The end of the world was forthcoming and the Winchesters were doing what they did best – reclining with a beer and looking at the stars. It was sappy and ridiculous and therefore something he was obviously never going to admit to another soul, but Dean couldn't deny that times like this were some of his most treasured moments between him and Sammy. Of course, agreeing to back Sam's suicidal last play put a bit of a dampener on tonight's relaxation.

Even so, as Dean leaned back against his baby, he couldn't bring himself to regret his decision. As epically massive as some of his brother's mistakes had been, he couldn't deny that his trusting Sam was rather long overdue. And hell, if he couldn't find a little faith at the end of the world then he was never damn-well going to.

And so, in the moment - as screwed as they were - things were good; comfortable. Of course Sam had to ruin it.

"So -" the great Sasquatch began, and from the tone of his voice Dean already knew his damn brother was going to be pressing the sharing and caring. He wasn't disappointed. "You and Cas..."

Dean only just kept himself from rolling his eyes, taking a large swig of beer as he pretended like crazy that his face wasn't heating up into one hell of a blush. "What about us?" he grunted.

"You two... doing well?" Sam asked, his voice an irritating mix of suppressed humour and caring seriousness.

"He's not my freaking high-school sweetheart, Sam," Dean growled, ignoring Sam's huff of laughter as he took another swig. He was going to MURDER Crowley, seriously. Ever since the damn demon had slipped the truth about Dean and Cas's... closeness, things within Bobby's house had just been damn awkward. Dean was actually surprised it'd taken Sam this long to bring it up.

"You care about him though," Sam remarked astutely. It wasn't a question and that made Dean grind his teeth a little just on the principle of the thing. Even so, he didn't deny it – shrugging as he dangled the beer over his knee.

For a full moment Sam didn't say anything and Dean sighed. His brother was in one of his chick-flick moods obviously – this one fuelled by possible impending death. There was no way Dean was getting out of this without talking out his feelings. Which was a bitch, since he hadn't really studied his feelings about Cas too hard as yet.

Dean had been telling himself it was because of the apocalypse – he had too much else on his mind; there were things more important – but deep down he sorta grudgingly knew: his feelings when it came to Cas utterly terrified him. Emotional intensity had never been Dean's friend. He struggled through when it came to family because... well, it was family, but this... whatever it was happening to him over Cas...

Dean looked up and met Sam's eyes. "I care about him," he conceded grudgingly. "Probably more than I should."

"Is it the guy thing-" Sam began questioningly and Dean found himself shaking his head before he even knew he was doing it. It was only then that he realised that the fact Cas was a dude no longer really factored into the equation. Sure it was going to make anything physical that happened between them a...uh, pretty new experience, but hell: end of the world. A little thing like sexual experimentation seemed a little trivial by comparison.

"No... I mean…" Dean paused, taking another swig of his fast-emptying beer. Jesus, this was not a conversation he would have ever thought he'd be having with his little brother, let alone one he should have been having this sober. "Don't get me wrong – it's a little fucking weird-" Sam's snort of agreement earned him a short glare before Dean continued. "It's just... I'm not..." He struggled to find the words. "I'm not good with people – I'm not good for people..."

Dean squirmed under Sam's serious look for a moment before his brother smiled at him slightly. "How about you let Cas decide that?" Sam suggested quietly.

Dean finished his beer.

Dean found Cas on the porch, the angel's face a mask of concentration as he stared at a rifle in pieces before him on the low coffee table. Dean sidled up to the railing, fresh bottle in hand, and leaned.

"You think if you stare long enough it'll get so embarrassed it'll put itself together?" he inquired, a very real thread of amusement winding through his voice. It was strange, really - despite the weight and terror of the happenings around them, Dean still managed to find a lightness around Cas these days. He watched as a corner of Cas's mouth ticked up.

And then, without speaking, Cas leaned forward and, quickly and methodically - like he'd been doing it all his life - he put the gun back together.

Dean raised one brow. "Bobby show you how to do that?" he asked, impressed despite himself.

He was even more so when Cas shook his head. "No." The finished gun clacked slightly as Cas placed it back on the table. "The pieces are part of a whole," Cas said, looking up and fixing Dean with a gaze that made something twist slightly in his chest. "I'm good at putting things back together."

