People, you are all too damn amazing wow! x) thanks a bunch for your lovely reviews, I never get tired of checking my mails for your comments! Well, another update so early, because I'm in a terrific good mood and I have time on my hands! So, no, Dean is not always going to be the bottom (what!), but most of the times cough cough... Now, be warned, this chapter is uhm... I don't know what this chapter is (emotional? Insane? Emotionally insane?), but uhm,... be warned lol x)

Chapter 29

An annoying alarm clock bleeped somewhere, and Castiel opened his heavy lids, not even half awake. There was some movement in the apartment, and when Castiel turned on his back, and when the soft sheet clung to the back of his thighs, he remembered where he was and what had happened. He began to snooze again, every feel for time leaving him, and in the background of his awareness he heard some clatter and quiet cursing from time to time. Suddenly, there was a weight next to him, and the mattress was brought down. Slender fingers were sifting through his hair gently, making Castiel stir and wake up a bit. Through a dreamlike haze he saw Dean was sitting beside him, freshly showered and dressed, and he looked down at him with a mellow look and a loveable smile written all over his kissable mouth. Castiel smiled too, knowing, that everything was alright between them.

"Morning, Cas... I've got to go to work. Make yourself at home...", he said softly, then he leaned down and pressed his lips against Castiel's, giving him a chaste, slow kiss. Drowsily Castiel inhaled Dean's clean scent and answered to the kiss, applying as much finesse and gentleness as he could, hearing Dean hum against his mouth, and he sounded terribly pleased. Then Dean pulled pack and once again his fingers carded through the dark strands of Castiel's ruffled hair. A terrible weight returned to Castiel's eyes, and he closed them unwillingly. He heard a door close and he sank into deep oblivion, catching up on the sleep he had missed within the last week.

A few hours later Castiel awoke, and the sun was already high in the sky. It was mid morning when he took a shower in Dean's bathroom; he was masturbating lazily at the thought of Dean's naked body, soaking wet in the same shower stall, his hand stroking up and down his thick length while the water jet splashed down on him. He came with a muffled moan, feeling somewhat ashamed and startled about his stamina these days. It was, as if he was making up for the last years of being a single. Usually he had rarely or never touched himself, but things had become quite different since he knew Dean. There was this burning desire eating him up, this insatiable thirst for the man, and after yesterday, he didn't even know how he could survive without being inside of him, without their bodies conjoined intimately.

Castiel took his time when he was dressed; he had found some toast and ate a slice of it, while he sauntered through Dean's apartment. He knew the bedroom quite well by now; the comfortable bed in the middle of it, the beige, time-worn acoustic guitar Dean had talked about leaning against a wall; the small nightstand next to Dean's bed; Castiel didn't mean to pry, but he saw a book on one of the shelves, with a bookmark in it. He took it in his hands and laughed when he recognized what it was – Ken Kesey's "One flew over the cuckoo's nest". So, apparently, Dean had returned to the book after their phone call a few weeks ago, and the idea warmed Castiel's heart soundly. He smiled to himself when he regarded the bookshelves and the CD collection in Dean's living room, letting his fingers glide over those records they had talked about, feeling close to Dean again. It was past twelve when Castiel shut the door to Dean's apartment behind him – it was weird to be in Dean's apartment without him, and the silence in the rooms had unsettled Castiel, so he had left.

Castiel spent the afternoon sorting out his own apartment – compared to Dean's, it seemed like a mayhem had taken place in his dwelling, and so he did his paperwork (alarming piles of important documents and invoices), then he did the laundry (he barely had clothes left to wear for the next days), and after that he mopped the floors and the furniture. He told himself the tidying up had been long overdue anyway, but he couldn't drown the noise in his head, which taunted him that he was only doing it because of two aspects – one, to calm himself down and to take his mind off everything – two, because he inwardly hoped Dean would visit him one of these days, and he didn't want him to suffocate under a mountain of garbage and dirty laundry. When he had done all of these things, it was only late afternoon, and the sun's rays shone through his cleaned windows, while he paced through his bedroom, restless.

