Dean lounged on his bed with a case of beer on the nightstand, flipping through a lore book he'd found on foreign mythological creatures. They were a rare occurrence in their line of work, but all the knowledge they could get their hands on meant a greater chance of survival. And without Bobby around, the bunker's libraries were their first stop for information most days. The foreign lore was always interesting at least, less about chopping heads or stabbing with silver and more burning with consecrated fires, or following complex rituals that apparently stripped the powers from whatever it was being hunted.

He glanced up as his door opened, instantly distracted by the sight of Cas fresh from the shower, - not that he needed showers - his hair still damp, water dripping off the strands and onto one of Dean's shirts. His eyes wandered as he closed the book, noting Cas was wearing a pair of his sweats, too. The new ones he'd bought because they were soft as fuck and if he wasn't sleeping in his jeans, he was sure as hell going to be comfortable.

Cas set his folded clothes on the desk before turning to the bed, pausing as he caught Dean's eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Dean cleared his throat, taking a drink of his beer and pushing the book aside. He tried to look away, but his eyes had a mind of their own and wouldn't be denied the hot-as-fuck sight of Cas in his clothes for more than a few moments.

Cas didn't look convinced, but he didn't say anything more, glancing at the bed and lingering near the desk.

Dean knew that look, the uncertain 'I don't know what to do' look. It had annoyed him more times than he could count, but this time was different. He set his empty bottle aside and grabbed a fresh one, holding it out to Cas. When he'd taken it, he curled his fingers around Cas' wrist and looked up at him. "You sure about this?" he asked, voice quiet, and maybe he was just a bit uncertain himself.

Cas glanced from the bottle to the fingers then up at Dean with a tilt of his head. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Dean snorted and let his head rest against the edge of the shelf behind his bed. "I'm the one who suggested this." He still had doubts this was a smart thing to do, but, fantasies aside, if there was any male he trusted enough to actually have sex with, it was Cas.

Cas set the beer aside without opening it and climbed onto the bed, settling on his knees between Dean's legs and leaning forward, resting his hands near Dean's hips. "Are you sure about this, Dean?"

"Yeah." Dean cleared his throat again and tried once more, without the hitch in his voice. "Yeah, I'm sure." He wasn't, but he was sure enough he wasn't going to call it off. Not when he'd been thinking about this since Sam had sent them off alone on that one hunt and they'd ended up sharing a bed. Nothing had happened; they'd talked and tiptoed around subjects better left untouched before he slept and woke to find Cas had quite literally watched him sleep the entire time.

His fingers slid up Cas' arm, eyes straying to the angel's lips before closing the distance between them. Cas' lips were chapped and rough, but they parted easily when he nudged his tongue against them. He delved past them, groaning in the back of his throat as Cas returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Nerves bunched in his stomach as it sank in he was really doing this, after years of going only after women because being with a man meant the possibility of being vulnerable or exploited, of being less of a man or less of the soldier his father had raised him to be.

But this was Cas. He trusted him, even after all they'd been through - the doubts and betrayals and sheer fuckups. They were family. If he and Sam could get over all the shit between them, he and Cas could, too, because only family would do that for each other.

Due to NC17 rating, the rest can be read here