Dean flushed a little despite himself, taking a long drag of his beer and trying ignore the obvious implications of THAT statement. "Remind me to buy you a stack of puzzles if we survive the end of the world," he commented, aiming for a light tone but not quite making it. The cutting words he'd thrown at Cas the day he'd run to say yes to Michael ticked at the edge of his mind. It should have been Michael...

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts as Cas stood, rounding the table to join him at the railing. He would have protested when the damn angel snagged the beer out of his hand if only the sight of Cas taking a long pull from the bottle hadn't been so damn... distracting. This whole attraction-to-men thing was proving more than a little persistent. Dean had caught himself more than once checking Cas out – raking eyes over a body that hadn't actually been the angel's to begin with...

Speaking of.

"So, does Jimmy like beer?" Dean asked, watching as Cas blinked down at the bottle before turning eyes on him.

"I don't know," he replied simply, and Dean sighed. So much for subtle.

"So he can't, you know – taste it when you do?" Once again, he tried for casual and his tone fell short of its mark.

The look Cas fixed him with seemed mildly amused. "You're asking if Jimmy experiences what I do," he observed.

Dean caught the beer back – taking a swig, damning the little part of his brain that was pointing out that the feel of sharing something as trivial as a bottle of beer was a pleasant one. "Yeah – I am."

Dean watched as Cas seemed to gather his thoughts a moment, a slight trepidation rising in him that the question seemed to warrant a thoughtful answer. A simple yes or no wouldn't suffice?

"Jimmy is the first vessel I have taken," Cas started. "When I first entered this body I also connected with his soul – his consciousness. I needed his experience with life to help guide my way."

Dean nodded in understanding – it made sense, after all. He watched as Cas ducked his head, almost as if he were...ashamed? Guilty? "I wasn't aware that keeping him close pained him – that he would recall some of his time as a host."

Ah. Dean recalled his one meeting with Jimmy Novak; the man's description of playing vessel to an angel of the Lord. He hadn't really thought about how Cas would take that realisation – or even that he hadn't known to begin with. Back then Cas had just been another dick angel – it had never occurred to Dean that Cas would feel bad for putting his vessel through the sort of pain Jimmy described.

"When I returned to this body I... I didn't entirely follow protocol," Cas continued, his voice now almost sheepish – like he was admitting a shameful breach of orders, which Dean guessed he was. "I buried Jimmy's consciousness completely and used a piece of..." Cas's head tipped, a wry little smile on his lips. "... well, you would call it my soul, to bind him."

"What does that mean?" Dean asked, the enormity of this revelation ticking at the corner of his mind.

"It means Jimmy is safe, without pain and unaware," Cas explained. "But at a cost for me."

"What sort of cost?" Dean frowned.

"If I leave this vessel I will be leaving a part of myself behind," Cas explained. "A piece of my soul, the piece cushioning Jimmy, will be ripped from me."

For a long second Dean could only gape. "Won't that hurt?"

"It would be excruciating," Cas said, voice far more goddamn casual than Dean thought the situation warranted. He must have seen the look on Dean's face, because the gaze he turned on him then was reassuring. "It is a small price," Cas said quietly. "Just as it was before."

Dean frowned, beer forgotten in his hand. "Before?"

Dean almost swallowed his tongue when Cas's eyes dropped to his arm. The one with a palm-shaped brand seared into it. Jesus CHRIST.

"You were not the only one marked by our passage out of hell," Cas said as Dean struggled to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"I have a piece of your SOUL?" Dean asked incredulously.

Cas nodded. "And I yours," he noted, far too fucking calmly in Dean's opinion. "It was... unusual," the angel continued, frowning slightly as if recalling a faint memory. "I gripped your soul tight when I raised you..."

"And that's unusual?" Dean interrupted, voice taking on the resigned sort of quality that follows shock.

Cas shook his head. "No. It was unusual that your soul gripped back."

Dean finished his beer in silence, unconcerned in a dazed, surreal sort of way when Cas snagged it twice more from his grip to steal a mouthful. But what the hell, apparently they'd shared their freaking souls - a beer was kinda small potatoes after something like that.

After what seemed an age in which they stared out into the darkness, Dean sliding into a comfort he'd only ever really felt around... damn, around family - Cas finally broke the silence. "Sam will say yes," he said quietly.

