"I stopped by the lab yesterday."

"Oh?"

Cas hums, though his eyelids flutter briefly shut, arms stretching further. His knuckles scrape over the drywall but he doesn't draw back, and the dull, methodical thudding of the headboard is helping him get his thoughts in order; a feat, considering Dean is doing that thing he always does, with his hands aiding in bending Cas's knees further back than he can on his own, practically pinning them to the mattress. That's when Dean is getting serious.

Cas starts again, "Yes, I-oh…I rehydrated the Goldenrods, ah, switched a few out…"

Dean only grunts at first, head bowing down, into the hollow of Castiel's neck as his hips pump in steady, long strokes. Cas feels the tickle of lashes on his skin, not so different than the tiny prickles of a walking bee up his arm. "How's double-oh-seven doin'?"

"Subject zero-zero-seven is fine. They all are." Not that they can actually tell one bee from the next. They're clustered by plant type, and then by controlled temperatures. It doesn't stop Dean from pointing out one bee every time they drop in and referring to that lucky specimen (out of case 007) asMr. Bond, always with a tip of his head and a small smile. Dean is constantly insisting, 'He clearly has the biggest thorax in there, Cas, you can totally tell him apart,' and always Cas responds with a good-natured roll of his eyes, a wry, 'Of course, Dean.'

"And-" Castiel has to break for a gasp, thighs tightening around Dean's waist, hands tightening around the slats in the headboard. "And results from last week are back…"

Now that gets Dean's attention. He draws his head back up, though his rhythm doesn't falter in the slightest. "And?" He raises his brows pointedly. "How'd the boys do?"

"They performed- excellently." Cas's breathy laugh turns part groan, bottom lip drawing between his teeth momentarily. "Pollen count—Dean, there, there…—count is up nine percent."

"Nine?" The good news has Dean thrusting in particularly hard, balls smacking against Cas's cheeks and cockhead grazing along his prostate.

"Uhn…" Cas's voice has turned particularly strangled, a crease forming between his brows. Among 'fuck' and 'harder' and 'there there there' there is also 'reasonable extrapolation' and 'floral variations' and, "Oh, oh- the department head is going to look it over, but, I think it is reasonable to say, uhh…" Cas's back arches, towards the sound of Dean's sharp inhales, "uh, that we have the okay to move ahead with God Dean, don't, ah, don't stop- with a trial run for local climate. Just want to ensure levels don't drop over the next few days…"

"Awesome," Dean groans, grin broad, lips parting further, face twisting in pleasure. "Cas-"

Castiel moans in assent, tries to help by shifting his hips up into Dean's thrusts. He's close, can feel the tension threading into his spine, a slow build and burn under his skin that's picking up as Dean's pace turns more erratic, and there-

"There! I-" Words get lost, tangled somewhere in Cas's throat as he comes, legs shaking and everything pulling tight, synapses thrown into overdrive until all he sees is the burst of white hot pleasure behind his eyes. Cas doesn't realize how hard his teeth are biting into his lip until the last pulse of come is dribbling out of his cockhead, hardly registering how Dean's hand is pulling on the oversensitive shaft of his dick. Everything is hazy, gone from breaking tension to exceedingly loose, melted down, Cas's body sunk into the mattress.

Dean is getting sloppy, and Castiel's legs have fallen open, too tired to hold them back at an angle. He's sore, pleasantly so, gives a quiet, low sigh and opens his eyes to find Dean's, a flash of the end flying across his face that Cas has come to recognize, closing in and wrecking Dean's features as his thighs lock up. He's still mumbling something about grants and more trials, double-oh-seven and Goldenrods, until Dean has run out of breath and he's burying himself to the hilt, coming with his head tipped towards the ceiling.

"Christ," Dean mutters as he comes down, slowly easing back towards the bed. He's still panting, sweat cooling on his skin. Cas tries not to let out a small sound when Dean pulls out.

"Would you like to come in tomorrow with me?" Cas questions, rolls onto his side to face Dean. "We should clean up before anyone decides to investigate our work space." Cas raises his brow, and Dean answers with a snort.

"If they're gonna nix the green light just because I left a burger wrapper—one time—on the counter, then they can pull the sticks out of their asses." Dean hooks his leg behind Cas's and wraps an arm around his back.

"Well I don't want to risk breaching protocol this close to being approved."

Dean yawns against the pillow, chest rising and falling more evenly now. "Yeah, I hear ya." He lands a kiss to Cas's forehead, and Cas leans into it. "I'll come in," he mumbles, too lazy now to protest.

"Good."

"So long as it's not the ass-crack of morning. No reason we can't sleep in when Alfie has morning check in."

Castiel hums in agreement, and then lets his head rest on the pillow, content to drift towards sleep.

Thank you for reading, comments appreciated :)