Chapter Twelve

Hell yes, I wrote so much today, yall! This was fast for once, wahoooo to me.
I have an exam tmr so obvs I had to procrastinate and do literally anything but learn...and this is the result. Enjoy a quick update for once, the next one is gonna take longer again bc I sadly won't have much time to write this weekend:(

And nooow. Picking up where we left off last time but with Dean's pov. Prepare for kissing. Lots of it. Surprise after the last chapters, right? And emotions. Lots of those, too. Like...LOTS.

Excuse the teeny-weeny GoT reference of my OTP (tell me in case you spot it, I'm curious) xD

As always, thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear what you thought!

~oOo~oOo~oOo~

Cas tasted like honey and lightning.

It was a ridiculous thought, but Dean couldn't find any description more accurate to what he was perceiving every time Cas' tongue hesitantly touched his own. Dean had let the angel lead the kisses, opened his mouth for Cas to explore however he pleased, had only gotten a little taste of what he was surely going to find if he were to return the favour. Dean was pretty certain he was already addicted.

That might become a problem later, a nasty part of his brain pointed out, once Cas was fine and they stopped doing this...whatever they were doing here. The practicing. Right. That's what this was. But Dean didn't want to think about that now, shoved that annoying rational voice far back into a corner of his mind. He could torment himself thinking about that later, when he was supposed to go to sleep but stayed awake overthinking instead. Right now, he would just enjoy it for as long as he could.

At least they were far from done. There was still so much left for Cas to unpack, for both of them, so much they still needed to talk about, so much they still needed to do, so much they still needed to practice. And wasn't that a horrible way to think, being glad that Cas was still unwell, just so he could look forward to catching a glimpse of everything he had ever wanted, knowing that it was only a matter of time before it would be snatched away again. Maybe he was just torturing himself by going along with all this in the first place.

Not that he could care about that right now. With Cas warm and safe and beautiful in his arms. With Cas' tongue soft and careful and perfect in his mouth.

Maybe he was an awful friend. No, he was quite definitely an awful friend. But...How could he not fantasize about all the things yet to come, now that he'd gotten a literal taste? How could he not imagine kissing Cas like this, on this very bed, with Cas beath him, or him beneath Cas (both seemed equally tempting), those little sounds of pleasure Cas had graced him with a few times intensified, their hands stroking more (or well, less) than the fabric of clothes...

Dean had barely finished the thought when he felt Cas moving, tugging on his sleeves to shrug his flannel off. Dean froze for a moment. Was he still caught in his fantasy? But no, he'd broken the kiss, had opened his eyes, looked back into deep blue, and the angel in front of him was real, was still about to divest Dean of his outer layer.

He didn't want to ask. He wanted to just let it happen, just let it unfold, pray that it would lead where he hoped it would- but he couldn't do that.

"Cas?", he breathed, as if too much sound would startle the angel, would make him stop. "What're you doing?"

"I'm taking your shirt off."

Cas looked back at Dean, but he didn't stop pulling on the fabric until it caught on Dean's arms, and the hunter could do nothing but stare back, his hands moving of their own accord to help get free of the garment.

"Why?", he asked, even as he heard the rustle of fabric as his flannel fell to the floor.

"Because I wanted to."

Cas sounded sure, truthful, but there was a small crease appearing on his forehead as he kept looking at Dean, a flicker of doubt.

"Is that..." Cas licked his lips, suddenly nervous. "If that's not what you-"

"Nono." Dean shook his head. Of course Cas would be concerned about him again. If he only knew how much Dean was on board with literally anything-

"It's fine", he said, the understatement of the century, gripping the end of his tee with a questioning look to dispel any doubt Cas may have left. The angel nodded, following the movement with his eyes when Dean pulled the shirt over his head and added it to the pile on the floor. The look Cas gave him was a muddle of emotions, determination fighting against nerves in his eyes, but the clear longing that lay underneath told Dean that Cas actually seemed to be sure about this, he just didn't know how to take the next step.

