Author's Note: The one where Cas shows Dean just how special he thinks he is.


Castiel wasn't usually a violent person. He was level-headed, and he never found himself wanting to hurt another person. If he was going to get upset with anyone, it was going to be himself. But this? This was the exception.

"I was ri-ight, I was ri-ight!" Gabe cheered, skipping around behind the counter like a damn schoolgirl on the playground. He had been singing the same thing all morning, and Cas had just about had it.

"Would you shut up already?" Castiel growled, slamming a steaming cappuccino down on the counter, "I think I got it the hundredth time you said it."

"Probably but I really could care less because I was right," Gabe trilled, unfazed by the murderous glare Castiel was now shooting his way.

"Asshole," Cas muttered under his breath, picking the cappuccino back up before quickly walking away and handing it over to a tall, redheaded woman. Gabe had unfortunately followed him over, leaning against the counter with a smug smirk on his face.

"I am your boss, remember?" He reminded Castiel the moment the woman turned to leave.

"Yeah, I remember," Cas sighed, "but c'mon, man, would someone's boss actually spend all morning singing about how he was right about them sharing a candlelit dinner with their boyfriend?"

Gabe shrugged, trying to appear like he was the innocent one in this situation. Which he sure as hell wasn't.

"Maybe not," he admitted, "but I never said I was your typical boss, did I?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and turned away, reaching over and grabbing a rag to aimlessly scrub down the counter. He needed to do something to distract himself. From Gabe and especially from his "romantic dinner" later that night.

Yes, the smug bastard had been right after all. Before Dean had left, he had invited him over to dinner. At his house. A dinner that he,Dean Winchester, was going to prepare.

And now, Gabe wasn't going to let him live it down, a fact that didn't surprise Castiel in the least. Although he would never say anything, Cas had a pretty good idea of why his boss was taking it the way he was. It was simple- he was jealous.

Sam had continued to show up regularly, and Gabe seemed happy about it, of course, but there also seemed to be something bothering him. Whenever he didn't think anyone was looking, he would get this pained expression on his face as if he had just been rejected.

Castiel had been wanting to ask him about it all week, but what the hell was he supposed to say? He didn't even know what the guy's problem was, and the last thing he wanted to do was bring up some sensitive subject that ended their "friendship".

But that was besides the point. The dinner was what was really important right now, and he knew that there was no way he could mess it up.

To Castiel's relief, Gabe had walked away and was now with Sam, leaning against his table with a playful smirk on his face. The adoring glint in his boss's eyes when he gazed at Sam was painful to see, filled with such an unfulfilled longing and desire. The taller man looked back at him with affection, but it wasn't the same, wasn't as intense. And the worst part was that Gabe didn't seem to notice. Or maybe, Castiel thought sadly,he just doesn't care.

The more Cas thought about it, the more he wondered if he and Dean were the same way. Did he look completely enamored by Dean when he stared at him? And how did the other man look when he stared back? Cas had always thought their passion was equally as intense, but now he was beginning to doubt himself.

Castiel's mind was a cruel thing.


It'll be fine, it'll be fine, Cas struggled to convince himself, standing warily on the sidewalk in front of his dorm.

On any other night, the inky black sky and pinpoints of bright light would've captivated him, but not tonight. The darkness seemed to press in from every side, wrapping its ominous and foreboding tendrils around him, reeling him in and filling his head with negative thoughts.

Castiel folded his arms across his chest, glancing anxiously from side to side. No one at school knew he and Dean were dating- Jesus Christ, we're actually dating- and the other man would be there any minute to pick him up. Cas wanted to keep their relationship a secret, away from the prying eyes of his nosy friends and snarky classmates. He felt like he would be even more of an outcast if people found out he was dating a guy.

Suddenly, a silver BMW convertible turned the corner, heading straight for Castiel. He knew who it was immediately. Dean.

The convertible came to a halt right in front of Cas, whose eyes were wide and whose legs almost gave out at the sight of the expensive-looking vehicle. The engine purred, causing Castiel to jump a little, the sound further heightening his anxiety.

The window rolled down, revealing Dean Winchester's excited, grinning face. His eyes raked over Cas, taking in his jeans, powder blue sweater vest, and white undershirt. Castiel had picked it out because it seemed appropriate to wear something somewhat fancy for dinner. And he always wore sweater vests when he wanted to look classy.

