A/N: Written for week eight of SPN Hiatus Creations on tumblr. Prompt: ships.

Sam - or whatever the Hell he was without a soul - had left, and Dean was alone for the night. He'd gotten a motel room, still with two beds. If Sam wanted to find him he could. Dean hadn't even tried yet, wasn't sure he wanted to find that thing. What he wanted was his brother back, and he was down there, in the Cage, going through literal Hell. He didn't know what to do, how to find the thing that was supposed to be his brother, figured he could stay deep undercover if he wanted to. Dean couldn't even predict his movements. He had Sam's memories, but that wasn't his brother. Dean just didn't know what he was supposed to do. What he did know was that Castiel wished he could be with them, or him, at least. He knew Castiel was cleaning up Crowley's funhouse of torture, or he had been. Maybe he was back in Heaven, maybe he'd be too busy for him.

Still, Dean sat on the bed he'd claimed as his own, and he prayed. "Castiel, I don't know where you are, or what you're doing, but…" A sigh. Maybe Cas wouldn't listen to him. Maybe he shouldn't even try. No, he had to do this. He missed him, needed him. "Sam's gone. He walked away, and I'm all alone. I just really need you here, man. I… I don't know what to do, or how to save him. Not even sure I know how to save myself. Look, I know everything's screwed up, I know Heaven's a mess and that you're busy, but please, I just wanna see you. Just for a little bit."

Dean had closed his eyes to pray, and he opened them, looking around the motel room that was littered with weird black and white designs that hurt his eyes even as they reminded him of feathers. He was alone.

"Please!" he called out. "I know you can hear me, you son of a bitch. All you've done for the past year and a half is ignore me, and I'm sick of it, you hear? I am so sick of it. So get your ass down here and talk to me. I thought I was your friend, but you know what, you're not acting like it. All you care about is your stupid war, and I know I offered to help, but screw it. Screw everything. After all we've been through, I think I at least deserve this much - just a few goddamn seconds of your oh so precious time."

Dean heard a fluttering sound and then Castiel was standing in front of him. He had expected his friend to look remorseful, but instead his face was hard, anger in his blue eyes.

"Cas?"

"I know I said I would rather be here with you, but I can't be all the time," Castiel told him, coming over and suddenly grabbing him by the shirt. Dean flinched, expecting to be punched just because of how forceful his friend was being. But instead none of that happened, and he started to realize that his lips were rather close to his. "I'm fighting a war, Dean. What are you doing besides drinking and whining?"

"C-Cas?" he questioned again, his voice barely coming since it felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

He thought his friend's features softened just a bit, but then it was like a mask had been drawn over his face. Castiel was angry, and tired, and it seemed he found Dean's behavior impudent. He'd already told him before about the war, about how he didn't appreciate being summoned when nothing serious was going on. But Dean wanted Castiel to talk to him about it, and he missed his friend dearly, missed when they could just enjoy each other's company and work together. Now it nearly felt like they were against each other.

Instead of answering, Castiel slammed him against the wall next to his bed and kissed him. His lips were soft, but the kiss was far from gentle. Dean found himself kissing back even as he thought that maybe he was dreaming. He'd wanted Cas for a long time, had always felt his body temperature rise slightly when he stared at him as if he was gazing over everything he was and he liked what he saw, when he touched him with a firm grip, even the times he'd found him watching him sleep. Dean had tried to reciprocate with longing stares of his own, with warm smiles, but he'd been too nervous that maybe he'd gotten it wrong. After all, Castiel didn't seem to understand human interactions as much as some other angels. And his hopes had been utterly crushed when he'd slammed Meg against a wall earlier that day and had kissed her. But now he was doing the same to him, his hand pressing against him at his collarbones, just beneath his throat, holding him in place.

Dean made sure he kissed him back with everything he had, hoping this moment could last forever, that he wasn't dreaming, that Castiel really and truly was kissing him. Somehow the angel was a phenomenal kisser, knowing just how to move his lips, keeping track of Dean's movements to match them. There was nothing awkward about it. There was just pure tension and what Dean hoped was lust. After biting on his bottom lip and working it between his teeth, making Dean elicit a soft groan, Castiel pulled back. Dean was breathing heavily when their gazes met.

"What was that?" he asked, not even sure why the words were leaving his mouth. Why should he question it when he'd wanted it for so long? But he was confused; Castiel had been so distant lately.

