Chapter 37

Dean had done the laundry, he'd smoked a joint, he'd made himself food (too much, in his opinion), and it was only eleven. He glanced at his phone, wondering when Cas would be home. He hadn't even texted him yet. He walked into the bedroom, grabbing the guitar out of the corner of the room and sitting down on the bed. He fooled around with some chords for a while, not really committing to one song in particular. He couldn't concentrate, he was bored, and there was no liquor in the house. Nothing but Cas' pills, but he had swore he would never take those from Cas, no matter what, and a bored lonely night while Cas was off with another guy wasn't even a good reason to begin with.

He set the guitar back down, trying not to think about what Cas and Rich were doing. He should've went. But he knew if they were kicked out, the embarrassment of their first outing turning sour would ruin this new place for him. He tried looking for anything else to do around the house, but there was nothing to unpack, and all the furniture was put together and where it should be. He found some dishes to wash, but it didn't even kill ten minutes. He flopped onto the couch, turning on the TV and lighting a cigarette.

His hand wandered down into his jeans, but it was halfhearted. After a few lazy strokes, he ended up losing interest and falling asleep on the couch.

"I should prolly get home," Cas said slowly, his tongue tripping over his words. "It's almos' one."

Rich nodded. "You said you w- wanna walk?"

Cas nodded. Rich stood up, stumbling a little before grabbing Cas' elbow and helping him up, as he was having trouble as well. They stood for a minute to re-adjust, hands gripping opposite sides of the booth.

The night air was cool on Castiel's skin, and he hadn't realized until then that he'd been sweating slightly. He lit a cigarette as they slowly meandered down the sidewalk, stumbling a little where the edges of the blocks of cement were no longer flush with each other. Rich lit a cigarette as well and they were quiet for a while.

About half-way back to Cas' house, Rich started slowing down before coming to a stop, hand on his stomach.

"You okay?" Cas asked, turning to him and swaying slightly.

Rich didn't acknowledge him, as if he hadn't heard him. Suddenly he turned, nearly tripping but only taking a step forward, and vomiting behind a bush.

"Oh, fuck, are you o- okay?" Cas gasped, squinting at Rich.

"I am now," he said with a loud drunken laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and continuing on.

Cas trailed behind. It seemed to take forever, but they finally arrived on his street. "Hold up, I gotta- I gotta call a cab. To pick me up," he said, stopping in his tracks. "At your house."

"You don't want to come in and smoke?"

Rich wanted to jump up and down at the fact that this kid still wanted to hang out with him after the disaster at the bar. But he had to decline. "No, no, Dean's prolly sleepin', and I should really get home... in case my dad needs anythin'," he said somberly.

Cas nodded. Rich finally correctly dialed a cab company, giving them the address, which he had to repeat a few times because of his slurred speech. They continued on, and Cas stood with him in the driveway, as the cab was supposed to be there momentarily. It arrived soon after, and Rich opened the door, turning to Cas. "It was nice spendin' time with ya, Cas. I hope we can do it again soon... n Dean can join."

He smiled and Cas smiled back. "Yeah, course. Thanks for the drinks."

Rich nodded and plopped down into the backseat, slamming the door. The cab drove off and Cas turned and stumbled up the driveway.

Dean awoke with a start to the sound of the front door slamming open. His hands were no longer in his pants, but his button and fly were undone. He quickly yanked up his fly before turning to see if Cas had brought Rich back with him.

It was apparent he hadn't when he again flung the door shut behind him, stumbling over to the couch. "Heyyyy, youuuu," he purred to Dean.

"Oh my god, you are wrecked," Dean mumbled in disbelief, trying to hide a smirk.

"Mmmaybe," Cas said, coming around to the front of the couch and plopping himself down on Dean's lap.

"Obviously," Dean scoffed. Cas threw his arms around Dean's neck, leaning in and planting a sloppy kiss on his mouth. "So I guess they let you in, huh?" Dean said when Cas pulled back.

Cas nodded. "Oh, yes. No pro'lems at all." He thought back to the conversation at the booth. Should he tell Dean? Maybe he should keep it to himself, unless Rich tried to make a move on him or something... then he would tell Dean.

"Did you have fun?" Dean continued.

Cas snapped back to attention. "Yes. I met two of Rich's friends, Brit 'n' Jen." He paused. "What'd you do while I was gone?"

Dean shrugged. "Smoked. Did some laundry."

