So here Dean is, staring at the man that he's desperately trying to convince himself is his ex, who's standing in the dusty parking lot of a run-down bar in Kansas, looking for all the world like he's just stepped out of an opera hall.

Dean crosses his arms, fighting the urge to go to him. "What are you doing here, Cas?"

Cas is actually, literally wringing his hands, which not only has Dean never seen, but is a nervous habit. Dean can't remember a time when Cas was nervous. Why would he be now?

Unless…

"I'm sorry," Cas says frankly. "I'm an asshole."

He's no longer wringing his hands, instead they're spread wide in supplication, and Dean is dizzy. Dizzy because something painful and tight in his chest that has remain unacknowledged for a week has finally released its hold on him. Released its hold on him because it's starting to dawn on Dean that this might not be over, after all.

"It's… All right," he breathes out as he starts down the first stair, the first step to being on level footing with the person he's kinda always known is the love of his life. "I overreacted."

"Maybe to the moment," Cas admits with a wry smile, "but not to the sentiment." Cas takes a deep breath and looks away, like he's nervous again, and it really is starting to occur to Dean that, against all odds, maybe he is as important to Cas as Cas himself is to Dean.

"Dean, you are so… Secure, within yourself. Your accomplishments, your employment, your education level. I have never looked down on you, but I have been almost unbearably envious of you. I… I am not secure, I am constantly fighting to make myself better. Not because I believe in that, necessarily, but because I do not believe I am good enough."

Dean feels like he's gotten a ton of bricks dropped onto his head. "Cas…" he whispers, pained.

"And when you said that you couldn't afford school, I was so… Relieved, that you had something you wanted to work on, that I completely ignored the first part of what you said. I was so excited to help you do this thing, to help you… Advance," (and the disgust in his voice is entirely turned inward, letting Dean know without saying it out loud that it is a thought that Cas is disappointed in himself for having) "that it never occurred to me that you were just… That you are perfect the way you are, still, and that I should have kept my fucking mouth shut."

Cas looks so vulnerable when he meets Dean's gaze again, he looks so young and wanting and sorry that Dean's throat closes up a little. "Cas, we don't gotta do this in public," he says hoarsely, coming down another step, another bit closer to Cas.

"We fought about it in public, and we will reconcile in public," Cas says easily, like he's not baring everything out here, like he's not laying it all out on the gravel for anyone to see.

"Cas…"

"I quit my job at the firm." Cas says it quickly, like he wants to get it out, like ripping a Band-Aid off.

Dean's mouth actually drops open. "What?"

"It's… The job is more corporate than anything. I've spoken to a few of the others, Inias and Hester, mostly, and we're going to open our own firm. It will be…" He runs a hand through his hair, disheveling it more, distracting as hell. "It will be significantly less money, and longer hours, which means that I will have less time to spend with you, but we'll be able to really start helping people on our own terms." He takes a deep breath and looks up at Dean again. "I think it's about time I start bettering myself for real."

"Cas."

Just as Dean steps down to the gravel, Cas drops gracefully to his knees, his (probably exceedingly expensive) pants getting dusty and wrinkled as he stares up adoringly at Dean.

"I'm sorry," he says again, his ridiculous diesel engine of a voice low and sincere, "I don't know if this makes up for anything, or if it even comes close to it, but I'm sorry. I'm an asshole."

Dean doesn't even really have to think about the decision to fall (less gracefully) to his own knees in front of Cas. He cradles his boyfriend's (he was never an ex, not for real) face in his hands. "No, Cas. I was… Overreacting. I was still a little weird after lunch with Mom, and I shouldn't have yelled at you." He takes a chance and leans forward to peck Cas on the lips. "I'm sorry, I'm kind of an asshole, too."

Cas lets his eyes fall closed and presses his forehead to Dean's, his hands landing on Dean's hips. "It's okay, I think I started it."

They stay there, silent, for a few more moments, just soaking one another in, readjusting to the other's breath and heartbeat and warmth.

When Dean meets Cas' eyes again, a spark of heat sets off low in his belly. Whether they were fighting or not, Dean craves Cas, and nothing about that changed in the week they were apart. His head might have been angry, but his dick never got the memo, and he sees an answering warmth in Cas' eyes.

