Hi, guys! I know it's been forever since I've posted anything, but I really wrote this the other night and I couldn't let it go. Hopefully this means I'm back.
I wrote this after 12x02 because it really bothers me when people call Castiel the Winchester's attack dog.
They shouldn't bother him. He knows, he really does, that the Winchester's don't think of him that way. But ever since that, the words keep replaying in his head.
'I powered down all the wards in this shack so your attack dog could come in.'
He knows that he's family, that the Winchester's would go through hell to get him back or help him if he needed it. He knows that he's more than just a useful tool for the Winchester's to use. He knows that the only reason Mick used those words was because Dean had used them just moments before.
He knows.
So why is there a sick burning in his stomach, twisting and churning until he was sure he was going to be sick?
They were back in the bunker now. Mary had retired to her room, and Sam had gone into the library to see if he could find anything on the British chapter of the Men of Letters. He and Dean were in Dean's room, watching some mindless documentary on Netflix. Usually, Castiel would be enraptured. He loved learning new things.
Not tonight.
Dean is more perceptive than people give him credit for. He notices that something was wrong about halfway into the show. He sets his beer on the bedside table, picking up the remote and pausing the show, then turns towards Castiel.
"What's up?" he asks. Castiel hesitates. Dean has enough on his plate without adding Castiel's unnecessary fears to it, with his mom being back and Lucifer being free and the British Men of Letters kidnapping and torturing his bother. He considers not answering at all, ignoring the man until he eventually gives up and goes back to watching how 9/11 was all an inside job.
But then Dean reaches out, touching his elbow to gain his attention. He looked up, right into those green eyes, and knew that he couldn't lie, nor could he evade, the question. And honestly, he didn't want to.
"It's foolish." He mumbles, looking away from Dean's searching eyes. When Dean doesn't answer, however, Castiel looks back up. He still sitting, still waiting, being patient until Castiel figures out how to correctly word the feeling in his chest. "It's bothering me. What Mick said."
"The British guy?" Dean asks. "What did he say that's bothering you?"
Castiel takes a deep breath, because he feels like an imbecile for admitting this. Because logic isn't the primary factor. His own insecurity is. He hates admitting that he needs Dean to tell him that he is important to them. That he's wanted and not just needed.
"When he called me your attack dog." He confesses, looking up at Dean. He sees the recognition there, when Dean realizes exactly why those words would bother him.
They've had this conversation before.
"Cas…" he starts, and Castiel can't take it. He can't take it because he knows. He knows that he's being absurd, and that Dean wants, and even though he needs to, he doesn't want to hear Dean calmly lay down his platitudes and tell him that he really is wanted, needed, and that Dean would go to the ends of the earth for him.
So he doesn't. Instead, he leans over and kisses Dean, not caring that he was trying to distract him. Not caring that Dean knew that.
Dean reacts just as Castiel knew he would, his hand sliding up into the angel's hair and holding him, his tongue licking at the seam of Castiel's lips until they part for him, granting Dean's tongue the access it was asking for.
It's always been ridiculously easy to distract Dean with sex. Ever since they had admitted that this thing was real, that the casual touches and longing glances weren't as platonic as they both had convinced themselves that they were, Dean had always, as he would say, 'been down' for sex.
Castiel pulls Dean closer, stretching out on the bed and pulling the hunter until he was hovering, their lips still connected even as Dean ran his hands over Castiel's stomach, untucking his shirt to get at the skin underneath. Castiel's own hands wind tight around his hunter, one hand tangled in his short hair and the other clutching at the soft, vintage t-shirt that he was fond of wearing to sleep in. (Vaguely, Castiel was aware that this was one of Dean's favorite bands, but he couldn't remember the name.)
Dean isn't the only one that loses himself when they were together. Having Dean's lips moving over his, their bodies pressed together, was the most wonderful thing Castiel could ever remember feeling. (And that was quite a feat, considering just how vast his memory was.)
