DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
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NO TIME FOR ANGST
BY ANGELWINGZ21
CHAPTER XIV: THE ONE WHERE DEAN TRIES TO MAKE CAS HAPPY AGAIN
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CHAPTER SUMMARY: Hi. Scisstor Sisters inspired this chapter. Don't ask. I regret nothing. Oh! Warning: not-very-explicit rimming. Yeah, bad chapter summary, I know. x)
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Dean wakes up in the morning fresh-faced and with a wide grin.
What's there to be happy about? Well, it's Friday!
And no practice session tonight, either. Coach Henriksen gave the weekend off seeing as he is suffering from crushing humiliation.
The teenager had been absolutely furious when he managed to wheedle out of Cas what had been bothering him. At that moment, he had completely forgotten about how Henriksen was his favorite coach, and that the guy never really struck him as intolerant. No, all he had wanted to do was punch and shout and snarl and tear, because his boyfriend unhappy.
But then yesterday morning Henriksen managed to fend off everyone's impending vicious attack long enough to explain what was really going on. Which set off Bobby into one of his epic rants, cursing way too much for school grounds, and repeating the word "moron" at least thirty times. No "idjits" for him.
It had been all a big misunderstanding.
A really, really, embarrassingly (for the coach) stupid misunderstanding.
Ah well, no harm no foul.
Except, Cas is still in a bad mood. Dean kind of gets it. The pale teenager's been the one suffering silently for over a month now. But it's not like he got cowed into anything; he hangs out with the twins, chats around a pretty nice group of people between classes, and is besties with Meg.
He doesn't get that last part either.
But yeah, his boyfriend had been rather pissed off for the rest of Thursday. People actually walked the other way when they caught sight of him. Dean thinks everyone was overreacting. The guy was just frowning. He wasn't that scary.
After school Cas had just plopped himself next to the slowly wilting peony tree in his house's backyard and proceeded to attempt to stroke his cats until they were furless. Balthazar had grimaced, but managed to convince Dean to let him be, and just go home.
That night, they barely spoke one minute on the phone. The call was awkward, because Cas refused to fill the silence, and then he had whispered a gruff good night and hung up.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope.
Dean is not going to stand for any more sourpuss moods.
So this morning Dean wakes up completely chipper, because whatever deity's looking out for him gave him a vision through his dreams.
He dreamt he had sex with Cas. Lots and lots of it. Everywhere.
Which okay, it may sound more like a teenager's perverted fantasy. BUT. But, nearing the end of the dream, Cas had turned into a happily smiling mess of sweat and body fluids. Dean woke up hearing his boyfriend's laughter echoing in his ears.
So, see? A vision.
A vision he's going to make a reality.
Oh yes, Dean is going to sex with Cas until the guy is smiling and laughing in that carefree way he did in the privacy of their rooms right before school started. He's got a feeling this will be a whole weekend project.
The things he does for his boyfriend.
"Dean, turn the fucking light off! It's five in the fucking morning!" Jo's sweet sleepy voice reprimands from the safety of the bed sheet cocoon she's made for herself.
Dean ignores her in favor of finishing lacing up his boots, and then fixing his hair in their mirror.
"Catch ya later later, alligator," he singsongs when he's finally finished a few minutes after, and all that can be seen is a slim hand poking out of the mounting of cloth and giving him the finger. "Love you too, babe," he answers before flicking the lights of their room off.
The blonde makes his way silently down the stairs and out of the house. He knows every trick step, every creaky floorboard and hinge of his home, and manages to avoid it all until he reaches outside.
It's impossible for the Impala to be quiet, so he turns the engine and guns his way out of the salvage yard before Ellen comes out to drag him back inside.
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The Novak farmhouse easily camouflages with the shadows, but Dean doesn't need a flashlight to figure out where the front entrance is. Or how to pick the lock. Figured it all out the first time Cas showed him around.
What? He's a Winchester. Winchesters tend to do stuff like that.
Anyways, once inside, he makes the admittedly long trek upstairs, and down the hallway. His boyfriend's door is half-open, because he doesn't like closing it entirely unless there's someone sleeping on the bed with him. So Dean slips in, and presses on the door until it silently clicks shut.
His Cas is beautiful. The room's window is uncovered by the curtain, allowing his boyfriend to be bathed by the moonlight. He's laying face down at the moment, one arm under his head, the other stretched out towards the empty side of his bed. His head is turned that way too, and all Dean can see is the jet black shadows of his hair. The bed sheets are pulled down and tangled between his legs. The plain white shirt he likes to wear to bed is riding up, and there's this delicious piece of silvery skin just calling out to him.
Dean heeds the call.
He quickly removes his boots, and his leather jacket, and carefully climbs onto the unoccupied side of the king bed. King Bed. The blonde teenager can't help but imagine a dozen situations where a king-sized bed would be needed. Each one is kinkier than the last.
