A/N: I can finally get back to updating The College Years! Sorry for the massive break everyone who was waiting patiently, and thank you so much - I've begun to post my new story, The Devi's Epitaph, on here, and so if you want to check that out too, I'd really appreciate it!
As for this upcoming chapter, aside from the obvious (that I hope you're all happy with it) I also ought to warn that there's some pretty heavy smut at the end of the chapter (as was requested; you're welcome)
Please comment with any more requests of what you'd like to see Dean and Cas do over their summer together, and any thoughts on the story in general - other than that, enjoy!/p
horsegirl2430 - Glad you enjoyed last chapter, tbh I live for the exchanges those three have with one another (and there's more coming up next chapter!) thanks for the review!
weedom - glad that you enjoyed it - thank you so much for reviewing and being so patient with the story/updates, hope you enjoy this chapter!
QueenWoofy - I used to always cringe at fluff and find it super awkward, but now? I can't stop writing it? I'm glad you like it at least, and yeah, Bobby and Ellen are definitely amazing parents, I love those guys. Thank you for reviewing, hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own supernatural or any of the characters in it
20.
"Rachel will be coming down in a couple of days." Castiel explains. The angel seems to be finding particularly difficult to keep his hands to himself, even while Dean is driving. Dean insisted that he be the one to pick Castiel up; the last thing in the world that he wants is his family embarrassing him any more than they already will this week. Which is an awful fucking lot.
"Cas, no offense, but—" Dean's eyes threaten to flutter closed as the angel's fingers fumble around his waistband, "—could you, like—fuck, Cas, I'm driving."
Castiel's eyes spark with something—Dean catches it in his peripherals and can only frown questioningly at the road as Castiel's fingers drag up and down his thigh.
"I'd noticed," The angel nods, lips twitching wickedly upwards. "It's hot."
Dean nearly chokes.
"Dude—"
"I've missed you," The angel frowns.
"You've said," Dean laughs, grinning at the road. He grips the steering wheel a little tighter as Castiel's hands move to touch the skin under his shirt. "Cas—"
"What?" Castiel asks, pulling back suddenly. Dean can't help the little whine that escapes his lips at this, and what makes it worse is that the angel actually laughs at it.
"Hey, you were the one getting all—" Dean struggles for words because he can feel Castiel's gaze pressed so firmly on the side of his face, "—handsy—for want of a better word—so don't blame me when I complain if you remove yourself so damn suddenly—"
"But I thought you weren't enjoying me touching you?" Castiel asks, feigning concern. Dean nearly growls in response.
"I never said that," He glares at the road ahead of him, "and anyway, I only wanted you to stop because I didn't want to crash and kill both of us because you couldn't keep it in your damn pants."
"Then pull over." Castiel replies shortly, as though it's the simplest thing in the damn world. Dean glances over to him and gauges the look in the angel's eyes—he's obviously not joking right now, which makes Dean's skin prickle and he nearly has to look away because of the hungry, intent look in Castiel's eyes.
"Cas, they'll wonder why we're taking so long—"
"Then tell them there's traffic." Castiel shrugs. "I've missed you."
"You've said." Dean repeats.
"All of you."
Dean has to stare at the road. His insides are trembling in a new and fresh way, the thought of him and Cas fucking in the Impala has his vision growing blurry. He blinks hard. Something is squeezing at his gut and pulsing blood, hot as magma, through his system.
"You look good like this." Castiel comments. Dean swallows thickly. The angel's hand has come to trace innocent patterns on his shoulder, but it has Dean's skin dancing and he tilts his head without realising it, practically begging Castiel to move up to stroking his neck. The angel snorts gently. "And I think you know it." Castiel comments thoughtfully.
"I've been told I'm pretty more than enough, Cas." Dean laughs, but the sound is weak and breathy and fuck, is he really as close as he thinks he is to pulling over and begging the angel to kiss his lips red and raw?
"Impossible," Castiel shakes his head. "You're perfect. You can't ever be told enough."
Dean tries to breathe deeply. He realises his hands, gripped so tightly around the wheel that his knuckles are turning white, somehow still manage to tremble.
"God, do I want you." Castiel breathes, fingers trailing back down Dean's neck, so soft they're almost not there, and fuck, that'll do it—Dean pulls over, hardly able to coordinate himself, let alone drive, and in the next instant Castiel is pressing burning kisses up and down his neck. Dean's hand moves immediately to the angel's hair, he swallows thickly and Castiel hums against his skin, breath hot enough to have all of Dean's skin dancing.
"Missed you," Castiel beams into the curve of Dean's neck. His stubble burns Dean's skin; Dean can't help but tilt his head back and groan when the angel begins sucking at Dean's flesh. "Missed this."
"Cas—please—" Dean gasps, "don't—don't leave any marks—I'd be mortified—"
The angel stops, but drags Dean over to him to kiss him, hard and claiming, on the lips. Dean is shaking, all of him is shaking, he didn't realise how badly he wanted all of this, and now—
Castiel is kissing down his neck, mouthing at the juncture between Dean's neck and shoulder, Dean's hand returns to Castiel's hair and he groans, unable to stop himself, unable to calm the pulsing arousal that thrums hotly through him at this moment.
"I've missed—" He gasps, unable to continue when Cas begins to palm at his jeans. Dean's eyes flutter closed. Fuck, fuck it, the only thing to do at times like this is just to give in, to let Castiel lead the way and take Dean wherever he wants to go—he swallows thickly when Cas ducks his head down and begins mouthing at the growing bulge in Dean's pants; it shouldn't be as hot as it is but fuck it's so hot to have that frustrating, not-nearly-enough feeling of Cas teasing him in this way again.
And it feels like it goes on for hours; this teasing, this mouthing and kissing through the material of Dean's jeans—and Dean is gasping and unable to contain himself and so fucking glad that they're on an empty fucking road surrounded by trees—and then Castiel finally undoes Dean's flies and pulls out his dick and—
Well, shit.
All Dean can do is let his head loll back against his seat; he can only stand to glance down for a few moments at a time; the sight of Castiel, humming happily, wholly, head bobbing up and down, mouth wrapped around Dean's dick just too much. Dean's hands have come to rest in the angel's hair, he fists at it but can hardly even grip, he feels weak and the dark hair of the angel slides through his fingertips, so soft and perfect and all of this and how wrong it is that Cas is giving him head in his car only adding to the pleasure; the angel hums again and Dean gasps, groans, hips twitching upwards as the angel's hand moves to play with Dean's dick and balls and fuck—
Dean realises that a slurred litany of "Don't-stop-never-stop, Oh-God-Cas, God I've missed you, missed this, don't stop don't stop don't stop" has been falling from his lips; he hardly even noticed, he can hardly even think, he gasps and groans and doesn't stop praying to the angel, begging him to keep going, telling him it feels so good, so good, and then—
Dean only manages to let out a gasped warning of "Cas—I'm, fuck—Cas—" before he is coming, hard, threads of pleasure rushing through him, out of him, he can't think, can hardly breathe, can make out Castiel's glittering blue eyes underneath a frame of charcoal eyelashes, and he's lost, finished, lost forever.
Maybe he whites out. He comes to and his body is buzzing, feet feeling numb, Castiel kissing his lips like there's nothing else more important or delicate in the world, and Dean moves just so that he can bury his face in the angel's neck.
"Oh my God—"
He can't catch his breath, can't stop holding on to Castiel—but to his credit, the angel doesn't seem to mind.
"Fuck—that was—fuck, Cas, I can't even think—"
Castiel breathes out a laugh into Dean's hair. Everything about him is so tender; the fingertips coming to stroke gorgeously down the nape of Dean's neck, brushing the few stray hairs there so softly it's like being touched by snowflakes; the nose that presses to the top of Dean's head and breathes in long, soft sighs; the other hand that has wound around Dean's waist holds Dean so wonderfully carefully that Dean can hardly think of anything else in the world that could possibly compare to this feeling.
And what is this feeling?
He doesn't get a chance to chase this thought, because after what was apparently a few minutes' contended silence, Castiel kisses Dean's temple and does up Dean's zipper again, and Dean whines and has to look away, but Cas tells him that he needs to start driving again.
"I want to sleep, now." Dean moans, staring at the road instead of at Castiel. Castiel exhales an amused breath of laughter.
"You always do," He replies, beaming. "Every time. I knew you'd be the type to get sleepy after sex, I knew it."
"Then why did you get me off when I'm supposed to be driving?" Dean moans.
"Because it's adorable," Castiel frowns, as though this much ought to be obvious. "And I enjoy getting you off." He breaks out into a beam again. "I thought you already knew."
"I always forget." Dean sighs, rubbing his eyes.
"You pull this face, whenever I first touch your dick—no, Dean, look—" Castiel laughs, tugging at Dean's sleeve. Dean's face is heating furiously, yet he grins despite himself and pushes Cas away.