"Cas," he whispers, voice rough for a different reason. "We should go back to your place."

"No," Cas says, his voice deep and just authority-laden enough to make Dean feel all twisty and hot inside. "No," he says again, moving until his lips are brushing Dean's ear. "You will finish your shift, and then you will meet me at your house, and you will let me finish making this up to you. Am I clear?"

Dean shudders, letting his eyes close again. "Y… Yeah. Okay."

The feel of Cas smiling wickedly against his cheek makes Dean whimper softly. "Good."

(Understandably) Dean's shift seems to both speed by and go approximately the rate of molasses. He's distracted as hell, but since the "reconciliation" was public, everyone knows why. Ellen seems to have to suppress a smile every time she walks by, Jo doesn't bother suppressing anything, and Ash winks every time his eyes meet Dean's.

It's obnoxious, but Dean gets it. He got it when they were trying to be supportive in the aftermath of It, and he understands why they're excited now. He doesn't know why everyone is so invested in he and Cas, but he's not examining anything right now. He's just rolling with the punches so he can get home to Cas.

And if the phrase, "get home to Cas," makes him giddy enough to rival any high schooler talking about her crush, then he has enough wherewithal to keep that to his damn self.

Cas is on him as soon as he gets through the door.

Dean's shoved into a wall, gasping when Cas' mouth descends on his, kissing him brutally, ravenously, possessively.

"Did you clean the place with a toothbrush?" Cas snarls between biting kisses, his hands hard on Dean's hips.

Dean is already panting, which would be almost embarrassing if Cas wasn't like some sort of avenging sex god right now, all glowing blue eyes and wild hair and big hands gripping him. "My concentration was shot, thanks to someone," he snipes back, a bit too breathlessly to be truly snarky.

Cas grins, and it's almost feral in the darkness of Dean's front hallway. "Good."

Dean finds himself manhandled into the back bedroom, which he is more than okay with. He's laughing softly at Cas' insistence, which does not seem to leave Cas any less intent to mark him up, leaving biting, bruising kisses up and down his neck as he walks Dean backwards into his bedroom.

When the backs of his knees finally hit the bed, Cas pushes him down onto it and stands over him, imperious and sexy and commanding all at once, and the last of Dean's breath goes whooshing right out of his lungs at the sight, the sight of the man he loves so much standing in the moonlight.

Cas kneels and starts unlacing Dean's boots. When Dean sits up to help, he gets pushed back onto the bed and is greeted with a pointed finger and a cocked eyebrow.

"Don't move," Cas intones, his low voice lower than usual with want and emotion. "I'm making this up to you."

Dean frowns. "Cas, babe, you don't have to-"

"I know," Cas says, and there is the gentleness Dean also loves. The gentleness that is in Cas when they went to that goddamn beehive and he gently guided the little creatures away from him, the gentleness that is in Cas when he holds his niece, Michael's two-year-old. The gentleness that is just as much of Cas as the fierceness is. "I want to."

Dean stares at him for a moment, then swallows hard, nods, and lays back down to let Cas do what he will (although, it's worth mentioning that Cas pretty much does what he will every time, anyway).

Cas pulls Dean's boots and socks off, and contrary to his usual method of placing them somewhere neatly, he tosses them across the room like Dean usually does, a testament to how little he cares about anything but Dean right now.

Cas raises Dean's left foot and gently places a kiss on the top of it, then does the same with his right. Dean blushes and opens his mouth to protest, but is cut off before he can.

"I know you think you smell when you get home, and I suppose it is stronger, but it just smells like you, and I have never been able to get enough of it."

He stands, then, and reaches to pull Dean into sitting up so he can tug his jacket and flannel off. He gently runs his hands through Dean's hair and tugs his head back so he can bend and kiss him gently. "You're so gorgeous all the time," and now there's a bit of a pout in Cas' voice. "It's not fair to the rest of us mere mortals. Who gave you the right to be so goddamn perfect?"

Dean just grins and winks, to which Cas grins back and kisses him again, harder. Dean knows now that he's not supposed to talk, that this is how Cas is making up for the things he feels guilty for. Dean figures he'll have time to make up for his own guilt later.