But Dean could.

"May I?"

He reached for the hem of Cas' shirt as well, one of the shirts the angel had borrowed from Dean's closet, and Dean was certain the only thing more satisfying than seeing his own clothes on Cas was the prospect of getting those clothes off. He waited until Cas gave him another nod of permission and pulled it up over his head, Cas lifting his arms obediently to help.

That was as far as they had gone so far, the most skin they had ever exposed, but Cas didn't make move to kiss him again, or tell him what else to do, just kept looking at him expectantly. Dean swallowed.

"The- the pants too?"

Cas licked his lips, and Jesus Christ, he really had to stop doing that if he didn't want Dean to just grab him right there and then and kiss him senseless.

"If you wouldn't be opposed."

"Just wanted to make sure you're certain. We haven't done this before", Dean pointed out quite unnecessarily, as if Cas didn't know that perfectly well himself. "And the kissing is still so new. You don't have to move faster than you're comfortable with."

His concern about Cas pressuring himself mixed with his own desperate need to go on, a very unhelpful voice chanting in his head that please, don't change your mind, don't change your mind, don't-

But Cas just gave him a small, surprisingly calm smile.

"I know, Dean", he assured. "And thank you, truly. But...I'm not. I'd like to try this. With you."

That little addition was what finally pushed Dean into action.

Cas said he wanted this. And not just in any way, with anyone. He wanted it with him.

"Okay, then." Dean managed an encouraging smile of his own. "If you want to stop at any point, all you have to do is say so."

Taking off their own pants was a bit of an awkward affair, partly because it was a new and unfamiliar aspect, partly because it was so slow, yet purposeful. Usually, when Dean took off his pants here, it was to change and go to bed. When he did it with the intention to...do what was supposed to happen this time, it usually wasn't slow. It wasn't even a particularly conscious action, clothes just naturally happened to disappear along the way, quickly and thoughtlessly. Here, now, Dean was aware of every movement of his hand, every sound, buttons popping out of their holes, zippers being opened, Cas shifting in his back, doing the same.

It was ridiculous how nervous he suddenly was sitting there once his jeans completed the pile of his clothes in front of his feet. It was just some kissing. Kissing was good. And probably more touching. Skin touching, yeah. But they had done that too. The only newly exposed thing were legs. Legs.

Shouldn't be the most exciting body part to discover. Ignoring the fact that Dean had dreamed about those thighs wrapped around him -his waist, his back, his head maybe...- on more than one occasion.

Not that that was going to happen. Probably for the better. Boxers didn't really hide that much.

Dammit, Dean, you gotta get a grip on yourself!

With one last breath, he turned, finding Cas sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, in nothing but a pair of black briefs, looking at him. Fuck.

"I can lie down if you want", Dean said, proud that he got his voice (and brain) to work. He gestured to the head of the bed. "So you can be...on top (fuck indeed). I don't want you to feel...ah. Restricted."

Cas nodded, smiling that small, grateful smile again.

"That's very thoughtful, Dean. Thank you."

And damn if that didn't give Dean a totally undeserved boost of proud confidence.

It was a bit easier then, moving to the headboard, lying on his back and waiting for Cas to join him. His breath hitched only a little at the sight of Cas crawling closer to hover above him for a moment, looking down as if Dean was some sort of miracle. And then Cas leaned down to kiss him, and Dean's eyes fluttered closed. He let the angel open his lips with his tongue, suppressed the shiver when he felt a warm hand carefully settling on his bare chest, fingers splayed out, a tickling, grounding point of contact. His own hands itched to reach out and touch as well, but he didn't dare to yet, not without Cas explicitly giving permission.

"You can touch me too", the angel whispered against Dean's mouth as if he'd read his thoughts (had he accidentally prayed? Was Cas even recharged enough on mojo to hear his prayers?).