"Damn, Cas," Dean purred, whistling his approval, "you should wear that more often!"

Castiel blushed, purposely staring down at his feet in an attempt to ignore Dean's penetrating stare. There was such a hungry look in the brunet's eyes, and for some reason, Cas felt like it was foreshadowing for what was to come. His insticts were screaming at him, telling him to run away because Dean was most certainly going to make a move tonight.

But he stood his ground. He could go through with this, whether Dean was expecting to… sleep with him or not. They had been dating for almost six weeks if you took into account the week before they actually kissed for the first time. That was a long time, wasn't it? From everything Castiel had seen and heard, Dean should've already jumped his bones by now. But he hadn't. Because that perfect son of a bitch was sticking to his promise, to his commitment to taking things slow.

"Aw, stop blushing and get your cute little ass over here," Dean called, gesturing for him to come over, "I don't wanna eat dinner too late!"

There it is, Cas thought, his imagination gladly providing a vivid image of Dean throwing their dinner aside, pushing him onto the table, and pressing his lips hungrily to his skin. Dean wanted to have enough time after dinner so that they could… oh God, he really hoped he could go through with this.

"Cas, baby, what are you doing just standing there?" Dean chuckled, catching the younger man off guard with the pet name he had recently given him.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," Castiel muttered, shuffling over to the passenger side door and quickly climbing in, "I just saw you pull up in this, and I just- wow."

Dean laughed, throwing his head back and letting out a loud chuckle. Cas loved it when he laughed like that, throwing his whole body into it, such an easy and honestly happy sound that made him feel oddly at home.

"She's pretty impressive," he admitted, flashing Castiel one of his cocky little smirks, "but you should see the beauty I have back at home. I'll take you out in a drive in her one day, and you'll never look at this car the same way again."

Cas rolled his eyes, trying to imagine what kind of car could possibly be better than this one. The fucking thing probably had a built-in swimming pool or something.

"I'm sure she's something," Cas replied cheekily, turning to face Dean with his own mischievous grin, "just like you."

"You're too sweet," Dean laughed, turning the ignition with an easy twist of his fingers, "I wish I was as special as my Baby."

"Your Baby? I thought I was your baby!" Cas cried, glaring at him playfully.

"You are, you are!" the brunet reassured him, raising his hands off of the steering wheel and motioning for him to calm down, "but I also have my Baby, the best car a guy could ever ask for."

"Well, shit, Dean," Castiel gasped mockingly, "why don't you just have dinner with your car then?"

"You know, Cas," Dean chuckled, finally pressing down on the gas pedal, "I never thought you were this sassy when I first met you."

"Well," the younger man sighed, shrugging his shoulders, "now you know."

"Yeah, I guess I do," Dean sighed, glancing over at Cas with a lazy smile.

He suddenly reached over, grabbing Castiel's left hand and interlacing their fingers. He rested their clasped hands on the console between their seats, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Although Dean swore up and down that he wasn't a romantic, Cas knew the truth, knew that it was a load of bullshit. Because big, bad Dean Winchester loved to hold hands.

When they shared their daily coffee, Dean would reach across the table and intertwine their fingers. When they had gone to the park that day, their hands, clasped tightly together, swung easily between them as they walked. When they had visited the supermarket one day because Cas had run out of milk, Dean even held his hand as they strode down the aisles. It was as if he couldn't live without the pressure of the younger man's hand in his, worried that it was the only thing keeping Castiel from running away.

"You know you love it," Cas replied softly, basking in the warmth of Dean's emerald gaze.


Okay, this is starting to get a little ridiculous, Castiel decided, staring up at Dean's "house" in wonder.

Yet again, Dean had managed to inadvertently surprise Cas. First, he had been shocked when he asked him for his number. Then, he had been floored by Dean's office building, towering over him and making him feel insignificant. And that fucking picnic in the park, the perfect romantic date, straight from a movie.

"This is your house?" Castiel cried, turning in his seat to look at the other man. Dean just nodded, chuckling softly at Cas's reaction. How was he so calm about this? His damn house was a mansion!

