10.
"So," Dean worries at his lip.
They had decided on lunch in a diner.
"So…" Castiel repeats.
For a place so bright and welcoming, this is agonisingly uncomfortable.
Conversation ran completely dry around the time they entered; there's only so many times it could be considered acceptable for Dean to blush and giggle at absolutely nothing or comment on the weather outside or décor inside without appearing to be an absolute fucking idiot.
"Fuck, this is awkward."
Dean nearly chokes on his own spit at Castiel's comment, muttered out worriedly from the angel's lips as he stares helplessly at the table rather than at Dean.
Terrible though it is to hear, it's definitely true.
This is a mistake, oh fuck, it's such a fucking mistake. Shit, fuck it, fuck everything.
"You probably didn't mean to say that out loud, huh?" Dean asks. He smiles despite himself, though it's self-deprecating and helpless, because Cas essentially just admitted he'd rather not be here, that this is uncomfortable and unenjoyable and awful; and it really fucking hurts.
"I said it out loud?" Castiel asks, his face flushing immediately. Holy shit, the guy looks devastated.
"Yeah." Dean nods, grinning as he shakes his head, staring at the table instead of Castiel. He pushes at some spilled salt granules on the table with the pad of his forefinger. His face is heating. This whole thing is a mistake. Why did he think it would be a good idea? Dean and Castiel haven't had a decent sober conversation since the protest, which was months ago; the last good conversation they had they had both been drinking and they ended up kissing, which as it turns out was another massive fucking mistake.
"I'm sorry—"
"Eh, it's fine." Dean shrugs. "I was thinking it, too."
"You were?" Castiel asks, looking more anxious than ever. The line forming between his eyebrows and their hopeless, diagonal slope almost has Dean laughing with affection.
"You look worried." The human observes.
"Is it bad that I am?" Castiel frowns. "You just said you thought it was awkward."
"You said it first, Cas." Dean reminds, laughing despite himself. There's not much else left to do, in any case. "And anyway, don't worry about it. I've has some truly shitty dates, so a couple of awkward silences come nowhere near."
"Really?" Castiel raises his eyebrows. "I bet you anything I've had worse."
Unlikely, Dean thinks to himself, thoughts turning ugly.
"I doubt it." He shakes his head.
"One time, I went on a date with someone who spent the entire time talking about Gossip Girl. Like, the whole time."
"The TV show?" Dean raises his eyebrows.
"Yeah." Castiel nods.
"Have you ever watched it?"
"Never ever." Castiel shakes his head. "And then they thought it was a good time to start re-enacting their A Capella band's best covers, only in the form of a solo."
"And this was in public?" Dean raises his eyebrows.
"Painfully public." Castiel winces at the memory. Dean laughs, rubbing his jaw. "In front of an entire restaurant."
"Okay, that's pretty shit—"
"No, it gets worse." Castiel shakes his head. "Then, I had to pay."
Dean snorts.
"Wow, Cas, way to overreact."
"You think I'm overreacting?" Castiel scoffs.
"So badly." Dean shakes his head. "It's like you're a freakin' child. You're so fucking childish."
The angel scowls at this criticism.
"Don't pull that face—" Dean laughs. "—You know what I meant—"
"So you have something better lined up?" Castiel raises his eyebrows.
"If by better, you mean a billion times worse, then yeah." Dean nods. "I've seen way worse."
"Go on, then." A stubborn, competitive edge has taken hold of Castiel's voice, and Dean cannot help but find it amusing.
He could drop a total fucking bombshell right now and tell Castiel that one of the last dates he went on with a guy ended up with him getting beat up in the dude's apartment and nearly dying—and it's almost funny for Dean to think about the way the angel would react; eyes widening to the point of ridiculousness, mouth comically dropping open… But then, Dean thinks, he only ever thinks of people's potential reactions as being funny to cover up the fact that Dean's past is really fucked up; that thinking about this kind of shit makes him want to cry, that if anyone outside of his family and Ezekiel knew about his past, he'd probably die of shame and self-loathing.
He settles for a relatively tame date out of his cornucopia of shitty experiences.
"Okay, so bear in mind that this is my first date, ever, and that I'm kind of a nervous person in general—"
"I hadn't noticed." Castiel snorts. Dean wants to pull a face, but Castiel's expression is so warm and bemused right now that his mind kind of draws an utter, misty blank. The angel is resting his chin on his closed fist, staring at Dean with his lips hardly twitched up into a smile, looking across at the human through his eyelashes. Dean's head is spinning.
"—So yeah," He stammers, attempting to continue, "this guy invited me to the movies and dinner beforehand."
"That sounds nice, Dean."
"Wait, wait, I haven't finished yet. So this guy took me to a freakin' gas station for dinner—"
"No." Castiel's mouth has fallen open, his hand has opened and has fallen to the table with a gentle, disbelieving thump.
"Yes." Dean grins, laughing.
"Fuck." The angel shakes his head, looking away. The guy is the perfect audience for telling stories to, Dean thinks happily; his reactions are so perfectly timed and overstated to just the right degree. It warms Dean's heart with affection and crude joy to observe.
"That's not all." Dean shakes his head. "So, then, he buys beef jerky. Just, lots and lots of it. It was really fucking weird. And I don't really want anything, 'cause I've kind of lost my appetite by this point, 'cause I'm kind of disgusted and confused—"
"—Understandable."
"Right? And I'm also a bit creeped out by the guy, but I decide to overlook it, thinking 'hey, maybe he's just a bit odd'. But I can deal with odd. I pride myself on being able to deal with odd. I'm cool with odd. We're all kind of odd. Maybe he thinks I'm kind of odd. So I stay."
Castiel can't stop himself laughing. Dean feels delight burst through him in a warm amber flame.
"And then he takes me to the movie. Except he really pointedly makes me pay for my own ticket—which I normally wouldn't mind—but he was seriously passive aggressive about the whole thing, you know?"
"What a dick."
"Yeah, absolute asshole." Dean agrees, rolling his eyes at the memory. "Anyway, throughout the whole film he's talking through the dialogue; telling me that my plans for the future are shit, that my life's gonna be a downward spiral if I carry on on that trajectory—apparently there's no future in art or architecture and I'm not smart enough to get into it anyway;" Dean squeezes his thumb as he retells this part of the story, because honestly, it still hurts, "—and he kept on tryin' to cop a feel. Of my crotch. In the cinema. Without my permission. Like, what the hell."
"Woah." Castiel frowns.
"I'm not even done."
"There can't be more." Castiel shakes his head. His face has fallen with disbelief and disgust.
"There really is." Dean rolls his eyes. "Fuck, it was such a bad date."
"It really sounds as though it was." Castiel agrees. "What else happened?"
"Then, he asks me if I'd go give him head in the men's bathroom."
"He didn't." Castiel's eyes widen to the point they look as though they're about to pop out of their sockets and roll onto the table between the pair.
"He did." Dean replies. "He asked for a blowjob. Mid-movie. In the men's bathroom."
"Fuck."
"Yeah, I know." Dean shakes his head, sighing resignedly. "Anyway, I'm like, 'ew, what the fuck?'; and he goes, 'alright, what about after the movie?'"
"Seriously?"
"Seriously." Dean confirms. "So I tell him no, again, and he's like; 'well, there's no point in me staying then, is there?' and leaves. In the middle of the movie. All 'cause I won't suck his dick in the cubicle of a public restroom."
"Bastard." Castiel laughs.
"Absolute dick head." Dean agrees. "So, I win?"
"You win." Castiel concedes, chuckling. "Without a doubt. Holy shit, without a doubt."
Dean beams triumphantly.