He felt he was wearing a deep frown – all of it because a riot raged within him, making it hard to breathe, hard to keep still. He was edgy, and he didn't know why – his whole life came crushing down on him, and he thought how everything seemed so wrong, so misplaced. A need for a change seized him violently, and it made him sick to his stomach. Every once in a while, one or two days in a year, he got this feeling he couldn't shake off, which depressed him immensely – the feeling, that something was wrong, and that he needed to break out, run away, do something to make it go away. The thought, that he was wasting his life, that nothing mattered, that he was unimportant and insignificant to the world. Just a bundle of bones and flesh, a functioning manikin in a world of sins, crimes, blood and violence. Easily wiped out, replaceable just like everybody else. He breathed in shakily, and his vision blurred as hot tears began to well up in his eyes. He held his aching head as the world began to spin maddeningly; nausea clutched his stomach tightly and in a heartbeat he ran to the bathroom and threw up into the toilet, his chest heaving.

He held on to the toilet seat, his knuckles white, as he vomited, tears running down his cheeks. When he was done, he flushed the toilet and crawled to the sink, rinsing his mouth with shaky fingers. He lay down on the cool tiles, his lids falling shut. Why now, he wondered, listening to his agonized sobs, feeling the tremors running through his body, making him tremble forcefully. It had been so long since his last breakdown, so why now? Everything had started to take shape, everything was falling into place. Dean's sweet smile appeared in his mind, the mellow look of his eyes as they regarded Castiel. Paralyzed Castiel let his brain go crazy as it overflew him with images of Dean, with phantom-sensations of feeling his body, his lips move against his own.

The echo of his voice resounded in his ears, and Castiel froze on the spot, motionless, as a desperate horror trip washed over him. He broke out into a cold sweat, fear grasped him mercilessly. He stared numbly at the ceiling while his world began to collapse. Dean's fascinating sight drifted away, and a pain spread through Castiel's stomach as other images seeped through his mind. Desecrated corpses, separated limbs, sticky, cold pools of blood. Stained knives, ripped clothes, the flicker of insane eyes, evil grins behind bars. Castiel shut his eyes, panting in fear, as the images changed again – he saw a meadow, a red-haired young girl blowing soap bubbles, wearing a white dress. He heard her joyful laughter, and a single tear joined his dried ones as he smiled weakly, his fingers holding on to the tiles underneath him, as he gave in to the happy memory. But then young Anna vanished, and Castiel saw her dead eyes staring at nothing, her pale white skin, white and cold like marble. Her gravestone, his weeping parents, how he had clenched his hand, feeling an unbearable weight on his shoulders, knowing how hard it would be to ever smile again.

And then, just like that, the pain and the fear left him as other memories came back to him – he saw himself and Dean in the brothel, lying down face to face, talking animatedly. Their lips coming together for the first time. He heard his own heartfelt laughs when they had lunch in the diner. How they made love, how their bodies came together effortlessly... Castiel opened his eyes, struck hard as realization overcame him. His whole world revolved around Dean now, he had made him see the light again, he was the reason Castiel felt happy again. And the fear he had felt, the panic constricting his chest – it had come back to him, because he was afraid of opening up to someone again, afraid of losing Dean. The mere thought was terrible. Castiel got up, wobbly on his legs. He stared at himself in the mirror with a scrutinizing look. His facial expression wavered between a grim smile and a glance of affection.

The pleasant breeze of the evening tugged at Castiel's shirt as he walked through the park, watching the couples and youths hang out on the lawn, people walking their dogs, seniors sitting on the benches, enjoying the mild weather. He felt the warm sun, more bearable, now that the night was approaching. He walked to the end of the park, clutching the bouquet of yellow roses, intermingled with some blue forget-me-not, as he entered the doorway to the local graveyard. The silence of this place enclosed him as he made his way to Anna's grave, knowing the road by heart. It was odd, just a few hundred yards behind him people were living their lives normally, unaware of the dead buried here, unaware of the pain their loss had caused. He took in the surroundings, enjoying how the trees rustled in the wind, and how the gray twilight diffused between the graves; the place was quickly plunged into a dusky yellow, nightfall was near.