The Winchesters' house was surrounded by an expansive yard, all lush green grass with a single tree, a gorgeous weeping willow, looming over the driveway. The driveway was fairly long, leading straight to a spacious garage, occupied by three other cars. The house was two stories tall and surprisingly wide, painted using an elegant white color. An awning was built along the front of the house, held up by four, thick pillars. The roof was covered in black tiles, and the windows were rectangular with small windowsills. Bushes lined a thin pathway from the driveway to a set of steps leading up to the door, a tall wooden one painted black. The house fit the sleek, classic look of the two Winchester brothers.

"It sure is," Dean trilled, glancing up into the branches of the weeping willow as they passed beneath it, "home sweet home."

"Son of a bitch," Castiel whispered, completely at a loss for words. He had always dreamed of living in a place like this, a place that begged you to come through its gorgeous front door and stay for a while, curled up in a plush chair as you gazed out the window at the beautiful world outside.

Dean pulled the car into the driveway, parking next to a much older looking vehicle. Although it wasn't as new as the convertible, there was still something about it that was unmistakably sexy.

"Oh, and there's my Baby," Dean cooed, gesturing at the other car before pulling out the keys from the ignition, "a 1967 Impala, the car that you're so jealous of."

Now that Castiel saw the car, he had to admit he understood why Dean loved it so much. It was positively stunning in its own way.

"I can see why you love her so much," Castiel admitted, unbuckling his seat belt and pushing open the door, "she's beautiful."

"Damn right she is!" Dean replied proudly, slamming his door shut as he stepped out of the car. Castiel shut his own door, frozen in place as he continued to gape at The Winchester Mansion.

Dean came around to stand by his side, reaching down and grabbing Castiel's hand as he always did. Cas glanced down at their hands, unable to stop his lips from turning up into a little smile.

"Now, let's get inside so I can show you just how good of a cook I really am," Dean teased, lightly tugging the younger man along as he headed towards the narrow pathway leading to the door. Castiel eagerly obliged, walking along, trying to keep up with the other man's pace.

Dean excitedly threw open the door and motioned for Cas to step through the threshold, bowing theatrically.

"You're such a-"

The final word would forever be stuck in Castiel's throat.Well, what do you know, he thought, another surprise.

The first thing he noticed was the chandelier dangling from the ceiling, its hanging crystals refracting dazzling white light across the cream-colored walls. A wide, marble staircase lined the right wall, leading up to the second story. The floor was also marble, illuminated by the intricate chandelier above. A low table lined the other wall, covered in several framed pictures.

Off to the right was what looked like the living room. An immense plasma screen television hung on the far wall, set up in front of a leather, semi circular couch. A glass table was arranged between the television and the couch. The room was furnished with hardwood floors and maroon walls, a room specifically for sitting around and watching television.

Then, off to the left was the dinning room. The room Dean was currently dragging him towards.

This room also had hardwood floors, and the walls were painted a creamy white. A long, walnut table with six chairs sat in the middle of the room, decorated with two tall candles and a small vase containing a single rose as the centerpiece. The plates, silverware, and wine glasses were already in place, neatly arranged with a folded cloth sitting on each plate. A bottle of what appeared to be a Chardonnay was also set out, ready to be uncorked and drank.

"Here we go," Dean announced, pulling Cas towards the nearest chair, "you can just sit here while I whip us up some dinner. I'm obviously a professional so it shouldn't take me that long."

Castiel rolled his eyes but obeyed, taking a seat as Dean pulled out the chair for him. He shifted a little, making himself comfortable, doubting that Dean could cook them something in less than thirty minutes.

"Sure," Cas drawled, tilting his head back so that he could stare up at Dean, "the perfect combination of lawyer and chef."

"You know it," Dean purred, leaning down to place a quick kiss on Castiel's lips. He hummed softly into his mouth before pulling away, laughing when Cas tried to follow his retreating lips with a disappointed little whimper. Dean winked at the younger man, ignoring his frustrated pout, and strutted in the direction of a doorway which Castiel assumed led to the kitchen.

"You'll love it, Cas!" he called, his voice slightly muffled by the wall separating them, "it's my favorite thing to make!"

Castiel wanted to reply with some clever retort, keeping up with their playful banter, but he felt like now was the wrong time. Dean seemed so thrilled to be cooking for him, that childish excitement Cas loved showing through again.

"I bet it'll be delicious!" he agreed, speaking loudly so that the other man could hear him.

And he meant it.


"Oh my God," Castiel moaned, popping another plump meatball into his mouth.

"Good, right?" Dean asked, smirking at him from across the table, wine glass in hand.