"The pizza man," Castiel answered in a gruff voice.

Something came to Dean, and he realized Castiel must've misunderstood the porno he'd been watching. What if he thought he was punishing Dean for something? Maybe it didn't matter if Dean could get what he wanted, if he could get any gratification out of this. He was lost and empty, and he needed someone to fill that space, even if they were doing it for different reasons than he wanted. He could pretend. That's what he'd do. He'd pretend. He'd pretend that Castiel truly wanted him, that this was some sort of coming together after they'd been mixing signals and arguing with each other for so long.

Castiel was his friend and he loved him like family, and he needed him. And here Castiel was giving himself to him like this, and Dean could pretend it was for the reasons he wanted it to be; that he wanted him too, and that he needed him just as much. As Castiel pressed his lips to his again, Dean ignored the voice in his head telling him that no angel would ever need or want him.

The hand that had been on his shoulder ran down the front of his body, his fingers just barely touching him. Dean arched into it, grabbing hold of Castiel's head, his thumbs on his cheekbones, his other fingers in his dark hair. He was moaning against his best friend, doing his best to let him know he enjoyed this. He enjoyed the way Castiel licked at his lips, enjoyed the way he plunged his tongue into Dean's mouth when he opened it for him, enjoyed the way his large hand was under his shirt now, running up and down his body. Maybe Dean had been without sex for too long, maybe he'd dreamed about this too many times, but he could feel himself already thickening with desire, his jeans becoming too tight.

He remembered the way Castiel had looked earlier, when he was sitting in front of the TV, his cock hard in his pants, and he desperately wanted that now. He was glad that that soulless bastard with Sam's face hadn't said anything about his voice getting all rough when he'd spoken to Castiel, telling him to turn the TV off. Dean had cursed himself for that, hated how just seeing Castiel aroused was enough to start getting him aroused as well. But now he thought of it, pictured it, and he wanted it so dearly that he started rubbing his hips up against Cas, hoping it was enough to entice him.

He gasped, pulling back when the angel grinded his hips against him in turn, and he could feel him, already rock hard through his pants. Castiel still didn't stop when Dean pulled away. He simply ran his hand up to his neck, holding him in place with a commanding grip that still allowed him to breathe, and he licked into his open mouth. Dean was too aroused to reciprocate and just stood there, taking it, his hands now gripping desperately at Cas' clothing. Maybe he could start undressing him. Dean didn't even care that they were rushing into this. They'd known each other for a few years, and Dean had wanted the angel since he'd first met him in that barn, even as he'd taken the demon-killing knife out of himself and had tilted his head, observing him as if he was some strange creature. Talking with him had been terrifying at first, especially since he would get in his personal space, stare at Dean like he was something he'd kill if he disobeyed him. But they were past that. Castiel had softened. How he was acting now was a different brand of toughness. He was exercising his free will, and damn, did Dean want Castiel to exercise it even more. He wasn't sure where his thoughts were heading exactly, just knew that he wanted some sort of release, wanted to see Castiel naked and feel him against him.

Dean forced himself to kiss back, even though the arousal bursting through his veins was making him light-headed, and he almost forgot how to move his mouth to do anything useful with it, let alone please his best friend.

Oh god, now he had other ideas of what to do with his mouth, and the idea made his stomach quiver with excitement. Dean really, really enjoyed having things in his mouth.

He tried pushing Castiel back from him, though he knew that wouldn't have much effect. He remembered punching Castiel and how it'd done more damage to him than it had his friend. But Castiel understood, backing away. He relaxed his hands against him, the one at his neck joining the other underneath his shirt to feel over his heaving body. Dean wanted those large, strong hands to touch him in more places, but he had a feeling they'd get to that.

"What is it, Dean?" he asked, his rough voice even more gruff than usual, and it made Dean swallow roughly, his blood burning.

"I wanna do something for you."

Castiel sighed, tilted his head closer to him. Dean had his lips parted, ready for his friend's tongue to be in his mouth again if that's what he chose to do.

"That's not what's happening here, Dean."

"Then what is happening?" he asked though he was sure he already knew the answer. Castiel just tilted his head at him, his jaw clenching, looking as if he was going to refuse to answer. So Dean kept talking, "I think I get it, okay? You're upset with me, and you're trying to show me that. But this doesn't have to be the way to do it."

