Thanks for all the new followers this story received! I'm happy about your interest, but I'd prefer if you left a comment on this as well *hint hint*- you would absolutely make my day x3 A million thanks again to the gorgeous Faith Valconbridge, who beta-read this chapter and saved you from my horrible mistakes – kudos!
Chapter 8
They spent the evening chatting mindlessly, though their plates were long emptied. Dean didn't know how much wine both of them had drunk by now, but the first bottle was exhausted, and from the way he and Castiel often giggled and grinned, he assumed they were both more than just tipsy. When Castiel brought walnut pie as dessert, Dean groaned joyfully. He was about to sing Castiel's praise and told him so, but Castiel shushed him with a laugh and put his incredibly warm hand on Dean's mouth, telling him to shut up. Dean was dumbstruck as he felt his comfortably warm palm on his lips, as he drowned in the gleeful look with which Castiel regarded him. Soon Castiel sat down again and they enjoyed their pie. Dean had heard it was bad manners to mix different sorts of wine, but neither he nor Castiel complained when they opened the bottle of sweet white wine – it fit perfectly to the dessert.
Dean felt important due to the way Castiel looked at him, and how easily and animatedly they conversed. It reminded him of the feeling he had rarely had – to know he mattered to someone, to know he was loved. It excited him beyond imagination, all his insides buzzed, well-calibrated to Castiel's whole being. His words were a comfort for Dean's weary soul, and he was certain, he would never forget how lovely the other man looked in the candle light, how he grinned around his spoon whenever he ate his pie and watched Dean eating in his stead. The atmosphere was electrified, sparks were flying between them. Dean learned Castiel had slid into his job as a physiotherapist through the disease of his mother. Ever since his teenage years he had been interested in medicine and methods of treatment. It had been a great plus that he had been authorized to train with his mother, like this they had been able to save the money for a caregiver.
A terrible, throbbing ache constricted Dean's throat when he listened to Castiel's quiet voice, how he became gloomier and averted his gaze, once he spoke about his father. It pained him to hear the hurt within Castiel's narrations, as he told him his father had been depressed and that he had killed himself because he couldn't stand the progressive illness of his mother. He had been too weak to be strong for the both of them, so Castiel had to accept this role after his father had taken his life.
"I kind of hated him back then, you know? He left me and my mother all alone, he put all that weight on my shoulders, and I was only 16. My mother was getting really sick, and she was desperately unhappy, so I had to pull myself together, grow a pair and muddle through. I don't hate him anymore nowadays; I just wish he had been braver..." Castiel sighed. He took his and Dean's plates and put them in the sink. Dean smiled softly to himself when he saw how Castiel had difficulties walking straight and in a controlled manner. He heard Castiel letting water run into the sink, he watched how his shoulders slumped, and he sighed a gut-wrenching sigh, turning halfway to Dean. He smiled sadly at him, and Dean thought he saw tears welling in his fascinating, blue orbs.
"Sorry, I didn't want to burden you with this crap. It's just been a while since I could talk with someone so openly about it. With you, I feel like I have someone who really listens, you know?"
"Cas, no, don't be sorry, please, man. I do listen, and I do really care. I'm glad you share this with me. Feels kind of good to know you...," Dean admitted, wondering if it was the wine speaking out of him, enhancing what he was feeling inside. He was sure, he would have felt utterly embarrassed had he listened to himself sober. But the smile which came to Castiel's lips was worth a mint – it produced a steady heat in the depths of Dean's stomach, and it made him all flustered and edgy.
"You too," Castiel agreed with a choked voice, and Dean's heart skipped a beat. He harrumphed abashedly and got up clumsily. He approached Castiel and together they did the washing-up (Dean stood awkwardly on one leg) – Castiel washed the dishes, Dean dried them with a towel. Often their shoulders bumped into one another, and often they did it on purpose, sometimes with more, sometimes with less force, and they chuckled, though none of them commented on it. When Dean risked a brief side glance, he saw the satisfied smirk on Castiel's mouth, and he was glad he had brought it to his lips.
