Dean's leaning back in a deck chair, fat cigar burning in one hand, the other hand wrapped around a crystal tumbler of Glenlivet.
He's pretty friggin' drunk, face pleasantly flushed, laughing uproariously at something Michael Symon just said, and Castiel doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.
They'd stayed at Blue Heaven with the Flays until well after eleven, chatting, laughing, and eating whatever Gabe sent out. Mike Symon popped in, then Ted Allen and his husband, Barry Rice, showed up, and the party got loud and raucous. Then Bobby suggested they go back to his place, Symon tagging along, and they ended up on Bobby's rooftop deck. Drinks were poured and cigars brought out, crazy stories exchanged, and now it's well after 2:00 am. Dean's top three shirt buttons are open, tie and jacket tossed carelessly over a table, and he's clearly having the time of his life.
He fits in seamlessly with Castiel's friends, and Castiel wasn't shallow enough to say that it was some kind of a test, but watching Dean interact with the others so comfortably definitely warmed the chef's heart. He and Symon are loudly discussing cars now, arguing the finer points of cubic inches and torque, American muscle versus Italian super cars, the absolute genius of Carroll Shelby and Chip Foose, and Castiel watches as Dean raises the cigar to his lips, takes a long drag, and the image makes him want to get Dean out of there and back to his bedroom like twenty minutes ago.
"He's wonderful," Stephanie says quietly, as she sits beside him on a chaise. "Think you found a keeper this time, Castiel?"
"Mmm. I think so."
"Doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous."
"Hey, I heard that." Bobby chimes in, his cheeks also flushed from alcohol, a big grin on his face. Stephanie laughs, and he flops gracelessly onto the chaise she's perching on. "You people need to get out of my house so I can take my wife to bed!" he says loudly, and Dean and Mike both crack up.
"I think that's our cue," Castiel smiles, as he stands. Ten minutes later, they've said their goodbyes, and Castiel pushes an extremely drunk Winchester into a Yellow Cab, sliding in next to him. Castiel's not nearly as drunk, just pleasantly buzzed, but Dean is acting downright silly.
As the cab pulls into traffic, Dean slides across the seat, pushing his hip firmly into Castiel's, then drops his head onto his shoulder, grinning ridiculously at him.
"Did you have fun?"
"I had so much fun. So frucking much fun!"
"Frucking?"
"Frucking." Dean giggles. "I'm a teensy bit drunk." He illustrates his point by holding his thumb and forefinger together to indicate how slightly drunk he really is, but he can't seem to make them touch. Dean looks at his hand in confusion, then bursts into another fit of giggles. "Nah, I'm completely, totally wasted. Dude. I just got trashed at Bobby Friggin' Flay's house. I drank expensive friggin' scotch with Mike Symon, who had not only heard of me, but asked for my card and wants me to do a car for him. I have a $50 cigar in my shirt pocket that Flay demanded I take with me. Dude. I didn't even know I liked cigars!" He giggles again, and hides his face in Castiel's shoulder. "I'm so fucked up," he whispers into Castiel's shirt.
Castiel smiles and wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him in close, Dean's face still buried in his shirt. "I'm glad you had fun, Dean."
"Best night ever, dude. Seriously." He smiles up at Castiel again, heavy eyelids drifting shut as they make their way home.
He wakes up to sunlight pouring through the windows, and hands exploring his body.
Dean's fully awake in an instant, aware of the mouth leaving marks on his skin. Cas's hands are everywhere, fingers tracing lines and patterns over his hips, ghosting over his inner thighs, hot breath following the trail of his touch. He's dragging his hands and lips over every inch of Dean's body, leaving little kisses everywhere, sucking blood to the surface, making his mark, claiming Dean for his own.
An odd little whimper leaves his throat as Cas sucks his big toe into his warm mouth, and Dean thinks he shouldn't find that so damn fucking hot, but it is, and he squirms on the bed. Cas chuckles softly, then slowly kisses his way back up Dean's leg, his fingers following his mouth, setting every inch of Dean's skin on fire. He kisses all around Dean's groin, completely avoiding Dean's painfully hard erection, choosing instead to dip his tongue into his navel, then moving agonizingly slowly upward, stopping to pull a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the hard nub of flesh, then making Dean gasp when he lightly bites down. Cas repeats the process on the other side, and Dean's got his fists tangled in the sheets, gripping tight in a failed attempt to ground himself.