"Fine, then I'll just beat you senseless," he responded, tilting his head at him.

It took Dean a few seconds to determine if he was joking or not, but he saw a glint of humor in his friends eyes. Maybe this was helping him let off some steam.

"Ha, funny," Dean responded, hoping he was right and that he was trying to be amusing. He'd been beaten by Castiel before, and it had hurt. It would be better if he didn't have to relive that.

Castiel's lips turned upwards ever so slightly, the barest hint of a smile. But now he was looking him over as if he was wondering exactly what to do with him, and Dean started feeling like he had to be very careful. This was Cas, but the Castiel he'd been dealing with recently, he was unsure of. This was the angel who had cut his hand for a spell without permission, the angel who had kidnapped and tortured a kid. But he was also the angel who had saved him from Hell, the angel who had fought by his side, who had healed him. The angel Dean dreamed of at night and thought of when he was alone.

"Clothes off. On the bed," Castiel ordered.

"What?" Dean asked dumbly, not sure he'd heard him correctly.

Sure, Dean was one for getting right down to business, but he hadn't expected things with Cas to happen like this. He'd expected it to be after a hunt, with Dean still on an adrenaline high and feeling good, and finally daring to close the space between them. It'd be rough sure, but there'd be gentle caresses and smiles, not what this was. But he wanted it, he wanted it so badly that he was starting to not care how he got it. If this was how it was going to be, it was how it was going to be. Besides, he knew plans about how sex was going to play out didn't always go accordingly.

Castiel raised one eyebrow at him, and somehow made him feel like he was looking down at him though Dean was an inch taller.

He nodded a little, and Castiel stepped back to give Dean space. For awhile Dean just stood there, breathing hard, back against the wall.

"Are you gonna take your clothes off?" he asked, gesturing at Castiel.

"Is that how this normally works?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Alright, then."

As Dean undressed, nearly tripping on his clothes in his excitement, it shocked him that Castiel could be so damn attractive, and, well, aggressive, and still know so little about sex. His friend was taking his time with undressing, being strangely meticulous about it, but he was also watching Dean as he did so. Usually Dean was fine with undressing in front of someone - sure, he didn't have rock hard abs or anything, but he knew he was good looking - but with Castiel's intense gaze he felt his stomach drop to his feet. This was an angel, a being who had been alive far longer than Dean's mind would even be able to comprehend, and he wanted him naked. Naked and vulnerable to be touched, to be punished, to be admired.

Dean blushed, looking away from him when he was finally naked, and then he set his eyes on the bed. He didn't know how this was going to play out, didn't really have any plans. He was just following Castiel's orders at this point, something he never thought he'd do. He had to admit though, his friend ordering him around was hot. So he settled on the bed on his back, his hands behind his head, not really sure how Cas wanted him. His friend would tell him eventually.

He stared at Castiel as he still took his time. His coat was off, as was his suit jacket, his tie, his shirt. He was working on his pants now, and Dean couldn't help licking his lips at the sight before him. Castiel's body was toned, and the way the muscles in his shoulders and arms moved was enticing. Dean knew those arms were even more powerful than they looked and he wanted to be held down by them.

His pants were coming off now, and Dean's eyes widened slightly as he saw the skin of his hips, his thighs, a bit of his ass, and dear lord, his cock was big, about the same size as his, just maybe a bit thicker. Castiel didn't seem to notice he was watching him, but Dean was smiling, enjoying what he saw.

"What are you smiling about?" Castiel asked, finally tilting his head and taking in the expression on his face.

Dean simply responded with, "Buddy, you look amazing."

"I do?"

Castiel frowned, seeming to be getting confused, maybe forgetting what his original intentions had been. Perhaps his emotions were getting in the way of what he thought this was going to be.

"Oh, hell yeah. Now come here," he insisted, thinking maybe he could get Cas on the same page, that they'd just be having sex because they liked each other.

"Dean, I'm supposed to be punishing you."

He smirked at his friend as an idea came to him, and he rolled over before getting onto his hands and knees.

"Then punish me," he told him.

"I'm confused."

"Do what the pizza man did to that babysistter!" Dean exclaimed, getting sick of this. He really wanted to feel Cas' hand against his ass. "Spank me."

