with at the time.
He stared at the tattoo over his heart. It was the orion constellation; something he and Jo had gotten together a week before the explosion. It was slightly stretched now, but still recognizable.
"Dean?" Cas' voice is right behind him and he twirled, instinct causing him to raise his arms in a defensive position. Cas was standing there with his hands up, eyes wide.
"Damnit Cas, don't do that!" Dean gasped, letting his arms fall back to his sides.
"I apologize." Cas mumbled, placing his hands on Dean's hips, rubbing soothing circles into the skin. "C'mon, the pizza is going to get cold if we leave it any longer."
He stepped back and took Dean's hand in his, leading him back to the kitchen. They ate in silence, jumping when the timer for the dryer went off. Cas collected his clothes and headed back to their room to pack, and Dean grabbed his hamper and unloaded it into the washer, using stain remover on the dried blood on one of his shirts.
They curled up together by nine thirty, bags packed and ready.
SATURDAY, APRIL 19TH. 3:31 AM
Dean awoke to hot breath on his neck and the sound of his alarm. Groggily, he tried to shut it off but missed, making it change to some radio station blaring mullet rock. Arms tightened around his waist and he cursed under his breath, trying to sit up. He heard a soft moan and looked down, finally noticing Cas. His cheeks were flushed, and he was gripping the bedsheets.
Dean shut the radio off and rubbed a hand over his face, propping himself up with his elbow. He looked over at Cas again, groaning under his breath. He looked entirely too debauched for three in the morning. Normally, he'd wake up the heavy sleeper with an orgasm, but it was already three thirty, and they had to leave by four in order to get to the airport on time.
"Cas." He murmured, shaking his husband's shoulder. He only sighed.
"CAS."
Castiel groaned and rolled over. Dean huffed.
"I know you're awake. If you get in the shower now, there'll be hot coffee ready when you get out."
He mumbled something unintelligible but sat up, yawning and tipping over onto Dean's shoulder. "Had a dream 'bout you."
"And that's why you get the shower to yourself." Dean smiled. Cas groaned and pushed off Dean's shoulder, rubbing at his eyes. He climbed out of bed and stood there, the obvious tent in his boxers catching Dean's attention. "You sure you don't wanna come?" He raised an eyebrow.
Dean cleared his throat. "Nah, I'll go … make some coffee."
"Fine."
Dean let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when the door to the bathroom shut. He stood and made his way to their closet, pulling out a gray henley and one of his wool coats. He tossed them and a pair of jeans onto their bed for later.
Dean padded into the kitchen, starting up the coffee machine and leaning against the counter. He could see into the living room from here, and the sun was nowhere near up. They'd be in Canada in three hours.
Dean pushed through the crowd, the sheer amount of bodies packed into one area making him claustrophobic. He couldn't believe Garth had talked him into this. Okay, so maybe he was getting cabin fever after being contained inside for such a long period of time. Maybe he really did want to go party at some ski resort in Canada. But he hadn't expected the place to be so packed.
He stopped at the bar and ordered his second scotch, trying take the edge off. Some guy bumped into him and Dean turned to glare, only to be met with blue eyes and pink lips and stubble and hey there.
"You mind?" Dean growled, but there was barely any heat behind his words.
The guy looked over at Dean with a sly smirk. "Sorry." But he didn't seem sorry at all.
He picks up his drink and swallows it in one gulp, turning to stare at Dean again. The bartender sets down Dean's drink and he does the same thing, throwing down a couple bills to pay for it.
They stared at each other for a couple seconds before the guy smirks again. "My name's Cas."
"Dean." He responds.
"How about you come and dance with me, Dean?" Cas grins. Dean glances at the crowd.
"I'd need another drink first."
Somehow, after their third round of scotch, he found himself being led into the crowd. Some song with heavy bass was playing, and the alcohol made everything pleasantly fuzzy. Cas grabbed onto his hips and swayed to the beat, forcing Dean to move. They were back-to-front, and he took the chance, grinding down hard into Cas and earning him a groan. His chin was on Dean's shoulder, breath puffing over his ear. Sweat dripped down from his brow and Dean turned his head, now nose-to-nose with Cas. He leaned forward and smashed their lips together, and Cas let go of his hips, allowing Dean to move his body so that he could grab at his sides.
They made out like horny teenagers, barely swaying enough to keep time to the music. Eventually they broke apart for air and Dean pulled him close, his mouth at Cas' ear so that he could be heard over the noise.
"You wanna get out of here?"
He nodded enthusiastically and grabbed Dean's hand and they were both drunk, but not black-out drunk, just drunk enough to not care about where they were or who was watching or what they did or how it was going to feel in the morning.
They stumbled a bit but made it out of the sea of people and through the doors, and when Dean looked around he realized he was in the pool room, and people were milling about and there was a huge-ass hot tub right in front of them with only five people in it. He backed Cas up to the edge and let go of his hand, pushed him, and he fell right in, spluttering and splashing everywhere. Dean doubled over laughing and Cas stood up, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He gave a little tug and suddenly Dean was off-balance and falling in too, and the water was hot but not too hot, and Cas was right there so what the hell.