Cas is eye level with him now, hovering over him, a devilish look in his cobalt eyes.
"Good morning, gorgeous," he rasps, dipping his head and pressing their lips together. "Sleep well?" Dean nods, and Cas smiles. "Good." He moves his hips, slotting his erection alongside of Dean's. Leaning in, he captures Dean's mouth again, pulls away and gently bites his bottom lip, slowly setting up a rhythm, working himself against Dean, who's gasping, and arching his back, pushing his body into Castiel's. Cas is sucking kisses into his neck, and Dean grabs his hips and pulls him in closer, breaths coming fast and hard now, as Cas pushes him closer and closer to release.
"God, Dean, could do this all day. All damn day."
"Fuck, Cas, I'm so fucking close, I'm so close."
Cas covers his mouth again, tongue slipping past his lips, running it along the curve of Dean's teeth, never once relenting in the steady rhythm, and Dean's going to come, he can feel it.
"Next time," Cas growls, "You're going to fuck me, you're going to be inside me."
And that's it for Dean, he's gone, falling right off the ledge, coming instantly, senses overloaded by Castiel's words, and Cas is right behind him, groaning, face dropping into Dean's shoulder, breath coming fast and hot against his neck.
They lay like that for a while, coming down, heart rates returning to normal, Cas laying across Dean's body, hands absently petting each other, Dean carding his fingers through Castiel's sweaty hair. He dozes briefly, then Cas nudges him awake again, and drags him to the shower, where they wash each other, rubbing soap over each other's bodies, scrubbing hair clean in between lingering kisses.
They get dressed quietly, neither one of them wanting to think too much about the fact that it's Sunday, and Dean's supposed to get on a plane for Kansas City at four. And it's eleven now. Their last day together is already half over.
Cas serves him coffee and makes eggs and toast, setting a large bowl of berries on the table as well. They eat in silence, Dean trying to think of something to say, to tell Cas how wonderful the weekend was, but he can't find the words.
"Stay." Cas's voice is rough, and Dean startles slightly. He looks at Cas, who's staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to answer.
"Cas. I'd love to, believe me, I would but…"
"Not forever, just one more day. We could drive out to Long Island, I have a friend who owns a house out there. They're in Europe, and I have the keys. We could put the top down on my car, blast Led Zeppelin, walk on the beach, just one more night Dean. Please stay."
Dean sighs. God, he wants to stay. He wants to stay so badly, he wants to do everything Cas suggested and more. He thinks about it. Dammit, he owns the business and he never takes time off, Crowley's car is back on schedule, and all that would be happening with it tomorrow is Garth's forte, the pin striping and air-brushed skulls Crowley requested. That's all Garth. Dean and Benny finished everything for the power train and suspension on Friday, so really, yeah, he could stay another day if he wanted to. And he really, really wants to. He meets Cas's eyes, and smiles.
"Ok."
If there's anything better in this world than watching the sun light up the highlights in Dean's hair as they drive out of the city, Castiel doesn't know what it is.
He's got on a pair of Castiel's own Ray Bans, the wind is whipping through his hair, he's singing Zep's All of My Love, and he looks perfectly comfortable and content behind the wheel of Castiel's SL63. The top is down, the radio is loud, and traffic is surprisingly light.
He's wearing those same sinfully tight jeans he had on when Castiel first met him, and a faded Stones tee. Dean was dismayed to find he was out of hair gel that morning, and Castiel didn't have any, so Dean's hair is soft and fluffy. He also hadn't shaved that morning, and Castiel keeps finding excuses to touch the stubble on his cheeks.
Dean's still singing, Bad Company's Ready for Love now, in between taking long drags off the cigar Bobby Flay had given him the night before. He sings off key when he notices Castiel watching, all big grins and silly showmanship, but then he'll get distracted, or focus on the road, and he'll sing a bit more seriously, not deliberately messing it up, and Castiel's not surprised to find Dean has a truly good voice. Dean sometimes will look right at him while singing the lyrics, especially the parts that speak of being ready for love, and he's not sure if he's doing that on purpose or not, but Castiel likes it. He also likes the way his sunglasses look on Dean.
