Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.
SMUUUUUT.
Thanks to L. Thestrup, Dragonsrule18, Skyla Andrews, EruthiadwenGreenleaf and Uzumaki Naho for your reviews :)
They stop several hours later to fill Baby up with gas and grab some shitty snacks from the gas station. Castiel has slipped into a light doze, though the jolt of the car stopping is enough to wake him up, despite Dean fervently trying to get him to go back to sleep. As relieving as it is to see Castiel awake, the longer he's out like a light, the longer Dean can put off facing him – a more in-depth confrontation than their brief one outside the car while Sam fought off Naomi. He's a freaking coward, he knows, but hey, he's owning it.
"Dean?" Castiel's voice is thick with sleep. "Where – where are we?"
"Couple of hours outta Maine." Dean holds Castiel tighter. "Go back to sleep, Cas." An unpleasant thought suddenly hits him. "Why are you sleeping? Last time you slept was when you were falling…"
"I'm fine, Dean," Castiel hurries to assure. "I am fully angel. I'm just…so very tired…"
His head droops onto Dean's shoulder. Dean's nostrils are suddenly invaded with the smell of honey and he wants nothing more than to bury his nose in that mop of dark, messy hair and just keep sniffing it, but he's not sure what he's allowed to do. He counts himself lucky that Castiel had allowed and reciprocated the kisses outside the car earlier, but he doesn't want to do any more 'romantic stuff' until he knows where Castiel stands. Groggy Castiel doesn't have full mental awareness and for all Dean knows, Castiel might want nothing to do with him once the angel's fully recovered. Not that Dean would blame him. Everyone close to him ends up dead or fucked over, so Castiel would be smart to ditch that burning plane while he still can.
"'S okay, Cas. Just sleep," Dean says soothingly. Absently, he notices that one of his hands has threaded in Castiel's hair, stroking softly. He immediately stops but this only elicits a tiny groan of protest from Castiel.
"Keep…doing that," Castiel murmurs. "Feels…nice. Grounding…"
Dean starts stroking his hair again. Castiel lets out a content little sigh and snuggles further into Dean's side and by the time Sam's back with their gas and snacks, Castiel is out like a light again. Dean narrows his eyes at Sam.
"Not one word," he growls. Sam holds his hands up in surrender, lips twitching.
"What?" he says. "It's kinda adorable. You never let me sleep on you like that unless I'm bleeding out."
Dean's stomach does an unpleasant twist. He prays to God that Castiel doesn't have any internal injuries that might be screwing around with his grace; they don't know what tools Naomi uses to torture, or how they affect angels.
"Well, he shouldn't even be sleeping," Dean says, harsher than he intended. Sam grimaces in sympathy and thankfully drops the subject in favour of starting the car.
Though Sam doesn't drive nearly as fast and recklessly as Dean does, he still makes good time in getting them back to the bunker. He parks them in the garage and then comes around the back to help Dean get Castiel out of the car. Dean's tempted to go all Edward Cullen and growl possessively but the rational part of him knows that Sam helping is a good idea. The quicker Castiel is inside, the quicker he can lie down.
"Do you want me to go make up a spare room?" Sam says. He hasn't been looking too good since completing the second trial; his skin is pasty white, his eyes are stuck in a perpetual squint, and he looks like he's going to pass out at any moment.
"Nah, he can sleep in my bed," Dean decides. Not only does he not want Sam to have to expend effort on making up another bed but he wants Castiel close to him, to keep an eye on him (and to indulge his guilty pleasure). He gets the feeling that Castiel wants to be close to him too, judging by how the semi-conscious angel is clinging to him like a baby monkey.
"Okay, then."
Dean eyes Sam, who's staring at him with an unreadable look.
"Oh, come on!" he snarls. "You really think I'd do anything to Cas in this state? I just want him close by in case he starts getting worse and I don't have to keep checking up on him and maybe miss something!"
Sam shrugs guiltily.
"I know you wouldn't do anything to him," he says. "I just hope you're not planning on pushing him away again, because he's getting seriously close right about now."
Dean's stomach does a flip-flop.
"Don't worry," he says firmly. "I ain't going anywhere. I'm not gonna do that to Cas again."
Sam nods in satisfaction. Dean suddenly feels the urge to get one over the tall nerd.
"Go get some shut-eye before you fall over," he says. "You look like shit. That trial took a lot out of you."
Sam gives a sort of shrug and rubs his eyes.