Dean's throat tightened at the words just like they always did. "That's the plan," he replied bitterly. Motherfucking bitch of a plan but the only one they had. God, the only one they had.

"So this could be our last night," Cas pointed out, cutting into his depressing thoughts.

Dean frowned slightly as he glanced over at the angel by his side, noting the line of his stance – blue eyes distant as they traced the stars. Despite it, though, Dean suddenly recognised the tone in his voice. "Are you - are you pulling the last-night-on-earth line on me?" he asked, not sure if he was more shocked or insanely frigging amused.

The look Cas ticked over at him – mouth slightly curved, a spark of almost... mischief in his eyes - made the final decision. And Dean laughed – a sound so ridiculously out of place considering the circumstances, but fuck it if it didn't feel damn good.

Fisting the borrowed AC/DC shirt and pulling Cas into him felt even better.

How they made it up the stairs Dean would never know. How they made it up the stairs without Bobby or Sam catching them – well that was just a bonafide miracle right there. Even if they had been caught, though, Dean didn't think he would have been able to stop – the sound Cas made when Dean pressed the angel up against the door was too... God, too everything.

The handle took two goes before it gave and the two of them tumbled into the spare room. Dean barely remembered to shove the door closed after them before he felt hands on his skin – sliding his shirt up and over his head before his mind could rightly keep track of it happening. But God it was worth it a moment later when Cas's hands were replaced with his mouth – hot and slightly clumsy but fuck, so very, very good.

Dean didn't even realise they'd been moving backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he overbalanced, taking Cas with him as he hit the mattress. Thankfully Cas managed to catch most of his weight on his hands either side of Dean's head before he landed fully, but even so, Dean suddenly found himself able to add one more thing to his sliding list of gay experiences.

Dean had had women under him, on top of him - damn, just about every which way - but none of it had ever felt like this. Being pressed into a mattress with a strength that matched his own; feeling smooth planes and taut muscle where he was used to softness and curves… It should have freaked Dean out. Instead, as Cas scraped his teeth down his neck, strong hands finding purchase on his hips and digging in so deliciously, Dean couldn't seem to keep his mind from unraveling slightly.

And he was panting. For fuck sake. "C-Cas… oh!"

And okay, maybe the damn angel wasn't the only one who appreciated things a little rough. Dean shuddered as Cas laved the newly inflicted bite mark before doing it again at the sound of Cas's voice, hot in his ear. "I want you."

And hell but if that wasn't one of the hottest things that had ever been said to him.

"You've got me," Dean said, voice far more ragged than he'd ever thought it would be. Cas seemed to pause above him before leaning up to meet his gaze.

"No, I..." Cas trailed off with a frown, his eyes seeming to be trying to communicate where words had failed him. And then Dean got it.

Oh fuck...

Cas must have read the words in his eyes because he was suddenly pulling away. "I'm sorry," he apologised lowly. "It's too much-"

Dean should have been freaking; God knew his mind was thoroughly a-spin with what Cas seemed to be asking. But instead all he could focus on was that Cas was pulling away – taking his warmth and skin and God, that scent with him and something inside of Dean; something wholly instinctual panicked.

"No!" he blurted roughly, grasping Cas's arm and pulling him back. Then he swallowed. "No," he repeated, willing his voice into some semblance of calm despite his hammering heart. Because fuck, was he really contemplating this?

"It's not too much."

Apparently so.

Dean pulled Cas's mouth back down to his as he tried to make sense of the situation. How he'd come this far and not thought on the mechanics of actually... well... having sex with a guy was just mind boggling. But he hadn't. With everything that was going on – Sam, Michael, Crowley – the end of the world...Cas had been the little prickle of sanity in an insane world. And he was very well aware of how fucked THAT was. That being attracted to a dude angel was normal in comparison to everything else going on spoke spades about the state of Dean's life right now.

And now that angel wanted to have sex with him. Real live, penetrating, thrusting, gay sex. Dean had never been what you might call a prude in the bedroom. And after a drunken night with an experimental barmaid in Milwaukee four years ago that he could hardly remember beyond waking up strangely... achy in a very telling area, he knew that his body wasn't exactly innocent to... well, such activities. But this... stupid as it was, this was a line for him.