He stopped in front of Anna's grave, pulling up some weeds that had spread over the brink of the grave. A photo of her was embedded in the gravestone, showing her smiling and as beautiful as ever. Castiel laid the bouquet down under the stone and got on his knees. Inwardly he was praying Anna was okay, wherever she was now, and he hoped there was place like Heaven, to where the good souls went, and that there was a God looking out for her, that there was a God who cared. Sometimes, he believed it was true, but mostly he was unable to do so, when his working life showed him how cruel humans could be, how twisted their minds were. Castiel stared at Anna's picture, a small smile appeared on his lips. Gently he let his fingers brush over the stones framing her grave. In his mind he started telling Anna everything she had missed out on. It was dark when he finished, and he realized he had spent most of his time telling her everything about Dean.

Again he smiled when he promised her to come back soon and when his fingers stroked over the gravestone.

"If you saw all that happened, you know I love him, right?", Castiel asked her in his mind. He observed Anna's face on the photo through the blueish night's light, and it seemed to him as if her smile became alive, as if it grew on her lips and merged into a knowing smirk.

At the end of this strenuous day, Castiel lay on his sofa, watching a ridiculous documentation about monster trucks absentmindedly. He wondered if he should call Dean or if he should give him some time to himself. As if Dean had read his mind, Castiel's telephone rang, and when he answered the call, Dean's soft voice greeted him. It was soothing to hear him again, after all these turmoil that Castiel had battled with, and he relaxed against the cushion and silenced the TV.

"Hey, Dean...what's up?", Castiel asked nonchalantly. For the first time in hours he felt some of the tension inside of him disappear, and it was related to knowing Dean was at the other end of the line, listening to him and knowing he would be interested in whatever Castiel would tell him.

"Not much, just got home from work. Ha, you should have seen Ash, Jo and my dad. They were all holding their tummies when they called it a day. I fed them the leftovers from our dinner, and they were all pretty stuffed, but satisfied", Dean said with a chuckle. It didn't take long for them to wipe away the tiny peaks of tension between them, and soon they were talking freely; however, Castiel avoided telling Dean in detail what had happened to him today, he didn't want to sound pathetic or insane. Unknowingly they babbled for over an hour, and Castiel felt fatigue falling down on him, holding him close with its firm claws. He yawned, incapable of suppressing it, and Dean laughed at him.

"So... when will I see you again?", Castiel asked, too tired to hide his need of being with Dean again. There was an awkward pause of silence, and it made Castiel quite insecure, so that he gnawed at his bottom lip nervously.

"Listen, Cas... I want to see you too, okay? I really want to... but, I've got to work this weekend, like every weekend. I don't know how or when-"

"You could come around tomorrow night when you're done", Castiel interrupted him, biting his tongue as he realized what he just had proposed. It sounded selfish and completely suggestive in the wrong way and he stammered the next words to explain himself rapidly.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. You could drop in and... I don't know, just stay overnight. It would be comforting to sleep next to you, I promise, nothing more, I just want to feel you lying next to me again, okay? And the next morning I'll bring you breakfast in bed and pamper you."

He heard Dean sigh a long, gut-wrenching sigh and he smiled to himself.

"God, what did I do to deserve you?", Dean said softly, making Castiel's hair stand on end, and his heart picked up a swift pace, thudding vehemently against his chest. He fiddled with his hair nervously, twisting some strands in between his fingers.

"No, you shut it. I don't deserve you", he retorted playfully, hearing Dean laugh.

"Listen, smartass. You're perfect, alright? And you can um and err all you want, but you're still perfect to me. And yes, I would love to come by after work, but I warn you, it will be late, probably around one or two in the morning, mind you."

"Sounds good enough to me. So, tomorrow night it is, then?", Castiel asked, a fuzzy ball of giddiness growing within his stomach. It was incredible to hear Dean thought he was perfect, it made him all antsy with joy.

"Yeah... can hardly wait... I'll send you an SMS. Until tomorrow, then", Dean hoarsely confirmed, sounding breathless to Castiel. "Night, Dean... sleep tight", he said, a soft smile on his mouth when he heard Dean's gentle "You too", then they hung up.