"Yeah. Think I'm gonna go crash…"
Sam strides off towards the hallway. Dean follows, supporting Castiel as best as he can and murmuring soft words of encouragement as he guides the angel towards his room. Once there, he gently deposits Castiel on the bed and then starts to paw at the stupid trench coat he always wears.
"Dean…?" Castiel whispers. Dean kneels to meet his eyes, ignoring how his insides feel like he's stuck in a dropping elevator.
"'S okay, Cas," he says, caressing Castiel's cheek with one hand. "Just trying to make you more comfortable. You'll sleep better without all these layers."
Castiel's glazed blue eyes squint at him for about ten seconds before he finally nods. With the angel's permission, Dean resumes undressing him, stripping him down to his crisp white shirt. He's tempted to take that off too and give Castiel an old T-shirt of his to wear, but he's not sure if he's allowed to see Castiel half-naked yet. And besides, he'd have to do the same to give Castiel some sweatpants, and he's not comfortable seeing Castiel without pants in his vulnerable state. Sam's his brother, so he's never had a problem with that. But Castiel…Castiel's different. He means just as much to Dean but in an entirely different way – a way that's Dean always been terrified of.
After undoing Castiel's blue tie and then stripping off his shoes and socks, leaving the angel in just his white shirt and black slacks, Dean pulls back the covers and gently manhandles Castiel underneath them. Castiel stares up at him through lidded eyes as he tucks the angel in, and then he stands to the side awkwardly.
"Are you…going to get in?" Castiel asks. Dean nearly jumps.
"What? I mean – only if you're comfortable," he says awkwardly. Castiel snorts weakly.
"How else are you –" he yawns, "– how else are you going to monitor me?"
"Smartass," Dean says fondly, rolling his eyes. He makes quick work of stripping off all his layers, feeling Castiel's eyes boring into his back as he does so, before throwing on an old shirt and a pair of sweatpants and climbs into bed beside Castiel. Castiel immediately gravitates to him like a heat-seeking missile, wrapping his arms around Dean's stomach and snuggling into him as closely as possible, nuzzling into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean's stomach is probably in a tighter knot than the Gordian knot.
"Thank you, Dean." Castiel's voice is almost unintelligible. "I lo –"
"Shh," Dean says quickly. He can't hear those words now – not after what Castiel's just been through because of him. "Just sleep. Tell me when you're better."
Castiel huffs quietly but seems to agree, because his chest is rising and falling slowly a few minutes later. Dean stares down at the angel with equal parts adoration and terror, then closes his eyes to try and get some sleep of his own.
Dean had expected it to take days for Castiel to recover, so he's pleasantly surprised when he wakes up and sees sharp, bright blue eyes staring right at him. He's long ago stopped being surprised or startled by this; Castiel's always had this habit of watching him while he sleeps, even though he can't understand why the angel would find him even remotely interesting. Before Dean can think about it, his face splits into a wide grin.
"Hey," he says. He's gifted with a rare, wide smile from Castiel in reply.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel says. He looks completely back to normal; no bloody tears, no ashen face, and no struggling to stay awake. Behind those eyes, Dean can see the alert warrior of God that he'd fallen for and, before he can stop himself, he grabs Castiel's face and pulls him in for…well, he's lost count of what number kiss this is. He's thrilled when Castiel makes a pleased sound and kisses back, wriggling closer until he's practically lying on top of Dean. Dean's expecting a big gay panic over having another man on top of himself but he finds, to his surprise, that he actually likes having Castiel's weight on top of him. It feels like home.
"I'm sorry," Dean says breathlessly when they separate. "I'm so sorry, Cas. I fucked you around and you got caught."
"You were struggling with your emotions, Dean." Castiel reaches out and brushes strands of hair off Dean's forehead. "I should have given you time to come to terms with your feelings."
"But you did. I'm the stupid son of a bitch who kept screwing with your head."
Castiel studies him for a moment. His next words floor Dean.
"I love you, Dean."
Dean gapes. It's not like it's a huge secret, how Castiel feels about him. But it's one thing to have the angel keep getting cut off when he tries to say it, and another to actually hear him say those three words without interruption.
"I –" Dean swallows, working his throat, trying to say those words back, but whatever strength he'd had back in the crypt has abandoned him and he can't seem to force the words out. He groans and tugs at his hair in frustration. "Why can't I fucking say it? I said it before!"