He surged forward and pinned Cas to the edge and licked his way into his mouth, ignoring the taste of chlorine and the people behind them. He shucked off his shirt and threw it somewhere on the ground in front of him him, and Cas did the same thing. Dean nipped at Cas' lower lip and he moaned, and then someone coughed. Dean looked back to see some lean blonde dude holding a glass of champagne, girls on both sides, staring at them.
"Cassie, darling, I'm glad you're finally enjoying yourself, but I'd rather you not do it in front of me, thanks." He smiled politely.
Dean looked back to see Cas staring at the guy like he'd just noticed he was there. "Right. Apologies." He muttered, climbing out. Dean followed and grabbed his hand, and together they made their way back into the main building, water dripping from their pants.
"Who was that?" Dean asked, leading Cas to his room. He hoped to god that Garth wasn't in there.
"My cousin, Balthazar. He's the one that brought me here. This is his party."
"Well," Dean winked at Cas, and the elevator dinged open. "make sure to thank him for me."
They rode it up and stumbled back to his room, laughing and shoving and grabbing. He fumbled with his keycard but finally managed to get the door open, and they tumbled inside. Dean instantly peeled off the rest of his wet clothes, Cas doing the same, and they hit the bed together, Dean on top. He kissed Cas again before traveling down, stopping at his collarbone. He nipped and sucked at it, soothing the skin with his tongue before doing it again, stopping when the mark he had created was good enough for him. Cas groaned and ran his hands through Dean's hair, spraying them both with water, but they didn't care.
He moved down and nuzzled the inside of Cas' thighs, eliciting a gasp. Dean made another hickey and then licked a stripe up Cas' shaft, swirling his tongue over the head before swallowing him down, inch by inch. Cas watched the whole thing with wide eyes, propping himself up on his elbows for a better view. Dean pulled back until his mouth was just over the head, and Cas fell back onto the bed, his arms giving out. Dean flicked his eyes up to meet his, and the heat in them made Cas moan low in his throat. Dean lowered his head and pulled back again, this time lightly trailing his teeth over Cas' erection, making his hips jerk up. The wet heat of Dean's mouth was amazing, sending little lightning bolts of pleasure up Cas' spine every time he so much as moved. His thighs were trembling in an effort to keep from thrusting up, and then there were hands on his hips, and he let out a breathy moan that was cut off as Dean flicked his tongue over the underside of the head.
The heat under his skin was boiling, building up and threatening to spill over. Dean licked up the precome and Cas had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting. He tugged on Dean's hair and he let out a gasp, letting himself be led back to Cas' mouth. He could taste himself on Dean's lips and Dean groaned, flipping them over and raking his fingernails over Cas' back. He moaned loudly, a sound that went straight to Dean's neglected cock.
"So - so close." Cas gasped, reaching down and fisting them with one hand. The spit aided him, sending sparks of pleasure through them both. They built up a rhythm, each thrust getting him closer and closer to the edge, the fire burning hotter and hotter before finally exploding and then his orgasm was ripping through him, punching the air from his lungs. Cas wasn't far behind and then he was spilling into the space between their bodies and collapsed on top of him, catching his breath. They laid like that for a few minutes before Dean pushed up, groaning at the mess they had made. He picked up his wet jeans from the floor and wiped himself and then Cas down, before climbing back in bed because it was comfy and they were both too drunk to do much else.
He was jerked out of the memory by the beeping of the coffee machine, and Cas padded in in nothing but a towel. Dean poured two cups, adding a liberal amount of cream and sugar to his. They stood there in silence, sipping their coffee. He finished his before Cas and took his shower, emerging to find Cas waiting for him on the bed. They dressed together and left, hand in hand.
They bought breakfast at the airport together, and Dean felt a little weird turning his phone off during the flight, but Cas fell asleep against his shoulder and everything seemed like it was perfect.
The flight was a little over and hour and they checked into the ski resort at seven, the same one they'd met at a year and a half ago. They had gotten a honeymoon suite just for kicks, and Dean didn't regret it one bit. The bed was better than he could have imagined, big and fluffy and soft and just right for fucking on. He bounced on it a little, and Cas raised his eyebrows.
Dean stretched out on it, a sly smile spreading across his face. "Wanna test it?"
Cas grinned. "Sure."
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 23RD. 12:28 PM
Castiel sat back and admired his view. Dean was holding his legs up, exposing his hole, fucked out and sloppy from the two rounds they went this morning. He was panting and flushed, his eyes unfocused.
"Cas." He groaned, voice low and gravely, sending shivers up his spine.
"I know." He breathed, lining up and pushing in slowly, knowing Dean was extra sensitive right now. Dean rested his legs against Cas' shoulders and fisted the sheets, his eyes scrunching up in pleasure. Cas paused and buried himself in Dean's heat with one thrust, making the man cry out.
"Fuck, Cas." Dean moaned. "Fucking move."