"Dude, fuck off, you're so embarrassing—"
"No, look, it's adorable, it's my favourite thing—"
Dean pushes Castiel again and grins ahead of him, pointedly not looking at the angel.
"And you make this noise at the back of your throat—the first time I kissed you, you made it—and fuck, if it didn't make me want to fuck you into the next century—"
"Cas, I know you just got me off, but if you carry on like that—"
"I haven't seen you for a week." The angel states, voice suddenly even rougher than usual. "I couldn't stop thinking about—"
"You're like a damn rabbit, you know that?" Dean laughs, shaking his head. "Like, fuck—"
"You enjoy it," Castiel replies. "And you're just as bad."
"Not true." Dean shakes his head again.
"Definitely true."
"I can't believe we just did that," Dean laughs, running a hand through his hair. "What the fuck?"
"What?" Castiel frowns softly.
"I haven't done anything like that in my car for so long—"
"Really?"
"Yeah—I used to bring girls here and make out with them and maybe sometimes more—but that was years ago—"
"You don't regret it, do you?" Castiel asks, suddenly concerned.
"Fuck no, Cas," Dean glances at the angel to give him a reassuring look. "Really, no—it was great—and anyway, I—" Dean laughs and has to look away, face heating. "I definitely wanted it, don't worry about that."
"I've missed you."
Dean laughs again.
"Yeah, and I've missed you."
"I'm excited to see your bedroom."
"Why?" Dean frowns gently.
"You can just tell a lot about a person, from what their bedroom's like." Castiel shrugs. "Do you have any posters? Any pictures covering the walls?"
"I keep postcards and photographs and concert tickets up there," Dean answers, smiling as the sun shines through the leaves above their heads and sends skittering jade patterns dancing through the car. "A couple of music posters, which you'll probably hate," He admits, blushing.
"I'd never hate them," Castiel laughs. "I could never hate anything about you."
Dean rolls his eyes and attempts to suppress his grin in response to this sentiment.
"Sure you couldn't."
"Really."
"You're fucking corny as hell, you know? It's actually appalling, I—"
"What colour are your walls?" Castiel asks. "White? Blue? Cream?"
"Guess."
"Gray?"
"Gray?"
"It looks nice!" Castiel defends quickly. "Modern, even."
Dean snorts.
"Why didn't the rest of your family come to pick me up?" Castiel asks. Dean smirks.
"Would you have rathered that they did?"
"No, I never said that—"
"I wanted some time alone with you." Dean shrugs. "And I'm glad that I got it."
Castiel's lips twitch softly upwards.
"There are a lot of trees here." He observes. Dean glances over to him, supressing a beam, though he isn't sure what he should be beaming at.
"There are," He nods. "Is that a problem?"
"I like trees." Castiel smiles absently, staring out the window. Dean's lips twitch upwards.
"You're a damn weirdo—"
"And yet you still like me."
"I know—call it what you will—charity—"
Castiel hits Dean lightly on the arm and shakes his head, smiling reluctantly.
"You're lucky I like you so much." He states, matter-of-factly. "Nobody else would get away with the crap that you say."
"Is that so?"
"It is." Castiel nods, refusing to budge. Dean snorts.
"What're you gonna do about it?"
"About you being so rude?" Castiel asks, frowning thoughtfully. "Hmm, I hadn't given the matter too much thought, actually—but now that I do think about it—" He glances deliberately over to Dean. "Perhaps some kind of punishment is needed…"
Dean bursts out laughing and pushes Castiel lightly, one hand on the wheel.
"You dirty bastard, Cas," Dean grins. "I never knew you were into that kind of thing!"
Castiel beams and pushes Dean back.
"I'm full of surprises, you'll find."
When Dean pulls up at the front of his home, he turns to face Castiel properly.
"Listen, Cas, my family are probably gonna be super weird—"
"I like your family, Dean."
"—And I get if this all feels like it's moving too fast—I'll understand if maybe it gets to be too much—"
"I'm happy about the way that we're moving." Castiel frowns. "Both in where it seems we're going and how fast we're getting there."
"But my family can be really intense—"
"And people have said that I can be, as well." Castiel shrugs coolly.
"And I never even asked you if you actually wanted to do this—I should've checked to see if you were cool with staying with my family—"
"Dean, if I could hardly stand spending a week without seeing you, then I pretty clearly wanted to spend at least some of my summer with you."
"Yeah, but under these circumstances?" Dean raises his eyebrows worriedly at Castiel.
"Yes, under these circumstances." Castiel confirms. "Come on," He takes hold of Dean's hand, squeezing it for a moment before opening his door. "You're gonna have to get out of here some time."
Dean groans and bangs his head softly on the wheel, anxiety worming its way through him, before he finally follows suits and gets out of the car.
"It's fine, Dean," Castiel frowns quizzically at the human. "I honestly don't know what you're worrying about."
"I'm just thinking out every possible scenario in which your stay here could end quite literally in tears." Dean sniffs, still more worry twisting at his insides.
"Don't," Castiel shakes his head. He approaches Dean and stands by the human's side, squeezing Dean's hand softly. "I… I've been looking forward to this. Honestly. Your family's great—I really like them."
Dean blushes and looks away.
"Honestly, I can't believe you're the one having to comfort me… I mean, I should be the one giving you the pep talk, psyching you up—"
Castiel stops Dean with a kiss.
"Me reassuring you is a pretty nice distraction from my nerves, so it's fine."
"You're nervous?"
"Only because I want your family to like me, Dean." Castiel laughs, squeezing the human's hand again.
"They already love you, seriously." Dean rolls his eyes. "Way too much." The angel reddens, expression quietly happy, which has Dean beaming. "Come on, then." He sighs, tugging Castiel up the porch and opening the front door.
"Your house looks like the dolls houses my sister used to gape at in magazines." Castiel mumbles, glancing at the door before stepping inside.
"Really?" Dean asks, chuckling.
"Yes," Castiel confirms. "It's so nice."
"Tell Ellen that, she'll love you forever." Dean snorts, tugging at the angel again.
Like he's summoned her, Ellen appears at Dean's side in the next instant, beaming broadly and pulling Castiel into a tight hug. Dean can't help but compare this to her suspicious treatment of the angel the last time she saw him, and he wonders if Castiel will notice this or even wonder why. Now, however, Ellen is especially warm and is gushing at the angel about how much Dean's missed him and for fuck's sake,
"Mom, shut the hell up," Dean groans.
"Oh, but you have!" Ellen exclaims. "And do you know," She starts, turning to Castiel just as the sound of heavy running footsteps—of either Sammy or Jo, or maybe even both—sound upstairs. "He absolutely insisted on being the one to pick you up—"
"And why do you think that was?" Dean asks sarcastically. Ellen only bats him away and invites Castiel into the kitchen for a drink.
"Dean, where are Castiel's bags?"
"Still in the car." Dean frowns.
Ellen sighs, exasperated.
"Well, go get them!" She exclaims. "Honestly, Dean—"
"It's fine, I can get them—" Castiel starts, but Ellen waves his concern away with her hand.
"No, Dean's got it." She shakes her head.
"I don't wanna leave Cas alone with you." Dean rolls his eyes just as Bobby enters the room. "You'll probably be looking through baby photos when I come back."
"I hadn't planned on it," Ellen beams back at Dean. "But now you mention it—"
"Where are you going?" Sammy asks, running into the room, very obviously out of breath.
"Why did you take so long to come down?" Dean retorts, as Jo follows, also panting heavily. "I heard you running for the stairs ages ago."
"We had a bet on who could get to Cas first. It got intense." Sammy answers. "Hey, Cas." He grins, nodding over to the angel, who smiles nervously and nods back.
"Of course you did." Dean stares at the ceiling, sighing. "Fucking—"
"Dean!"
"Why did it take so long, if you were racing?" Castiel asks, obviously confused.
"I'm guessing it was less racing, and more both of you trying to wrestle the other to the ground?" Dean raises his eyebrows at his siblings, who, still panting, grin sheepishly.
"Pretty much." Sam admits.
"Why am I not surprised?" Dean asks, Jo pulling a face at him in response. He attempts to swat at her, but Ellen reprimands him, then Jo when she attempts to react.
"Jo, go help your brother pick up Castiel's bags." Ellen glares at the two of them. "Honestly."
"Honestly." Dean and Jo both repeat, mimicking her tone perfectly—Dean, laughing too hard to look back, darts out the room before Ellen can chide either of them again, Jo quick on his heels, giggling happily.
"Are Cas's bags in your car?" She asks, hopping along to catch up with him as he opens the door, letting her through first.
"Yep," Dean smiles, ruffling Jo's hair. She wrinkles her nose at her older brother and attempts to bat him away, but Dean dodges.
"Are you happy he's here?" She asks.
"No, I'm actually really cut up about it." Dean grins. Jo sticks her tongue out back at Dean.
"You know, you smile a lot when he's around."
