The alarm woke Dean at 9AM, and he lay in bed staring at the ceiling of the RV for a good fifteen minutes before moving. His stress hamster was going 60 miles a minute, racing on its wheel going nowhere, like his thoughts just going round and round. Castiel was coming by at 11 to talk about "stuff" and the stress was sitting like a lump in Dean's chest. He threw on some clothes, put on his earbuds, turned the bass up on Sidi Mansour by Ahmed Alshaiba, and went for a punishing run in the hopes it would distract him from the coming conversation. It didn't.
He came back an hour later, peeled himself out of his sweat-soaked running clothes and took yet another unsatisfying shower in the camper's tiny bathroom. Once again, he daydreamed of buying a larger RV with a bigger bathroom. Maybe an added bunk bed, depending on how the conversation went with Castiel.
Dean sighed, shut the water, and made a cursory pass over his body with the towel. He put on a black utilikilt and a green tank. He glanced at the clock, grabbed a couple cans of Coke and slipped flip flops onto his feet before heading outside. He was putting a can into the webbed holder in a canvas chair when Castiel arrived.
"Hello, Dean," he said in his gritty baritone.
"Cas," Dean replied with a smile. He walked over to the other man, cupped Castiel's face in his hands and kissed him gently. He figured if Castiel was going to recommend they stop seeing one another, he'd at least make Castiel know what he'd be giving up. Well, Dean thought, I guess I've decided what I want.
Castiel ran his thumb along Dean's jawline and smiled at him before stepping around him, taking a seat, and getting right into it. "You know I was married for ten years, and I lost him two and half years ago to a drunk driver."
It wasn't a question. Castiel had told Dean about Jimmy and what had happened to him. Dean just nodded and sat in his chair. He wasn't sure where Castiel was going, but he was going to give the other man whatever time he needed.
"If it weren't for Claire and Jack, I probably would have crawled into a bottle and never come out," Castiel continued. "Which is ironic, of course, given how Jimmy died."
Castiel leaned forward, forearms on thighs, and looked at Dean, who was instantly caught in the steely blue gaze. "You have become so important to me in such a short amount of time, Dean. You took my breath away when I first saw you, and I never expected to feel that again, especially after drowning in loss for the past couple years."
He looked down at his hands, as if embarrassed or shy by the admission. Dean still didn't know which way this conversation was going to go, and he was on tenterhooks as Castiel spoke.
"I'm tired of drowning, Dean," Castiel said to his hands. "I'm tired of existing day-to-day, and putting on a mask for my kids. I'm ready to live again. Bristol Faire closes in five weeks -"
Dean finally interrupted. "I've been dreading it, to be honest."
Castiel looked at Dean at his admission before staring off in the distance. "I know we live 1,000 miles apart -"
930 miles, Dean thought.
"- but if you're willing to give us a chance…" Castiel continued cautiously. He glanced at Dean again, afraid of what he'd see in the other man's expression. He swallowed and jumped off the cliff. "I want to take that chance with you."
Dean sat back on his chair and sipped from his can of soda without saying anything. Castiel looked worried. And so vulnerable.
"I want to take that chance too," Dean finally said. Relief flooded Castiel's face. "But…"
"But?" Castiel looked worried again.
"It's not just you that I'll be dating,' Dean clarified. "Your kids are gonna have to meet me and like me."
Castiel nodded as he sat back in his chair. He popped open the can of Coke and took a long pull. He tried to belch politely, but wasn't particularly successful. He glanced at Dean and they both started laughing. The tension they'd each been carrying eased noticeably.
"Claire is coming to faire next weekend," Castiel finally said. "I'll talk to her during the week, and suss out how she'd feel about meeting you at the faire. Well, first find out how she'd feel about me seeing anyone. And then we'll go from there. Maybe you can come out to Lexington for a few days to meet Jake as well."
Dean nodded, drained his can of Coke, and stood with a belch of his own. He grinned at Castiel. "I hate to run, but I was too distracted earlier to get everything in order at my stall, so I need to finish setting up the smithy. You're welcome to sit out here if you'd like."
Castiel stood and finished his Coke. "I'm going to head back to my camp. There's things that need seeing to. Will there be a BBQ tonight?"
Dean nodded and tossed an errant braid over his shoulder. "Gabe said he's bringing Andouille this weekend." He walked over to Castiel and kissed him softly. "I'll see you later, engill."
Castiel watched Dean walk off, smiling at the bow legs under the hem of the kilt. He felt 100 pounds lighter, which was good, because he'd be wearing 50 pounds or so of mail and armor for much of the weekend.
Dean discovered he didn't actually like Andouille sausage, so he stuck with eating one of the burgers he'd made and Ash's chicken. Castiel brought pecan pie that Dean was very tempted to keep for himself. Eventually the conversation and the coals cooled, and everyone made their way back to their tents. Castiel helped Dean clean up and then the two headed into the RV.
Dean stepped up to the sink to get the dishes washed when he felt Castiel's hands pushing up his shirt.
"I want to see your back tattoo,"Castiel murmured in Dean's ear. Dean lifted his arms into the air and let Castiel pull the shirt off, and then started washing the dishes. Dean's back was mostly covered by a realistic black-and-white tattoo of an old Viking warrior with a large braided mustaches and beard, and a scar running through one eye that was white. Each of Dean's shoulder blades had an intricately inked raven.