"And that's probably not even my worst."
"No way."
"Yes, way." Dean replies truthfully. "And see, things aren't so awkward anymore, are they?" He points out, smiling "We've found something to talk about. Broken the ice."
Castiel's eyes crinkle at their corners.
"I guess you're right." He nods.
"Damn straight I am." Dean grins. "So, Cas—and don't pull a face, 'cause you must have expected me to ask this, at some point—what the fuck happened on that corridor, outside your room? What was that all about? And what made you want to ask me out? You get why I'm confused—still—right?"
Castiel groans and rubs his face. Dean barks out a laugh—but before either of them can do anything else, a waitress arrives and asks to take their order. Both of them get a burger, fries and a milkshake. When she leaves, Dean grins across the table at Castiel.
"Go on." He smirks.
"Ah, fuck." Castiel sighs. "I was kind of hoping you'd have forgotten."
"I'm not that easily distracted by food, Cas." Dean laughs. "Come on, give me at least some credit."
"Alright," Castiel groans, his wings twitching as he grows obviously uncomfortable. "I've liked you for a while, now. That's the honest answer—and the simplest one. I've liked you for a long while; and I've tried to deny it 'cause you're a human, and I've tried to make peace with it 'cause you're a nice one—well, you're obviously more than that. You're great." Dean blushes at the angel's words. "More than great. Anyway." He shakes his head distractedly. "I tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away; but the problem is, Dean, every time you blushed that deep red or stammered out an awkward response to the simplest of questions or comments, I'd be reminded of the fact that you so clearly liked me, and I'd be forced to acknowledge that that fact overjoyed me. It was fucking awful."
Dean laughs, his cheeks pink.
"And then, acknowledging that it overjoyed me meant acknowledging that I liked you too. A lot." Castiel sighs.
"That must have sucked a lot for you." Dean replies, somewhat drolly.
"Piss off." Castiel rolls his eyes at Dean's teasing smirk. "Anyway, the point is, me asking you out wasn't a sudden, chance thing. It wasn't after forethought and planning, for sure, but it wasn't something I did on a whim. I've liked you—a lot—for a while."
"How long, exactly?" Dean grins. "And how much?"
"I'm not gonna answer that." Castiel laughs.
"That's not fair!"
"How does that follow?" The angel frowns.
"Well, you know pretty fucking clearly, apparently, that I've liked you since day one."
"That's not my fault." Castiel shrugs. "You just made it painfully obvious."
"You're a dick." Dean rolls his eyes, laughing.
"You're much less shy when you're on a date."
"Well, first of all, that was uncalled for."
"It was an observation."
"And second of all," Dean pulls a mock exasperated face, ignoring Castiel's comment, "now that I know that you like me, too, I can relax a little."
"I think I like it when you're relaxed."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I like that you're comfortable around me, now." Castiel smiles. "You are comfortable, right?" He frowns suddenly.
"Very." Dean laughs, his expression softening. "That and the fact that I'm in a diner. I really come into my own when food is involved."
"God, you're such a dork." Castiel bursts out laughing.
"But you like like me, Castiel." Dean beams. "So it doesn't matter how dorky I act."
"True. But only because I find it so very endearing when you're awkward."
"So the joke's on me, huh?" Dean raises his eyebrows, chuckling.
"Pretty much."
"I should probably feel embarrassed."
"If you didn't already." Castiel smirks softly.
Their food arrives.
"You still haven't really answered my question, you know."
"I haven't?"
"Why did you just come up to me and kiss me? Why the sudden change of heart?"
"I suppose you could say that Ezekiel unknowingly gave me a push in the right direction."
"Unknowingly?"
"That's right." Castiel confirms. "And I kind of explained, right after, didn't I? I wished that I'd kissed you again, last night, I wished that I'd asked you to stay, I wished I'd told you how I felt, right then and there—but even drunk me was too scared to do it."
"And how do you feel?" Dean asks. He can't help the nervous, smug smile that stretches itself across his features.
Castiel groans again and rubs his face.
"Are you just asking me this simply so you can watch me kick myself internally?"
"It's for a whole bucketload of reasons, Cas. Let's not limit it by just assigning it just one."
"Well, I've already answered one question that made me uncomfortable. Now you have to do the same."
"I thought you liked seeing me feeling more comfortable around you?"
"Give a little, take a little, Dean." Castiel shrugs. "Anyway, I may enjoy seeing you comfortable around me, but I still find it adorable whenever you're embarrassed."
"Fuck's sake." Dean rolls his eyes, laughing. "Alright, what's your question?"
"Why on earth were you banging your head against the wall—especially so violently—when I came out onto the corridor?"
"Oh, fuck. Isn't it obvious?" Dean laughs.
"No." Castiel frowns. "No even moderately so."
"I was kicking myself; 'cause I thought I'd fucked up the sort-of-friendship that we'd had going; I thought you regretted us kissing; I kept on telling myself that I'd made a mistake—several, in fact—that I should have done something more—"
"I kissed you." Castiel frowns. "Why would you be berating yourself for that?"
"Cas, I blame myself for everything." Dean laughs, rubbing his jaw, his expression and voice droll and self-deprecating.
"I've noticed." Castiel frowns.
"You do the same." Dean states, a little defensively.
"No," Castiel shakes his head. "I take responsibility for everything."
"Sounds the same to me."
"Maybe we're more similar than either of us realised."
"Maybe." Dean hums, smiling.
Castiel's knee brushes against Dean's underneath the table. Dean is staring at his burger, beaming at Castiel's touch. His eyes flick up to meet with Castiel's, and the flush returns to his cheeks. Wow. Shit. Dean can hardly believe any of this is happening. He's still sure he's gonna wake up at any moment; alone in his bed, and all of this will have been some gorgeous fantasy of his.
"I've never met anyone who blushes quite as lovely as you." Castiel says, expression as soft as moonlight on winter's night. Dean flushes further at the angel's look and words.
"You saying that only makes it worse, you know." He points out, both embarrassed and delighted.
"I've noticed." Castiel hums. His eyes crinkle softly at their corners, though his lips hardly twitch upwards at all: the smile is almost invisible. "But it's true. It's quite charming."
"I'm glad you find my embarrassment so endearing." Dean rolls his eyes, about to run his hand through his hair—but Castiel catches Dean's hand in his own in the next moment and the human freezes completely, swallowing hard as he looks up to stare, intently, at Castiel again.
"Very endearing." Castiel smile is soft and hardly there at all, but something about it contains more affection than Dean could ever have dreamed the angel would feel for him. Dean's ears have heated to the delighted temperature of the sun. Is he just lying to himself? Is this just a normal smile from the angel, holding no more affection than it would for any of his other friends? "How do you think Ezekiel will deal with the two of us dating?" He asks. Dean's flush turns into a soft smirk.
"Wow, I have no idea." He chuckles. "You really think he had no idea that you liked me?"
"None at all." Castiel shakes his head. "He knew about your crush on me, certainly, but then it was sort of hard not to—"
"Cas," Dean groans. Castiel laughs and squeezes the human's hand.
"You're perfect." He chuckles. His voice and expression are so honest that for a moment Dean's heart simultaneously aches and settles into his chest and he actually believes the angel.
"—I'm not—" Dean stammers.
"You are." Castiel shakes his head. "And maybe that's bad of me to say, on our first date. But you really are, and I'm not in the habit of watering down my words when it comes to this kind of thing."
"Bad?" Dean asks dumbly.
"Too forward."
"I'm fine with you being forward." Dean croaks.
"Well then," Castiel laughs, "you're perfect." He repeats.
"No, you." Dean grins bashfully, shaking his head.