Castiel was all tingly inside when he put clean sheets on the bed this Friday evening. He even placed an extra blanket on the other side of his bed, just to show Dean how welcome he was, and that he didn't have to struggle the whole night for the blanket with him (because Castiel was sure he was a blanket-robber unconsciously). It made him smile affectionately as he paused and regarded his bed, thinking that he wouldn't sleep alone this night, that Dean would be there with him to share the bed. To calm his nerves, Castiel numbed himself with bad television, and he downed a few glasses of whiskey, feeling the burning liquid relaxing his body. He staggered into his bedroom around half past twelve and doffed his shirt and jeans, slipping underneath the nice-smelling blanket, only clad in his boxers. He was half-drunk when he slowly fell asleep, his hand held his cell phone tightly and close to his face, so that he would hear when Dean texted him. The knowledge that Dean would soon be here, that his body warmth would transfer to his limbs, made Castiel smile and so calm that he quickly dropped off.

He had only drowsed for what seemed less than one hour, then his phone vibrated several times in his hand, and he struggled to wake up. With tiny, narrowed eyes he read Dean's text-message, letting him know he'd be at Castiel's place in twenty minutes. After ten minutes of fighting with himself, Castiel climbed out of his cosy, warm bed, dazed with sleep as he walked to the bathroom. He drew a bath for Dean, musing he probably wanted to clean himself after the physical contact with his customers. A heartsick feeling clouded Castiel's mind, he just couldn't let go of the thought where Dean had been tonight and who he had been with. He wanted him all to himself, and he hated that Dean had to endure all of this every weekend. Gabe's words resounded only too clearly in his head, doubting that it was a good idea, a fed and a hooker...Castiel sat down on the edge of the bathtub, hearing the water fill the tub, and he poured some bath foam in it, laughing to himself when he remembered Dean had said he wasn't the type for bubble baths. So Castiel decided to add zest to it and he got up and searched for tealights, which he positioned all over his small bathroom as he lit them. When he was done and switched off the electric light, he considered his work, as the dim candlelight filled the room warmly. He hoped Dean would appreciate the gesture.

The doorbell rang and Castiel got up to answer the door. His jaw dropped the moment he laid eyes on Dean, clothed in jeans, a black shirt and a red plaid, opened button-down. His body was just fine, as always, but when Castiel's eyes wandered to Dean's face, he saw the plain exhaustion in his eyes, and how weak the smile was he fought to give Castiel. He let him get inside and shut the door; in an instant he had grabbed Dean and pulled him in a tight embrace, his heart bleeding with sympathy for the younger man. He appeared so worn out, so sorrowful; Castiel held him, his hands gliding over the planes of Dean's back soothingly. He felt Dean melt in his arms, leaning against him as he let go and responded to Castiel's hug, drawing him in as well. Castiel smiled as he perceived how eagerly Dean clung to him, as if he was the solution for everything, as if he was his tower of strength. He tilted his head and kissed Dean's ear.

"Hello, gorgeous", he whispered quietly into it, hearing Dean's chuckle rumble through his body.

"Gorgeous yourself", Dean replied and pulled away from Castiel, and now the light in his eyes was less dim. Dean bent forward and tilted his head, his lips aiming at Castiel's; their lids shut and they kissed each other firmly, reassuringly. Their kiss was slow and lengthy, and somewhat innocent due to Castiel's sleepy state. Their mouths slid together, glided over each other, only to press together again and again. It felt like coming home, and Dean's warmth and his unique scent and his gentle kisses were all Castiel had ached for. They let go, quite breathless and overwhelmed. Castiel smiled gingerly and pecked Dean's lips once more.

"I know you're not into bubble baths, but I prepared one for you. Hope the water's still warm", Castiel mumbled, lowering his eyes to the ground when he felt embarrassment blushing his cheeks. Dean's palm came up and cupped Castiel's cheek tenderly, and when he looked up again, his mouth stood agape as Dean's piercing, fond regard cut right through his chest.

"That's awesome, Cas, thanks."

They smiled at each other, and Castiel took Dean's hand in his and led him to the bathroom. He heard Dean whistle in awe when Castiel opened the door and the candlelight danced towards them, the smell of soap wafting through the air. Dean's thumb stroked over Castiel's back of the hand in small circles, and Castiel moved to kiss his cheek lovingly.