…
They ended up in Castiel's living room, with Castiel on the couch, and Dean on the fluffy carpet, his legs outstretched. Hours had passed; the time had elapsed really rapidly. Dean leaned back against the couch, and Castiel's legs were around his sides. They were killing the second bottle of wine, and the vibe between them was pretty innervated by now. Dean didn't refuse Castiel's offer to massage his shoulders, after Dean had complained how they ached through those stupid crutches. Now Dean sighed and moaned unrestrainedly, as Castiel's adept, strong fingers loosened his uptight shoulders with firm, circular movements. At a particular lewd moan, which escaped Dean uncontrolled, Castiel stopped briefly.
"Dean, the noises you make… what do you think will my neighbours think? The walls are a little thin," he scolded, but Dean could hear the grin in his voice and he laughed breathlessly.
"Don't tell me you're all goodie two shoes. You must have poached some people; I bet your neighbours heard worse things!" Dean taunted, and he laughed when Castiel smacked the back of his head lightly. Castiel continued to massage Dean, and he sighed wretchedly when Dean moaned and grunted again. He had to agree, it definitely sounded as if they were having sex.
"Well, I've had my share of one-night stands, can't lie. But those times are over, I sowed my wild oats."
Dean scoffed, not sure he could say the same thing about himself. There was just something about sharing the night with a stranger, trying to learn his or her body as fast as possible, to exchange caresses without further attachments. Though he had to admit, during the years it had felt less and less meaningful, and deep inside he knew he hungered for more – more than just a rough night, someone, who would actually stay until the next morning and many mornings thereafter.
"So, what, you're a saint now?" he bantered, but Castiel didn't seem impressed with his remark, he just proceeded massaging Dean's neck and shoulders skillfully, eliciting moan after moan from him. Those goddamn, strong hands knew exactly where to press, where to rub, how to touch him...
"No, I'm just saying, I've decided the next time I sleep with someone, I want it to matter. I want it to mean something. I'm tired of all the nullities. I mean, aren't you too? Or do you have someone you're with?" The question implied an unspoken yearning between him and Castiel, which Dean could feel seep swiftly into all of his pores. He had heard the soft undertone in Castiel's words, and it punched him right in the guts, made it hard to breathe. Did this mean Castiel wanted him? While those thoughts crossed Dean's mind, he also saw memories of himself leaving lover after lover behind, because they had to say goodbye to the town or another state, because another case was waiting for them, and John wanted to move on. Desperate hugs, empty promises to stay in touch, a thousand last kisses, hushed words and hidden tears at night. Heartbreak after heartbreak. Castiel couldn't know, but how could he cut right into Dean's heart with such a simple question? How could he make him remember all those persons he had to leave behind and ask him if there was room for another possible lover in his life at the same time?
"No, there isn't someone. To be honest, the kind of life I lead... I don't really have the luxury to care about a lot of people, and I travel back and forth through the whole country. How am I supposed to be with someone when I never stay in one place? It's my curse, you know? The good looks, my magnificent charm, I just attract people..." Dean said half-jokingly, feigned pretentiously, and he startled a little when he heard Castiel's hearty laughter behind him. Castiel's hands lay idly on Dean's shoulders, and Dean could feel his face hovering above his shoulder, approaching him from behind, they were almost cheek to cheek. Castiel's hot breath fanned into his ear, making Dean writhe a little on the floor. God, he was so close... How had he come so close? Heat arose in Dean's chest, he was overflowed with oversensitivity. Castiel's scent was enchanting, beguiling, and Dean's fingers twitched treacherously – he ached to turn around and bruise Castiel's cheeky mouth with passionate kisses, to nip at his plump bottom lip and to have his fill of him. He heard Castiel's low voice behind him, talking quietly.