"God yes," Cas mumbled, struggling to talk as he chewed, "this is delicious."

Dean chuckled, his lips pressed to the rim of his glass as he took a sip of wine. Cas couldn't help but watch the way his thick lips looked as he drank, the clear liquid gliding across them and down his throat.

"And you somehow remembered that my favorite kind of wine," Castiel continued, lifting his own glass to his lips,"is a Chardonnay."

Dean shrugged, setting his glass back on the table. He always seemed so confident, as if he always knew the right thing to do or say.

"Well," he drawled, picking up his fork, spinning it so that spaghetti noodles wrapped around the tongs, "I figured that since you have to remember my favorite type of coffee, I could do the same for you. With wine."

Cas felt warmth rush to his face, the beginnings of a flush reddening his cheeks. It was moments like this that reminded him why he- no, no, he couldn't think about that. That four-letter word was an angry, cruel beast, patiently waiting to sink its claws into him, only to tear away his flesh when it leaves.

"Wow," Cas replied softly, "that's really sweet of you, Dean. You didn't have to do that."

"No, I didn't have to. But this is all for you. And it's the right-"

"No, Dean, really-"

"Dammit, Cas, stop that," Dean interjected, a sharpness to his voice.

"Stop what?" Cas wondered, tilting his head to the side. He wasn't used to Dean being upset with him.

"That thing you do," Dean pleaded, "the way you feel like people shouldn't do anything special for you. Like you don't deserve it or something."

His throat felt tighter, like someone had wrapped their fingers around his neck with the intent to choke him. A small gasp slipped past his lips, hanging in the air between them, an air marred by a thick and unnerving silence.

"Dean-"

"No, I'm serious," Dean growled, dropping his fork, still wrapped in spaghetti, "you're too fucking special to think that. You deserve every single thing that I've done for you. And every compliment I've ever given you."
Castiel stared at him, biting his lip, completely overwhelmed. Dean spoke with such passion, such conviction. He believed what he said, that much was obvious.

"No one has ever said they thought I was special before," Cas whispered, gazing down at the noodles on his plate, the way they tangled together, buried beneath meatballs and rich tomato sauce.

"Well, they should," Dean replied vehemently, leaning forward in his seat, "I don't know how they can't! You're smart, funny, attractive- a better man than I could ever dream of being!"

Castiel's head shot up, shaking from side to side in disagreement.

"Don't say that, Dean," Cas begged, "you're an incredible person."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, pain flashing in his eyes, but then froze. His lips turned up into a weak smile.

"Agree to disagree," he replied with a nervous chuckle, picking his fork back up again.

"You can't do that," Cas sighed, spearing another meatball on his fork, "you can't say all of that nice shit to me, and then turn around and put yourself down."

Dean stopped, a long noodle dangling from his mouth. If it were any other situation, Castiel probably would've laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

"I don't know, you act all cocky and confident, but then you go and," Cas hesitated, watching Dean suck up the noodle with his brow furrowed, "and say little things that make me think you don't feel that way about yourself at all. Like maybe you actually… have really low self-esteem like me."

Dean finished the noodle and sighed, reaching his hands up to rub his temples. Cas wondered if he'd hit a nerve, that just maybe he had uncovered Dean's greatest secret. He knew a lot about the other man, but at the same time, he didn't.

"Listen, Cas," Dean began, "no one knows about this except for Sammy, you got it?"

Castiel nodded eagerly, his curiosity officially piqued.

"Alright," the other man sighed, placing his elbows on the table and leaning in even closer, "you're right, I actually have some pretty damn low self-esteem. And I wish I could tell you why, I really do, but I just can't. That's why I've never told anyone, because I know they'll want an explanation. But I just can't give them a good one."

Cas felt his heart slowly shattering into a million pieces, every word out of Dean's mouth breaking him apart. It was a confession, something that practically no one knew. Yes, he did want an explanation, but for Dean's sake, he wouldn't push for it.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel answered honestly, setting the fork back down on his plate, his meatball long forgotten, "I wish that there was some way I could make you see how amazing you really are."

"It's okay," Dean assured him, taking a quick sip from his wine glass before continuing, "you don't have to do anything at all. You've already done enough for me."

Well, that answer's just not good enough, Cas thought, his mind desperately grasping at ideas. There had to be something he could do. And then it him.