"That's maybe a good thing," Dean says in feigned thoughtfulness, "considering the fact we're going out? I don't know—I'm just bouncing ideas around here, but a new study actually suggests that people should actually like the people they date. It's probably some bullshit New Age thing, but, y'know."
He opens the trunk of his car as Jo rolls her eyes and picks up one of Castiel's bags.
"Well, whatever." Jo huffs. "It was only an observation."
"Don't take the bigger one," Dean sighs, "honestly Jo, it's half the size you are."
This, of course, is a really fucking brilliant way to get Jo's face to harden stubbornly, and her to tug up the bag with all her might and stamp back toward the house, frame wobbling under the weight of Castiel's things. Dean almost laughs. He picks up the other bag, closing the trunk, and darts after her.
"And anyway," Jo starts as she heaves it up the porch. Dean supresses his smile, pressing his lips together as a swell of bright, sweet affection for his little sister blossoms in his heart. "You and Cas seem to be doing more than just dating."
"The hell does that mean?"
"Come on, Dean." Jo rolls her eyes as Dean opens the door to their house, again. "You really like him."
"Of course I do," Dean frowns softly. "I don't—well, now I don't just waltz into relationships with people I don't 'really' like." He points out. "And you know why."
Jo's face turns solemn and she looks away.
"And anyway," Dean continues, rolling his eyes. "You need to stop saying shit like that—I'm not saying that you're wrong, I'm just saying I don't know exactly how Cas feels, what he thinks of me, of our relationship, et cetera—I don't know what he wants out of this, he's always kind of vague, and—" Dean blushes, realising he's babbling. "If he hears you saying something about how I really really like him, he's gonna get scared, and I don't know what he'll do then, but I can bet that I wouldn't like it."
"You don't know he'll do any of that," Jo frowns up at Dean indignantly. "He really likes you, too."
"Shut up." Dean hisses. Jo pulls a face. "I'm not kidding, not another word."
He opens the kitchen door; Cas is sat at the kitchen table with a drink in front of him—Dean guesses that it's jasmine tea, Cas's favourite, while Ellen sits opposite him, Sam to his side. Bobby has begun cooking dinner.
"Cas, d'you wanna come upstairs and unpack?" Dean asks, holding up the angels bag. Castiel looks up from the table and smiles softly.
"Okay—where will I be sleeping?"
"With me?" Dean squints at the angel, who blushes while Sammy snorts to the angel's right.
"I was just checking."
"C'mon." Dean rolls his eyes, gesturing for Castiel to follow him. "Jo," He turns to his sister, "thanks for grabbing Cas's stuff, we can take it from here."
"You sure?" She grins up at Dean.
"Yeah, I'm sure," Dean deadpans as he takes the bag off her—Castiel quickly takes it off of Dean. "Go on, get outta here." He ruffles her hair again, and Jo sticks her tongue out before skipping out the room and thumping up the stairs, probably to her own bedroom. "This way," Dean smiles back to Castiel, whose gaze had followed Jo as she run up the staircase.
"She's a force to be reckoned with." He comments, smiling at the top of the stairway then back at Dean. He grins and sighs slightly wistfully.
"You're telling me," He shakes his head. "I just worry what she's gonna be like when she gets older."
"Why's that?" Castiel frowns as Dean gestures for the angel to follow him up the stairs.
"Because," Dean explains, looking back at Castiel as he climbs, "people get more independent as they get older, and right now I genuinely think she could live on her own in an apartment in New York and run her own business and be totally fine."
Castiel chuckles at this.
"And people tend to get more confident—and already I'm pretty sure she'd run at a bull whilst wearing bright scarlet, only to cartwheel away laughing as part of a bet—"
"You'd probably be the one to bet her." Castiel points out.
"Yeah, but she'd be the one to do it—and that's another thing—you don't have to do everything someone suggests just because they place a bet on it."
"You don't." Castiel agrees.
"Right? But try telling her that."
The angel chuckles again and grazes his knuckles against Dean's neck as he climbs the last of the stairs.
"Where to next?" He asks, voice rough as gravel and sweet as honey, breath grazing Dean's skin. The human can't help but shiver.
"Cas, it's not that I don't like it when you talk like that, or touch me like that," Dean turns to speak quietly to the angel. "But save it for my room? Please? I'd die if anyone saw—"
"Understood." Castiel smiles gently, standing back. "You know, you're quite easily embarrassed—especially regarding your family."
"You don't say." Dean resists the urge to groan. "Come on, it's this way." He leads the angel down the hall, then to their right.
"Why is that?" Castiel asks as Dean opens his bedroom door. The human shrugs and makes a non-committal noise at the back of his throat while Cas stands against the doorframe. "This is your room?" Castiel asks, stepping inside. Dean turns to face him, putting down the angel's bags.
"Yeah." He confirms, examining the angel's face slowly. "What is it?"
"Your walls are green," Castiel beams, putting his bag down. "I should have guessed."
"Why should you have guessed?" Dean asks, frowning.
"Everything about you is green," Castiel shrugs, stepping forward and examining Dean's bedroom as though this comment needs no further explanation.
"Sorry, do you mean that I'm a jealous person?" Dean asks incredulously.
"No," The angel chuckles, investigating the guitars mounted on Dean's wall. His fingers ghost over the strings. "I always forget that you play," He smiles wistfully. "And then I remember and I can't stop thinking about how perfect and wonderful and you it is that you do."
"What makes you say that?"
"Would you ever play for me?" Castiel asks, spinning round to face Dean.
"Um—I'm probably too sober to do that right now, Cas—" Dean laughs self-consciously.
"Do you ever write music?"
"Nothing that I would share," Dean rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"I'm making you uncomfortable," Castiel takes a step closer to Dean, only to graze his nose across the human's, nothing more. "I'll stop."
"You don't need to—" Dean frowns, attempting to drag Castiel back to him for a kiss, but the angel only tugs Dean forward and moves towards the photos covering part of his wall.
"You," He beams, pointing to one of them. Dean steps closer to examine the photograph in question—it's him and his mother, him sat on Mary's lap as she reads to him from a storybook.
"Yeah, that's me."
"You were adorable," Castiel beams, leaning closer to the picture and squinting to get a better look. "And that's your mother?"
Dean swallows, a lump rising in his throat.
"Yeah," He nods.
"She was very beautiful."
Dean finds himself swallowing again.
"Yeah, she was."
"Am I being too presumptuous?" Castiel asks, turning to face Dean again. "Too nosy?"
"Not at all," Dean shakes his head quickly. "It's fine, really—I don't mind—"
Castiel takes a step closer and finally kisses Dean again; but it's light and soft and sweet as hell and hardly there at all, and only lasts a bright, fleeting moment before Castiel pulls away and turns back to the photographs.
"You," He beams again, pointing to another one. "How old were you?"
"Oh, maybe fourteen? Fifteen?"
"You were so handsome, even then—"
"Woah, fuck off," Dean wrinkles his nose, pushing Castiel lightly.
"No, I'm not joking!" Castiel chuckles. "Look at all of these! If I had to describe the perfect person—you look like a model—"
Dean makes fake vomiting noises and Castiel hugs him into his side.
"Your hair here is hilar—"
"Oh, don't start." Dean rolls his eyes, face heating.
"I was going to say adorable."
"You were totally fucking not." Dean shakes his head, pulling an unamused face.
"It's just—"
"I'm taking it down, if you're gonna look at it any longer."
"If you hate it so much, why did you have it up in the first place?"
"It's a cute one of Sammy," Dean shrugs. "And anyway, people don't normally come up here."
"By people, you mean…?"
"People that I'm seeing, friends, so on."
"Which makes me pretty special, I suppose?" Castiel asks, raising his eyebrows at the human. Dean groans as Castiel pulls Dean into his side. Dean presses his face into the angel's neck.
"Maybe." He admits. Castiel chuckles and grazes his nose against Dean's ear.
"Good," He mumbles softly. "You're pretty special, too."
Dean beams into the angel's skin.
A little while later, and they're lying back on Dean's bed, Castiel's hand in Dean's hair, listening to slow, soft music drawl out of Dean's record player.
"This is the album we listened to the night we first fucked." Dean mumbles against the angel's chest.
"When we were getting baked with Meg and Chuck and that crowd?" Castiel asks. "And don't say fucked, it wasn't fucking—"
"What was it then?" Dean asks, laughing.
"'Fucking' makes it sound meaningless, which it wasn't." Castiel frowns. "I'm very fond of the first time we had sex, you know. As I am with every time since then."
Dean snorts out a laugh.
"'Fucking' sounds sexy, not meaningless. It's sounds all rough and good—"
"And you're into that kind of thing?" The angel asks, nudging the top of Dean's head with his nose.
"Well, I'm not averse to it." Dean chuckles, blushing despite himself.
"I'll bear that in mind." Castiel mumbles. Dean's face heats, but he presses himself a little further against Castiel.
"Times like these are the best times," He mumbles. "When I can just forget about the rest of the world and be with you."
Castiel sighs softly and squeezes Dean's body a moment.