"If you want", Cas added with a flicker of insecurity even though Dean had barely hesitated a second, and the hunter instantly surged forward to press their lips together in response, to make it clear that yes, he did want, he wanted badly.

His hands came up to slide over Cas' sides, eliciting a beautiful hum that sent delicious vibration through Dean's lips and into his whole body. The skin beneath his palms was warm and smooth and real, and he couldn't believe he was actually here, with his angel slotted between his legs, fingers woven in his hair, tilting his head up for their kiss. This was the stuff Dean's dreams were made of, and even in his fantasies where Cas reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't imagine his looks being more reverent, his touches more caring, his kisses more...loving.

Shit. He hadn't wanted to allow the thought, dangerous as it was, but it was undeniable. Dean felt loved. (And how had he ever managed to exist without this feeling, how was he supposed to exist without it ever again?)

He just wished he could make Cas feel the same way...

So lost in his bliss, Dean needed a moment to realise that the small noise of surprise Cas had just made was caused by his tongue that had sneaked out to chase Cas', further into the angel's mouth than he had dared so far. A quick flash of hot panic surged through Dean, but before he could react, Cas relaxed with a groan, tangling his tongue with Dean's and reciprocating the deep kiss with everything he had.

Dean felt a little dizzy when they finally parted, his breathing short and ragged, but Cas seemed to be in no better condition. Panting breaths ghosted over Dean's damp lips, blue eyes stared into his, but they didn't look scared or nervous anymore, just...surprised.

He only then realised that his hands had a death-grip on Cas' shoulders, and he had to actively tell his fingers to unclamp and stop burying their nail in the angel's skin. There would be small crescent shapes left if he were to look, Dean was sure, and a burning, possessive need to mark his angel collided with the dreadful memory of the scratches and bruises those same fingers had left behind on Cas' skin last time, marks both of them had been impatiently watching as they turned from violet to green and yellow before disappearing without a trace.

"Cas?", he breathed, tasting the name like he'd tasted its owner's kisses. "Cas, is this really okay? You're sure we're not going a bit fast here?"

"No." Cas shook his head, a strand of messy black hair falling into his forehead that had no business making Dean's silly heart skip a beat. "I want this. I'm fine." Cas raised a questioning eyebrow. "Are you?"

"Yeah." Dean dared to let his hand stroke down Cas' right arm in reassurance. "Yeah, course."

"Then please, I need-" Cas bit his bottom lip, a spark of desperation lighting up in his eyes that sent a shiver down Dean's spine. "I- I don't know, Dean. But I want- I think I...I just want to feel you."

How could something sound so hot while being stated with such innocence at the same time?

Dean could just nod, felt that same desperate spark jump over to light up his own veins.

"Shit, Cas." His arms were already reaching out to pull Cas back in, even the few inches between them suddenly too much distance to bear. "Okay. Okay, c'mere."

Cas followed his invitation willingly, gliding forward far too elegantly (and sexy, dammit) to meet Dean in a slow, deep kiss. Dean's hands landed on both sides of Cas' face, framing his neck with a thumb stroking his jawbone while the rest of his fingers happily disappeared in the mess of soft, dark hair. The way he held him almost tenderly seemed a vast contrast to the passion speaking from every press of lips and flick of tongue, but somehow it both felt equally natural.

Want and need, passion and love, desperation and tenderness. It was all there inside of Dean when it came to Cas, mixing and meddling, the nearly overpowering desire to care for and to be taken care of.

The truly miraculous thing though was that he thought to find it mirrored in Cas, his kisses that didn't hold anything back anymore seemed sure, comfortable, and seeking more. And then there were the sweetest touches, soft and careful brushes of hands on his arms, his face, above his heart.