With an amused huff, he settles by the warm, sleeping body, the tips of his fingers finally coming into contact with the pale flesh. He strokes Cas's lower back, and he can feel goose bumps rising on his boyfriend's skin.
Then he switches his mouth for his hand. He places butterfly kisses on the skin, then nibbles softly, following it by quick swipes of the tongue. Cas's back twitches, a sleepy moan barely forming in his throat.
His fingers quickly find purchase on the sleeping pants' elastic, tips hooking and pulling the clothing down, revealing the sweet, supple flesh of his boyfriend's rear. Dean licks a long, wet stripe down the left pale globe, near the cleft, and the brunette takes in a sudden breath.
Eager to get this show on the road, Dean grabs both buttocks and spreads them, immediately settling himself for some serious (ly fun) work.
At the first real, rough probing stroke of the tongue, Cas gasps aloud. At the second one, he pushes his hips back and his spine arches wonderfully into the mattress. At the third one, he's sure those pretty blue eyes snap open and take in exactly what's going on.
The choked off "Dean?" makes him dig just a little bit deeper, and the moan that escapes his angel is just so freaking awesome. Dean pulls back far enough to say a cheery, "Morning, Cas!" before diving back in.
For the next few minutes, he continues to pay all of his special attention on Cas, making his boyfriend groan and writhe in so many delicious ways. A pale hand reaches out and tries to thread its fingers through the short blonde hairs of his head, and Dean hums, fingers digging deep into the soft derrière, nails leaving hazy pink trails on the pale skin.
"Dean," the brunette gasps out, "…this…this is—"
"A nice way to wake up in the morning?" Dean quips. When his boyfriend hisses out a heady "yes," the blonde reaches around the thrusting hips, and greedily re-conquers with his hands every single inch of the flushed, hot, hard flesh that he finds.
Woohoo.
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Aunt Ellen quirks a single eyebrow at Dean when he arrives to their kitchen at around seven in the morning, a slightly pink Cas in tow.
The sixteen-year-old shrugs.
The rest of the family trickles in after them, greeting Cas and settling down in the table to wolf down down the behemoth of pancakes and bacon that constitutes as breakfast in this household.
It's nice, being able to share with nearly all the people he cares about in an easy, light-hearted atmosphere. He grins, and stuffs his face full of bacon.
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There is an accident with the maple syrup. Dean finds it impossible to explain exactly what happened. But it ended with Jo's hair getting drenched with the sticky mess.
Her roar of fury made the porcelain and the silverware on the table rattle.
So now Jo's taken over the bathroom, and Dean knows this will take forever, because if there is one thing his cousin is vain about, it's her hair. And with the girl's sudden agitation, Sammy remembered that he had a math test today, and is now holed up in his room, probably trying to cram the class's whole text book into his head in just twenty minutes.
Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen are both trying to get them to hurry up and get ready for school, because they only have a few minutes to leave the house if they ever want to reach their schools on time.
This is a perfect opportunity. The boyfriends hide themselves in the blonde's room, Dean deviously locking the door behind him. The click of the lock is loud enough to be heard over Bobby and Ellen's hollering, and Jo's screeching, and Sam's sudden despair.
Cas looks up from where he's seated on the edge of his bed, the metallic sound catching his attention. He finds Dean grinning mischievously at him.
"Make out time!" he announces with a grin, and Cas only has time to widen his eyes before Dean leaps off the ground, and tackles him down into the bouncing bed and swallows eagerly his every breath.
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They drop off Sam at his middle school, and the Impala parks in the high school student's lot just two minutes before the bell rings, and all three teenagers clamber out of the car.
Jo immediately shoots off for her homeroom on the other side of the school, and before Cas can do the same thing, Dean yanks him back to him.
"Dean, wha—"
But the blonde doesn't let him talk as he lands a smacking wet kiss on his lips.
"Dean—"
Another kiss.
"Dea—"
Kiss, kiss.
"We're going to be late," Cas protests, but it all comes out muffled because Dean is still raining quick little kisses on his mouth. He doesn't stop until his boyfriend melts down, resting his right hand on his upper left arm, catching the last swift peck and turning it into something both slower and softer.
Only then does he let go.
The bell rings, but Dean doesn't care because Cas is taking the initiative and hooking his arms behind his neck and pulling him into an incredibly heavy kiss. His already bruised lips part eagerly to allow his boyfriend's delicious tongue to plunder his mouth.
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Dean is the first student to slip out of his class as soon as the lunch bell rings. He races down the halls and up the stairs until he reaches the boys' bathrooms by the library. It's the perfect hiding place, because it's right by where Cas passes through as he follows the rest of the stampeding students towards the cafeteria.