"You're going to have to come round to my dorm a lot more often, I can tell." Castiel grins.
"Is that you saying that we're gonna be going on a lot of other dates, now?"
"It definitely is." Castiel beams. "That is, if you want to, as well."
"Of course I want to, Cas." Dean's whole frame is thrumming with sweetened joy.
"Brilliant." Castiel hums happily. "So you're saying it's going well?"
"Of course it's going well." Dean laughs. "You think so too, right?" He raises his eyebrows at Castiel, threads of worry suddenly twisting sharply through him.
"I think it's going just great, Dean."
"That's a relief."
Castiel chuckles softly and squeezes Dean's fingers.
"So," He hums, "you'll be coming round to mine a lot more, then?"
"I will." Dean confirms. "And you could come round to mine." He laughs. "I mean, if you wanted to—"
"Of course I'd like to." Castiel chuckles. His thumb brushes across Dean's knuckles.
"Oh," Dean smiles, relieved. "Good."
"Good." Castiel agrees, humming the word lightly. His eyes crinkle at their corners. "I look forward to it."
"How's your food?" Dean asks, blushing furiously at the angel's words.
"Good, thank you." The angel smiles, glancing down at his plate. "What about you?"
"Yeah, it's great," Dean grins. "Nowhere near as good as my Aunt Ellen's cooking, though."
"Oh?" Castiel raises his eyebrows at the human, smiling softly.
"Yeah, she can cook amazingly. Best chef in the world." Dean's heart is warmed by the thought.
"What's your favourite dish of hers?"
"Wow, I actually really don't know. She used to be a waitress, then a chef in a diner. Now she runs her own restaurant. It's really good—she does really good classics, like burgers and stuff, because of that—but her pies, wow—yeah—her pies are my favourite. Pies are my favourite food—and hers—"
Castiel has started beaming uncontrollably.
"Don't make fun of me." Dean frowns suddenly, but Castiel's smile only grows.
"I'm not," He shakes his head, expression genuine. "I'm thinking about how much I want to kiss you."
Dean's mouth becomes suddenly dry and his tongue feels like the top layer of soil on a hot day.
"You—"
"You really shouldn't be so surprised, Dean," Castiel chortles gently, eyes soft and bright with amusement. "I'm fairly certain that I already have kissed you, so—"
"—Cas, don't try and be fucking smart—"
"I like it when you call me Cas." The angel beams. He looks at Dean through his eyelashes.
"—You're just trying to embarrass me—" Dean flushes, ducking his head, but Castiel's fingers graze underneath Dean's chin and tilt the human's face up.
"Only a little." He says softly. The smile extends only to his lips, now, his eyes are filled with something else. Something not unpleasant, but something that Dean has never seen before and he desperately wants to look away, but it's like Castiel's gaze is magnetic and Dean is made out of thousands of tiny shards of iron; all he can do is stare back at the angel and know that he is being quickly, surely drawn to him.
"Then what else are you trying to do?" Dean asks, his voice barely above a murmur. Castiel stares intently at the human, expression betraying nothing other than a deep, passionate interest so intense that it could be mistaken for confusion.
"I'm trying to figure you out, Dean." The angel says softly.
"I'm not a puzzle." Dean frowns indignantly. Castiel merely raises his eyebrows at Dean with soft bemusement.
"No?" He asks, tone light enough to send pinpricks scattering along Dean's skin. "Then I'm trying to flatter you."
"Flatter me?" Dean repeats, breath catching in his throat, because his chin is still caught between Castiel's thumb and forefinger.
"And be honest."
"Can you be trying to flatter someone and be trying to be honest at the same time?" Dean frowns quizzically at the angel.
"I think you can…" The angel hums softly.
"And why are you trying to flatter me?" Dean asks.
"Because I want to kiss you." Castiel laughs again, tone honest.
"If you want to, that badly," Dean stammers out cautiously, "…you definitely can. I'd be totally up for that, I mean…"
Castiel has in the next instant began to rise slightly from his seat, leaning forward; the movement fluid and gentle and utterly enchanting; as though Castiel is a river and Dean is the sea, its ultimate destination. The angel grazes his nose against Dean's and then kisses him, long and deep and soft, before pulling back. It's so perfect that Dean is honestly a little frightened, and he wonders if Castiel is as well; if Castiel cares as deeply for Dean as Dean does for Castiel—but he isn't allowed to wonder for very much longer, because the angel's thumb grazes under his jaw and he murmurs something softly that Dean doesn't quite catch.
"Sorry, what was that?" Dean asks, shaking his head slightly. Castiel lets out a warm laugh that sounds like honey running over gravel.
"I asked if that was okay," Castiel's eyes crinkle at their corners. "Were you okay with that?"
Dean is honestly utterly touched that Castiel would even think to ask him.
"That was fine," Dean chokes. "That was great."
Castiel laughs again and leans forward to place a delicate kiss on Dean's forehead.
This can't be real; Dean feels like a fucking child on a first date in middle school—but it is real, and Castiel sits down again and beams at Dean from across the table and takes Dean's hand in his own and squeezes it gently.
"You're brilliant, Dean." He laughs softly.
"I don't know," Dean blushes, ducking his head. His hand is squeezed again.
"You were talking about pies being your favourite food." Castiel beams. "And I think I interrupted you. Carry on."
"I don't think there's much to carry on from." Dean admits honestly. "That's all I was gonna say. I just like them."
"They are very tasty." Castiel's lips twitch up in amusement.
"Yeah," Dean agrees, "but it's not just that. You know how when you eat a food, it's not just the taste or the smell or the texture that matters; but the memory of you eating it—like when and where it was, how you felt, how old you were—and then when you smell or taste or bite into it, all that stuff of the first time you ate it or the last time you ate it or the most special time you ate it or how you felt or what the occasion was or who made it, all of it comes flooding back to you? Does this make any sense? I know I'm totally rambling, but like, do you ever get all that stuff?"
Castiel positively beams.
"Yes, I get it."
"Well, pie always makes me think of happy times. Or, if not happy, then bittersweet. And they've always been used to remind me that I'm loved, and I don't know—" Dean glances down at the table instead of Castiel's face. "That matters to me."
"That's very understandable," Castiel says thoughtfully. "Of course it matters." There is a pause. "What do pies make you think of, in particular?"
Dean shrugs, face red.
"I don't know," He persists in refusing to look up. "Ellen. My mom. Me first learning how to cook. Me being a kid—and whenever I was sad—" Dean cuts himself off. "Shit, this is probably way too deep for a first date." He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "I'm sorry—"
"I think it's fine," Castiel shakes his head, the soft line of a frown forming on his forehead. "But if you feel uncomfortable in discussing it, then we can move on."
Dean thinks he mutters out a thanks.
"Anyway, your favourite food is pie?" Castiel's eyes are soft as he speaks. "I think mine would be burgers."
"Burgers?" Dean finds himself smiling.
"Yes," Castiel nods, giving Dean a confused though warm look. "You seem surprised?"
"I don't know," Dean laughs, shrugging. "I guess I was expecting something a little more pretentious." He admits, shaking his head. "Burgers? Seriously?"
"Seriously," Castiel confirms again. He giggles slightly. "You're really shocked?"
"They're just so—down to earth, I don't know." Dean grins, rubbing the back of his neck.
"And I'm not?" Castiel raises his eyebrows at the human.
"I never said that." Dean shakes his head quickly.
"It's true that I can be a little pretentious," Castiel admits, looking down with a slight smile etched across his features. "—Ezekiel points that out rather a lot. But burgers are just nice, why should I justify them through pomp? I do that with literature and music and I understand that it's frustrating, but food is just food. And burgers make me…" He pauses. "…Very happy."