Dean didn't have to wait long because then Castiel was spanking him, and Dean let out a pained, yet triumphant cry. He hadn't been expecting it, so he arched away sharply, and before he could get used to the stinging, Cas slapped his other cheek, surely leaving a red mark. The pain traveled to his cock as jolts of pleasure. He kept that up till Dean was leaning his head down, letting out guttural moans from the pain. And then he was surprised to feel Castiel's hot and hardened cock against him, as if he was going to push into him. Immediately, Dean jolted forward and rolled onto his back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can't just stick it in there."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it'll hurt, damn it."

Castiel looked at Dean's cock, frowning. "Did you enjoy that?" He nodded, and then Castiel went on, "I'll admit, I don't understand this very well, and I… I feel remorse for hurting you."

"I'm fine," Dean responded. "Trust me. You're not the first person to take it out on my ass. I've handled a lot more."

Castiel was still studying him, making Dean feel self conscious of all things, but he didn't cover himself up, just laid there. Castiel shifted closer, getting in between his legs.

"Explain it to me," his friend urged.

"Look, some people - like me - like getting hurt in bed. I mean, not like hurt hurt, just for fun really. They know it can stop at any time, which is what makes it safe, okay? And I figured, if it was too much for me and I told you to stop, you would. I trust you."

"You do?"

"You've done a lot for me, Cas, and I know… I know things have been tough recently. I know you're upset with me, or you were, but it's just us now, and you don't have to be the commander that you are up in Heaven. You can be you, your badass, quirky, but still gentle self. You can be my friend. And you can want me just like I want you."

"I do want you, Dean. I've wanted you for awhile."

"Then show me. You don't have to hurt me. Just do what you think will make you feel good. I'm sure it'll make me feel good, too."

Castiel looked him over, and Dean's cock twitched underneath his gaze, somehow filling even more, as if the spanking hadn't turned him on enough. Then his friend was leaning over him, holding himself up with his forearms on either side of his head, and he was kissing him, gently this time. Dean liked it rough, but this was nice, too. He actually hadn't really known that slow and sweet could feel this good. He ran his hands over his friend's body, exploring, learning the shape of him. He was nearly hot to the touch when compared to that of a woman. But Dean had been with men before, and the body temperature difference was something he loved about them. He liked that they generally ran hotter, liked that they were larger, liked their sometimes clumsy movements. Most men just didn't have the grace of a woman, and he didn't expect it of them. He expected them to be like men, to be themselves. Castiel might've still been confused by humans, but he'd had that body for awhile, and based on his stellar fighting skills, he knew how to use it.

Dean wanted to grab, wanted to pull and hold, try to bruise, mostly because he couldn't believe this was happening, and he needed to hold on as tight as he could for fear it would disappear in the blink of an eye. But he refrained from that; just wanted to touch and please.

Castiel arched his hips down, his cock rubbing against Dean's hip, and Dean reached in between them, curling his fingers around his considerable length. He pumped him, making Castiel growl into his mouth and bite him, as if he couldn't handle what he was feeling. Dean wasn't really surprised. This was all new to his friend. It wasn't long before he got his cock spitting precum, and Dean still really wanted him in his mouth, but it was amazing having his legs spread for him, having him over him. It was powerful. An angel was kissing him, biting him, growling into him. An angel was over him, making it so he couldn't get away, and Dean was making him feel good.

But he desperately needed his cock touched, needed some pleasure. Castiel kissing him was driving him wild. So Dean positioned Castiel's cock against his, making him grunt into his mouth, and then he wrapped his hand around the both of them. Thankfully without Dean needing to tell him, Castiel started moving his hips, and then it hit Dean. There was a cock against his own. A lovely, hard cock that belonged to his friend who he'd yearned for. Sometimes he'd touch himself while thinking of that cock, and now this was actually happening. The sheer pleasure from that thought left him tingling, his abdomen quivering, and he was moaning as he kissed back, his lips heated.

In a few moments however, the friction started to burn, and Dean pulled his head away, breathing heavily. Castiel had his eyes closed, was moaning now as he rutted against him.

"Fuck," Dean exclaimed. "Fuck, Cas, hold on."

"But I feel good," he argued quickly before he broke off into a long moan.

"I… I don't," Dean admitted as he pulled his hand away, letting out a growl, his back arching.

Castiel immediately stopped upon hearing his words, and he was breathing heavily. Though Dean was barely exerting himself he was sweating slightly, and now he was trying to catch his breath.