"I agree." He mumbles.
There comes a knocking at the door.
"Dinner's ready." Comes Sam's voice from the other side of it—Dean's grateful he at least had the courtesy not to come in uninvited, but he still resents his time with Cas being interrupted.
"Alright," He calls back, sitting up slowly. "We're coming."
"Do we have to?" Castiel moans softly stretching out on the bed. Dean's lips are tugged upwards.
"Yeah, sorry man," He laughs, standing. "I'm hungry."
Castiel sighs and rolls off the bed while Dean walks towards his door.
"Fine," He grumbles. "What are we doing after we eat?"
Dean shrugs. "I guess that's up to you." He answers as the exit his bedroom. "What would you like to do?"
"Watch a movie? I don't know. Spend some more time with you."
"Everyone will probably want to get involved if we're watching a movie, I'm afraid." Dean shakes his head. Castiel's eyes spark with amusement.
"So no make-out sessions?"
"I guess not." Dean chuckles, starting down the stairs.
"It's difficult to sound genuine when saying something as passionate as this, but I'm honestly bitterly disappointed by that."
Dean rolls his eyes, face heating.
"You're the absolute worst." Dean looks away. "Always embarrassing me."
"I'm sure you think so."
"I do." Dean nods seriously.
"After watching the movie, what do you want to do?"
"I really don't mind," Dean shrugs. "Anything."
"Anything?" Castiel raises his eyebrows, following Dean down the stairs.
"Pretty much," Dean shrugs. "Although, with the bittersweet gift of retrospect, I'm guessing that when you say 'anything', you're thinking more along the lines of—"
"Do you like lasagne, Castiel?" Ellen asks, waiting at the bottom of the stairs for the pair.
"Love it," Castiel smiles gently at Dean's mother. "Is that what we're having? Thank you so much for making dinner for us."
"It is," She nods, beaming widely at what she probably deems to be Castiel's wonderfully polite nature, "and it's really no problem, Castiel. It was mainly Bobby, anyway." She says, before giving Dean a fleeting look that seems to say something along the lines of You-have-such-a-lovely-boyfriend-please-keep-him-forever. Dean sighs and gives Ellen a deadpan look in response.
"Cas, can you sit next to me?" Jo asks as Castiel enters the kitchen. Dean groans.
"Call me selfish, Jo, but I'd kind of been hoping that I could sit next to him?"
Jo sticks her tongue out at her oldest brother.
"Joanna Beth, help lay the table and stop teasing Dean."
"Mom—"
Dean sticks his tongue back out at Jo when Ellen's back is turned, as Bobby invites him and Castiel to take a seat. Dean is convinced he's never received such an intense death-stare in all his days of living.
Sammy takes a seat opposite Dean, who is—thankfully—able to sit next to Castiel.
"How was your journey here, Cas?" Sam asks, as Bobby, Ellen and Jo take their respective seats at the table, now that everything has been set up. Ellen begins serving everyone lasagne.
"Long," Castiel shrugs honestly, laughing a little dryly. "But definitely worth it."
Dean flushes furiously.
"Watch out," Sam smirks, "you're making my brother go very red."
"Something he has a habit of doing, I've noticed." Castiel laughs. Dean gives the angel as filthy a look as he can muster, but Castiel's warm expression dissipates it almost immediately.
"Castiel, is this good for you?" Ellen asks, gesturing to the plate in her hand.
"Yes, thank you, that's perfect." Castiel nods as she passes it down to him. "Thank you very much."
"Stop being so nervous." Dean snorts, shaking his head.
"He's not being nervous, he's just being polite." Ellen frowns, glaring at Dean.
"He said thank you—what, maybe three times in one sentence?"
"Twice, Dean."
"Cas, do you like dogs?" Jo asks, interrupting whatever response Dean would have been able to blurt out at this.
"Um—" Castiel laughs, still clearly nervous. "Well, I've never had one, but I suppose, yes. I've noticed you like them?"
"You only suppose you like dogs?" Jo asks, squinting suspiciously at Castiel.
"I do like them." Castiel corrects.
"You sound a little unsure." Jo presses her lips together. Dean sighs pointedly.
"Jo, shut the hell up—"
"Okay, what kind of dog would you get if you could get one?" Jo asks.
Castiel licks his lips a moment, glancing at Dean.
"Maybe an—Irish Setter? Have you ever seen one of them? Or a retriever—like a Flat-Coated Retriever or a Golden Retriever, I don't know." He worries at his lip, but Jo seems satisfied by these answers.
"Those are good choices." She nods. "I love dogs."
"I'd noticed." Castiel exhales, relaxing visibly—Jo doesn't seem to hear his comment. Dean snorts at the pair.
"I'd get a—"
"Giant Alaskan Malamute?"
"That's the one." Jo beams. "Or a Dalmatian."
"Dalmatians are very pretty." Castiel nods.
"Aren't they?"
"I'd get a Schnauzer." Sam states.
"Giant or miniature?"
Sam makes a slurred I don't know sound, shrugging, mouth full of food.
"Both?" He answers noncomittently. "One of each would be pretty cool."
"Looking after two dogs would be a lot of hassle." Bobby points out.
"But we're talking hypothetically," Sam points out. "So I'm not actually committing to anything."
"You know, when Dean first met my sister he and Ezekiel had just been playing that game where you pair people to animals." Castiel shares. "Have you ever played it?"
"Of course, Castiel." Jo answers as though this ought to be obvious.
"You know Cas had never played it before then?" Dean grins at his little sister.
"Seriously?!"
"Yeah," Dean laughs. "Can you believe that?"
"Hardly." Bobby deadpans. Ellen bites down on a laugh.
"What animal did you think Ezekiel was?" Sam asks.
"Cas settled on a parrot," Dean answers—Castiel visibly supresses a smirk at the memory—"I thought he was maybe a dog."
"I think he's too clever to be a parrot." Sam shakes his head. "I don't know, somehow it just seems wrong."
"Ezekiel's funny," Jo beams. "I like him."
"And I'm sure he likes you too." Dean smirks patronisingly at his little sister, who frowns up at him.
"You'd be a chimpanzee," She states accusingly at her brother. "If you were an animal."
"Oh yeah?" Dean laughs. "What makes you say that?"
"Jo, don't be rude." Ellen chides.
"It's not rude—they're actually really clever." Sam pipes up.
"You know that's not why she called Dean a chimp—"
"Ellen, you'd be a bunny rabbit." Sam interrupts.
"No, she'd be a cat." Jo shakes her head.
"A bobcat, maybe." Dean snorts. "It's a compliment." He adds quickly when Ellen turns to glare daggers at him.
"How is it a compliment?"
"It means that you're fiery! Protective!"
"Ellen wouldn't be a bobcat, she'd be a lioness."
"Alright, kiss ass."
"Dean!"
"Sam would be a spaniel." Dean smirks. "Because of the floppy hair."
This has Jo bursting out into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.
"Okay, forget chimp, Dean would be a goat."
"A goat?"
"You heard me."
"Why a goat?"
"Kids, this game seems a lot like an insult-match—"
"Don't stop them, Ellen, I'm enjoying it!"
"Bobby!"
"Bobby would be a beaver."
"A beaver?"
"Shut up, Sammy, he'd be a bear."
"Who's the kiss ass now?"
"You didn't let me say what kind of bear." Dean frowns at his brother.
"Okay, what kind of bear?"
"A sun bear." Dean grins.
"I've never heard of it."
"Look it up."
"Is that the one that looks like a four year old tried to draw a bear and it just went drastically wrong?"
"That's the one." Dean laughs.
"Oh, yep, here's a picture," Sam grins, stifling his laughter as he looks at his phone.
"Sam, put your phone away, we're eating dinner—"
"Look!" Sam exclaims, passing his phone to Jo, who bursts out into a fit of giggles.
"Sammy—"
Sam passes his phone to his mother before she can chide him again, and she glances at the screen and snorts out a reluctant laugh at last.
"Okay, so it's funny," She admits—Dean and Sam let out a victorious cheer at this—"but it doesn't look like Bobby."
"Then what is Bobby?"
"I don't know, a chipmunk?"
"Way to patronise your husband, Ellen." Dean smirks.
"I'm not meaning to," Ellen sighs, "it's just difficult to play this game and not insult people."
"I'm not insulted," Bobby shrugs coolly. "If anybody else had called me a chipmunk, I would be—but coming from my wife, at least it means I'm cuddly."
"You're the cuddliest guy I know." Dean winks. Bobby laughs sarcastically.
"And you're the most grounded guy I know."
"Bobby!"
"Just kidding."
"You shouldn't make that kind of joke." Dean glares. "Jokes are meant to be funny."
"I found it hilarious." Jo pipes up.
"Jo, another word, and I'll—"
"You'll do what exactly, Dean?"
"Nothing, Ellen." Dean sighs, sitting back on his chair.
"Thank you."
"Castiel would be a cat."