"Right." Dean snorts.
"You're laughing at me."
"I am, yes." Dean confirms.
"Why?"
"Because you're really fucking strange."
"I don't think you've ever been so rude to me."
"Or so honest."
"I don't know if I'm enjoying it." Castiel frowns thoughtfully. Dean smirks.
"You know what's weird?" Dean asks.
"What?" Castiel replies.
"The fact that you're not a vegetarian." Dean grins. "Burgers are your favourite food, and you're not a vegetarian, and I would've really expected you to be a vegan, and you're not. It's so fucking weird."
"I know." Castiel presses his lips together guiltily. "I really should be, as well—a vegetarian, that is. At the very least, actually—eating animal products is so unsustainable, and the meat industry is so unethical—and in regards to the exploitation of workers, meat produce is maybe one of the worst—"
Dean has started beaming.
"What?" Castiel frowns.
"Everything you do, you always think about the politics of it, don't you?"
"Well," Castiel sighs, "yes. But is that a bad thing?"
"No, not at all." Dean shakes his head. "I think it's cool. I wish I was more political, I'm just kind of—unaware, I don't know—about a lot of stuff. And I guess that's 'cause I can afford to be, you know? It's easier not to think about politics all the time if you don't actually need to."
Castiel nods thoughtfully.
"It's good that you recognise that."
"I guess, but it's better to actually be political."
"People tend to find it annoying, actually." Castiel admits, rather sheepishly.
"People suck." Dean grins. Castiel snorts.
"You're just trying to make me feel better."
"Of course," Dean laughs, "is it working?"
"Brilliantly." The angel rolls his eyes.
"Good."
"Are you really having a good time?" Castiel asks, raising his eyebrows suddenly, worry winding softly around his features in an anxious embrace.
"I'm having a great time." Dean admits, face growing a little hot by the honesty of his own words. Castiel's lips twitch upwards despite himself.
"Phew." He huffs out, looking down. "That's good. Me too."
"I'm glad." Dean lets out a soft chuckle. "You know, I think today is the most nervous I've ever seen you."
"It probably is." Castiel admits. "And that's not surprising at all."
"Why are you so nervous?"
"Because I like you," The angel frowns as though this ought to be obvious. "And I haven't been at all honest with you about that, until now—and suddenly I am being honest—and that's really scary in itself—and I really want you to be having a good time."
"That's cute," Dean's lips play upwards. "And I've already told you that I definitely am. So why worry?"
"I worry a lot."
"I think you actually told me that last night."
"And I pointed out that you do the same."
"Yeah."
"And then I said we made a good match," Castiel's eyes spark with something else now. "—No, that was when you said I made you laugh, and I said you made me laugh, too. Then I said I thought we must be a good match."
"…Yeah…" Dean is certain his face is turning pink.
"And I think you got embarrassed?"
"I got worried." Dean admits, looking down.
"Oh," Castiel frowns softly. "Why was that?"
"I thought—I don't know, Cas," Dean sighs. "—Like, I'd spent so long being convinced you hated me—and sometimes I'd think, 'no, maybe he doesn't; he's called you his friend, etcetera etcetera'—but like, it was weird that night. After all that, you were being so kind and apologetic and then you got drunk and you kissed me; and suddenly it dawned on me that it was probably a mistake and that by morning you'd regret it and hate me more than ever, and…" Dean sighs. "And then you said the I think we make a good match line, and it made me hate myself and worry about the next day even more. So I left, before anything else could happen."
"I'm sorry I made you feel that way." Castiel says softly, after a moment's pause. "I realise, upon reflection, that I've behaved rather manipulatively toward you—though not intentionally—but I really have been a next-level prick; and I worry that you've already had more than enough encounters with that kind of person—and I'm awfully sorry, Dean. That's all I really can say. There's no way I can make any of this up to you. I've slightly… fucked you over, really—you so clearly liked me for so long and I somehow managed to string you along whilst simultaneously behaving like an absolute dirt bag towards you."
"I don't think you did any of that deliberately." Dean frowns.
"No, not at all." Castiel shakes his head. "But I should have made my mind up, shouldn't I? It's not fair to keep someone hanging on like that—if I'd decided to be a prick to you, I should have said to your face that it was because you were a human and we had no chance of ever… Being anything. And if I'd decided to be honest with myself and you, then I should have told you right away that I liked you, too—but instead I fucked up and did this kind of…" He trails off. "…Combination of the two. Which left you hanging on and feeling very confused for a very long time."
"…Yeah…" Dean agrees awkwardly. "…That pretty much sums it up…"
"And it was mean of me." Castiel says certainly.
"No," Dean frowns. "Not mean—"
"I was mean. And you didn't deserve to be treated that way, and—" He lets out an ugly, frustrated sigh, rubbing his face suddenly. "I feel so bad about all of it, you know? And I can't ever make up for it. I ruined your first couple of semesters—"
"Hey, I had a great first semester." Dean corrects. "Best time ever. I was always going to worry about shit, whatever it was, whatever happened. You're not to blame for that. That's something else. That's just—me. Anyway, I worry, I still had a great time here, and this semester is looking to be even better."
Castiel smiles and ducks his head.
"I'm not very used to seeing you acting embarrassed, Cas," Dean admits, expression turning warm. "It's a big change from what I usually get."
"I'm mortified about the way that I've treated you," Castiel admits. "Especially when drunk. It was one of those things where I'd say something, and wouldn't even realise how offensive I'd been until I looked at the hurt on your face—or I'd feel bitter about the fact I didn't have the guts to tell you how I felt; and I'd see someone else be braver than me and be kissing you or whatever, and I'd be unbelievably jealous. It was so unhealthy of me—"
"Well, it's not like that anymore." Dean points out. "And you'd always apologise afterwards—"
"But then I'd do it again," Castiel replies. "And that makes it worse—"
"But now I understand why you did it."
"But the point is my reasons for being a prick weren't good at all."
"You were worried that I was going to turn out to be a racist asshole." Dean frowns. "That's fair—especially considering your past experience. Why should I feel sorry for myself because of that?"
"That was the initial reason, yes," Castiel admits, "but then it stopped being about that. And it started being about me keeping up pretences—why be horrible to someone for the sake of façade?!—and out of jealousy. That's toxic. That's disgusting—"
"It's also pretty natural." Dean shrugs.
Castiel sighs and looks at the table.
"I wish you'd stop being so nice about all of this." He confesses quietly.
"And what? Be an asshole to you instead? To make up for the balance of assholeness? Like karma?"
"Yes, pretty much." Castiel looks back up at him.
"Well, too bad, Cas," Dean shrugs again. "I'm not going to sit in a diner and hurl abuse at you on a date. That's not what I do. As a rule, I don't hurl abuse at anyone."
"I wish you would." Castiel groans. "I deserve abuse."
"I disagree completely." Dean shakes his head. "Holy shit, you're really big on self-deprecation, aren't you?"
"You're one to talk."
"Hey, I'm aware of the fact that I hate myself."
"And I hate the fact that you hate yourself."
"And that unfortunately doesn't make it any better."
"I'll just have to care about you even harder than you hate yourself, won't I?"
Dean laughs and looks away.
"That'll be a real challenge, Cas…"
"And in the meantime, teach you self-love."
"Just now you didn't seem like too much of an expert on that." Dean frowns softly.
"We're all learning it." Castiel replies. "And it's okay to have bad days."
"This has been a pretty intense conversation for a first date." Dean points out, only half-jokingly.
"I enjoy talking to you." Castiel replies honestly. "I've found it cathartic. And I wish I talked to you more. I feel as though I've wasted a lot of time in not speaking with you as often as I would have liked."