"I go back to bed. If you need anything, mi casa es su casa", he said with an honest smile. Dean turned around to him and enveloped him in a long close embrace, holding him against his broad chest. Castiel's lids fluttered shut and he drank in the sense of Dean's body moving against his, however sleepiness gained the upper hand and he yawned heartily against Dean's shirt, making him laugh fondly. A kiss was pressed into Castiel's dark hair and Dean mumbled he should go to bed already, that he would follow him soon.

There was some movement in the bed a while later, and Castiel awoke halfheartedly as he felt the mattress shift and Dean approaching him from behind, sliding under his blanket. Castiel was laying on his side, and Dean followed suit; one of his arm came to rest around Castiel's waist, and Dean snuggled up to him, his steady breath fanning against the bare crook of Castiel's neck. He awoke a lot when the perception of Dean's naked, warm chest sliding together with his back made a hot shiver run through him. He held perfectly still when Dean's crotch fused with his ass, when Dean's thighs and knees bent in the same shape as Castiel's legs, so that their bodies were connected wherever possible. A fire grew within Castiel's chest as he concentrated on Dean's body warmth sweeping over the planes of his skin, how each of his fibers blanketed Castiel's, as if they were one.

It felt incredibly cosy and familiar; Dean smelt of the bath he had taken, his limbs were still warm, his skin was smooth. Castiel smiled most satisfied, and he found he was wishing it could always be like this, so simple, so unblemished. He placed his hand above Dean's, which was resting flat on his stomach, and he squeezed it slightly, to let Dean know he was awake, even if on the brink of falling asleep again. Dean's nose brushed against the crook of his neck, and he inhaled deeply, as if he was drinking in Castiel' scent. His nose wandered to the hairline of Castiel's nape, and he rubbed it against the soft strands; Castiel was sure he felt the smile of Dean's lips as they pressed against his sensitive skin, leaving small kisses on his neck. For a while they lay there just like this, jammed together on the spacious bed.

Castiel listened to the steady breaths behind him, to the rhythmic thuds of Dean's heart resounding loudly in his ear, as if the reverberations of it thundered through the mattress. Apart from that, it was quiet in the room. Dean's thumb stroked over the back of Castiel's hand soothingly, providing a tiny caress, which Castiel loved. He shut his lids and focused on the warm stream of happiness washing through his system, and his fingers enveloped Dean's and held them tightly. Suddenly, there were words floating through the silence, breaking it with their gentle tone. Castiel became rigid, held his breath.

"I love you, Cas... I really love you", Dean quietly said. Castiel gulped down a lump of affection, his heart skipped several beats. He froze in Dean's embrace, overjoyed and yet incredulous. He let go of Dean's hand and wiped over his eyes with the back of his, brushing the upcoming tears away. Then he turned around, and in the night's light he could see Dean observing him with wide eyes, an agape mouth, and plane vulnerability written all over his face. Of course, he had just opened his heart to Castiel, hoping for the best. Castiel's lips forged a touched, brittle smile, and he took Dean's face in his hands and looked him deeply in the eyes.

"I love you too", he said firmly, relieved to voice the words that had been lingering within him secretly, and it seemed to him that all tension left Dean at that, that ease coursed through his veins as if he had been absolved of all his sins. Dean sighed and his lids fluttered when he saw Castiel bent forward and approached him; then their mouths came together, and they kissed passionately, conveying their hearts to each other through their mouths. Castiel kept Dean's cheeks in his palms and steered him through their kisses; once more, they were consuming each other's lips, sucking and bruising, only to let them slide together again, so that they could exchange innocent, heartfelt kisses. When they finally pulled apart, Castiel found he couldn't avert his glance from Dean's gorgeous sight. So they stayed like this, observing each other's face, absorbing the happy gleam of their irises and the little smiles creeping upon their kiss-swollen mouths. At some point, Castiel had grasped Dean's hand, and they fell asleep like this, facing each other and holding hands loosely.

TBC

Soooo, what do you think? I don't care (a lie, I always care) if you think their ILYs were rushed, because they know each other for weeks now, and it was love at first sight x) right? I'm flustered x)