Dean undresses him slowly, unbuttoning his shirt and kissing every newly revealed patch of skin with reverence. That is different, but it feels incredible so he allows it. Once Dean succeeds in his mission to unbutton Castiel's shirt, the hunter's hands move to his shoulders, urging him to sit. The moment he complies he is rewarded with Dean's lips on his and Dean's hands pushing his shirt, jacket, and coat all off at once. It was cast aside and Dean was back on him, urging him to lay back against the bed. He reached for Dean, gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling until Dean decided to help him. It joined Castiel's clothes on the floor.
Dean settled between Castiel's legs, kissing his lips once again, his hand cradling Castiel's face. Again, this was very unlike Dean, but the difference was pleasant so he didn't mind very much. Dean gradually moved his kisses, working his way down Castiel's jaw to his neck, sucking lightly on his pulse point before moving down to kiss and nip at his bare chest.
"You're beautiful." The words are muffled against the angel's skin, but unmistakable. He looked down in surprise, but Dean had already moved on, sucking carefully on his stomach, then running his tongue along the wonderful trail leading to where Castiel wants him the most. He reaches down, running one hand through Dean's hair and causing the hunter to look up curiously.
"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." Dean states, climbing back up Castiel's body and straddling his hips.
"What do you mean?" Castiel asks, disappointed only for a moment that Dean didn't continue his kissing. His hands settled easily on Dean's hips.
"You're trying to distract me. Like you always do when you're feeling insecure." Dean tells him, rolling his hips so that Castiel could feel the hunter's hardness against his stomach - Castiel's grip tightened on Dean's hips in response. "But since you don't like to talk about it…" Dean leans down, capturing Castiel's nipple in his mouth and sucking - Castiel arches his back, crying out in surprise – "I thought I'd show you instead. How much you mean to me."
It was over after that. Dean was relentless in his worship of Castiel's body, tasting and teasing and bringing him to the edge, only to pull him back with sweet kisses and whispered endearments. It was the most exquisite kind of torture, something that Castiel would experience over and over again so long as Dean is the one who administers it.
"I'm always gonna need you, Cas." Dean whispers against his collarbone. Their pants had disappeared a while ago "You're always going to be who I need. What I need. No matter what happens." He picks up his head, trailing careful kisses along his jaw. "I love you, Cas. You and Sam, and now Mom, you're all I have." He kisses him softly. "You aren't an attack dog. You're family, Cas. You're mine." Dean rolls his hips, causing their naked cocks to slide together in agonizing pleasure.
"Dean, please, I need…" Dean soothes him with soft kisses, pressed to his lips as Dean's hand wraps around both of their cocks. The teasing from earlier takes its toll, and in minutes they are both gasping out their orgasms together, breathless against each other's lips.
They both take a few minutes to gather themselves. Dean finds a few baby wipes to clean them up and then takes Castiel in his arms, holding him close. The silence was comfortable, both of them having exhausted everything that was on their chests.
"You said you loved me." Castiel murmurs sometime later. He knows that Dean isn't asleep, the rise and fall of his chest is too irregular for the hunter to have nodded off. It takes a few seconds, but eventually he feels Dean's hand under his chin, coaxing the angel to look up at him. Castiel meets his eyes, searching for some evidence of the truth in them.
"I do. I do love you." Dean says, his voice resolute. "And while we're being honest, I have for a long time." There's a thumb on his cheek, moving back and forth as Dean smiles down at him.
"I feel the same." Castiel declares, not looking away. "I love you, as well. I have since I first laid eyes on you in Hell." He turns his head, pressing a kiss to Dean's thumb.
Dean's answering smile is so brilliant that Castiel can't help but stretch up and kiss him. It's soft, and sweet, and exactly what Castiel never knew that he needed.
"I'm glad we're on the same page, then." Dean rumbles, his voice low. He moves back in for another kiss. "I'm always gonna need you, Cas." He reiterates, making Castiel nod. "Always. You're part of this family now. You're never going to get rid of us."
"I know." Castiel tells him, and even believes it. He knows that Dean would never lie to him about this.
He knows.