"But Dean's allergic to cats!" Jo exclaims.
"Clearly, he's willing to look past that, when it comes to Cas." Sammy smirks. "And they even sound alike! Cas, Cat, Cas, Cat."
"Sammy, you're a goddamn genius." Dean states sarcastically. "Now I understand why you want to be a lawyer."
"Thanks, Deanie."
"Sam, don't call your brother that name—"
"Jo would be a kitten, if Cas is a cat."
Jo looks horribly offended by this.
"A kitten?"
"A lion cub." Castiel corrects. "Soon to become a lioness, like her mother."
"Cas, stop trying to butter up my family—"
Castiel beams and bumps his shoulder against Dean's.
"You'd be an Alsatian, like I said last time."
"If Dean's an Alsatian, then you're a Husky." Jo decides.
"Why's that?"
"Because of your eyes!" She exclaims. "Huskies have really blue eyes as well!"
Dean watches Castiel's lips twitch upwards.
"And they look grumpy all the time—just like you." Dean grins. Castiel glances back at him and bites down on a smile, obviously attempting to look pissed off. Jo giggles from across them.
"Huskies are very cute," Ellen smiles.
"Then can we get one?"
"No, Jo—"
"I bet Dean thinks Cas is very cute." Sam points out, leering at his brother.
"You say that like you think it's going to provoke a reaction, Sammy," Dean sighs, "but I'd like to point out the fact that I'm dating Castiel. Obviously I think he's very cute."
"I think you're very cute, too." Castiel beams.
"Woah, way to be patronising as hell, Cas."
"You said it first." Sam frowns. "If anything, you're the patronising one. And anyway, you talk condescendingly to me all the time."
"Big word for such a little boy." Dean grins, waggling his eyebrows.
"Dean, I'm nearly taller than you—and there you go again!"
"Stop shouting at the dinner table." Dean grins. Sammy glares daggers at him.
"Don't complain about being patronised and then pull shit like this—"
"Language, Sammy!"
"Dean's a bad influence." Sam rolls his eyes, sitting back on his chair.
"Maybe, but don't let yourself be corrupted."
"Blame the corruptor, not the corrupted!"
"That was deep, Sammy."
"I swear, the next time you—"
"What're you gonna do?"
Sam kicks Dean under the table. Dean only barks out a laugh in response.
"Why do you all make dinner so chaotic?" Ellen asks, sighing tiredly.
"Because it's entertaining." Dean shrugs. "If we weren't doing this, it'd be boring as hell."
"That's just not true." Ellen frowns. "You know, adults have dinner parties all the time and don't fight—"
"—But I bet that it's better when they do." Dean grins, winking. "And anyway, why would I want to be like an adult? You guys are boring."
"Dean, you are an adult."
"No I'm not," Dean shakes his head. "I can't drink, legally—"
"—Although that doesn't seem to stop you—"
"Bobby, the first time you got drunk was probably aged ten—"
"Please, Dean," Sammy interrupts, face concerned and sombre. "It was eight and a half, don't do the man a discredit! Come on!"
Dean barks out a laugh, Ellen looks slightly less amused.
"Kids, come on," She sighs. "We have a guest."
"Cas is friends with Ezekiel," Dean grins. "Chances are, whatever it is that we do, he's seen far worse."
"But Ezekiel is nice."
"Nice-ish." Dean corrects. Castiel seems to be biting down on a smirk.
"What do you mean by that?" Ellen asks.
"He can be a dick." Dean shrugs, smirking.
"Intense." Castiel corrects. "And deliberately so, which I guess some people dislike."
"You guess?" Dean raises his eyebrows at the angel.
"Well, I mean, he's annoying in a kind of endearing way."
"Like Dean!"
"Jo, shut up—he's more like you than anything else."
"I don't care." Jo shrugs. "Like I said, I like Ezekiel. I think Ezekiel's cool."
"I'll tell him you said that, he'll be over the moon."
"Ezekiel probably thinks I'm cool, too."
"I wouldn't go that far." Dean laughs. Jo pulls an unamused face.
"Not that this isn't a riveting conversation," Bobby rolls his eyes, "but if you guys are done, I'm on dishes, and I'd really like to get a head start on those, so—"
"Why don't you complain to Bobby that we have a guest in our presence?!" Dean exclaims.
"In all honestly, I was glad for the break from all your quarrelling."
"If that's everything, Ellen, then me and Cas are gonna go upstairs—"
"Fine," Ellen sighs.
"—How come Dean doesn't have to help clear up?!"
"I'll help," Castiel starts, rising and picking up his plate.
"Oh—please, Castiel, you don't have to—it's very kind, but—"
"It's the least I can do." Castiel says genuinely. "It was delicious, thank you so much for making it."
Ellen beams so genuinely Dean thinks she might start glowing.
"Oh, you're so sweet," She gushes. Dean rolls his eyes, getting up to help Bobby by drying the dishes. "I'm so glad Dean is dating someone so thoughtful—"
"Mom, stop it." Dean groans, looking up at the ceiling.
"Well, I'm awfully glad Dean is dating me." Castiel returns. Dean pretends to vomit.
"Gross." He wrinkles his nose. "Both of you. Disgusting."
Jo begins giggling.
"Dean, do you know what?" Ellen sighs, "You can leave it, and I'll clear up with Bobby. You and Cas can have some alone time."
"Thanks," Dean grins—Castiel tries to protest, insisting he help tidy things away, but Dean drags him out before the angel can change Ellen's mind. From inside the kitchen, Jo and Sam begin to complain that they want to be exempt from helping out, too, but Ellen doesn't seem to be having any of it. "Oh, and Ellen?" Dean calls down the stairs as he races up them, Cas following bemusedly behind him.
"Yes, Dean?" Ellen calls up the stairs.
"Me and Cas wanted to watch a movie tonight, and I'm guessing you guys'll wanna crash that. Which is fine."
"What movie?"
"I don't know." Dean calls back down. "Haven't decided."
He drags Castiel into his bedroom before sitting back down on the bed, putting a new record on.
"You'll like this one." He grins over to the angel who walks over to the bed and takes a seat next to him.
"The Mountain Goats?" Castiel asks, frowning inquisitively if a little amusedly at Dean.
"That's right." Dean nods. "I saw you had a bunch of their stuff and thought I'd check them out. They're alright, you know?"
"Only alright?" Castiel asks, tone warm with amusement.
"Okay, fine, I like them." Dean admits. Castiel presses a kiss to his temple.
"I'm glad that you feel you're able to admit that in front of me."
Dean barks out a laugh.
"What, because you consider me such a music puritan?"
"Essentially, yes," Castiel's eyes crinkle at their corners. "I mean, you listen to vinyl, Dean—"
"It sounds better!" Dean protests. Castiel—very poorly—supresses a smirk.
"Of course it does."
"See, this is what I mean by you patronising me." Dean sighs pointedly. Castiel's arms come to curl around his waist.
"You've got a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets?" Castiel asks, looking at a point just behind Dean. Dean turns to his bedside table and the pile of books resting on top of it.
"Yeah," Dean ears heat. "—I mean, they're actually pretty good—"
"Pretty good," Castiel repeats, scoffing. He kisses the top of Dean's head. "Which is your favourite?"
"I haven't really picked one." Dean admits. "Some of them aren't even about love, though—did you know that?"
"I did." Castiel confirms.
"Loads of them are just like, I don't know—"
"And you're reading more Jack Kerouac." Castiel lets out an amused breath.
"Yeah," Dean nods, glancing back to the table once more.
"Is it true what Sammy said about you having such a crush on him?"
"I mean, yeah, he was hot—" Heat begins to creep down Dean's neck as he speaks; Castiel's eyes seem to follow it. "—But don't be jealous, Cas—"
"I'm not," The angel says, perhaps too quickly, eyes flashing back up to meet Dean's.
"Really?"
"I mean, firstly, I have you and he doesn't," Castiel laughs softly, lips hardly twitching upwards, "second of all, when your brother said why you liked him so much, he said that he was just your type, and then justified it by basically describing me."
"That comes off a little conceited."
"Does it?" Castiel raises his eyebrows at Dean. His nose is mere inches from Dean's. "The dark-haired, brooding poetic type; all aloof—"
"And pretentious, yeah, that sounds about right." Dean interrupts, grinning. Castiel doesn't rise, but presses his lips together and grazes his nose across Dean's.
"Did Ezekiel ever tell you about what exactly my type is?"
"No," Dean admits. "He only ever said that if I wasn't a human, you'd probably be way into me—"
Castiel brushes his nose against Dean's again.
"My type," He starts softly, guiding Dean onto his back, "is the kind of person that you meet and you want to tell everything to, no matter how guarded you may have been in the past. My type is the kind of person who you meet and immediately, desperately want them to feel comfortable around you; as though in the whole world there's nowhere more comfortable than your arms. My type is friendly," He presses a kiss to the tip of Dean's nose, Dean is certain that he's blushing furiously. "My type is funny—hilarious, even. Witty and dry and self-deprecating in their humour—"
"Cas," Dean looks down as the angel presses kiss after kiss onto his cheek and neck.