Dean fucking loved making out with Cas – as long as it had taken him to admit it - and the foray into the more carnal pleasures they'd tripped across in the bathroom that morning had been nothing but mind-blowing. Going from that to sex with the guy though...

Dean was pulled momentarily from his thought process as Castiel shifted above him, lightening the play of tongue and teeth slightly into something almost...gentle. It was a new sensation. One that spoke of something almost too big – too significant for Dean to really face right then. He found his chest tightening slightly, his breath catching as Cas turned a simple, carnal kiss into something almost like worship.

Trust a friggin' angel.

And it was then that Dean truly remembered who Cas was. This was Cas who had pulled him from Hell; Cas who had sacrificed himself not once but twice in his quest to aid Dean. The stupid friggin' bastard had done nothing but give. And now Dean found himself in a position to give back. And more than that – Dean suddenly realised he really, really wanted to.

Dean very nearly laughed when he remembered his words from what felt like years ago – back before this whole mess had started. "I'm not going to let you die a virgin."

Cas must have felt the change in him because he pulled away slightly, a questioning look on his kiss-bitten features. Dean grinned, and not just because Cas looking debauched was just never going to get old. "Stay here," he directed, crawling out from under Cas and heading for the bathroom. Cas's questioning look followed him but the frown was slight – his eyes trusting.

The Vaseline was right where Dean remembered it and as he headed back into the bedroom, jar in hand, he mentally reminded himself to replace it with a new one...you know, if he survived the apocalypse and all.

Cas's look of understanding when he spied the jar was more than a little freaking weird, but before Dean could comment he was being pulled back into what was becoming a pleasantly familiar heat.

The feel of skin on skin when Dean managed to divest Cas of his t-shirt was all at once wholly new and completely... awesome. Cas's body lacked the bulk of hunt-hardened muscle that Dean's had, but was by no means lacking in the toned department - Dean's full frontal of the newly showered angel that morning had been enough to hammer that particular fact home in Dean's mind. But going from admiring the look of a man's body to revelling in the touch of it... Dean found himself wondering if he'd been capable of this type of attraction before or if it was just something about Cas.

Somewhere in the moment their movements had turned frantic again - hands and mouths hot as they gripped and moaned against each other. Dean gasped jaggedly when Cas moved from his mouth to his neck once more, the action distracting him enough that Dean didn't realise Cas had shifted until he was bucking into a hot hand cupping the front of his jeans. "Fuck!"

"See," Cas groaned raggedly against his neck. "Bad influence."

Dean's gasp of laughter morphed into a moan when Cas took the opportunity to squeeze slightly before his fingers shifted up, finding the button of his jeans. A moment passed. "Want a hand there?" Dean grinned, stifling a laugh at the look of utter frustration on Cas's face as the angel wrestled with the catch on the jeans.

In a way Dean was mildly relieved - what with all the mind-blowing kisses and bizarre knowledge, here finally was something that proved Cas was as inexperienced as he'd said he was. "Make it work," Cas ordered and Dean grinned at the tone before he took over, unhitching the button with an ease born of repetition. The slight relief as the pressure of the material was eased was drowned a moment later in a far sharper sensation as Cas took swift advantage of the new access.

Jesus Christ this - Dean's breath shuttered in his chest as he bucked instinctively into Cas's touch - THIS was why it was becoming harder and harder to match the thought of Castiel with any sort of virginity. There was no hesitation to him; no nervousness. There was just want - and a skill that Dean found as shocking as it was entirely fucking awesome. Well… most of the time. Right now for instance he was about to lose it and his pants hadn't even come all the way off yet, which was more than a little embarrassing.

The look Cas pinned Dean with when he grabbed the angel's wrist, stilling his movements, didn't really help the situation. Dean didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look at him with that level of hunger before.

"Clothes..." Dean panted. "Less clothes."

It took a few moments of shuffling awkwardness to get them both divested of the remainder of their clothing, hindered mostly by the fact they couldn't seem to go for more than a moment without touching - stealing kisses and heated grazes of skin with a desperation Dean didn't think he'd ever experienced before now. When the last sock finally hit the floor Dean didn't even get the opportunity to feel exposed before Cas was there, hands firm as he pressed Dean back into the mattress again, mouth open and demanding against his own. And God, but if the sensation of Cas's bare chest had been good then this - Dean groaned as the angles of Cas's body fitted against his own with a delicious slide of skin - this was just fucking incredible.