"What can I do?" Castiel asked.

"Spit. We need spit."

Next thing Dean knew spit was landing on his face, some of it getting in his mouth, and need suddenly burned through him, making him arch up into Castiel unintentionally.

Still, he had enough presence of mind to laugh and wipe it off his face.

"No, not like that," he told him. "That's gross."

"But I thought you said-"

Dean held his hand under his mouth as he interrupted him, "Just spit into my hand."

Castiel furrowed his brows in confusion, but did as he said. And then Dean was rubbing Castiel's cock. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to his, a shaky breath leaving him.

"There we go. Like that."

"Why… why is that not gross?" he asked.

"'Cause we need it," Dean reasoned.

Castiel didn't question him, but Dean was sure he didn't get it. He brought up a good point, but Dean was too focused on pleasuring his friend to think further on it.

Castiel followed his lead, even as he was moaning. He sat up, spit into his own hand, and then his lovely fingers were curled around Dean's cock. This new pleasure made him ache, and he gasped, tilting his head back. He didn't know what to do with himself so he pumped Cas with vigor, and the angel followed suit, till Dean was arching up into him, and needing so much more.

Skin, he needed his skin against him. He needed him to burn and blaze with him, pleasure searing their nerves.

When Dean stopped pumping, Castiel seemed to get the idea and pressed himself against Dean, and he was the one holding their cocks together now. Dean felt over his shoulders and back and ass, marveling at the way his muscles moved as he pleasured him, as he thrusted against him. Some part of Dean did want Cas in him, but he wasn't prepared.

Then a realization came to him which was followed by an idea that was so delicious he could scarcely stand it.

"Fuck, I want you in me," Dean exclaimed.

"Glad we feel the same about that," his friend grunted out. "But I thought you said that'd hurt."

Dean pressed a kiss to his nose and then his lips, even as their cocks continued to rub together, building the pressure inside of him.

"Gotta - oh god - gotta prepare me first, maybe use some of your healing powers, too."

Castiel stilled, and Dean thrust up against him one more time, a needy sound leaving him that was almost a whimper.

"How?"

Dean instructed him on what to do, and Cas listened, and did as he was told. He watched Dean as he used his saliva-wetted fingers to stretch him out, gauging his reactions. Castiel had yet to find his prostate, but he didn't care, just the fact that his cock was going to be in him soon was enough to make him start aching. And then he was in him, stretching him, filling him, a strange, hard pressure in his body that was welcome and loved, and Castiel would glow with angelic light every few seconds, healing Dean inside. Heat. Dean was getting filled with heat. And then he put a hand over his mouth to stifle his cry as Cas' cock brushed against his prostate.

Dean had suspected Castiel would stop, ask if he was okay, but instead he tilted his head at him, observing. He seemed to realize it was a sound of pleasure and kept going. He started thrusting, filling Dean up more each time till he was fully sheathed in him. Oh god, he was big, and just perfect. Dean wanted Cas to use him till he'd remember this time with him for days to come. He wanted him deeper, wanted to be more exposed to him, so he held his legs back, hands under his knees, till they were nearly against his chest. Castiel pushed in further, letting out an exhale with his rough, gravelly voice in it.

When he started going at him, he could barely stand it. Castiel was pumping his cock with one hand, and the other was over his mouth to muffle the screams leaving him. His voice, which seemed to rise up out of his chest, was laced with pleasure, and Castiel must have enjoyed it because he went at him harder, their skin slapping together.

Dean started to feel the strain on his muscles from staying in this position, but still, he held himself steady, loving the pleasure that was getting beaten into him. Castiel was groaning now, the hand over his mouth shaking, and Dean wondered if he was going to last much longer. How long did angels last?

Then Castiel was removing his hand, replacing it with his hungry mouth. Their tongues met and twined together in a vicious, needy dance, and Dean felt his orgasm building, pressure building just beneath his balls, filling his gut, and burning away at the base of his spine. Castiel's cock beating against his prostate made pleasure shoot through him in an endless, white hot fury. And then Castiel was cumming, his hot seed filling Dean in violent bursts that burned in the best way. And yet he kept going, biting and sucking at Dean's mouth like he wanted to eat him, pounding him for all he was worth, his powerful body shuddering atop him.

