"Composed?" Dean choked on the word. Just where did Cas get off talking to him like the crisis officer charged with talking the crazy guy off the high-rise ledge?

He grabbed for Cas again, fumbling over the Angel's hands before finding his neck. Skin against skin and Dean wasn't thinking straight anymore. He caught Cas' collar, gripped him tight and pulling him off the wall before slamming him into the other side of their little box. It was something that he had done a thousand times over with Sam- but his brother always threw him off.

Cas didn't.

Cas just stood there, sandwiched between Dean and a wall, and breathed slowly, as composed and unflappable as he had always been.

He shook the Angel, twisting the collar of his shirt between his hands. "How can you just stand there, calm as fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Maybe Cas didn't need to come apart at the seams. Maybe he had divine faith or something else equally intangible telling him that everything would turn out fine. But Dean didn't. All Dean had was the fear that despite everything else that he had been though, that he would die a quiet, insignificant death.

"What do you mean?" Cas asked, no sign of any emotion in his voice, just as indifferent as he always was.

"We're going to die in a few hours, Cas. Normal people panic." Dean tried to get thought to him- tried to get him to understand. I'm panicking. He fought with himself, feeling lost.

Cas shifted just a little under Dean's hands. Not that the Angel had ever had much of an expressive face, but Dean had come to rely on those little twitches, the tiny flickers in his deep eyes. Without light it was impossible to see his face. Impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Would you feel better if I were to panic as well?"

Dean wanted to yell, but he bit his tongue and managed to growl instead. "Fuck yes. This is the perfect time to panic, Cas."

Without missing a beat, Cas grabbed him and for a moment Dean felt his anger still- adrenaline vitrifying his blood. They were going to have a fight and Dean knew from experience how much stronger Cas actually was.

Why the hell had he wanted to pick a fight with a god damned Angel?

He was going to get himself killed.

And like no one had ever shown the Angel the rule book on how you're supposed to fight, Cas bit him. Just straight up bit Dean. Right on the mouth. It was worse than fighting dirty, it was some straight up Hannibal Lecter action and Dean had no idea what to do.

He braced for the pain of it even as he struggled to pull away- but the pain didn't come and Dean had the crashing realization that Cas wasn't actually trying to bit him, despite the overly enthusiastic use of teeth.

Dean used his grip on the Angels' shirt to gain leverage enough to push away. "What are you doing, Cas?"

"Panicking." He replied simply before taking Dean by the mouth once more.

Cas was kissing him, and Dean had the slightly amusing and uncomfortable inclination that this was probably his first attempt at it.

As far as Dean could figure, he had two strong options at this point in his life.

One: he could back the hell up, tell Cas again about personal space, and pretend that it never happened. Then he could carry on for the rest of his life suffering this deep keening feeling every time he looked at Cas.

Or two: he could kiss Cas back like he had so many times in his dreams. Over and over and over again.

Both plans had merit.

He let go of Cas' collar and slid his hands up into that short dark hair, carding his fingers and holding tight. He pulled Cas back, tilting his head, forcing a breathless space between them.

"Take it easy." He demanded in the gentlest way he knew how. He lowered his mouth, ghosting over the Angel's.

"Easy?" Cas' voice was rougher than normal, a feat in and of itself. His tongue darted out to lick Dean's upper lip and the hunter's breath left him in a rush, his body tightening in response.

"Less teeth, Cas. I ain't edible." If they were going to do this, they we're going to fucking do it right.

Dean let himself go, the tension in his shoulders and the hesitation in his gut, and kissed Castiel like he had always wanted to- or at least like he had wanted to for the past year. Slow and searching, struggling to find just the right angle where they would fit together. And Cas kissed back, just as slow, following Dean's lead like he was made to.

And Dean was happy to lead, palm of one hand pressed to the side of Cas' throat, feeling his heart beat erratic as he parted his lips with a soft gasp- letting Dean lick his way into his mouth. He was unhurried. It was just the two of them and they had hours left before anyone came looking for them. And if no one came… well, at least he wouldn't leave this world wanting.

He kissed Cas' lips, his cheeks, rocking against him as slow and restless as the tide. He pressed Cas against the wall, molding their bodies together. Every muscle, every sharp plane of his body met by corresponding angles and roughness. His hands traveled down Cas' sides, to his hips, hesitating, not sure how much permission he had. He pressed his forehead to Cas', trying to remember how to form words enough to ask.

They stayed like that for too long, lips brushing with every little movement- and Cas was kissing Dean between heartbeats. Trading Dean for oxygen like a drowning man struggling to breathe.

Despite his actions to the contrary, Dean wasn't the kind of guy who liked to fool around in the dark. A little light to see by went a long way in letting you know if the other person was into it. A simple look on someone's face could speak more than a thousand words. It could give you direction. Give you unspoken consent.

All Dean had were those slow, open mouthed kisses which were more likely to be his death than his salvation.

He ran a thumb along the top of Cas' pants, debating if untucking that stupid button up shirt so he could touch skin would be some kind of 'point of no return'.

Making out- fine.

Grinding against each other like horny teenagers- perfectly fine.

Undressing Cas, even if only by inches- enough to break Dean.

The very idea made it hard to think.

It made a lot of things hard.

Cas sighed out long and low. "Dean, you've stopped."

Dean grunted softly in reply, squeezing Cas' hips.

"Are we through panicking then?"

Dean let out a barking laugh, too loud for their little box. "I- I guess so."