"Dean…" he muttered, pushing his chair back so that he could stand, "I think I know what I can do for you."

Dean watched him as he stood, looking completely and utterly confused. Cas slowly approached him, staring intently into his eyes, sliding his fingertips across the smooth wood of the table as he walked closer. You can do this, his mind encouraged.

"Really now?" Dean asked, fixing Castiel with his emerald gaze, "And what's that?"

Instead of answering the other man, Cas tugged his chair out, loving the little gasp it elicited from him. Mustering up every ounce of courage he had, he lifted his one leg and slid onto Dean's lap.

Dean's eyes widened, staring up at Cas as if he didn't know what the hell he was. It was strangely empowering to see Dean be the vulnerable one for once.

"Um, Cas, baby," he stuttered, "this isn't what I meant when I-"

"Shhh," Castiel purred, placing a finger over the other man's lips, "I don't care what you meant. This is what I'm going to do for you."

"But-"

"Yes, I want this," Cas assured him, running his fingers down Dean's chest, "the real question is- do you?"

"Fuck, Cas," Dean moaned, frantically grasping at the back of Castiel's neck, pulling him in and claiming his lips. The kiss was hungry, much hungrier than most of their kisses in the past.

Cas eagerly melted against Dean, grasping at the fabric of his white button-down shirt. His lips were pliable, anxious to be parted and dominated. He sighed softly into Dean's mouth, using his firm grip on his shirt to pull him in even closer.

Suddenly, Dean pulled away, his fingers flying down to the hem of Castiel's sweater vest. He pulled it over the younger man's head, tossing it onto the floor a few feet away. Cas's undershirt followed shortly after, exposing his bare chest to Dean's wandering mouth and fingers.

Dean leaned back in, pressing his lips hungrily to Castiel's collarbone, trailing kisses down his chest, licking and teasing his nipples. Cas gasped, digging his fingers into Dean's hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. The other man moaned against his skin, bringing his hand down to Castiel's pants, cupping his hardening cock through his jeans.

Those lips, those fucking lips, pressed against his skin, leaving delicious heat in their wake. That hand, that impossibly large palm pressed against the crotch of his jeans, rubbing up and down, a glorious source of friction, giving him exactly what he wanted. He wanted to know what that hand would feel like wrapped around his bare cock, twisting and sliding, pulling him closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, Dean," Cas groaned, pressing his hips down, "we need to- shit- we need to get to the bedroom."

"Mhm," Dean hummed, reluctantly leaning back. He looked wild, his hair ruffled, his lips swollen and red, the stunning green of his eyes reduced to a thin ring, blotted out by the inky blackness of his dilating pupils.

Castiel quickly jumped off of Dean's lap, excitedly grasping his wrists, tugging him up onto his feet. The other man chuckled, the sound more gravelly than usual, sending a shiver down Cas's spine. He could only imagine what his voice would sound like, hearing him cry out his name in that husky tone.

"Upstairs?" Cas croaked, already dragging Dean in the direction of the steps.

"Yes, fuck, hurry," Dean gasped, turning his wrists and fingers so that he was the one gripping Castiel's hands, easily yanking him up the stairs. Cas felt giddy, like he was floating on a cloud, gliding up the stairs, nothing about his surroundings important enough to notice.

Before he knew it, they were running down a hallway, not a single detail catching his eye. He focused on the door at the end of the hall, the one Dean was pulling him towards, the one that led to the room Castiel knew would become his favorite. There were so many promises behind that door, promises of happiness, promises of passion.

They crashed into the door, Dean shoving it open as if it weighed nothing, ignoring the way it slammed against the wall behind it. Again, Cas had no idea what the room was like, other than the plush white blanket Dean was pushing him into.

Dean shifted, straddling the younger man's hips, pressing their clothed cocks against each other. Castiel moaned loudly, arching his back, longing to increase the friction, to bring himself closer to toe-curling pleasure. Dean leaned down, sealing his lips to Cas's, licking into his mouth, their tongues brushing.

"This isn't fair," Cas panted, turning his head away, grappling at the buttons of Dean's shirt. His fingers were shaking, making it almost impossible to unbutton the shirt, to reveal the smooth skin beneath. Dean chuckled softly, reaching between them to push Cas's hands away. With surprising speed, he undid each button, tugging the shirt off of his arms before throwing it carelessly to the side.