Then Dean was reaching his end, screaming into his hot mouth, sensation stabbing up from his toes and swelling through him, his cum pushing through his cock in thick spurts to land on his stomach and Castiel's hand. Then Dean thought he'd feel the searing agony of overstimulation. But he didn't. Castiel was glowing again, his cock still hard within him, and Dean had to shut his eyes for fear of being blinded. The light died down and he was still hard, pleasure still taking him like it owned him, still eating and tearing and caressing and pounding. And it didn't hurt. Dean didn't ask Castiel what he'd done, figured he knew.

They kept up like that for hours, Dean becoming soaked in sweat and cum. They tried endless positions and when Dean was sore beyond belief, probably swollen and bruised inside, when he was tired, he just moaned and let Castiel hold him against his back. Dean was on top now, Cas sitting up, back to the headboard, and he was still in between Dean's legs.

"Cas, I'm tired," he got out.

"Shh… almost there, Dean. Almost there."

Dean didn't tell him to stop. He didn't want him to stop. Never wanted him to stop. Castiel's arms were wrapped tightly around him as he ravished him, claimed him more forcefully than Dean had ever put up with before, and he loved it with every fiber of his being. He held onto his friend for dear life, the corners of his eyes pricking with tears as his voice left him in an endless stream of cries and whimpers.

Castiel was fervently murmuring into his ear, telling him how good he was being, telling him that he was nearly finished with him, that Dean would make it. Then Dean was cumming, crying now from the sheer force of pleasure that jolted through him. His back tried to make a bow, but with Cas holding him, he could only twitch and strain and scream. And he was on fire, alight with bliss and ecstasy, his mind playing over every position they'd tried, the taste of Castiel's skin against his mouth, and he felt like he was breathing him and nothing else. Then his insides were being blessed with that wonderful, wet burn and Castiel was biting his left shoulder, the same one he'd grabbed to raise him from perdition. His hips stilled within him, and he throbbed, and Dean throbbed.

Those few seconds seemed to last for eternity, an eternity in which Dean and Castiel were forever joined in a steamy haze of pleasure. They came down from their high together, Dean breathing heavily, and Castiel slipped out of him. Before Dean could get off of him he pressed a hand to his forehead, and then he was suddenly clean. The only proof he felt of their joining was how sore he was, but he didn't want Cas to take care of that. He loved it.

Dean rolled off of him, and lay on his stomach, his eyes sliding closed. Castiel started running a hand over his back, and Dean winced, arching into the bed.

"N-not now, Cas. I'm pretty sensitive."

His friend pulled his hand away, and then he shifted, lying down as well.

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean tiredly rolled onto his side so he could face him. "Don't you dare apologize for any of that."

"No, not that. I'm sorry I haven't been around. I'm… worried. I'm losing the war, Dean. And Sam… The demons talk of his screams, down in the pit." There were tears on his face now, and Dean leaned over him to gently brush them away. Dean wanted to cry himself, hearing about his brother, but he held it in, let his throat ache from it. "I'm no leader, and I'm afraid I've failed as a friend."

"No, no, no," Dean argued in a gentle tone. "Cas, I don't know what's going to happen or how things are going to work out, but I have faith in you. Please, I need you to have faith, too. And I need you to believe in me." When Castiel frowned at him he explained, "You haven't been making me feel so good these past few months, man. You only come when you think something has to do with your war. And it's not fair. I know I'm some lowly human or whatever, but-"

In an instant, Castiel was holding onto him, his lips pressed against him and quieting him.

When he pulled away he told him, "Dean, what we did tonight, that meant everything to me. You are not some lowly human. You're my friend. At first I wanted to punish you, I was angry, and worried, and then I wanted to apologize, and then I wanted to praise and adore. You mean the world to me, Dean Winchester. You and Sam. We will find another way. I'll win the war, for you, and somehow, somehow we're going to save your brother. You'll figure it out. I know you will."

"What if I can't do it?" Dean questioned. "What if I'm stuck with him without his soul? I don't… I don't think I can live with that, Cas."

"Me either, Dean."

They kissed again, their lips brushing together softly, and then Dean rested his head on Castiel's chest, and the angel held him.

Eventually he said, "I have to go."

"I know."

Another kiss, and then Dean climbed off of him. He didn't watch the body he now knew so well as he put his clothes back on. With a fluttering of his wings he was gone. And Dean fell asleep trying to think of another way. Another way. There had to be another way.