When Dean fucks Castiel, a lot of the time it isn't for pleasure.
They don't have a lazy weekend to spend in bed, him twirling the angel's long, dark locks and spooning him breathless with precision. They don't have a bed half the time, it's whatever flat surface nearby that can stand the pressure - which isn't nearly as sexy as it sounds, brick wall rub fucking hurts a week later - of their grinding bodies.
When Dean fucks Castiel, a lot of the time it is to assure himself that he is real, that Cas is real, that they aren't dead yet and the first time wasn't a fluke, they survived another week or month or year without a rendezvous.
"I fucking love you," he says one time, a not special time, they're in the back of the Impala, for God's sake. "I do. Fuck, Cas," he groans as his lover ceases noises of pleasure. "I do."
"I know you do," Castiel grumbles into the leather. He balls his fists as Dean slams into his prostrate; he's never been a vocal bottom, not that Dean is surprised. "And I you. We simply cannot-"
Dean gives out with a cry to cut off whatever half-assed excuse Castiel can concoct, shuddering his way through the orgasm. He rubs circles with a cool hand on the angel's tanned back afterward and twirls locks he will only see from a distance for several weeks with the other. "I know," he exhales with trepidation. "Fucking jobs."
"You are saving a great deal of people with your work, Dean." The angel twists to his back so he can caress one stubbly cheek. He holds the hand that had been massaging him gently on his chest. Dean twirls his hair. "Do not curse them so."
"I know I shouldn't. But-" And his green eyes well stupidly, so he quits twirling to wipe them out of existence. "-Cas, sometimes I wanna stop. Settle down. Adopt some fucking rugrats, if that's okay. I don't know. Shit."
"You would do this for me?"
"You dragged me out of Hell. I owe you." He laughs roughly.
"We cannot. I am truly sorry, Dean. If I am honest, I desire much the same."
"Thanks." Dean drops his head to kiss his angel before he has to find his pants and stumble back to the motel. Cas replies with an indulgent smile, swatting Dean's pant-seeking hand away for a less sweet kiss, a bit needy, a bit rough.
They sloppily dress together interspersed with sloppy kisses and Dean thinks about how Cas doesn't really need to dress if he doesn't want to but he does anyway and it makes his chest warm to think that Cas cares that much. They part on the hood of the Impala with a final, final kiss, one that ends with green dissolving into blue and one last twirl of an angel's - vessel's, but oh fuck Dean almost forgets about Jimmy when it's so inexplicably Castiel inside - hair.
"Don't be a stranger, Cas."