"Damn, you look good in those sunglasses."
"Thanks! I need them with the top down like this. Your car is sweet, man. Although I almost feel like I'm cheating on Baby." Dean laughs.
"Well, we just won't tell her, ok?"
"Ok. Fair enough."
They arrive in the Hamptons around 4:00, and Castiel shows Dean around the house, a big, airy, classic Long Island style home, weathered brown siding and slate roof, gorgeous gardens making up the backyard. From the deck, they can see the ocean. Castiel unpacks the groceries they stopped in town to purchase, while Dean puts their bag in the spacious guest room. He rejoins Castiel in the kitchen, and helps him wash grapes. Dean finds wine glasses and Castiel opens a bottle of Merlot.
They eat dinner on the deck, wine and many different cheeses, crusty bread, grapes, and slices of apple. It's a simple meal, but very satisfying, and after they've cleaned up the mess, they walk through the yard, hand in hand, to the edge of the property where the sand begins. The sun is setting in the west, behind them, the ocean sparkling in the dimming light.
Dean shucks his socks and shoes, leaving them on the edge of the yard, and Castiel follows suit. They join hands again, and walk out in the direction of the ocean, neither one of them saying much, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company and the beauty of the night sky darkening on the horizon.
"Look," Castiel points off into the far distance, "there's a boat out there. Probably fisherman." The boat is far off, only the bobbing lights visible.
"It's pretty."
"The scenery here is beautiful," Castiel confirms, looking meaningfully at Dean, who smiles and leans in for a kiss. They walk for a while longer, holding hands, occasionally stopping to kiss, and by the time they head back to the house, it's fully dark, the moon shining over the water.
Dean scoops up both pairs of shoes, and lets Castiel lead him back into the house.
Cas starts a fire in the house's huge stone fireplace, and hands Dean another glass of wine, then settles down next to him on the overstuffed couch, tucking his legs up underneath himself.
He must've hit the stereo at some point, there's music coming from somewhere, a song about green eyes, and Cas chuckles.
"What?" Dean asks.
"This song, it's called Green Eyes. It fits you."
"Sounds like the kind of stuff Sammy listens to."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"Sometimes," Dean laughs, "but this isn't so bad." He takes a sip of his wine, setting the glass on the end table next to the couch.
"So, what are you doing next weekend?"
"Throwing a monster thirtieth birthday party for Sam. I'm going to be spending all day Saturday cooking, while Adam and Jo decorate my house." Dean wants to invite Cas, but he knows he just does not have the money to fly Cas first class, and he's not about to ask him to fly coach, let alone asking Cas to pay for his own ticket. Plus, he's not sure how Cas would feel about meeting his family, or if he's even interested in that, although Dean wants to show him off, wants him to meet Sam, Adam, and Ben, the three most important people in his life, a list that he's starting to realize Cas is on as well.
"Sounds like fun," Cas says, an odd tone in his voice. Dean wonders about that a moment, but he suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Cas, who pushes his mouth onto Dean's, putting way more force into the kiss then he normally does, already working his hands under Dean's shirt.
Dean slides his hands around to Cas's back, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss, opening Cas's mouth with his tongue, while the other man yanks hard on his shirt, doing his best to take it off of Dean, and he leans forward to help him, and a second later, the Stones tee is discarded on the floor.
Castiel dips his head, latching onto Dean's earlobe and pulling it into his mouth. Dean can feel the hardness of Cas's erection against his belly, and he lets out a low groan when Cas shoves his hips into Dean's lap, thrusting wantonly against him.
"Dean," Cas growls in between his attacks on Dean's neck. "I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you. Fuck me, Dean."
Dean's breath catches in his throat, and he tips his head back to stare up at Cas. The other man's eyes are hooded, hot with desire, and the look on his face makes Dean want to come right then and there.
"Ok," is all he can get out, and Cas is gracefully unfolding himself from Dean's lap, standing in front of him, holding out a hand to help Dean up from the couch, then he turns and walks to the bedroom.
Dean takes a deep breath, runs a shaky hand through his hair, and follows.
Castiel makes very short work of the rest of their clothes and they tumble into the bed, landing amongst a thousand throw pillows, and they both wordlessly shove the majority of them to the ground.