"And it's still getting deeper." Dean smirks. Castiel apparently chooses to ignore his teasing comment.
"And when we get to talking, it's all very easy. So."
"So?"
"So I want to do it more than I do now. I want to spend the nights that I'm drunk talking to you, I want to get stoned and talk to you about the universe—"
"That's gotta be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me—"
"—Shut up—" Castiel tries to brush him off.
"—Wait, I thought you just said you wanted me to talk—"
Castiel pulls Dean's hand towards him and presses a kiss to the human's knuckles. Dean is stunned into silence. Though Castiel's expression remains unchanged, something in his eyes betrays the triumph he feels at this.
"I want to share pillow talk with you," The angel continues, "I want to spend nights out late talking to you under the stars, I want to spend hours talking to you over the phone when you're away, I want to talk about what you think about dogs and colours and books and music and what happens when we die, about us and where you want us to go and what you want to do tomorrow morning and the morning after that and the morning after that and…" Castiel trails off. "Your voice is music; I want to listen to it forever. I enjoy talking to you. That's not going to change." Silence. "Deep enough for you?" The angel raises his eyebrows at Dean from across the table and Dean has to break the gaze for a moment.
"You're pretty fucking intense, Cas…"
"Is intense bad?"
"No," Dean admits, blushing. His neck feels hot. "I'm really enjoying it. I just…"
"You're used to joking about everything."
"Pretty much." Dean nods sheepishly.
"So we counteract each other pretty well." The angel's lips twitch upwards.
"I'd say so." Dean nods, breathless.
"So I was right when I said we made a pretty good match." The angel smirks triumphantly.
"Uh—" Dean stammers. "—I hope so, yeah."
Castiel smiles again.
"Are you finished with your food?" He asks, gesturing down to Dean's plate. Dean glances down. He feels giddy.
"Um—yeah. Yeah I am." He nods. "Are you?"
"I am indeed." Castiel confirms. "Ready to leave?"
"We need to pay—"
"I'm aware of that, Dean." Castiel chuckles softly. Dean flushes with red and looks away, stammering out something incoherent, but Castiel takes his hand once more and squeezes it softly. "Should I pay?" He asks.
"Oh no—thank you, but we could just split it—"
"I'm not going to insist, though I really would like to." Castiel chuckles. "If for nothing else, then for you being so understanding about me being so useless at asking you out."
Dean's lips twitch shyly upwards.
"And in the hope that you haven't had too much of a shitty date." The angel jokes. "I'd hate to add to that already long list."
Dean laughs despite himself, though he still feels uneasy—he knows what guys tend to expect when they've paid for a meal with someone—and it's not that Dean doesn't want to do that with Castiel, it's just that he's worried he won't have a choice…
But wait, this is Cas. Why should Dean worry? Why does Dean need to worry? He's not like Alastair, who expected Dean to bend over at a command, no matter what, no matter… Dean drags himself away from this thought before it can morph into anything uglier and he ends up having a panic attack in the middle of a diner.
But Cas isn't even like Gadreel, who would assume sex was a means to an end for Dean; just something he did to get drink or drugs—Cas knows what sex with him would mean to Dean, and if Dean explained past experiences—
And then that's something else. Could Dean ever explain to Cas? Could he get away with not? And just ride out the excuse that he gets a little bit weird and worried sometimes when it comes to fucking people, to doing certain things; that there's no real reason behind it; that the panicked breaths and wide, worried eyes are really nothing for Castiel to concern himself with… Well, that's what he said to Gadreel, and it sort of worked, but Dean never intended for Gadreel to be a long term thing, and with Cas—
"Dean?" Castiel asks gently. "I said I wouldn't insist." It's like he can read his thoughts. "But I would like to pay for you, as a show of affection, to be kind, to get some good karma, to reconcile some past shitty acts, to save you money, to make you happy. Pick any of the above. And not for any other reason. Honest to god."
It's really like Castiel can read his mind.
"Not for any other reason?" Dean asks uncertainly. "Not for—"
"Anything else." Castiel reassures. Dean almost wants to cry, but with what? Relief? "Is that okay?"
"Thank you—" Dean ducks his head. Castiel shrugs it off and squeezes Dean's hand again.
"So it's been a good date?" He asks when he's paid.
"—Yeah." Dean nods quickly. "Really nice. Lovely."
"Not too awkward?" The angel raises his eyebrows in soft amusement at Dean, whose lips twitch upwards.
"Just the right amount of awkward." He answers. Castiel laughs and bumps shoulders with Dean as they walk out, slipping his hand into the human's.
"I'm glad." He nods. "Would you like to walk through the park for a bit, in that case? Just to make it last a little longer?"
"Sure." Dean confirms, smiling widely. "That sounds great."
About an hour and a half later they are walking slowly back to campus, their pace more of an amble than anything else. Dean wonders absently whether, upon their return, Castiel will continue in holding his hand tightly, or walking so close to Dean that they are shoulder to shoulder, or turning around and tugging at Dean to stop so that he can press their lips together once again and return into dipping his tongue into Dean's mouth and winding his fingers in the human's hair.
The air around them is bright with warming amber sunlight and crisp, their breath turns to light mist in front of them and all around them small flowers are budding up from the ground.
"Spring," Castiel starts, decidedly. "Is quite possibly my favourite time of year."
"Is your birthday in spring?" Dean asks. Castiel begins to giggle. Dean doesn't know how what he's said could be construed as funny.
"No," He shakes his head. "I'm a summer baby."
"Oh."
"But spring is brilliant." Castiel beams.
"Was Rachel born in spring?"
"Rachel was born in November."
"Oh, I thought she looked like a November person."
"Can people look like the months they were born in?"
"Sure they can." Dean frowns. "Have you not found that? It's like, a vibe they give off."
"Similar to the vibe where you can tell what kind of animal they would be?" Castiel asks, amusement lacing his tone.
"Don't take the piss," Dean chuckles lightly, "but yeah, I'd say so. But not exactly."
"So what vibe do I give off?"
"I don't know," Dean frowns, "initially, I'd have said a February—but that was just because you were so cold towards me when we first met—"
Castiel bumps Dean with his shoulder and laughs.
"—And now I'd say maybe on the cusp of August? July August time?" You narrowed it down by saying you were a summer baby," He laughs.
"August the third." Castiel chuckles. "You were right."
"And you narrowed it down." Dean reminds.
"You don't look like a January birthday, I don't think," Castiel shakes his head, considering Dean.
"Well, Cas—and I hate to put you down like this—but I'd hardly call you an expert on the matter." Dean smirks. "I mean, you were introduced to the concept, what, ten seconds ago?"
Castiel bumps Dean's shoulder again and chuckles.
"I think your timing is a little off."
"Call it hyperbole to demonstrate a point."
"If you have to make a point, you shouldn't use hyperbole to demonstrate it. Otherwise your point is in a sense invalidated; you admit inexplicitly that it is not a good point."
"I can tell that you're in the debating team." Dean rolls his eyes, looking away. Castiel laughs again.
"Argue only using pure reason and you're unlikely to fail." Castiel states. Dean groans.
"Can you go back to talking about spring? That seemed like it was gonna go somewhere good."
"I think it was." Castiel laughs honestly. "Okay, I like spring and I'm very glad that it's arrived. The last days of February and the earliest of March are some of my favourite of the year, purely for the anticipation that builds up during the time, you know? I love waiting for it. Spring is so vibrant and colourful and bright—if I were to define life, define vitality, I would do so by describing spring."
Dean is beaming.