Cas didn't respond, only leaned forward and buried his head in the crook of Dean's neck. After a few minutes of silence, he lifted his head. "I don't feel good."

Dean frowned. "I'm not surprised."

"How do you do this all the time," he mumbled, squinting at Dean.

"You get used to it... Besides, I don't usually get this drunk."

Cas was quiet again before the color drained from his face and he pushed himself off the couch, falling to the floor and scrambling to the bathroom. Dean hurried behind him just in time to see Cas projectile vomit into the toilet from the bathroom door.

"Holy shit, good aim," Dean said, trying to stifle a laugh. He came up behind Cas, who had now crawled the rest of the way to the toilet, and placed his hand on his back. "Are you okay?"

Cas grabbed a wad of toilet paper off the roll and wiped his mouth. "I feel fuckin' great, now!" he slurred happily, sitting back on his haunches.

"Alright, come on, let's get you to bed." Dean grabbed him beneath the arms and hoisted him up. Cas leaned on the kitchen counter and fumbled with the faucet, running the water and cupping his hand underneath it to rinse his mouth out. After he'd spit the water back into the sink, Dean led him to the bedroom. "Stay here while I go clean the bathroom." Cas' aim was pretty good, but of course some had made it on the rim of the toilet and to the floor.

Cas shrugged off his trench coat and jacket, and then attempted to remove his tie. He only succeeded in making it tighter. He gave up and dropped his pants, flopping backwards onto the bed.

When Dean returned, he found Cas lying on his back, again struggling with his tie. He sat down on his side of the bed, leaning over and brushing his hands away. "I got it." He messed with it for a minute or two before getting it loosened and slipping it over Cas' head. He began unbuttoning Cas' shirt, only getting three buttons undone when Cas grabbed his wrist. "Can we fool around?" he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

Dean smiled amusedly. "I think you're a little too far gone for that, Cas."

"Please, Dean," he pleaded.

Dean leaned down and kissed him softly. "I can never say no to you."

Cas pushed him off and onto his back, clumsily climbing on top of him. Leaning down, he kissed Dean hungrily, rubbing his chest. Cas pulled his shirt over his head, trailing his kisses down Dean's neck, chest, and stomach, only stopping when he felt his chin hit the flap of Dean's jeans and the cold metal of his belt buckle. He fumbled with the buckle before managing to get it undone and yanking Dean's pants and underwear down in one swift movement.

Dean sighed as his erection was freed. Cas didn't waste any time, immediately taking it into his mouth.

"Oh, shit," Dean whispered, closing his eyes, fingers playing with the fabric of the comforter. Cas snaked his fingers up to Dean's stomach, grabbing and kneading at the layer of pudge on his stomach as his mouth continued to rise and fall on Dean's cock. Usually Dean stopped him from touching his stomach, but Cas was so drunk Dean figured he wouldn't even remember this. He also remembered, when he'd first started gaining weight, Cas sheepishly saying how he liked it. And he had to admit, it did feel kind of good.

Cas lifted his head, Dean's cock emerging from his mouth with a quiet pop. "I love your body, Dean," he said slowly, his voice low and his eyes glossy. "'Specially your tummy."

Dean felt his face instantly grow warm and he knew he was turning red. "Umm, thank you..."

Cas lowered his head back down and took Dean in his mouth again, oblivious to Dean's reaction to his comment. Dean allowed his head to drop back onto the pillow, attempting to stifle a groan. Cas was bobbing, but other than that, everything he was doing seemed completely random. The way he turned his head, where he used his tongue, when he squeezed Dean's balls. Dean lazily thrust his hips into Cas' mouth, feeling the pressure slowly but surely building inside him.

At some point Cas seemed to become determined to finish. He picked a pattern and stuck with it, swallowing around Dean, moving quickly.

"Cas, Cas I-" he started, but before he could finish, he came into Cas' mouth, grunting loudly and dropping his head back onto the pillow.

Cas slurped the remaining come off of Dean's head before crawling up to lay next to him in bed. Dean shimmied the blanket down from beneath Cas, climbing up himself and pulling it back over top of them. He settled on his back and wrapped his arm around Cas' shoulders. Cas snuggled into his chest, resting his hand on Dean's lower stomach, slowly curling his fingers in and extending them out again a few times.

"I love you Dean," he mumbled.

Dean squeezed him closer. "I love you too, Cas. Now get some sleep."

Cas awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon invading his nostrils. He slowly lifted his head off the pillow, groaning at the pain that surged beneath his skull. He let out another loud groan when he realized he was hungover.