Cas pulled back and then slammed back into him, and Dean grunted. His hips rocked back at him, silently pleading for more. Cas could feel the sheen of sweat covering them, the slide of their bodies with each thrust. They worked themselves into a rhythm, and the closer Dean was, the louder he got.
He was moaning every time Cas slammed into him, and Cas was so close. He could feel orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds Dean was making bringing him to the edge. He quickly changed his angle and was rewarded with a shout, hitting Dean's prostate. Dean's fingers scrabbled over Cas' back and then he was coming untouched, body jerking, squeezing and clenching around Cas, sending him over the edge with him.
He pulled out with an obscene sound and flopped down next to him, catching his breath. Dean rolled over and wrapped his limbs around Cas' body, falling asleep barely minutes later.
He woke up at three, sticky but satisfied. There was that pleasant soreness that accompanied a good fuck when Dean stretched, and he fell back against the pillows, wishing time could freeze so that he could be stuck in this moment forever. But then his stomach rumbled and he brought back to reality, suddenly aware that he was starving. They'd worked up an appetite that day. He nudged the man sleeping next to him.
"Cas."
"Mmm."
"Caaas."
"Mmmmmm."
Dean groaned and got up, stretching again and walking towards the bathroom. He knew Cas was watching, and added a sway to his hips, lingering in the doorway longer than was necessary.
"If only I had someone to shower with…" He teased, looking back to see Cas sitting up against the headboard. He huffed, rolling his eyes, but climbed out of bed to join him.
They made it downstairs, clothed and hungry, about half and hour later. The resort had a restaurant, and they ate bacon and sausage and eggs and pie together in their own booth near the back. The place was quiet and Dean liked it.
They walked around the resort after lunch, already having done all of the activities that interested them earlier in the week. The resort was at the base of the mountain, so it was warm enough for jeans and a tshirt. They ended up in the garden, admiring the flowers.
"If we didn't live in that apartment, I would love to start a garden." Cas remarked, fingers brushing over a poppy.
Dean sighed. They had talked about it before, getting a house, settling down, maybe adopting a kid or two when they were ready. But settling down meant choosing between Cas and the job, something he wasn't sure he could do.
"Maybe you could start one downstairs, behind the building. Or upstairs, near the pool. You could get one of those planter boxes and do it right up against the ledge. We could ask the-"
"Dean." Cas stroked the Dean's thumb with his, having refused to stop holding hands. "It's fine."
"Are you sure? Because-"
"I said it's fine." He reassured, tugging Dean forward. "Really."
He heard him sigh and turned around, coming face to face with him. He let go of his hand and cupped Dean's face, kissing him softly. He stepped back, tugging at him with both hands.
"C'mon. Let's go swim."
The pool room was excessively large, with a huge pool and a huge hot tub and a huge diving board. It looked exactly the same as he remembered it, with the chairs in the back and the tub in the front and the 9 foot deep end that Dean said was the same color as his eyes.
They were sitting together in the hot tub when they heard Dean's phone. He frowned, reaching over to dry off his hands on his pants then pulled it out of the pocket, checking caller ID before answering.
"Bobby?"
"Look boy, I know you're on your vacation 'n all, but we've targeted The Sheppard and Garth's called in sick."
"And?"
"And by sick I mean pukin' his guts out."
Dean stood up quickly, running a hand through his hair and keeping it there. "So - so you want me…?"
"You're the most qualified man on this team, Dean. You were only pulled out 'cause I said so. We need you, and we need you now."
"Bobby, I can't just - "
"I already paid for the plane and there's a ride comin' up for you in half an hour. There'll be another ride waiting for you when you get back, and you'll get directions from there."
"Bobby -"
"Look, I know. But if we miss this chance we have no clue when he'll pop up again. You of all people should know how long we've been searchin' for 'im."
Dean growled and scrubbed the side of his face, gesturing to thin air. "What am I supposed to tell him?"
"It was your decision to keep this all from him when you married 'im. Tell him whatever you need to tell him, I don't care. Just be ready when the ride comes." He hung up and Dean stared at his phone.
A hand touched his arm. "Something wrong?" Cas was looking at him all concerned, and it made Dean angry, because he had to leave in thirty minutes and how the fuck was he supposed to explain this?
"I - uh - they want me to come in. Like, now."
"Now? Didn't you tell them you were on vacation?" Cas' voice is confused and damnit, Dean hates everything.
"I did, yeah. But apparently the guy in charge of the meeting is sick or something and they can't get ahold of the backup guy, and this is Microsoft we're talking about. And they're willing to pay me overtime. I'm just - I'm sorry." Dean tossed his phone onto the ground and climbed out, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around himself. Cas followed him, grabbing his clothes.
"And do they expect you pay for the plane?" Cas asked, sounding incredulous. Dean picked up his phone and pushed through the doors, walking faster than normal.
"No, they took care of that. There's a ride coming for us in half an hour."
"Half an hour?!"
"I - yeah. Damnit. I'm sorry. I really am." And he was.
He heard a sigh from the side of him. "Yeah."
"No, Cas, really I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."
They stopped at the elevators, and Cas was looking at the ground. "It's fine. I understand."
"Cas, -"
"It's fine."