"All the animals sense it, and they fill with it, too. This joy for life, this business, this purpose and direction and drive. And it can be such a rainy season, or such a sunny one, and it can be flowery and bright or muddy and wet and you never really know; but it's a promise of life and the trees come into blossom and the daffodils come out and I think it is undeniably wonderful."
"Those are some great reasons." Dean nods.
"I think it is perhaps the most underrated of all the seasons." Castiel says thoughtfully. "Spring and fall are the seasons of change; everything is motion. Summer and winter are like blocks of themselves—cold and dim for winter; which isn't bad, it's simply itself—and sunny and light for summer. There's no flow; they certainly ebb and vary in intensity—but Spring is like a river, always changing, always moving. Autumn is the same. It's almost the end of a story; spring is the beginning."
"You have quite a way with words."
"I'm pretentious." Castiel chuckles honestly. "You enjoy it because it's you, and that's very kind. Ezekiel can't stand it."
"Ezekiel is shallow," Dean shrugs, laughing. "He wouldn't let you get away with it, no matter what."
"Not so shallow that he can't be right about it." Castiel points out. "Think about it—if anybody other than me had said what I just said, would you let them get away with it?"
Dean laughs.
"Probably not" He admits.
"Exactly." Castiel sounds a little triumphant. Dean notes absently that the angel seems to greatly enjoy being right, even if he does enjoy reasoned debate.
"But then, maybe it's not a bad thing that you speak like that, even if I only like it because it's you. I think it'd be cool if people who could, did speak that way, in such flowery language. What's wrong with being detailed or eloquent?"
"You have a great habit of making me feel better about myself." Castiel smiles lightly. He shakes his head in an almost wistful manner.
Dean notices suddenly that they have made it back onto the college campus. Suddenly he feels utterly deflated that the date is going to be ending.
"You're looking suddenly downcast." Castiel frowns. "What's wrong?"
"Well—it's just that—" Dean feels himself go pink. He gestures around them deflatedly. "We're back."
Castiel's lips twitch upwards into a kind smile.
"Yes, so we are." He nods. "And you're sad about that?"
"Well, I don't really want it to end." Dean admits.
"Then it doesn't have to." Castiel shrugs. "We could—I don't know, go back to mine? Yours? We don't need to do anything else, obviously, we could just talk—"
"—It's not that I don't want to do anything else—" Dean frowns suddenly.
"I never said you didn't." Castiel shakes his head. "I'm just making sure you know that the options are left open. And always will be, if that makes sense."
"Cas, has Ezekiel told you anything?" Dean feels suddenly terrified.
"Told me anything?" Castiel repeats, apparently nonplussed.
"Yeah," Dean confirms. "About me."
"What do you mean, about you?"
"Because you seem to know quite a lot—"
"I'm reading between the lines because I can tell that you're worried. I don't want you to be worried about that kind of thing around me, ever—and I want you to know that it's not something that you should worry about. And Ezekiel hasn't told me anything private about you, I'm not really sure what that would entail, anyway."
"Ok." Dean nods. There's a pause.
"And when I'd only just met you, Ezekiel told me to be nice to you because he thought that something had happened to you, that you'd been hurt. If that's what you're talking about, then those are the only words we've shared on the subject, if not, then I'm very sorry for bringing it up. Does that make sense? Is that alright?"
Dean feels a little worried and he knows Castiel doesn't want him to.
"Um—"
"I'm sorry if this has made you uncomfortable." Castiel says, he presses his hand to Dean's shoulder.
"Can we find somewhere to sit down?" Dean asks suddenly, looking back up at the angel.
"Of course," Castiel nods, and in the next moment Dean has been guided over to a low wall to sit on as the angel apologises and states that it was the nearest appropriate seat there was, and Dean shakes his head and thanks the angel.
"I'm sorry for bringing it up, Dean, it's clearly made you uncomfortable—"
"No, I think I brought it up," Dean shakes his head. "And I'm just not very used to sharing it—I only ever shared it with Ezekiel, outside of my family, and even then…" He trails off. Castiel looks worried and confused. Dean realises how little the angel knows and furthermore, how little sense Dean must be making as a result of this. "I'm sorry, you must be totally lost—"
"That's alright." Castiel shakes his head. "I can piece together what I need to. I just didn't want you feeling pressured at any point—"
He kneels in front of Dean and Dean feels like such a freaking idiot—who the fuck pulls this kind of shit on a first date, what the fuck is wrong with him?!
"Please don't worry about any of that, Dean," Castiel says gently, rubbing Dean's knee and apparently reading the human's thoughts. "I'd be conscientious anyway—"
"—But I don't want you to think that I don't want to do any of that stuff—"
"I never said I thought that. And you've already said all of this, Dean."
"But I do want to do it," Dean continues, "I just have to have things… right, you know? I'm sorry if that sounds stupid or needy or—"
"It doesn't sound like either of those things." Castiel's voice is impossibly even and quiet.
"What do you know?" Dean asks suddenly, realising that he is shaking with nerves.
"I know…" Castiel starts cautiously, "that you've had bad experiences, though I don't know how many. I can infer that much, at least. I can infer that somebody hurt you, and that you still think about it, and that you worry about it, and that you worry what other people will think. I can infer that you don't want to share it, maybe because you're scared rather than you not wanting to share it, maybe because you feel guilty in sharing it, because you feel as though you would be doing something wrong in sharing your troubles with another person, as though it's an imposition, and an unwelcome one. The first night we kissed,"
"Last night." Dean points out.
"Yes, last night," Castiel nods, fingers grazing Dean's knee as he continues to kneel in front of the human. "You told me you'd been in a very bad relationship for three months, and though I don't know if the two are connected—"
"This hasn't put you off me in any way, has it?" Dean interrupts, suddenly terrified. Castiel looks up at Dean, from where he had been staring at his fingers drawing patterns across Dean's knees; which despite everything are now dancing with the touch.
"How could it?" Castiel frowns. He looks almost upset. "This is—none of your fault, Dean, though I'm sure you don't believe it, and—" Dean swallows hard at Castiel's words. "It's only made me want to be more cautious with you." The angel explains. "You're precious, and deserve to feel happy and safe, and I want to take care of you as far as you'll let me and make you feel as happy and safe as is at all possible. It couldn't possibly put me off. I'd be awful, if it put me off."
"Can you kiss me again?" Dean asks timidly.
Castiel beams and obliges, rising slowly and tilting Dean's chin up.
"I'm sorry to do this on our first date." Dean looks down when they pull apart, mortified.
"Well, you shouldn't be." Castiel shakes his head firmly. "It's nothing to be sorry for. I'm glad we had this conversation, I don't know about you."
Dean doesn't think before pulling Castiel towards him for a hug. The angel seems utterly surprised. Dean realises suddenly that this may well be the first hug that the two of them have shared.
How strange, he thinks absently.
Castiel gives him a gentle squeeze.
"Back to mine for another talk? And anything else you're in the mood for?"
"I think I might actually be in the mood for quite a lot of things, Cas." Dean admits, embarrassed by his own words.
Castiel lets out a soft huff of air through his nose.
"Well, we'll see."
"I'm sorry I put this on you—"
"I'm glad you did." Castiel reassures. "I think it's a good thing." He helps Dean back up. "It's best to be as honest as you can be, I think. You might disagree, I don't know."
"It's just not easy." Dean admits. His face feels red. "But talking…"
"Communication is good." Castiel shrugs. "You tell me what you're okay with—in regards to anything with us, as well—and what you're not okay with, and I'll always respect that. That's a promise. Alright?"
He glances at Dean and slips his hand into the human's once more.
Dean swallows and nods.