Cas's harsh moan as Dean pressed him closer, dragging blunt nails down his back was one Dean was never going to forget. And then Dean shifted slightly, his legs falling open and their lower bodies lined up just so...

It was Cas's gasp this time that broke the kiss, not that Dean was in any state to complain as his eyes snapped closed - teeth gritting with the effort not to bring things to a glorious end right there with a few instinctual thrusts. Jesus he hadn't been this on edge since he was a damn teenager. Cas certainly wasn't helping, his hips canting in seemingly involuntary little movements as he struggled to breathe above him.

"Dean... I can't- I want..."

It really was pretty hilarious that Cas - well spoken, forthright angel of the Lord - became nonsensical at the height of passion. It was also completely and utterly hot. Dean hooked one hand around Cas's neck, tugging him down into a searing kiss as his other roamed across the bedspread searching for... there. By the time Cas pulled back from him, Dean had the lid off the jar of Vaseline. Then of course came THE moment. The split second decision where Dean decided exactly how far he was going to go with this whole gay thing. Because there was world of difference in his mind between... uh... pitching and… well, catching. No, make that several worlds. Maybe a couple of galaxies.

Surprisingly, the decision his mind settled on was not what he'd thought it would be. But then again, Dean had always been a dive-head-first-in-the-deep-end kind of guy when it came to new experiences. The look on Cas's face when he offered the angel the jar was deeply amusing. "I'm assuming you know what to do with this?" Dean said sarcastically, huffing a short laugh when Cas proved him right in the moments following.

It was uncomfortable at first – there was no denying it. The sensation of stretching and an almost... intrusion was only made marginally better by the familiar, bone-deep sensation of Cas kissing him. And then Cas did something – twisting slighting and pressing just there and Dean found himself arching off the bed with a strangled gasp. "The FUCK?"

The sensation alone was enough to shock but the look on Cas's face as the angel hovered over him was just... insane. Lustful, hungry and... knowing.

"Jesus, how do you KNOW this shit?" Dean gasped. If Cas was bothered by the blasphemy, he didn't show it; instead, a very real smirk settled over his features and Dean's thoughts were suddenly thrown back to the last time Cas had hovered over him with that expression.

Cas tilted his head like he was sharing a private joke. "I'm a giant perve," he said simply, and Dean was almost ready to demand answers before Cas did... IT again. Dean found himself with a very sudden understanding of how guy on guy action worked and worked well.

Cas's almost desperation of the moments before seemed to have faded slightly as his concentration shifted to Dean, his eyes hot and dark on Dean's face as he proved that his insane beginner's luck with anything sexual definitively extended to... to whatever this was. Dean's own desire, however, was swiftly building back up from where it had waned in his nervousness - something he would never have thought possible with what was happening. Not even the slight awkwardness of being under such intense scrutiny was able to dull the heady spikes of need every time Cas found that spot inside of him. "Fuck," he gasped. "Cas, please..."

And now he was begging. Fucking hell. Dean couldn't really bring himself to fully regret it, though, not when a second later he had Cas all over him again, mouth hot and a little desperate on his own.

"Dean I - I don't…" Cas rasped low against his neck and Dean didn't think he'd ever heard anyone's voice sound so in pieces. It caused a spike of pure, unadulterated need to go through him which effectively dulled the nerves threatening to turn his stomach into knots. It was enough; enough that when he took over, answering Cas's unspoken plea and guided Cas into him that the slight panic over the feeling was manageable.

The sensation of Cas pushing into him was… everything all at once. So wholly different from the feeling of sinking into someone else - this was breaking and gasping and trust…. Jesus Christ, this was trust like Dean had never known before…

And Cas was earning it, body rigid and taut above him - his control something Dean had to fucking admire because he sure as hell would never have been able to go this slowly had it been his first time. And Cas was shaking, skin practically humming under Dean's hands. Cas was completely and totally on edge and Dean had put him there. The knowledge was… intense.

The sound Cas made when Dean pulled him down into another kiss was very nearly a whimper, but Dean couldn't find it in himself to be amused because God only knew what would come out of his own mouth at this point if he wasn't keeping it so busy.