"Though that's quite arrogant, I bet you do." Castiel purred and Dean stiffened in his motions, loving how dark and intimate Castiel's voice sounded. He absorbed the compliment greedily and relaxed again. The wine was making him drowsy, and Castiel's tender loving care had eased his uptight, cramped body. He felt insanely comfortable in Castiel's nearness, and so it merely surprised him, when he felt his head roll to the side, and as it came to rest on Castiel's upper thigh. He shut his lids; the world was spinning maddeningly, even with closed eyes. He was drunk, he was completely flustered through all the emotions Castiel had made him feel tonight – and he couldn't contain the gleeful, careful smile, which crawled to his lips as he realized one circumstance: He was happy. Possibly he had to thank the wine for a great portion of this happiness, but the other half was most definitely Castiel's fault.
All at once, there were slender fingers in his hair, stroking softly through the strands. They massaged his scalp gingerly, and it felt so good, Dean had to sigh softly. Underneath his cheek, he sensed Castiel's firm thigh – the muscles, the hot flesh, right through his jeans, and it was the most comfortable pillow Dean could think of. In the morning he would probably regret his careless behaviour, but right now, it felt like heaven on earth to be so close to Castiel, to feel his nimble fingers caressing him calmly. He didn't care about his dead father's or Sam's opinion in this precious moment, he didn't care about his masculinity or role models he was supposed to live up to – all that mattered was the undeniable affinity he felt he shared with Castiel. Whatever it was, which dwelled between them, it made Dean's heart thud slowly in his chest, it made time and reason irrelevant. It calmed and aroused him simultaneously. Castiel's fingers sifting through his hair endlessly was somehow much more important, more intense than most one-night stands he had had.
He didn't want to talk about it, and apparently, Castiel didn't want to either. The minutes passed, while Dean sat on the floor with closed lids, inebriated, smiling like an idiot, while Castiel kept fondling his head tentatively, with the lightest of touches. Dean's exhales became shallower, slower...
After a while, he perceived Castiel's hand shaking his shoulder a little, and Dean awoke with a start – he must have fallen asleep on his therapist's leg, leaned into him. He realized he was less intoxicated, and a blush crept on his cheeks and his neck, as he stretched with a groan and then turned around to Castiel, still sitting behind him on the couch. How long had he slept on him? What had Castiel done in the meantime? It should have bothered Dean, that he had lost his inhibitions around an almost stranger so quickly, that he had paid no heed to his presence. He already trusted him so profoundly, that he could sleep next to him. Castiel's smile swept all those worries easily away, and Dean was hypnotized by the mellow gleam of his infinite, blue eyes.
"I really don't want to chuck you out, but I think it will cause a stir if you're not back for breakfast. I made you miss dinner twice this week, makes no good impression." Castiel noted, amusement flickered in his glance. Dean nodded and yawned – he was too exhausted to feel regret or shame for the intimacy they had shared this evening (be it on a physical or emotional base), he even hungered for more.
Castiel struggled to his feet and held out his hand for Dean. With a swift movement he stood as well, so very close in front of Castiel – they were face to face, and it made Dean short of breath. It seemed like his exhales were tuned to Castiel's, that they were breathing in unison, and it made Dean lose his composure rapidly. His hot breath mingled with Castiel's, it blew against his mouth repeatedly, made his head swim. It was so very strenuous to withstand the temptation to uplift his hands and frame Castiel's fine face – not to morph their lips together in heady, vehement kisses, claiming those plump lips with his own. Castiel finally found the strength to turn away, and Dean took his crutches and followed him wordlessly to the apartment door.
As they stood there in the greyish twilight - Dean's back facing the door and Castiel in front of him – it appeared to Dean that their breaths were terribly loud, uneven. He didn't exactly know where he and Castiel where standing in the moment, but the urge to be near him was unbearable. Especially when he drowned in the dark glint ignited in Castiel's wide, blue eyes. They were clinging to Dean's steady look, reading him like an open book. He was still worried how Castiel could do that, breaking seal after seal of his protective wall to gain access to his innermost thoughts, with just a quick glance.