"Yeah." He confirms. "Alright." Pause. "You know—you're being really nice about all of this—"
"That's kind of you, Dean, but I don't think 'nice' is the word." Castiel laughs softly. He looks at Dean, expression intent and genuine. "I'm trying to do what's right. Morally right, and right by you."
Dean ducks his head.
"Do you think Ezekiel will be there?" He asks, changing the subject quickly.
"I doubt it," Castiel says thoughtfully. "He hates being alone, and it's unlikely he'd find anybody to keep him company in our room with both of us out of the picture. I'll text him to make sure." Castiel answers, and with this pulls out his cell and types out a text to his roommate. "He's in a bit of a shitty mood with me," Castiel laughs, "so I'd best be cautious in my text. He doesn't like it when I act too friendly after a fight without us talking it over."
Dean laughs despite himself.
"Should I be threatened by the fact that you and Ezekiel seem to have the relationship of two people who've been married for five years?"
Castiel chuckles and the way his eyes spark with fire makes Dean's insides tremble with something alien.
"Possibly," He smirks, "though wouldn't that mean I was having an affair with you? You would be my secret lover."
"I didn't know you were into roleplay, Cas."
Castiel grins and bumps shoulders with Dean.
"If you're into it, Dean, I'm fine with giving it a go."
Dean has turned red again.
Suddenly they are outside Castiel's building.
The angel stops and turns to Dean. They haven't even made it inside yet, and already Castiel is looking at him with intent and purpose—but not the kind Dean wants; the kind that flares across someone's face when they want to broach a delicate subject.
"So," Castiel starts, taking Dean's hands. "Shall we start out by talking, and then take it from there? As far as you're comfortable with?"
Dean worries that he's going to be pretty comfortable going pretty far with Castiel—and by that he means very—and that Castiel is going to think that he's easy and classless and whorish, if he doesn't already—
"I wouldn't think that." Castiel frowns softly, and Dean realises, wishing he could cry of embarrassment, that he has said all these thoughts out loud. Castiel's tone is defensive; though not of himself, the human realises with a shock, of Dean. "And I don't think that. That's an awful thing to think about a person. Unhealthy. Unkind."
"I didn't mean to say that—" Dean admits, ducking his head. Castiel squeezes his hands. "—You make it too easy to talk to you—I just blurt things out—"
"—I'll try to be less easy to communicate in future." Castiel teases softly. Dean glances up at him and rolls his eyes.
"Can we go inside?" He asks quietly.
"Of course," The angel nods his head. "I just wanted to make sure we were totally clear."
"We are," Dean nods quickly, frowning. "And I want to do things, I just wanted you to know—"
"And now I know." Castiel presses his hand to Dean's shoulder. "And if at any point you want to stop, you just say that—just say 'stop'; and I will. Immediately. That's a promise. Good."
"Good." Dean confirms. "I hope this hasn't put you off—"
"I've already said it hasn't." Castiel shrugs gently. "Everybody's got their own experience that we need to be mindful of." He takes a quiet step closer to Dean as he speaks with calm understanding. "And I want to be part of yours. A positive part of it." Dean's lips twitch upwards at this. His back is almost pressed against the door and Castiel takes his chin between thumb and forefinger and tilts it softly upward. "And I particularly enjoy the idea of me being the first person to give you head." His smile is small and laced with something made of fire and ember; it sparks along Dean's insides and he barely catches his breath in the next instant.
"But only the idea of it?" He attempts to raise his eyebrows teasingly, but has a feeling he fails miserably—Castiel, to his credit, laughs softly and is kind and lightly humorous in his response.
"Well, until I'm presented with an opportunity to actually do it, I'll have to settle for the pleasure brought to me by the thought…" He chuckles gently. His nose is nearly touching Dean's.
"I don't know, Cas…" Dean swallows, hugely distracted by the angel's hands, which are now circling slowly around his waist. "…I'd hate to see you wait for something like that, if you're so sure you'd enjoy it so much. How sure are you?"
"Absolutely certain." Castiel's lips dance upwards. His nose grazes Dean's yet he still refuses to kiss him. It's tortuous. "And I've been told that I manage to make it quite enjoyable for the one receiving, but again…" He trails off for a moment. "…That's something you'd have to find out for yourself, I suppose…"
"I think I'd be quite happy finding out," Dean starts. Castiel laughs quietly and finally presses his lips to Dean's. He pushes Dean gently, slowly, up against the door, and starts to kiss him deeper and deeper. Dean stifles a moan into the kisses that grow increasingly possessive; and before he knows it Castiel is grinding into him, up against the door—and fuck the angel is good at it and it feels so good, but—
"Cas," Dean pulls apart from the kiss and the angel lets out a grumpy sounding little growl, resolving in the next moment to kiss down Dean's neck instead of at his lips. "—Not that this doesn't feel good, but—should we be doing it—" He groans and his eyes flutter closed as Castiel draws his teeth across Dean's neck, "—here?" He finishes with a gasp, glancing down the fortunately—or rather, for the time being—empty corridor.
Castiel pauses and groans into the curve of Dean's neck. Something about it has the human smiling. Warm affection flowers through him alongside aching, timid arousal.
"Maybe not." The angel admits. He reaches behind Dean and opens the door to the room, pushing it open and pressing Dean gently inside. He closes it behind them. "I can't help that you're so irresistible, though." He smirks, looking Dean up and down.
The human blushes and looks away.
In the next instant, Castiel has pulled Dean back towards him and has pinned him to the inside of the door, again, his tongue dipping inside of Dean's mouth. His hips set back into that filthy grind once again, threads of golden pleasure are winding their way through Dean like sunlight; the world is turning hazy with pleasure. The next instant, the grinding turns heavier, needier, and Dean lets out a long, low groan.
"Shit." He mutters, swallowing thickly as Castiel laces kisses down his neck.
"Shit, indeed." Castiel repeats, chuckling softly as Dean's hands move to fist at the angel's hair. "All joking aside, how would you feel about me giving you your first blowjob?"
Dean's breath gets caught in his throat. He's lost at how to respond—now, this is happening now, he thinks—and he's terrified and excited and desperate for it and he knows that Castiel will understand all of that, no matter how lame it is, and—
"I—" Dean's voice is raw. His face and neck prickle raw with heat. Castiel's eyes trail absently down his neck; which hardly helps the sensation, though the angel's attention remains undoubtedly fixed on Dean's answer. "Yeah." He nods, exhaling. "Yes, please."
Castiel's lips twitch upwards. Why the fuck did Dean say 'Yes please'?! What the fuck is wrong with him?!
"Alright, then." Castiel nods softly. "Ezekiel won't be back for a while, I'm sure. We've got time to kill."
This thought has Dean shuddering against Castiel; and the trembling continues as Castiel palms at Dean, feeling the human's hardness through his all-too-tight jeans; the touch is almost too much and Dean just has to succumb to it: let Castiel feel him through his clothing, palm at him for as long as he likes, tease him like this until he's ready to move on to more.
"Oh, fuck—" Dean groans at the physical contact, eyes fluttering helplessly open and closed; he wants this to last forever and yet he desperately wants relief; he trembles helplessly against Castiel's wonderfully confident frame.
"I'm so glad I asked you out." Castiel chuckles, grazing his nose gently against Dean's. Dean somehow manages to nudge back at Castiel's nose.
"I'm glad you did, too." He laughs. "I sure as fuck wouldn't have been able to ask you."
"You were rather shy around me." Castiel admits, his lips twitching upwards.