Castiel silences him with a kiss. Dean's really starting to love this new way of communication and he starts to wonder what he has to say in order to get Castiel to shut him up this way.
"It's okay, Dean," Castiel says. "You said it to me once. I don't mind if you never say it again."
But that's not good enough for Dean. He has to show Castiel that he does love him; that he didn't just say those words in the crypt to snap him out of his brainwashing. He might be fucked up enough that he can't say one damn word, but he sure as hell can show Castiel just how he feels.
"I gotta show you," Dean says.
"You don't need to prove anything to me, Dean."
"No, I have to!" Dean presses a wild kiss to Castiel's lips, holding his head in place firmly yet tenderly. "You don't get it, Cas. I've never felt like this for anyone before. Not this strongly, anyway. You – I gotta show you."
Castiel frowns, as though he's deciphering a puzzle. Dean's insides churn nervously when Castiel's eyes light up with understanding.
"Sex," he concludes. Dean gives an uncomfortable shrug.
"Don't have to go for a full-on roll in the sack if you don't want to," he says. "But I wanna at least try and show you how I – how I feel."
Fantastic. He's turning into a fucking chick. This is why Dean Winchester doesn't have 'conversations about feelings'.
"A roll in the sack?" Castiel says in confusion. "Is that a euphemism? There are no sacks in the bunker."
Dean closes his eyes, because Castiel is making this way more difficult than it should be. Even though it'd be way easier to explain this to a human, there's something oddly endearing about how Castiel is so smart, so wise, in nearly everything, and yet the finer points of human society and slang evade him.
"A roll in the sack is sex," Dean explains. Castiel's eyes never leave his; in fact, Dean can practically feel the angel absorbing every little bit of information, keen to learn everything he can about humans and their ways. "Like, full-on sex."
"Intercourse?" Castiel adds. Dean nods and Castiel shakes his head. "It puzzles me why humans cannot simply just say what they mean and why they feel the need to dance around issues."
Dean snorts.
"You don't exactly go around talking about sex," he says. "Bit of discretion, y'know. I forgot you're an innocent little flower."
He grins at Castiel, who narrows his eyes.
"Stop teasing me, Dean, and just show me," Castiel growls. His voice goes straight to Dean's lower regions, sending a spike of heat shooting through him, and before he knows what he's doing, he's kissing Castiel more insistently than any other time they've kissed and the heat that's shooting through him starts to intensify. He'd planned on being a gentleman and taking things slow for Castiel, who's an inexperienced virgin in these matters…but then Castiel's lips part and his tongue darts into Dean's mouth and yep, game fucking over.
"Jesus Christ," Dean gasps when he pulls back for air. Castiel growls again.
"I would appreciate you not talking about my half-brother in bed," he says in a low rumble. Dean grins cheekily up at him.
"Aye aye, captain," the man says. Castiel gives him a long-suffering look.
"You are insufferable."
"And you could be kissing the shit out of me right now."
Castiel shifts to get a better angle as he returns to kissing Dean, but this has the side-effect of grinding their hips together – and not only does this set sparks off in Dean's crotch, but he cops a feel of the bulge in Castiel's pants as well and both of them groan at the sensation. And unless the angel's packing a roll of quarters in his pocket, that's definitely a dick in there. Dean panics for all of two seconds before shoving that little voice of gay panic aside and drawing Castiel back down for another kiss. He's gone through too much to just throw what he's got with Castiel away, and a sexuality crisis isn't going to ruin it.
'Besides, you can like both,' a voice suggests helpfully. Dean shuts it up. He's known about bisexuality for years; known that it's possible to like more than one gender. But accepting that part of him would mean accepting that he's into dick as well as pussy – and between his dad's mindset of 'gay is okay so long as it ain't my boys' and his terrifying feelings for Castiel, it's been easier to just shove that part of him aside and pretend it doesn't exist. But now, with Castiel on top of him and in his mouth and invading his nostrils and just everywhere, he feels like all of those suppressed feelings are rushing out in one wave.
"Dean." Castiel sounds wrecked already. "Can – do you –"
He's fumbling with the waistband of Dean's sweatpants. Grinning, having done this song and dance so many times before, Dean reaches down to help out and raises his hips to let Castiel manhandle him out of his pants and boxers, leaving his swollen cock proudly standing at attention. The way Castiel's staring at it with a gleam in his eye both arouses Dean even more and fills him with anticipation…until he realises that all Castiel is doing is just staring.