He peers through the tiny crack he allows between the door and the frame and searches patiently for his boyfriend. He needs to find someone with black sneakers, dark jeans, a huge navy blue knit sweater, wild black hair, and a huge hickey blossoming on a pale neck.
Gotcha.
As quick as lighting, he snakes an arm out, grabs the back of Cas's sweater and yanks at him. The seventeen-year-old gives a squawk of surprise, but no one really notices, their minds too focused on the enchiladas the school's serving today.
Castiel splutters as he stumbles in the bathroom, absolutely confused. But then he catches sight of Dean's reflection in the mirror and he turns around immediately to face him.
"Dean?" he asks, but the blonde doesn't answer as he gets close to Cas again, grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him into the big bathroom stall. They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Dean quirks an eyebrow and smirks.
Then he's falling to his knees and unbuttoning the dark jeans and pulling down the zipper and—
Cas's sudden gasp and subsequent moans are so loud that he has to slip his thick fingers into that pretty, plump mouth to muffle it all.
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Did you know that a Reverse Cowboy is when the person sits on your penis, facing away from you, and rides you like a pony from here 'til kingdom cums?
Cas's crimson red flush is adorable as he reads the little message Dean scribbled on a piece of paper. They're in US History class, and his boyfriend is sitting on the desk in front of him.
I'd like to try it on you.
He writes on another piece of paper, and pushes it over Cas's shoulder. When he hears the brunette gasp quietly, he writes another message.
Or you could try it on me. Either way, I bet it'll be fun.
"Dean!" Castiel chokes off, trying to not attract the teacher's attention.
Ever heard of pile-driving?
His boyfriend makes an undecipherable sound in the back of his throat, before slamming his forehead unto his desk table.
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In chemistry—the second class of the day and the first one he shares with Jo—Dean begged his cousin to call Becky—who gets out of her high school (thank God she's not in the same district) a half hour earlier—and have her pick her up and go out bowling, or something. She bitch-faced at him until he handed her forty bucks.
In the five minutes between chemistry and English, Dean called Sammy—who answered with the whiniest "Dean, what the hell? I'm in school!" ever—and convinced him to spend the day after school with Garth. After he promised him tickets to next month's Repo! The Genetic Opera midnight viewing. He so handing those over in a clown gift bag.
Anyways, the point is that now that school's let out for the week, he has a few hours free with Cas in his own home, cause Aunt Ellen's manning The Roadhouse and Uncle Bobby is on the next county over, and they won't be around until at least seven in the evening.
He presses on the pedal a bit harder.
When they get to the Salvage Yard, Dean almost breaks his house key in half in his hurry to try and open the door. Castiel is shaking besides him, and he knows it's for the same reason that's got him so high-strung.
Anticipation.
As soon as they're able to spill through the doorway, Cas darts across the small foyer and begins pumping up the staircase. Dean gives chase and manages to catch him around the waist halfway up the steps.
They collapse in a tangle of limbs right there, and Dean doesn't really care anymore. It's a semi-horizontal position.
It'll do.
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Dean scrabbles to find some kind of purchase on the wall besides his bed, as he rests the side of his face and naked chest against the rough wallpaper.
Cas drapes his pale body all over his back and slithers his hands around his arms and threads long fingers with his own.
And oh, this feels so good. Dean pushes his lower half backwards as Castiel pushes his own forwards.
The blonde hisses and the brunette groans and hoo-boy, neither are going to last long at the pace they're going.
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In his defense, when Bobby comes in demanding why the electric bill is so damn high next month, Dean can say that the hot shower was all Cas's idea.
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Uncle Bobby is the first to arrive. And the man walks in calling out to see who's home.
They answer from over in the living room, where they're innocently watching TV.
The older man narrows his eyes at them.
"Get the hell out of my house," he growls.
"Will do, sir," Dean answers quickly, putting on the leather jacket that had been resting on the back of the couch.
"Damn idjits," he mutters.
"Yes we are, sir," Cas says as he stuffs his feet into his shoes again.
They're out of the property in two minutes, flat.
The Rolling Stones jam on the cassette player for the first fifteen minutes that they're out wandering around on the road, before Castiel reaches out and turns down the volume.
"Dude! No touching the music. We've been over this."
"I've just remembered that Uncle Balthazar told me he was taking Vivi and Xica out to an opera concert over in the metro area.
Dean stares at his boyfriend for ten full seconds.
"What the hell, man!" he exclaims as he slams on the breaks.
"What?"
"You could've told me this like, hours ago!" he answers as he executes a messy three-point turn.
"I forgot!"
"We've been wasting gas and time, Cas! Time, Cas, time! We could've been pile-driving on your bed right now, you know."
"Dean!"
"Just sayin'."
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Dean Winchester wakes up in the morning fresh-faced and with a wide grin.
What's there to be happy about? Well, it's Saturday!
Day two.
TBC
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