A/N: Wow. Just - wow. I have the best readers ever. Whenever I peruse the archives, I'm always reminded of that fact, because most people don't get this many reviews. I'm incredibly lucky to get this kind of response from you guys, and trust me, I will do my best to reward you with boy-kisses and angel-snuggles.

Also, flying sharks that do your taxes. You are all getting flying shark tax accountants. My gift to you.

This chapter is all about The Talk which, knowing Dean, can be counted upon to be sufficiently awkward. You know, a few of you said in your reviews that you thought I captured Dean's voice well, and I'm really happy to hear that. Being in character is super important to me, because it's so hard to do with slash (which by definition is out of character). However, I think Dean's a pretty easy character to write. A fan favorite, very easy to sympathize with, motivated by very basic and common desires and fears - Dean is easy because everybody wants to be him and everybody has a little of him in them.

Cas is another story. We won't get into that today. Suffice to say, he's difficult.

Anyways, my point was, it means a lot to me. Thanks. Enjoy the chapter, and please keep up the awesome reviewing - y'all make my day.


"Sit," Dean instructed, gesturing to a chair across the kitchen table from him. It was good to have the table between them to prevent an attack of the temporary insanity or chronic brain aneurysm or whatever was happening to Dean from interrupting this conversation. He'd even slipped on a worn old AC/DC t-shirt so as to make things a little more… decent.

Cas obediently sat down, looking at once concerned and kind of annoyed by Dean's tone.

Dean clasped his hands on the table and took a deep breath. "Look, I don't want hurt your feelings or anything, but… you gotta stop kissing me."

Cas frowned. "But you kissed me."

Dean wiped a hand down his face and sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. That was a mistake and just made everything ten times more – but the point is, yeah, that one's on me. The second time, I kissed you."

Cas's face was set, but blank. Unreadable, deliberately unreadable. "Why?"

A bark of wry laughter escaped from Dean before he could stop it, and he shook his head. "Believe you me, I wish I knew. I guess I wanted to apologize for being such a dick, and for some crazy reason the first thing that came to mind – "

"No." His eyes were searching, penetrating, looking for something in Dean. "Why are you sorry?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer.

Nothing came out.

"I – I-I'm sorry because I think I gave you the wrong idea," he finally managed.

"What do you mean?" Cas inquired, puzzled.

"Straight guys – straight guys don't kiss other guys," Dean explained, feeling his cheeks get hot. "Well, maybe in Europe or something, but not around here. And I'm straight, and I… don't know what the hell you are. And I think you might – well, you're sure acting like you dig me. In a – uh – a non-platonic way. So, when I kissed you, I think I – I might've given the impression that I was attracted to you, and that was misleading, because. I'm not."

Cas's brows lowered, and his face darkened. "Perhaps someone should inform your genitals of that," he muttered.

Dean choked.

If he had been drinking coffee, it would have been spewed all over the table.

"I-i-it's a physiological response!" he sputtered. "You put your tongue in my mouth. For a guy like me, that's like a freaking dinner bell to Pavlov's dog. It's not my fault if my junk got a little confused!"

"I don't think it's your 'junk' that's confused," Cas shot back, standing up from the table. "I kissed you as a mark of our friendship and mutual bond. I admit, I may have experienced feelings for you that were decidedly sexual in nature, but I thought I made it clear that I don't want anything from you that isn't given freely. You acted of your own accord. Do not accuse me of manipulation."

"I'm not!" Dean exclaimed exasperatedly, standing up as well. "I'm trying to apologize for leading you on!"

Cas stepped forward, thunder in his face. "Because you're not attracted to me," he growled.

"Yes." Dean stood his ground, refusing to be cowed by a short angel. Even if said cowing was majorly turning him on.

"Because when I kiss you, you feel nothing," he continued harshly, his blue eyes flashing. He stepped closer to Dean.

Dean swallowed and hoped that Cas wasn't angry enough to beat him up again. A hot coil uncurled in the pit of his stomach. "Yes."

Cas was close enough to touch him without even trying, but an inch of space separated them. "Because you don't moan when I lick the roof of your mouth."

Dean closed his eyes. Dammit. He knew making those noises would come back to bite him in the ass. He tried to ignore the way the timbre of Cas's voice made the hairs on his arms stand up.

"Because," Cas whispered, his breath warm on Dean's face, "this has absolutely no effect on you." And suddenly his lips brushed softly against the skin of Dean's throat, feather light and barely there.

It took every fiber of Dean's strength not to lean forward and into that warm, soft mouth. Gotta be strong, don't give in, no matter how fucking goddamn fucking hot sexy fucking fuck

And then Cas murmured darkly, his lips still brushing against him, his voice reverberating through his skin, "Answer me."

And Dean broke.

He grabbed Cas by the shoulders and slammed him against the counter and kissed him angry and fierce and tongue and teeth, lots of teeth and yanked his hair and groped his ass and ground their hips together hard and only pulled his lips from Cas's for a second to gasp, "Fuck. Yes."

Across the room, something thumped to the ground.

Dean and Cas both froze. Slowly, full of dread, Dean turned his head to look.

Sam stood there, mouth agape, a toppled grocery bag at his feet.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

"Hey," Dean greeted him weakly. "You're back."

Sam just stared and made a noise that sounded like, "Uhghngh?"

"It's not what it looks like," he added.

Cas frowned. "No, I'm fairly certain that it is."

Sam gave a faint noise of despair, made a 180, and walked out of the room.

"He left the groceries," Cas noted.

"I think we broke him," Dean explained grimly. He disentangled himself from Cas and bent down to pick up the orange that had rolled over to them. "He's seen worse though, he really has. Heh." He stood back up and turned back to Cas. "But anyways, we never really –"

Cas was gone.

Fuck.