Dean saw Castiel's lips were slightly parted, sensually even; his appearance wrecked Dean, he couldn't stand it. He was so irresistible, unreachable, and right there in front of him. Before he understood what was happening, he saw Castiel was approaching him, overcoming the last step separating their bodies. Then there were strong arms thrown around his sides, and Castiel pulled him gingerly into a hug. Their chests met, and Dean was overwhelmed with the sheer intensity of feelingCastiel against him, around him. His ribcage felt hard and lean against his, for a heart-stopping moment, Dean could feel Castiel's chest breathe against his. He stood awkwardly in the hallway, with Castiel wrapped around him, while the crutches hindered him from replying to the embrace in an equal manner. Inside of him a terrible yearning thrived, he wanted to engulf Castiel too. He harrumphed, trying to get over his sudden timidity. With Castiel holding him it was difficult to concentrate.
"Uhm, Cas, I'd hug you back, but my arms are already occupied," he explained, his voice sounded suffocated. Within a second, Castiel withdrew slightly; His arms were still around Dean's back, and he looked up into Dean's face with a cheeky smile. Dean could see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes through the half-light, it made him speechless, as if he was struck by lightning. He let Castiel take the crutches cautiously out of his hands, and he watched how he leaned them against the wall. Dean shifted his body weight on his sane foot, and then Castiel was around him once more, holding him in a bone-crushing, tight embrace. It knocked the air out of Dean's lungs. The intensity of the embrace was overpowering him, he was so painfully aware of everything taking place: Castiel's hands were on his back, fisting his shirt desperately. Castiel's moist, hot breath against his bare neck, his forehead touching Dean's jaw, as he hid his face in the crook of Dean's neck.
Dean allowed himself to respond to Castiel's careful caress; he engulfed him in a hug too. He rested his chin on Castiel's boney, broad shoulder and inhaled the maddening, entrancing scent of his hair and body. Now that they could hug properly, Dean let one of his arms come around Castiel's slim waist, his other hand traveled into Castiel's dark strands as he cupped the back side of his scalp. Automatically his fingers were curling into the soft mop of hair; a high-pitched, satisfied sigh escaped Castiel when Dean's fingers stroked his scalp tenderly, when the fingernails of his other hand dug boldly into the flesh of his hip. As if they had an unspoken agreement, they both moved closer to each other, so that their bodies were conjoined from their hips to their shoulders. All at once, the air they breathed was thick with want, passion pumped through their veins – Dean felt his knees loosening, his mind was befogged. All that mattered was the sensation of holding Castiel like this, of feeling his slender fingers on his back, holding him rather desperately. He felt so firm and soft in his arms, it was addictive.
Deep down inside of him, Dean knew this simple embrace was unreasonable, especially because it was swiftly getting out of control. Though he was very unwilling to do so, he disengaged from Castiel slowly, releasing him from their embrace. Castiel's smile was all it took to make Dean flustered all over again. Everything within him screamed for more closeness to this man, the attraction between them almost ached Dean, the longer he remained idle, the longer his body wasn't glued to Castiel's. He noted their exhales sounded erratic, and he knew he had to get a hold of himself immediately; otherwise he would plainly lose it.
"Thanks for tonight, Cas. You really saved me from death by boredom," he said without breath, fueling Castiel's gorgeous smile. He nodded briefly, then he gathered Dean's crutches and handed them back to him.
"You're welcome, the pleasure is all mine. I see you on Monday, alright?"
It was Dean's turn to nod; he tried to burn Castiel's appearance into his mind before he would leave. He never wanted to forget how affectionate his words sounded, raspy and thick with emotions. How his eyes sparkled, bursting with life and an ineffable joy, which made Dean antsy and utterly cheerful.