Dean is sure he flushes at this massive understatement, and laughter tumbles from Cas's lips before he has time to seal them to Dean's neck again. Dean groans at the touch, he wants, needs more—but Castiel seems to have his own pace to things; his own rhythm, and inexplicably, Dean likes giving himself up to that. He trusts Castiel with this—weirdly—something which he hasn't been able to do with anyone—and here he is—
"I've wanted to do this for a long time." Castiel admits suddenly, sighing as he pauses to press his forehead against the joint between Dean's neck and his shoulder.
"I've wanted you to do it for a long time." Dean confesses, laughing breathily beneath Castiel. The angel glances up, his lips twitching upwards, eyes both hungry and affectionate as they regard Dean slowly through thick black eyelashes.
"I wish I'd kissed you sooner."
"If the task were left to me, I probably never would have achieved it." Dean laughs. Castiel snorts softly.
"True," He hums, framing Dean's jaw in his hands and tilting the human's head up gently. He scatters kisses across the underside of Dean's jaw, the touch like heaven to Dean. He thinks he begins to tremble more than ever underneath the angel.
"So, what do you say," Castiel says, pulling back suddenly, earning him a startled whine from Dean's lips, "do you want me to be the first guy to suck your dick?"
Dean's face practically catches on fire. He doesn't miss Castiel's smug smirk in response to this.
"Yes, please." He nods meekly.
"I think I quite like the effect I seem to have on you." Castiel hums, his lips twitching upwards. Dean looks up at Castiel through his thick brown eyelashes and blushes again. "Yes," Castiel smiles, brushing his nose against Dean's, "I like it a lot."
The angel resumes in kissing down the side of Dean's neck, grazing his lips down the human's flesh, adoring every inch of it, before—
The world has turned bright with an odd, silvery white light.
Dean's head is tipped back against the door. He can't do anything else with it. His hands—what are his hands doing? They are touching something soft and ruffled—right, Castiel's hair. He can't even look down to gaze at Castiel; everything feels tight inside of him, Castiel's tongue runs slowly up the underside of Dean's dick, before winding around its head, Castiel moves to mouth at Dean's balls and then swallows all of Dean down, which feels amazing and Dean's hips stutter forwards and he's losing all sense of what's happening; Castiel's head is bobbing up and down and it keeps bobbing up and down and he is cupping and massaging Dean's balls while his tongue winds around the head of Dean's dick inside of Cas's mouth—
Dean's breathing has turned shallow, he can't concentrate on or articulate anything—Cas was right when he said he was good at this, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, the world has turned to silver and gold threads of light, all of which are balling tighter and tighter together, everything is getting tighter and tighter, until—
It all explodes and the silver and gold flood Dean's senses; his limbs feel filled with a sweetness he doesn't remember feeling for a long time; his head feels empty and hazy and it lolls back against the wall but he manages to tilt it down to catch Castiel licking up come still leaking out of his cock before taking Dean back inside his mouth again. Everything feels sensitive and Dean whimpers and groans at the sensation, the threads of light settling slowly on the floor around them; floating down gently; but the sweetness and the mind-fog still saturating his senses. His legs feel weak, he thinks he could collapse onto the floor at any moment, but somehow he remains upright, and when Castiel is satisfied in having swallowed all of the result of Dean's orgasm, he moves back up to Dean's level and begins to kiss softly down the human's neck, humming happily.
"Good?" He asks, voice beaming into Dean's skin.
Dean barely has the strength to nod.
"So…" He pants. Castiel chuckles softly and presses a kiss to Dean's left ear. "So fucking good, Cas…" Dean moans. Castiel drags his nose across Dean's skin and kisses Dean on the mouth again. The angel's mouth tastes strange, now, his hands wind round Dean's waist once more; Dean becomes suddenly conscious of the fact that his jeans rest awkwardly around his ankles; that Castiel pressing into him once more means that Castiel's jeans are now rubbing against Dean's now all-too-sensitive dick.
The angel seems to realise all of this and pulls back, kneeling back down a moment and pulling up Dean's boxers and jeans for him—Dean can't help but feel slightly patronised, but the angel is guiding him over to his bed and Dean has to fumble with his zipper and belt-buckle for a moment before kissing the angel again as Castiel sits them both down on his bed.
"You don't regret it?" Castiel asks gently, kissing down Dean's neck. The world still feels sweet, in thrums with this light sugariness in a soft, low sensation.
"No," Dean shakes his head quickly. "Not at all. It was great—you were great—" He suddenly realises his manners and reaches for Castiel's zipper. "Would you like me to make it up—"
Castiel catches Dean's wrist before he makes it any further and shakes his head gently.
"It's not a matter of 'making it up', Dean," He lets out a warm, kind laugh. "I didn't do it so you'd give me one back. That's not how it works—well, not with me. It's not an exchange. I wanted to make you feel good—"
"—And you did." Dean says quickly. He realises with embarrassment that he sounds a little desperate. "—And I just want to return the favour—"
"It wasn't a favour, Dean," Castiel talks to Dean as he would do to a child, and Dean grows frustrated.
"—I mean, I want to make you feel good as well. That's all."
"Well, I enjoyed what I just did," Castiel tilts Dean's head up and kisses him again. "I enjoyed the effect it had on you. I enjoyed watching you react to it. How about you have a break for a bit?"
Dean sighs and desperately wants to pout.
Castiel leans forward and kisses Dean until he is lying flat on the bed.
"I think you understand why I'm saying this, Dean," His lips twitch softly upwards, inches away from the human's as he lies on top of him.
"I'm just not used to…" Dean blushes, looking away from Castiel's eyes of brightest blue, "—I don't know—people being that—giving—I'm not used to…" He trails off. Castiel presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, and suddenly a kind of lethargy sweeps through Dean, and he remembers the sweetness he felt earlier.
"I'm fairly giving, you'll discover," Castiel chuckles, grazing his nose across Dean's. "Are you feeling tired?" He asks softly. He presses a kiss to Dean's cheekbone, now.
"Yeah," Dean finds himself looking down. Castiel rolls off of him and pulls the human towards him to kiss slowly.
"Your eyes looked a little heavy." The angel laughs softly. Dean's lips twitch upwards. Castiel's hands have moved to slip under his shirt and now stroke gently at his back. The sensation is light and warm and Dean's feet are starting to feel numb.
"I can't believe you actually like me…" Dean mumbles. His eyes are beginning to flutter closed. Castiel squeezes Dean's body gently to his own.
"I can't believe you still like me," The angel replies, voice warm with an affection that has Dean's head feeling heavy on the pillow it rests on. "After I was such an ass to you."
"You were fine," Dean shrugs. "Sometimes you'd do things that made me really happy."
Dean feels Castiel's happy exhalation ruffle his hair.
"That's good." The angel nods. "Do you want to sleep for a bit?" He asks gently.
"I feel bad…" Dean mumbles, but he can hardly rouse himself. "—I didn't get you off—"
"And as far as I know, this is our first opportunity to have fun with one another in this kind of way; not our last." Castiel soothes, warm amusement curling the edges of his voice.
"I'm just not very used to it…" Dean mumbles.
"Perhaps, as time passes, you'll grow a little more used to it." Castiel replies. His hand grazes wonderfully up the rope of Dean's spine, Dean curves his body into the touch. "I certainly hope so."
"I hope I get to have a lot more dates with you." Dean presses his face into Castiel's shoulder. The angel chuckles quietly.
"Yes, I do too." He returns. "So, you enjoyed our first date?"
"Best first date." Dean mumbles. "Ever."
Castiel chuckles.
"I'm glad you think so."
"Weird." Dean sighs happily. "But nice."
"I think I've heard people describe me that way, before." Castiel jokes quietly. Dean laughs sleepily and presses his head a little harder against Castiel.
He is sure that in the next moment, he has drifted off.