"Better?" Dean purred, trailing his fingers down his bare chest, lingering on the firm muscles of his abdomen.

"Almost," Castiel growled, reaching out towards the zipper on Dean's pants. They needed to go- now.

"No, no, no," Dean scolded mockingly, knocking Cas's fingers out of the way, "you first."

He moved his hands down to the zipper on Castiel's jeans, slowly pulling it down, maddeningly slow. When he had managed to tug it all the way down, he muttered something that sounded like "son of a bitch" before gripping the waistband and pulling down. Cas's pants soon joined Dean's shirt on the floor, no longer needed.

Frantically, Castiel reached for Dean's pants again, desperate to get them off. This time, the other man allowed him to, watching in fascination as Cas quickly yanked the zipper down, hesitantly pressing his hand to Dean's length through his boxers. He gasped, thrusting his hips up into the touch. Castiel smiled, pleased with the reaction.

"Wait," Dean whimpered, lifting himself off of Cas's hips. He pulled his pants off, yet again shocking Castiel with how fast he managed to undress himself. They landed on the floor with a satisfying little thwump, just another addition to the pile of discarded clothes beside the bed.

"Oh, shit," Cas whined, his eyes rolling back in his head as Dean lowered himself back onto his hips, bringing their bare chests together, their cocks brushing against each other through the thin fabric of their boxers. Tendrils of warmth began to unfurl in the pit of Castiel's belly, pushing him towards the edge, oh so fucking close to the edge.

"The boxers," he rasped, "the fucking boxers need to go."

"God yes," Dean whimpered, leaning back again. Both boxers hit the floor faster than any of the other articles of clothing, the desperate need to feel one another becoming more and more unbearable. Cas could feel how much they both wanted the contact, wanted this.

Dean was back on him in seconds, bringing their achingly hard erections together, pushing his hips up. Castiel gasped, his fingers digging into the thick fabric of the covers beneath, struggling to find something to hold onto as he rode through his waves of pleasure.

"Dean!" Cas cried, jerking his hips up. He could feel that heat creeping across his skin, up to his face, down to his throbbing erection. It was so powerful, so overwhelming, that he could feel it in his bones, pushing its way beneath his skin. He had never felt so alive.

"Yeah, baby, I'm gonna take care of you," Dean panted, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, whimpering at the slick, velvety feel of skin on skin. He quickly slid his hand up, moving it along with the thrust of his hips. He ran his thumb along both of their slits, gasping out Castiel's name, bringing his hand back down and leaning his head back.

Just as Cas thought, the way Dean groaned his name in that wrecked voice was positively sinful, filling the air with its rich sound. He wanted to hear that same voice cry out his name so loudly that Dean's neighbors would know it, would know that Castiel Novak belonged to Dean Winchester, that they were one in the same, an inseparable pair.

Dean's hip movements were becoming more erratic, his hand moving over their erections in a frenzied rush, pulling, twisting. Castiel felt like his brain was melting, reduced to a pathetic, quivering mess. Dean's whimpers, his hand, his hips, his warm skin, his slick cock- it was all that mattered, all that Cas could see, all that he could feel, could focus on.

"Dean, I think I-I'm gonna- fuck," he whined, squeezing his eyes shut, the rest of his words caught in his throat. He hadn't realized how much he needed this, this intimacy. It surpassed his wildest fantasies, full of more passion and pleasure than he could have ever imagined.

"It's okay," Dean panted, leaning down, his lips brushing against Castiel's ear as he spoke, "let it go. Let it all go."

And he did. Everything was suddenly white, blinding him, engulfing him. His toes curled and his body shook, the force of his orgasm completely overtaking him. The sensation was ineffable, an indescribable experience, like nothing he had ever felt before.

Dean thrust once more before he joined Cas in his state of insurmountable bliss, their come mixing together, slick against each of their bellies. He slumped against Castiel's spent body, breathing heavily, his fingers shaking as he raised his hands to cup the younger man's face. He gazed down at him, his lust blown pupils staring straight into the little bit of cerulean blue still visible in Cas's eyes.

"I can't believe you think I'm that great," Dean whispered, his breath ghosting across the tender skin of Castiel's neck.

Cas laughed, a weak little chuckle but genuine nonetheless. Because Dean would never know just how amazing Castiel thought he was.