Dean could feel the moment Cas let himself go completely, could hear it in the almost reverent "Dean" that escaped his lips between kisses, and suddenly they were pressed together, Cas lowered enough to make their chests touch, eliciting a soft gasp from both. The angel leaned his forehead against Dean's and breathed heavily for a moment, but didn't draw back. Dean lay still and held his breath, overwhelmed by this new feeling, the warmth of all that skin touching his own, the rise and fall of Cas' chest against his own. It was by far the closest they had ever been, legs slightly tangled (there was so much happening Dean had almost forgotten about the legs), chests touching, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air.

And then Cas captured his lips in a kiss once again.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect, except that Dean still didn't seem able to get close enough, and before he knew it his arms had sneaked around the angel's back to pull him even more tightly against him. Cas didn't seem to mind, so Dean allowed his hands to wander, mapped every crease and muscle between Cas' shoulder blades with eager fingers, let palms slide down his sides and up again, careful not to reach too low. A hand came to lie at the small of his back, just lightly holding him steady while the other glided up his spine, exploring the expanse of skin there, and it was all so good, so unbelievably good-

Until it wasn't.

Cas stilled and went stiff in Dean's arm so suddenly that it made everything in Dean stop, his movements, his breath, maybe even his heart. The angel's head snapped up, abruptly breaking the kiss that had seemed to perfect only seconds ago, and the mixture of shock, fear and dread looking back at him when he met his gaze let every alarm bell in Dean's head go off simultaneously.

He'd done something wrong. He had to have done something wrong. He'd fucked up, he'd let it go too far, he should have stopped them sooner, he-

"Cas? What's wrong?" Dean's hands had instinctively let go of the angel when he saw that look on his face, his hands lying heavily by his sides. "You okay?"

Stupid, Dean! He's obviously not okay-

Cas blinked, swallowed.

"Yes, I-" He trailed off, eyes wide and frightened and obviously lying. "It's just that..."

"What?"

Dean's voice was soft and soothing, but Cas just shook his head, finally retreating, sitting up so he was kneeling between Dean's legs. The air felt too cold around him all of a sudden, without the angel's body warmth, and Dean felt himself following, drawn up by a magnetic pull until he was sitting as well, close enough to feel like he could breathe, but not too close as not to make Cas uncomfortable while he was obviously trying to put space between them.

"What is it?", Dean asked again, the worry in his voice joined by a trace of desperation. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" Cas' stared at him with wide eyes, apparently mortified that Dean would think such a thing. "No, Dean, you're perfect. It's..." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Dean didn't have a clue what was going on. "For what?"

"I'm sorry", Cas simply repeated, so small and broken, his head lowered.

"I'm sorry that you have to...to see them. To touch them. The scars", Cas clarified silently, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment, and in that one word Dean could hear the disgust seep into his voice through gritted teeth. "I'm glad they're on my back so I don't have to look at them, but you..."

His back. Dean's thoughts rushed through his head. I touched his back. The scars...the sigil.

It was the only thing left, the deepest cuts the angel blade had carved into Cas' skin, lines and shapes Dean hadn't really seen ever since it hadn't been necessary to bandage them anymore. Dean had known they would probably leave scars but...

"You think I mind?"

Cas didn't say anything, but the look he gave him was speaking volumes. Of course you do, it said, and it felt like that damned angel blade had just been rammed into Dean's heart.

"Well, I don't."

How can you even think that? How can you think for even a second-

Cas gave him a smile, a smile with a trace of bitterness Dean didn't like in the least.

"I appreciate you trying, but...you don't have to pretend, Dean." Cas averted his eyes, let them settle on his own hand where it was placed on the mattress. "How could you not? They're a reminder. Of...him. Of what happened. Of what you had to see." There was no accusation there, just plain, sad acceptance.

"You must be disgusted", Cas finished, as if it was obvious, self-evident, undoubted. "I wouldn't blame you."

Dean couldn't take one more word of this.

"Hey, you stop right there."

He fixed Cas' profile, seeking his gaze, but the angel refused to look up. Dean sighed.

"The hell are you talking about, man?" How can you say these things? How could you even think them?