"Come eat, you'll feel better!" Dean called from the kitchen.

Cas noticed it was darker than he would expect in the morning. He dragged himself out of bed, still dressed in only his dress shirt and boxers, and peered out the window. It was cloudy and rainy. He let the curtain fall back, turning around and shuffling his feet into the kitchen. "I feel like I got hit by a truck," he muttered. "What time is it?" He took a seat at the island, the chair cold against his thighs.

Dean turned from the stove, fully dressed, pushing some eggs around in the pan. "Two."

Cas groaned again. "Please don't ever let me get that drunk again."

Dean chuckled. "I wasn't there, remember?" He scraped some bacon and eggs onto a plate, grabbed a piece of toast out of the oven, and set the plate down in front of Cas.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said.

Dean nodded, walking back to the counter behind them to pile the frying pans and spatula into the sink.

"Are you eating?" Cas asked around a mouthful of eggs and toast.

Dean shook his head. "Already did. Lunch, too." He absentmindedly placed a hand on his stomach before remembering the night before and letting it fall to his side. "Do we, uh, have anything do to today?"

Cas shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Nothing at all."

They spent the day on the couch, smoking joints, watching TV, and lazily making out. When seven o'clock rolled around, Dean asked if Cas was hungry.

Cas was lying between Dean's legs, head on his stomach, facing the TV. He nodded.

"Alright, get up," he said, pushing himself up as Cas straightened up and moved over. "What do you want?"

Cas shrugged. "I don't care. Whatever you make is fine."

Dean padded into the kitchen, reaching up to rummage through the cabinets. He settled on nothing special, just pasta and sauce. He hadn't realized how much he actually liked the simple meal until he wasn't forced to cook it for his father nearly every day.

Cas smiled to himself as he listened to Dean hum and mumble lyrics under his breath while he cooked. He really loved Dean, and he loved California, too. He hoped Dean felt the same, but for now he at least seemed to be content. He hoped it would grow on him as he started going out more.

Twenty minutes or so had passed before Dean returned with the food. He set two bowls down on the coffee table, and Cas dug in as Dean flipped through the channels on the TV. Settling on Family Guy, he joined Cas in eating dinner. By the time the episode was over, he set his bowl back on the table with a sigh. "I can't finish, do you want the rest?"

Cas shook his head. "I'm good."

"I ate way too much," he muttered, frowning.

"How much did you make?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

"Three-quarters of the box. You ate a third of that." He rubbed his stomach and winced. He had been stoned as hell when he'd started cooking, and his eyes were certainly bigger than his stomach, although he had been eating far too fast to notice until it was too late.

Cas stood up and took their bowls, scraping what was left of Dean's into the garbage can and setting them in the sink. When he came back, he sank down next to Dean, resting his forehead on his shoulder and snaking his fingers up underneath his shirt to ghost them along his lower stomach.

Dean twitched under his touch, his breath hitching. Cas lifted his head to press a kiss to his cheek, shifting himself so he could reach his mouth and placing one there as well.

"Cas... I can't fuck right now," Dean said, looking away. "I might barf."

"I just want to touch you..." Cas said softly, settling back down. "Is that okay?"

Dean nodded slowly.

Cas could sense the waves of embarrassment radiating off him. "Dean... you do realize I meant what I said last night, right?" He stared up at him, eyes squinted.

Dean looked to him, feeling heat rising up the back of his neck and to his ears. "You remember that?"

Cas nodded. "...Were you hoping I didn't?" He paused, observing Dean's reddening face, before adding, "Why are you so embarrassed, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. Having his embarrassment pointed out brought it to a whole new level. "I dunno. I guess... all I've ever really had going for me was my looks. I just feel more worthless now." As soon as it came out of his mouth, he regretted it. He felt like a total idiot. Besides, it was his own fault. He was the one who couldn't put the alcohol down, who was replacing dope with food, who-

"Dean," Cas said gruffly, snapping Dean out of his self-loathing train of thought. "I want you to listen to me." Dean just stared at him, mouth twisted into a frown. "I don't give a single shit what you look like. I. Love. You. Your body is just a bonus, but it still looks lovely to me." He squeezed a small handful of Dean's stomach.

Dean swallowed and nodded slowly. "Thank you."

Cas could tell he was still upset, so he didn't say anything else, only palmed his hand across Dean's stomach in slow circles as they resumed watching TV.