He can hear Sarah McLachlan's Possession playing in the other room. It seems appropriate.
Castiel kisses Dean deeply, trying to push the hurt of not being invited to Sam's party to the side. That's not what he wants to think about tonight, he wants to be in this moment with Dean.
He goes down on Dean without preamble, and he can tell the other man is surprised, hears a gasp from above, and Dean's hands are in his hair, lightly pulling, hips thrusting up into Castiel's mouth. He sucks him briefly, then pulls away.
"Cas," Dean whimpers.
"No, not like that. Inside me, Dean. Inside me." He reaches up to the nightstand, where he'd had the foresight earlier in the evening to set the lube and condoms he's brought with him. "Don't worry, I'll show you what to do."
Dean gets a fiery look in his eyes, and flips Castiel onto his back, surprising the hell out of him.
"I may never have been with a guy like this before, but I've done this before. I know what I'm doing." And the next thing Castiel knows, Dean's taken him in his mouth, scorching wet heat surrounding him, and he groans. Dean works him hard and fast, tongue twisting around the crown, and then his fingers are there, right there, tip of one tracing around the circle of his entrance, and he can feel the cool of the lube.
He gasps, hips thrusting involuntarily into Dean's mouth, as the tip of that finger enters his ass, slow burn setting him on fire. Dean pulls off of his dick, lays his head on the crook of Castiel's knee, working his finger in circles, and Castiel nearly comes off the bed when he adds another, twisting and corkscrewing inside, scissoring his fingers, opening him up.
Castiel's lost in a haze a pleasure, and he's reduced to incoherent mumblings as Dean adds a third finger, thrusting in and out, callused fingertips brushing over his prostate, and he's sweating now, Dean's ignited a fire under his skin.
"Dean. Dean, now, please, god, fuck me, please, please," he mutters, and Dean stops, pulls his fingers out, and kneels between Castiel's legs.
"Condom?" he growls, voice low and gravelly. Castiel tosses him one, and he slips it on quickly, then lubes himself up. Dean pulls Castiel's left leg up and over his shoulder. He lines up, and then he's slowly pushing in, delicious slow burn of him, filling Castiel up, coming to rest against him, Dean breathing hard, and he can tell he's struggling for control, fighting the urge to come right then and there. There's music playing still, but Castiel is just too far gone to figure out what he's hearing or to even really care. All he can think about is what's happening right then and there, all he can focus on is the undeniable fullness of Dean being inside of him.
"God, Cas, so tight, so fucking tight."
"Dean, Dean, move please, please fucking move." Dean nods, and pulls out slowly, almost all of the way, then pushes back in, and Castiel's back arches off the bed.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," Dean mutters over and over, his thrusts picking up, his hips snapping faster, fucking Castiel hard, force of the thrusts making them travel up the bed.
"Dean, Dean, Dean," is all he can get out, and he reaches up and pulls Dean down by the neck, sinking his tongue deep into his mouth.
"I'm not gonna last, Cas, I can't, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!" Dean's breathless, his face flushed, beads of sweat rolling down his skin, and Castiel is just as close to the edge as he is, so completely overloaded and turned on, and he knows he's not going to last any longer than Dean will, and right then, Dean reaches between them and wraps his hand around Castiel's cock, strokes twice, and that's all it takes, Castiel coming with a shout, Dean right behind him, both of them tumbling over the edge together, sweaty bodies collapsing into each other, Dean landing on his chest.
Castiel can feel Dean's heart pounding, can feel his lungs heaving. He cards his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair, leaves a soft kiss on his forehead. They lay in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room is Dean's rough breathing, which grows quieter as it gradually slows.
"Cas, I'm, that was, holy fuck."
"My thoughts exactly." They both chuckle, and Castiel wraps his arms tight against Dean, wincing slightly when the other man's cock slips out of him. He gently turns Dean onto his back, and gets out of bed, coming back with a damp washcloth, which he uses to clean them both up, disposing of the used condom in the bathroom.
Dean's almost asleep by the time he crawls back into the bed, and he rolls into Castiel's arms, tucking his head into his favorite spot on Castiel's shoulder, hiding his face in his neck.
"Sleep well, Dean." Castiel murmurs, and he follows him down not long after, music still playing softly in the other room.