"So, Odin, and his ravens, Huginn and Muninn?" Castiel asked. He kissed the nape of Dean's neck.
"Mmhmm," Dean both answered in the affirmative and enjoyed the kiss. Castiel chuckled softly, which sent a shiver along Dean's spine.
"Dean?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever happens, don't stop doing the dishes."
Before Dean could figure out what he meant, Castiel hiked the back of Dean's utilikilt up, cupped his bare ass, and then pressed a knee between Dean's legs. Dean widened his stance, giving Castiel further access. Castiel leaned even closer, put his hand out in front of Dean, palm up.
"Soap," he all but growled, and lightly nipped at Dean's shoulder.*
Dean squeezed some dish soap into the palm of Castiel's hand. His senses were on overload, between Castiel's proximity, anticipation about what was coming up next, and Castiel's directive to keep doing the freakin' dishes. He was now seriously considering switching to paper plates and plastic utensils, environment be damned.
Castiel coated two fingers in the liquid soap, and with his other hand, he trailed a finger down Dean's spine. Dean exhaled slowly, relaxing into the touch and for what he knew was coming. What he thought he knew was coming. He grunted at the pressure and stinging burn as Castiel gently pushed both fingers into him.
"Breathe, Dean," Castiel murmured softly in Dean's ear. He slowly began moving his slick fingers into Dean, slight curling of his fingers as he withdrew. Every nerve ending in Dean's body sang and he moaned in pleasure.
Dishes be damned, Dean dropped the dish scrubbie into the sink and shut the water. One hand was used to brace himself against the sink and the other went under his kilt, soapy hand slicking along his cock while Castiel continued to finger fuck him. Castiel shifted behind Dean to unbuckle his belt and partially undo his jeans one-handed. He continued to slowly stretch and fuck Dean with his fingers while tearing open the package on a condom held between his teeth. He opened his jeans and pulled down his boxers just enough to unroll the condom along his erection.
"Soap" he whispered against the back of Dean's ear, removing his fingers from Dean's ass, the hand slid in front of Dean and over the sink. He made no comment about the fact that Dean had given up trying to get the dishes done while being manhandled and he chuckled softly. Dean managed to get some soap onto Castiel's hand and he glanced over his shoulder to look at the other man.
"Bend over a bit, Dean," Castiel said. He ran his clean hand up Dean's back, applying the slightest pressure. Dean closed his eyes and followed Castiel's instruction and then moaned low and long as Castiel slid himself into Dean.
"Gods, Cas, you feel so good."
Castiel rocked into Dean, the rough denim, sharp teeth of the zipper, and the edge of the button grinding into Dean's bare backside and thighs. He increased the pace and Dean increased the motion of his hand on his own cock. He leaned back against Castiel and groaned as he came. He sighed softly as Castiel withdrew and stepped back.
"Did you…" Dean asked, turning around to face Castiel, noting that Castiel was still rock hard and stripping off the condom.
Castiel shook his head and smiled softly, leaning against the table, and looking at Dean with an intense blue stare. Dean bit his lower lip, stepped closer to Castiel and sank to his knees. He looked up at Castiel who simply continued to watch. Dean leaned forward and pressed the flat of his tongue against the head of Castiel's cock and slowly licked upward. The only reaction he got from Castiel was a deep inhale.
So he set to work. And worshiped. Tongue, lips, the lightest touch of teeth. Castiel was already close before Dean even started and with just the right amount of suction, just the right pace, Castiel came deep in Dean's mouth, chest rumbling with a growl of pleasure. He helped Dean to his feet, and kissed him, tasting himself, tasting Dean.
Dean laced his fingers with Castiel's and headed towards the bedroom. Castiel didn't move and Dean turned to look at him. Castiel simply pointed to the sink and Dean began laughing.
Dean was sitting in front of his stall as the Queen's Progress made its way closer. He had a burlap sack of chainmail rings at his feet and was halfway through making a coif. He tossed the coif and pliers into the sack, slid it into the stall with a foot, and made his way into the path as the progress came closer. The queen motioned for everyone to stop when they arrived at the smithy.
"Your Majesty," Dean called out and bowed. "May I present a gift to you?"
"Another rose, smith?" Lucien interjected.
"Actually, no, milord," Dean replied with a barely concealed smile. The queen did little better, hiding her grin behind a gloved hand. Gabriel simply laughed and some of the guests chuckled as well.
Dean walked around to the far side of the queen's horse and presented the queen with two roses with red ribbons tied around them. He winked at the queen and bowed. Gabriel roared with laughter and even Michael joined this time. Lucien glowered and looked down at Dean.
"Careful, smith," the queen cautioned. "Poke that bear at your own risk."
"As you say, Your Majesty," Dean said with another bow. "Before you leave, if I may ask for a moment…"
Dean walked around to where Castiel was mounted on Ladyhawke, behind Michael on Gaston. Without a word, he offered a chainmail rose tied with gray and blue ribbons up to the man. Castiel smiled softly, took the rose, and tucked it into a gap in his doublet. Several guests began whistling and clapping. Dean stepped back and Queen's Progress started up again.
Dean sold out of roses that day.
* No, this isn't going to become an A/B/O fic or a hardcore (or even midcore) D/s fic. Also, I know soap isn't a good lube; according to Google it's an annoying irritant, not to mention it probably makes a hell of a mess. But let's just go with it. And try not to imagine Dean farting bubbles and his ass now smelling lemony fresh…