It hurt a little - there was no denying the fact, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Dean had thought it would be. And after all he'd been through… well - this small sting was almost welcome. The sense of intrusion was slowly fading too, drowning in Cas's heat; Cas's mouth sure and hot and, as always, fucking incredible upon his own. Dean didn't even realise that Cas had stopped moving - was seated fully within him - until the angel broke the kiss to gasp harshly into his neck, a full body shudder running through his rigid frame.

It was then that it really hit Dean - what he was doing, who he was doing it with. And as much as Dean six months ago would have thought the situation warranted a major freakout Dean in that moment just couldn't seem to work past the intense feeling of… God, of rightness.

Dean smoothed his hands up over Cas's back, feeling the muscles shift under his touch until he reached his destination and carded his fingers through the angel's hair. "You okay?" he asked, voice far more wrecked than he'd thought it would be. Jesus they hadn't even really… well, got to the strenuous stuff yet and he already sounded like he'd run a marathon.

Cas nodded against his neck slightly before pulling back to meet his eyes. And while Dean may have sounded wrecked it was nothing to the way Cas looked in that moment. It made Dean's gut swoop a little.

"This is…" Cas's voice trailed off, his eyes momentarily sliding closed as his breath hitched. And Dean didn't really need him to finish; he knew. The feel of being inside another person was as heady as it was awesome and while it'd been an age since his first time he vaguely recalled the wonder and awe of the initial sensations. That he was the one giving them to Cas was just… insane - in the best possible way.

"It gets better." And then, in a move that was all instinct, he shifted, pulling Cas impossibly closer and causing a sliding movement deep inside. The momentary twinge of pain was worth it as Cas moaned sharply, eyes snapping wide and dark.

"D-Dean-"

"Move," Dean ordered, and Cas, fucking wonderful angel of the Lord that he was, didn't need telling twice.

Cas set a slow, steady rhythm at first and again Dean couldn't help but admire the fucking control. It had to be a heaven thing - some speck of angel left over - because there was no way humanity would have been playing a part in this sort of discipline. Having said that, Dean had a feeling nothing could have stopped the short, sharp sounds breaking from Cas's lips on each thrust. Not that Dean was complaining.

Dean had always been what people called a giving lover. Personally he thought the term a bit ironic. Right now for instance, every damn moan, every sharp gasp from Cas was serving to wind something deep inside of him to new heights. Dean got off when others did; to him it was as selfish as it was generous. That Cas getting off seemed to hit him with more force than a sledgehammer to the gut seemed a perfectly awesome bonus.

And then Cas hooked one hand behind Dean's knee and lifted slightly and Dean was arching off the mattress when his next thrust hit that fucking delicious spot inside of him. "Oh God!"

He was rewarded for his blasphemy with a sharp bite to his shoulder and Dean couldn't have stopped his broken moan if he'd tried. The sting of stretching was a distant memory now, rapidly drowning in a far more pleasurable sort of sharpness and Cas didn't seem to be willing to let him off easy. Every second or third thrust saw Dean gasping, blunt fingernails digging into pale skin; marking just as surely as he had been in the beginning of it all.

"Cas, please-"

And Dean cared even less about the pleading the second time around, particularly as this time it earned him a hard kiss and an even harder hand on him, around him and Dean was hurtling towards the edge…

"Let go," Cas urged, hoarse and low, and Dean would never know if it was the sound of that damn gravelly voice soaked in desperation and repeating his own words back to him or Cas's particularly deft stroke that broke him but he was suddenly coming, hard. Cas followed him a second later, his cry muffled against the skin of Dean's neck and Dean clutched at him as the angel shuddered, his own heart hammering in his chest.

For an age there was silence, broken only by the staccato sound of breath petering back to normal, and it took Dean a full moment to realise he still hadn't stopped touching Cas; hands tracing twitching muscles and relishing the feel of smooth skin. What was more shocking was that - Jesus, he really didn't want to.

Post-sex Cas was a boneless and exhausted Cas and Dean found himself chuckling fondly as he rearranged them into a somewhat more comfortable position. And as Cas softened into sleep, Dean smoothed fingers through the damn shock of black hair that he was never going to be able to look at without thinking about sex ever again and he felt… he felt…

Fucking hell.

"I'm totally fucking gay for an angel," he said quietly. Because he couldn't say the other words. Not yet.