"Cas...I'm not-"

Dean struggled to keep the hurt out of his voice, swallowed hard to steady himself.

"Cas, this is nothing to be ashamed of!", he finally said with all the conviction he could muster. "You know what this reminds me of? Of how grateful I am."

And finally, finally Cas' head lifted slightly, questioning blue eyes carefully finding Dean.

Dean smiled.

"This?" He gestured vaguely towards Cas' back. "This is what you went through, and still, you're here, we're here. It reminds me how brave you've been this whole time, how brave you are, every day."

He desperately wanted to touch Cas, to comfort him, to love him until all that self-doubt was gone and forgotten.

"This is a sign of strength, Cas, not weakness. You're remarkable and I-" He broke off, swallowed the words at the tip of his tongue. I love you. "I'm so...so grateful", he ended instead, watching how Cas tilted his head, eyes closed with an almost pained expression.

"Dean..."

"You're gorgeous", Dean blurted out, not caring for once to stop himself from admitting all the things he had locked inside for so long, not if it was something Cas obviously needed to hear, needed to be told. "Everything about you. To be here, touching you like this..." And finally Dean reached out, taking the hand that Cas had been staring at so intently earlier, squeezing slightly. "Everyone who'll get to be allowed to do that would be privileged", he made himself say, hoping the pain in his chest that he felt at the thought of anyone else getting to touch Cas like this wouldn't be visible.

Either way, Cas looked at him for a long moment after that declaration, eyes squinted, contemplating, and Dean tried not to squirm under the scrutiny. But finally Cas' brow smoothed out, and a glimmer of wonder appeared in his eyes.

"You really mean that, don't you", he said, awed, and Dean could breathe again.

"Yeah." He nodded truthfully. "Yeah, I do."

"I just...never thought you might feel that way. At all." Cas swallowed. "And certainly not after-"

"Cas." Dean stopped him, shaking his head lightly. "It didn't change a thing", he said, sad that it even needed saying. "What happened...it didn't change a thing about you, who you are, what you're worth. I need you to understand that."

There was still a moment's hesitation Dean didn't like, but the way Cas smiled at him was genuine, the tears starting to form in his eyes unmistakable.

"Thank you, Dean", he managed, voice already hoarse, and when he squeezed Dean's hand back, the hand they hadn't let go all this time, Dean couldn't stop himself. He moved forward, pulling Cas against his chest, and the angel came willingly, burying his face in Dean's neck.

"Shhhhh."

Dean let a soothing hand comb through Cas' unruly hair, instinctively pressed a kiss to his temple. He took the little whimper it earned him as consent, peppering light brushes of lips all over Cas' face, his hair, his cheeks - desperately wanted to kiss his lips again, but they hadn't talked about that yet, he didn't have permission to just go for it, especially not in a moment when Cas was as vulnerable and fragile as right now. Permission once didn't mean permission forever, and he'd never presume, he'd never take what wasn't granted, so he restrained, like so many times before, just concentrated on the way Cas melted beneath the light presses of his lips to his hairline, how he relaxed with a sigh.

But then he placed a kiss close to the corner of Cas' mouth, felt Cas turn his head slightly, as if chasing his lips, and he could feel a smile spreading across his face when he heard a small whine in Cas' throat when he pulled back.

"Cas?"

He drew a thumb over Cas' bottom lip, watched in fascination as it caught there.

"Dean."

It was like a question, a plea, a damn benediction.

"May I?", he breathed, saw the answer before he heard the word.

"Please."

And when Dean's tongue found Cas' this time, he thanked it for forming around his name the way it did, the way it still did, the way Dean prayed it always would.

He had so much more to tell him, this beautiful being, so much more he didn't get to say and never would. He couldn't tell Cas with words, so he tried to tell him through touch, write it in his skin with every gentle brush of his fingers, every press of lips, every sweep of tongue.

I love you, I love you, I love you.