"I've always had a thing for green eyes." Castiel confesses, sighing into Dean's neck. Dean struggles to keep his breathing even. "And your eyes," He inhales Dean's skin like it's sweeter than oxygen. Dean can't stop the breathy noise that escapes his mouth at this. "Are the greenest green," Dean can feel the angel beaming into the crook of his neck. "…I like complicated people, I like people who read, I like people with pretty, intelligent, interesting features and pink lips, I like contradictory people who seem to spiral into themselves and explode out of themselves, whose personalities are vibrant and honest and brilliant, people who love things, love everything, love music and place all the meaning and sentimentality in the world into it, who sing along to music as terribly or as well as they like; I love freckles and love anyone who has them, love it when they stretch down people's necks and chests and across their noses and cheeks; I like people who somehow manage to be confident and shy, who value family and friendship above anything, who—"
Dean drags Castiel down to kiss him.
"You, Dean Winchester, I like you," Castiel pulls back, nearly gasping for air. "You and nobody else—"
Dean drags Castiel down to kiss him again. He never wants this—what he has with Cas—to end. Never ever, not in a million years.
About a half-hour of intense making out later, another knock comes at the door. The pair pull apart, gasping for air, and Dean asks what his visitor wants.
"You said you wanted to watch a movie?" Comes Ellen's voice from the other side of the door. Dean's head feels giddy.
"Uh—sure." He nods. "Just—we'll be down in a minute—"
"Well, what would you like to watch?" Ellen asks. Dean can hear her sigh through the wood of his door.
"I don't—" He can hardly find himself able to think. He wants Castiel's hands on his thighs, again, wants the angel's fingers slipping under his shirt, wants Castiel to kiss his lips raw—
"Dean?"
"I don't mind." Dean answers, managing to regain himself. "Cas?" He asks, turning to the angel, who stares at him with warm, amused eyes.
"I don't mind, either." Castiel answers, not breaking eye contact once with Dean. "Whatever everyone else feels like, would be fine by me."
A half hour later, and upon the discovery that Jo has chosen The fucking Lion King of all films to watch, Dean is bitterly regretting his earlier indecision.
"It's a good film," Sammy frowns back at Dean. Dean glares at his brother.
"Don't even fucking try it." He sits down next to Castiel, who tangles his hands immediately with the human's. "It's for kids—"
"You know, some people think it's based on Hamlet—"
"Which is depressing as fuck—"
"Dean," Ellen sighs, entering the room with bags of popcorn for everyone. "C'mon."
"Sorry," Dean says, trying not to sound too insincere. Bobby enters the room with a couple of beers.
"Not for you," He frowns at Dean when he attempts to grab one. Dean makes a frustrated sound at the back of his throat, which turns into outright indignation when Bobby offers one to Cas.
"What?" Bobby asks. "Castiel is twenty-one on what, August the third?—"
"So?"
"You remembered," Castiel beams. "That's so kind—"
Bobby laughs warmly and hands the angel a beer, then casts Dean a pitying glance.
"You know," He sighs almost sadly, taking a seat next to Ellen. "I'd genuinely feel sorry for you, kid, but I can only imagine how much you drink on your own time. Your liver could do with a break."
"My liver's fine." Dean grumbles as Bobby hands his wife a beer, too, before opening his own.
"Shh, all of you!" Jo hushes back at her family from where she sits on the floor, virtually right in front of the screen.
"You know, Jo," Dean's lips are tugged upwards, "most people would consider you too old to be such a fan—"
"It's a classic." She glares. "And it was between this and a chick-flick, so you should be glad I had mercy."
"Okay, tomorrow night, I am definitely choosing the movie."
"Do whatever you like," Jo wrinkles her nose. "Just be quiet."
Dean snorts out a laugh but pipes down. He and Castiel sit shoulder to shoulder, and eventually their heads end up resting against each other.
"You were right, Sammy, this film really is like Hamlet." Dean states about halfway through the film.
"You see?"
"Apart from, y'know, the total lack of gore, the modern and definitely-not-Shakespearean language, the fact that they're using fucking lions to tell the story, not Dutch royalty—"
"Dean, shut the hell up." Sam grumbles, turning back to the TV. Dean barks out a laugh.
"Okay, so tomorrow night, how about Star Trek?"
"How about no?"
"How about Star Wars?"
"Still a no."
"Shut up!" Jo groans, still sitting on the carpet.
"Jo, you need to learn to speak a little more politely—"
Jo turns and fixes Dean with what he is sure is the iciest stare that she can muster. He raises his hands in defeat and pretends to zip shut his mouth, locking it afterwards. Jo probably doesn't mean for her expression to soften with amusement, but it does. When she turns around again, Castiel begins to nose softly at Dean's hair. The human lets out a long contended breath, before his eyes flicker over to Ellen, who is regarding the pair with a quiet beam spread across her features, and Dean straightens up immediately, pulling out of the angel's tangled embrace, face reddening. Castiel frowns at Dean, confused, before glancing over at Ellen, who has looked away, and is now smirking softly.
It takes a while for Dean to feel comfortable enough to settle back into Cas's arms. His face still stings with embarrassment for about thirty minutes after the ordeal.
But by the end of the film, his head is on Castiel's shoulder; Castiel's left wing is wrapped around his body, and the angel's fingers are grazing against Dean's neck. Dean's own hands run absent-mindedly through Cas's feathers, soft and smooth as water, and he is very nearly asleep by the time the end credits begin rolling. Ellen glances back at Castiel and Dean, hardly supressing a smile again, but Dean can't bring himself to feel embarrassed once more. He's too tired.
"You think you're ready for bed, Dean?" Ellen asks, chuckling softly. Jo turns around and begins to giggle. Dean only grumbles and presses his face into Castiel's shoulder.
"Me and Cas are probably gonna stay down here and talk for a bit." He replies sleepily. "You guys can go up."
"I'm not going to bed," Sammy frowns. "I want to watch some TV. You don't have a monopoly—"
"Fine, you can stay down." Dean groans again. He sits up properly and rubs his eyes. "But tomorrow night, me and Cas do have priority. Deal?"
"Fine," Sammy shrugs. Dean stands and holds out his hand for Castiel, who takes it and rises also, stretching his arms and wings out as far as they seem able to go, popping his spine. Dean snorts and tugs at the angel's hand. Cas takes the hint and follows him out the room.
"Good-night," He turns back to Dean's family, waving at the door. "I've very much enjoyed today, thank you for being so hospitable—"
"It's no problem, Castiel." Ellen beams. "Sleep well."
"You too," Castiel returns.
"Cas, c'mon—"
"Sorry Dean—"
"Sleep well, Dean!" Ellen calls after him. Dean grumbles out a thanks and climbs the stairs.
"Are you really that tired?" Castiel snorts lightly, following Dean.
"You have no idea."
"So you'll want to go straight to sleep?"
"Well, I never said that." Dean replies, spinning round to face Castiel. "You'll just have to pique my interest."
"Noted," The angel's lips play upwards as he speaks. Dean walks backwards into his bedroom, studying Castiel's face. "I did bring condoms. And lube."
"You don't need to wear a condom, Cas," Dean rolls his eyes. "We're both clean."
"But cleaning spunk out—"
Dean drags Castiel towards him for a kiss.
"Usually," He laughs, pulling back a moment and resting his forehead against Cas's—his fingers have moved to play with the angel's raven hair and slide through it as though it were mere liquid, "I'm the one having to persuade guys to wear protection, while they're trying to convince me it's safe. It's weird to have the tables turned."
"Most guys are assholes." Castiel shrugs. "And is weird a good thing?"
"Weird is a great thing." Dean laughs softly. Castiel leans forward again to kiss at Dean's lips once more, for a sweet, fleeting moment.
"I'm glad." Castiel nods, eyes peering intently at Dean. It's at moments like these that Dean has to drag his gaze away for the intensity of it all.
"I've never met anybody who does sex like you do sex." Dean confesses.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You're just so—" Dean sighs, struggling for words. "Firstly, you always care that I feel good, and always… I mean, no other guy that I've been with has cared that much, that constantly—"
Castiel's hands have slid into Dean's hair and he has begun to kiss softly at Dean's neck.
"—Secondly, you're always asking me if I'm up for what's going on—and it's so—"
Castiel's tongue is dragging itself across Dean's sensitive skin.
"—It's good." Dean can hardly think for the angel's touches. He blinks sleepily. "And the way you do things, I always am up for it, you know?"
Castiel makes a humming noise against Dean's neck.
"And fuck, none of this is even covering the fact that you're really good in the sack—better and more vocal about stuff than anyone I've ever had before—"
Castiel's hands have slid under Dean's shirt. His fingers dance against the human's skin there, and Dean's flesh can't help but dance in return.