"Will you be alright or should I walk you back? In case someone kidnaps you or something," Castiel grinned, and Dean simply had to reciprocate the cheeky smirk.
"Don't worry, even if, they'd bring me back in the morning," he joked, and Castiel laughed lightly. Castiel held the apartment door open for Dean and they said affectionate, quiet "Goodnights" to each other, when Dean walked passed him. Castiel waited, until Dean had left the house, only then did Dean hear the sound of his apartment door closing. Damn, he thought to himself - What a night it's been...
…
Dean sneaked back into the rehab-center, it was past eleven – thankfully no one noted him, he slipped into his room, unseen by anyone. He was comfortably sated and the remains of his alcohol stupor made him dog-tired. When he sat down on his bed, he picked up his neglected cell phone – there were three missed calls, and all of them were from Sam. Shit, he had totally forgotten about his brother and their rule to phone each day. Dean lay down with a groan and dialed Sam's number, about to apologise to him. He had been so intrigued with Castiel that he hadn't even thought about Sam, though he knew he should have. Sam answered the phone, he sounded upset and fidgety.
"Dean? Is that you?" Sam asked, Dean winced once he realised he had worried his younger brother unnecessarily.
"Yeah, it's me," he answered guiltily, receiving snarled questions in return.
"Where the fuck have you been? Are you too busy to answer your phone?" Sam complained. Dean scratched his head nervously; he could already imagine what Sam would think of his today's pastime.
"I was at Cas' place, sorry, I totally forgot about talking to you," he confessed, a little harassed.
"Oh, that's rich, coming from you, Dean! You said I should call every day, and when I do, you're not there. You could at least take your phone along and write me a text message that you're indisposed or something. Moreover, what do you mean, you were at Cas' place? So now it's Cas? What happened to Castiel?" Sam argued. Dean felt a fierce blush coming to his cheeks, scorching heat soared in his stomach, constricted his throat. He understood Sam was somewhat angry with him, but it was none of his business where he spend an evening at, or more importantly, with whom.
"Yeah, so what? We're getting on well. Should I apologise for that?" he countered, hearing Sam's scoff.
"Don't give me that kind of crap, Dean. I know you. Look, all I'm saying is don't become too attached to that guy. Whatever put a bee in your bonnet, get it out."
Dean gritted his teeth; with his other hand he clenched a fist. Had he been so obvious? Maybe he shouldn't have talked with Sam about Castiel almost every day of this week, he might have revealed more than he had intended to. For a few moments tense silence lingered between them, and Dean felt his defensive walls crumble all too quickly. He had never been good with lying to Sam. He sighed agitatedly, it was like a wordless concession he made, and Sam recognized the given hint.
"Look, I mean no harm, and you know that. It's just... this make-believe world, it never lasts. I know what I'm talking about. I've tried it with Jess for an even longer period, and you know perfectly how that ended. All I'm saying is, you will leave this place in five weeks, so don't get used to his company. We're not meant for this, Dean."
"I know, Sammy... Yeah, you're right," Dean replied reluctantly. Deep down inside of him he knew Sam was only sensible, he reminded Dean of the wariness he had forgone all too easily in Castiel's company. His mind told him he was clinging to a fantasy, to daydreams of a future that could never be. His heart protested when reality set in and clutched him with its firm hands, as its claws cut right through him. He continued talking to Sam, and their topics quickly changed, the discussion about Castiel was put aside for now. When Dean hung up a good while later, he felt like he had been torn in two. Ambivalent feelings wrestled inside of him, he struggled for a solution, absolutely helpless. It was a hindrance that he remembered the feeling of holding Castiel in his arms vividly. He could still feel his soft, dark strands as he twisted them between his fingers. He could still hear his breathing stumble the moment he had seized his hip firmly. A painful riot rumbled in Dean's heart when the memories of Castiel mingled with Sam's admonishing words. When he fell asleep, he still didn't know what to do.
TBC
Sooo? Got anything to say? Next update will probably be on Friday!