"Are you gonna actually touch it?" he bursts out. "I'm not some fancy museum exhibit, Cas. You can touch."
"Beautiful," Castiel murmurs. "Everything about you is."
Dean's cheeks flush and heat up.
"Shut up," he complains, tugging at Castiel's dark slacks to unbutton them. Castiel wriggles out of them once they're undone, leaving him in just plain white boxers, and Dean groans when he sees the obscene tenting going on in the middle of the circus.
"Son of a bitch." He reaches out and runs his hands over the bulge. Castiel lets out a soft sound and arches into Dean's touch and so, encouraged by this, Dean squeezes. This makes Castiel actually cry out.
"Dean!"
"Shit, if you told me I'd be touching another guy's dick, I'd have punched your lights out." He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of Castiel's boxers and tugs them off, Castiel clumsily trying to help, and then wraps a leg around Castiel's waist and pulls him down. He groans again at the sharp sensations that spike in his aching cock but Castiel – little innocent Castiel – has clearly never done this before and he gasps and starts to grind down feverishly.
"Oh, God," Dean chokes. Castiel doesn't even reprimand him on using God's name in vain; instead, he's too focused on rubbing his pelvis against Dean's as hard and fast as he can, letting out small whimpers and pants which graduate into long, low moans when Dean starts to thrust back.
"Dean," Castiel nearly sobs. "Dean, I don't – these sensations are so strong –" He thrusts harder, burying his face in Dean's shoulder and sinking his teeth into the flesh there. Dean hisses and grabs handfuls of Castiel's ass to squeeze, trying to deal with just how freaking overwhelming everything is. Yeah, sex has always felt amazing, but it's never felt like this before. He's never felt so strongly for his partner before. Even with Cassie, who he'd been in love with, it hadn't felt this intense!
"Feels, good, right?" Dean pants. There's heat starting to pool in his stomach and his spine's starting to tingle and he's no longer got control over his own body. He's on autopilot, rutting up against Castiel as hard as he can, desperately seeking that finish with the angel. They're coming up to a cliff fast and instead of being terrified of the fall, he wants to fling himself right off with Castiel and let the angel catch him – because Castiel is one of the only people he trusts to do so.
"Deeeean!" Castiel whines. "I – I feel so strange!"
"Yeah?" Dean bites his lip, moving one hand from Castiel's ass to grab a large fistful of the angel's dark hair and making him gasp in shock when his hair is pulled sharply. "How?"
"I – it's so hot." Castiel's wrecked voice is full of wonder. "So hot and – and bright. Dean – please, I can't – I want to –"
He stiffens. Dean only has a moment's warning before Castiel's crying a muffled, "Deeeeeeeeaaaan!" into his shoulder and coming, spurting white ropes all over Dean. This does it for Dean and he grunts as he comes too, digging his fingers into Castiel's scalp and the flesh of his ass and arching up. He sinks back into the bed once his orgasm fades, with his muscles feeling like jelly and with Castiel's weight nicely settled on him.
They lie in silence together, panting and gasping and trying to catch their breaths. Dean's running his fingers through Castiel's dark, sweaty hair, almost cradling his head, while his other hand strokes up and down Castiel's back. Castiel, it seems, is too exhausted to do anything except lie in Dean's arms and nuzzle into his neck, pressing sweet little kisses to his skin.
"That was amazing," Castiel finally breathes. "I felt it, Dean. I felt your love. Now I see why people enjoy this act so much."
Dean looks down and a swooping sensation forms in his gut when he sees lidded eyes staring back at him. Only this time, the glazed blue isn't from torture but from pleasure, and it fills Dean with pride to be the reason for Castiel feeling so good right now. After all the shit Castiel's been through, he deserves this; he deserves to feel loved.
"Dude, that's not even the best part," Dean grins dopily, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on Castiel's forehead. "Trust me, sex gets way better than that."
Castiel sighs happily and slides off Dean so that he can snuggle into the man's side. They're both still wearing their shirts, which are now streaked with come, but as Dean pulls the covers up over their bodies and holds his angel close to him, he can't find it in himself to care.
"I love you, Dean," Castiel says with another happy sigh. Dean's arms tighten around him. Why had he denied himself this? Why had he been so hung up on keeping Castiel away? It's probably just the post-orgasm endorphins talking, but he can't for the life of him remember why he was so insistent on keeping Castiel at arm's length when he could have been making the angel – his angel – this damn happy.
"Same here, angel."