"Maybe you're just appealing to my jealous nature, by saying that." Castiel hums against the human's skin. He steps forward, guiding Dean backward, before the backs of Dean's knees hit the side of his bed and he falls backwards, Castiel on top of him, still kissing his flesh possessively. "Are you sure I can't leave any marks on you?" He asks, looking up at Dean with hungry, pleading, possessive eyes. The softest of moans imaginable escapes Dean's mouth at the sight.
Really, who is Dean to deny Castiel such a simple pleasure? And one that will bring Dean so much pleasure, in return?
And fuck, does Dean love the feeling of Cas sucking hard, possessive marks all up and down the delicate skin of his neck; loves the sound of the angel humming hungrily against his flesh there; loves the lust blown eyes Castiel will regard each perfect bruise forming on Dean's skin with when his work is complete; loves how owned and adored and pretty he feels afterwards, during it; loves knowing that people are bound to look and know that Dean is taken, not for sharing, not anyone's but Castiel's.
He licks his lips slowly and shrugs.
"Well, I mean, if you feel like you must…"
"Oh, I think I do." Castiel continues to stare at Dean. "But how do you feel, Dean Winchester?"
Dean nearly shivers.
"I feel—" He swallows thickly. "Fuck, like I want you, Castiel. Like I want you to do that to me—"
"And what about your family?"
"Fuck 'em." Dean shakes his head quickly, breathing utterly uneven. "I don't care—they know we're dating, know we're sleeping together—" Dean watches as Cas's lips twitch softly upwards as he listens to the human. "Are hickeys such a step? Really?"
"You make some fair points," Castiel hums, bending down to nose at Dean's skin. "And who am I to deny your desires, anyway?" He asks, voice muffled against Dean's neck. "To neglect your needs?"
Needs.
Fuck, Cas knows how to get Dean all kinds of horny.
"And do you need it, Dean?" Castiel asks against Dean skin. Dean whimpers softly.
"Fuck, I—" He closes his eyes when Castiel begins to suck gently at his flesh. "I—think so? I—" Cas's hands have slid back under Dean's shirt. "I do." He nods, furiously. "I really do. I do."
"Do you have any toys?" Castiel asks. Dean's hands move to graze through the angel's wings.
"Toys?" He asks, as Castiel pulls back.
"Sex toys." Castiel says, so frankly that Dean has to do a double take. And fuck, with anyone else he'd tell them to fuck off and stop being so damn candid, because it's embarrassing, dammit, but with Cas, somehow it's more arousing than anything else. Sure, he'll laugh about it later, but right now—
Cas's right hand comes to palm at Dean's crotch.
"Fuck, Cas," Dean nearly gasps, "in the top drawer—under the sports magazines—"
Castiel's laugh comes rough and soft and low, Dean shivers at the sound and presses his head back against the bed as he listens to Castiel sift through his things. Dean has no idea what it is the angel is looking for—and has stopped staring up at the ceiling and instead tilts his head up to gaze at Castiel, who finally turns around, with—fuck.
It's the weirdest vibrator Dean owns and he only has it because it was on sale, it's fucking oddly shaped and has a whole bunch of settings, Dean's used it what, maybe once? And only on his own, never with anyone else, but fuck, the way Cas is looking at him while he holds it has Dean swallowing thickly and flicking his gaze away, only looking back up at the angel from underneath his eyelashes.
He wants—needs—Castiel to say something, anything, but the angel doesn't—only looks at Dean with those possessive eyes seared with so much heady want, and unbuckles Dean's belt, setting the toy beside Dean's head like he knows how crazy it's gonna drive the human. And fuck, it's going to drive Dean all kinds of crazy.
Then Castiel pulls a bottle lube out his pocket—has he had it on him the whole time? Just in the hope that a situation such as this would arise? Was he expecting it? This thought has Dean shuddering again, and he raises his hips obediently as Castiel tugs down the human's pants.
Cas does the same thing he did the first time he and Dean fucked—he pulls down Dean's underwear with his teeth, keeping his eyes trained on Dean's the whole time—and shit, it's always turned Dean on, but the terrifying thought that Dean's family could come in at any time and see Cas doing this to Dean? It makes Dean all the more horny, all the more fucking beside himself; he needs Cas, needs Cas to take care of him and guide him into fucking slowly, or quickly and rough and relentlessly—whatever the angel wants, because whatever Cas wants is somehow always exactly what Dean needs, too. Dean is so lost in his thoughts of want and need that he has apparently failed to notice Castiel open the lube, nor coat his fingers in it; and is only snapped out of his own internal dialogue when Cas's fingers ghost over him.
"Shit—" Dean gasps, "fuck." But it doesn't matter how many profanities he stutters out, apparently Castiel has a plan for this to be a slow and tortuous process.
Which, that said, it usually is with Cas—the angel seems to have a thing for finger-fucking Dean as long as possible before they get onto anything close to actual fucking; and Dean really ought to be used to it, or even able to fucking deal with it, by now—but he definitely isn't. He glances at his clock about a half-hour in; Cas is showing no signs of wanting to move on with the proceedings, and Dean is having to bite down on his moans and whimpers onto his palm.
Then, suddenly, Castiel's fingers are pulled out of him and Dean thinks that finally, maybe they're going to go somewhere—but he nearly lets out a cry when the angel steps away to rummage in one of his bags.
"Cas, what're you—"
Castiel steps back toward him with a tie.
"What're you gonna do with—"
The angel answers him by gently lifting Dean's head up, slipping the tie between his lips and tying it round Dean's head. Dean's eyes are wide and he has to take a deep, long breath.
"How's that?" The angel asks gently as Dean's head falls back against the mattress, the knot in the tie pressing to the back of his skull. He tries to let it ground him, to remind him that yes, this is real, it's happening, it feels good—Dean realises that he's really out of it because Castiel has to ask his question again, squeezing Dean's hips softly.
Dean nods and swallows thickly, not breaking eye contact with Castiel. The angel's lips twitch upwards. He tugs Dean into sitting up only to pull off his shirt then press him back down against his mattress.
"If you want to stop, snap your fingers twice," Castiel says gently, nosing at Dean's nose as his fingers trace not-so-innocent patterns across the inside of Dean's thigh. "If you want to slow down, snap once. Do you understand?"
Dean nods through the gag, struggling to keep his breath even for want.
"What should you do if you want to stop?" Castiel asks. Dean moans at the angel, desperate to actually fuck, but Cas seems to be having none of it. "What should you do if you want to stop?" Castiel asks again. Dean groans but snaps his fingers twice. "Good," Castiel nods his head. "And if you want to slow down?"
Dean snaps his fingers once.
"Good." Castiel nods. Dean suddenly realises that, not for the first time, he is entirely naked while the angel is fully clothed. He shivers in the vulnerable cool of his bedroom. Castiel's hand comes to graze at his flank. "Are you ready to start going again?" Castiel asks, staring attentively at Dean, hand still stroking Dean's side. Dean takes a deep, steadying breath, and nods his head. The angel's lips twitch only marginally upwards, but Dean doesn't miss it. "Perfect," The angel nods once, voice quiet and gentle but somehow dangerous in the most delicious way possible.
His fingers slip back inside of Dean.
And so the torture begins again. All of Dean's cries and moans are muffled by the tie wrapped around his mouth—and seriously, why the fuck does Castiel have a tie with him?—but after a week of not seeing the angel, not getting fucked by the angel, it takes Dean an embarrassingly short amount of time to break. Silent tears have started leaking out of the corners of his eyes about an hour in; they stream down his face and into his hair as he stairs up at the ceiling; his body prickles with sweat and aches with need, and fuck, that's not even getting on to his painfully hard dick, which is currently getting no attention whatsoever and weeping nearly as much as Dean is.
"What kind of tears are these?" Castiel asks, bending over to speak with his forehead pressed against Dean's. "Good tears? Do you want me to stop?"
Dean shakes his head frantically but Cas still slips the gag out of his mouth.
"Don't stop—" Dean finds himself begging. "Don't—never stop, please—"
Castiel grazes his nose against Dean's before kissing the human's forehead and slipping the gag back in place.
"Understood," He murmurs gently. And then, fuck, finally, he picks up the vibrator which had been abandoned by Dean's head.
Dean had almost fucking forgotten about it, and how fucking weirdly it's shaped, but he remembers now when Castiel presses it, blunt and rounded, to Dean's body. He's teasing Dean again, Dean knows this, doing it just because he can, but it doesn't stop Dean's wrecked groans or attempts at begging through the gag inside his mouth. Whether or not these words would remain incoherent even without the gag is something Dean would rather not think about; as it is, he has a good enough excuse for slurring and gasping his speech, and none of it even close to English.
The feeling of the toy, of Castiel pressing it so slowly inside of him, of how wrong and alien it feels—and of course, Dean realises, that's probably why Castiel chose it for him—has Dean nearly thrashing against the bed. Immediately Castiel's free hand comes to pin both of Dean's arms still above his head, and all the human can do is lie back once again and let the angel do this however the hell he wants. Once the vibrator is bottomed out inside of Dean—his body still isn't sure of how to respond to it, moving in little spasms of pleasure and confusion around the toy—Castiel switches the vibrate setting on and fuck. Fuck.
Dean hardly has a moment to think about how weirdly good it feels; the plug with two rounded shapes the size of fists along its body separated by two stretches of silicone the width of a fucking penny; because Castiel's mouth has moved up to Dean's neck again and has begun sucking and licking and biting filthily along Dean's poor, tender skin.
He stares up at the ceiling and whimpers again, just as Castiel's teeth come to drag along Dean's earlobe, his tongue then moving to play with his pulse just beneath his jaw. It's torture, delicious torture; and not knowing whether Castiel will kiss or just touch or suck or bite any stretch of skin is still more tortuous. Dean gives into all of it, not knowing where Castiel wants this to go, not knowing if he's supposed—allowed—to come or not—but whether or not the angel likes it, by the time Cas decides to turn up the setting on the plug for the second time around, Dean can't stop himself.
He wants to offer some kind of warning, or apologise in advance, but the gag around his mouth stops him—and anyway, even if he was physically able to, the feeling building up to Dean coming hard between himself and Castiel is wrecking enough to have his voice ripped from his throat before any warning would be utterable.
All he can do is breath ruggedly through his nose, making startled, broken little gasping noises, because Castiel has slammed his palm to Dean's mouth—apparently even with the tie in it, Dean was being too loud.
And fuck, he nearly laughs, did Dean just come untouched from nothing more than a vibrator and Cas sucking hot, possessive marks up and down his chest and neck?
Dean struggles to regain his breath and can hardly glance down, totally lacking the strength to do so even if it weren't for Castiel's hand pressed firmly against his mouth, keeping his head back. When the angel is sure he is done; Dean's tender cock still aching deliciously from the wonderful agony of coming untouched; he removes his hand and stands back up. Dean attempts to cry in protest of the angel leaving him, like this, but Castiel only chuckles and bends over to press a delicate kiss to the tip of Dean's nose.
"I wish I could photograph this," He chuckles, humming the words against Dean's cheek as he pulls the plug tortuously out of Dean's body. It's some kind of perfect agony for the human. "You're a prettier form of art than any I've seen in this world."
Despite everything, Dean's whole body still manages to flush at the angel's words.
How is it that one guy can have such a hold over him? Dean isn't given the time to tease an answer out of himself, because it turns out Cas is teasing his cock against Dean's still-fluttering hole.
"I wonder, would you allow me to admire your form further?" The angel asks softly, inclining his head to the side as he speaks with some kind of innocent inquisitiveness. If Dean hadn't just had the most mind-fucking-blowing orgasm of the century, his dick would probably be jumping at the angel's words. All he can do is nod weakly, adoring the fact that Cas still hasn't felt the need to remove his gag. "You're very kind," Castiel hums, still ghosting his cock against Dean. "Very kind." He repeats, nodding thoughtfully.
And then, slowly and perfectly—Dean has to let his head loll back against the mattress once again—Castiel presses himself slowly inside. Dean's eyes are nearly drooping closed with sleepiness; and Dean is tender and hurting all over and Cas is being so gentle and perfect and Dean's slowing breath goes at the same rhythm of Castiel's movements.
Dean becomes glad for the gag around his mouth yet again when it stops him from confessing his undying love for the angel; instead only letting out a slurred, confused noise with Castiel's name at the end of it.
"I'm sorry, Dean," Castiel's lips twitch upwards and he frowns quizzically at the human as he continues moving inside of him, standing at the edge of the bed that Dean is lying on, "I didn't quite catch that?"
Dean, grinning exhaustedly, manages to lift his hand to give Castiel a half-hearted middle finger. The angel chortles and bends back over Dean, body and wings enveloping the human, kissing more gorgeous, tender marks up and down Dean's neck. It's at moments like these that Dean never struggles with feeling wanted, with feeling needed. He knows it; knows he matters; knows Castiel adores him and considers him worthy and beautiful and art, Dean nearly laughs again, Cas literally called him art, he considers Dean to be on par with the paintings Dean finds himself spending so many hours fawning over. Castiel speeds up, slightly, moving with less gentleness, more need, and Dean's still-tender body can only give in to every touch, every twitch and growl and grind; before Cas's hips are suddenly stuttering into Dean's body and the angel is gasping against Dean's neck, biting his orgasm into Dean's skin as the angel comes inside of him.
Cas keeps moving inside Dean even for a little while after he's milked himself dry, before finally, finally pulling out and pressing a warm, happy-as-fuck kiss to Dean's lips, over the tie. Then he removes it, tilting Dean's head up gently to untie the knot that had been pressed into the mattress and pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead as he does so, before taking it out of Dean's aching mouth and pressing another kiss to Dean's lips.
"So perfect," Castiel beams down at the human. "Fuck, you're honestly so perfect."
Dean blushes and looks away and is glad that Castiel doesn't force his gaze back to him. Instead, the angel takes the opportunity to press a tender kiss to the juncture between Dean's neck and jaw and drag his hand deliciously up the ladder of Dean's ribcage.
"Was that good?" The angel asks gently, tracing spiral patterns against Dean's shoulders. Dean swallows thickly and nods.
"Like you said," He rasps weakly, only just able to smile. "Perfect."
Castiel laughs gently and presses a kiss to the ridge of Dean's cheekbone.
"I'm going to get you a drink." He murmurs. "Then clean you up."—Dean can't help but hum happily at the thought of being given still more attention by the angel. "Stay put."
"Aw, shit, Cas," Dean groans, not even bothering to look up to the angel as he speaks, but instead continuing to stare at the ceiling, which he seems to have done rather a lot of over the past hour or so. "I was literally just about to go run a marathon—"
Castiel laughs warmly and lifts Dean, moving him so that the human is resting his head on a pillow.
"Do you think you can postpone it?" The angel asks gently, voice warm with amusement. Dean giggles—a little deliriously—and can't even begin to think of a response. All he can do is hum when Cas drags the cool sheets over Dean's body. He hears the angel exiting, and must fall asleep, because in the next instant Cas is kneeling down beside him, fingers running with blissful delicacy through Dean's hair, as the angel speaks his name gently.
"Dean?"
"Cas," Dean beams. The angel's features curve upwards to mirror the look perfectly.
"I brought you some water," Castiel states, pulling Dean's hands gently out from under the covers, cupping them round the glass. The angel guides Dean into sitting sleepily up. Dean takes intermittent sips of water.
"You want some?" He asks the angel. Castiel lets out a happy, affectionate breath.
"That's very kind of you, Dean." He nods, taking the glass softly. He picks up something else from the floor—something warm—and slips it into Dean's hands. "I also made you some tea. I thought you might like it."
Dean doesn't even have the energy or pride left over to complain. He nods, giving a small smile, and takes a sip. Something floral and light and happy hits his nostrils, seeping his skull with warmth and sweetness, before his lips even reach the tea.
It's fragrant and pleasant and makes all his muscles feel loose and sugary and his mouth tastes like syrup and flowers after he's drank the whole thing—maybe too quickly, which Castiel seems to notice, because he chuckles softly.
"Did you enjoy that?" He asks, bending down to press a happy kiss to Dean's forehead and clean Dean's stomach with a hot towel the human didn't even realise Castiel had picked up.
"The hell did you put in it?" Dean asks, tilting his head up to the angel's touches and closing his eyes. "Codeine? Morphine? Any other kinds of fucking opiates?"
"It's jasmine and honey, Dean," Castiel chuckles, pressing a kiss to Dean's hairline. Dean beams and lies back against the bed. The angel above him snorts and takes his cup. "But I'll take it as a compliment that you assumed I put narcotic drugs into your drink."
"You should," Dean murmurs. "It was heavenly."
His eyes have slid shut. He can hear Castiel getting undressed.
"Would you like me to put something on you?" The angel asks. "Y'know, pyjamas?"
"I'm not a fucking child, Cas." Dean grumbles into his pillow. The angel snorts a quiet laugh.
"No, of course not." He shakes his head. He gets into bed on the other side of Dean, sliding his arms around the human. A kiss is pressed to the curve of Dean's neck. Dean hums happily.
"Glad you're here." He murmurs. Castiel beams into his skin.
"I'm glad, too."
"Missed you."
"I missed you, too."
Dean bites his tongue to stop the next confession from escaping his lips. His stomach twists itself into painful knots, but he bites down on the need to tell Cas everything that he feels for the angel.
"I'm glad you have such a big bed," Castiel chuckles softly. "It means there's so much space for my wings."
Dean laughs tiredly.
"Glad you're glad."
"Sleep well, Dean." Castiel murmurs. Another kiss is pressed to the crook of Dean's neck. In the next instant, he is asleep.
...
A/N: Thanks for sticking with it so long! Please review, and please check out my new story!