Cas reaches down and tugs Dean's shirt off, pushes Dean back to lying down, then stands back and admires Dean in the moonlight shining in through the bedroom window. "Just incredible," he murmurs, those eyes glowing with lust and pleasure. "Have I ever told you how much I love your shoulders, your chest, your arms? The muscle you carry, it doesn't come from a gym, it comes from work. It comes from caring for yourself, and it's incredible."

Dean blushes at the sincere admiration in Cas' voice, but keeps his mouth shut.

Cas makes quick work of his belt and his jeans, then hooks his hands into them and his boxers and pulls everything down all at once. The sudden complete exposure makes Dean shudder in delight, and as soon as he's able, he spreads his legs a bit, so Cas can see everything. He can see, when he sits back up to survey him, how Dean is hard and leaking already, see the blatant invitation in the way Dean's legs are open for him.

Cas hums in appreciation and runs his hands up Dean's shins to his knees, then sets his legs open wider. Dean's realizing that Cas is still dressed completely, still covered in his tux (which he now understands was put on specifically to apologize to him). Somehow, the fact that he's laid bare and Cas is still covered just adds to the urgency in him, the heat beating in irreversible pattern in his veins. He whimpers.

"I've always loved your legs, too," Cas murmurs, ignoring Dean's wordless begging. "I know you're self-conscious, sometimes, about the way they bow, but I think it's inexplicably charming." He places a kiss on the inside of one knee, then the other, and Dean's blushing again, both from arousal and bashfulness.

"Cas," he rasps, "please."

"Of course, dearest," Cas says easily, like it's the most obvious thing in the world that he was about to get the show on the road. He reaches beneath Dean's bed where he knows Dean keeps the lube and condoms in a shoebox (yeah, yeah, Dean's old enough to put it in a nightstand drawer, but his mother stays at his house sometimes, Jesus). He hears the snick of the bottle of lube, then only feels the heat of Cas' mouth as he swallows him whole, goddamn, and the cold press of a finger to his rim.

"Fuck!" he cries out, fighting not to thrust into Cas' mouth, which he knows was the plan, the bastard. "Christ, Cas, Jesus fuck, baby-"

Dean babbles helplessly as Cas blows him, lips stretched around him and sucking just hard enough to bring Dean to the edge. When he gathers his wits enough to look down, the sight of Cas, beautiful suit and all, with Dean sliding in and out of his mouth as he preps him, is so obscene Dean has to start naming engine components not to come right then and there.

He's so invested in Cas' mouth that he barely notices when Cas has his finger in him, much less when he adds a second or third. All Dean knows, all he's able to know, is that when he thrusts up, he's in Cas' mouth, and when he bucks downward, Cas is spearing him open, scissoring and stretching him.

"Cas, please, please, please, I wanna come with you inside me," Dean begs, fingers tugging fruitlessly at Cas' dark hair. "Please, sweetheart." Still babbling.

Cas pulls off of Dean's cock with a ridiculously carnal pop! His lips are swollen, almost purple in the moonlight, and Dean can't take his eyes off of him when he grins salaciously. "Of course, dearest," he repeats, like he hasn't driven Dean 'round the bend before he's even taken his fucking jacket off.

"Cas," Dean whines, and Cas finally relents.

He strips too quickly for it to be a real tease, but Dean lies back and enjoys the show (without touching himself, because he knows that he's about to go off like a goddamn rocket). Cas doesn't even seem to care about his own clothes, just tosses them on the floor next to Dean's dirty work clothes, and somehow the sight is both really, really sexy and manages to warm something deep within Dean. It looks right.

Once Cas is finally naked, he bends to get a condom, then manhandles Dean again further up on the bed so he can kneel between his spread legs as he rolls the condom on.

And it's here, in the slope of Cas' body as he stands on his knees between Dean's legs, that Dean can see some of the punk kid that Gabe swears was real and Cas swears that Gabe exaggerates. It's there in the insolent set of his hips, the dark ink below his ribcage in Enochian (It's the language of the angels, and they wanted angels when they named us, so here we are."), the leanness of his entire torso, the healed piercings in his eyebrow and ears. It's incredibly sexy to know that this rebel is buried beneath Cas' respectable lawyer exterior.

Once Cas is ready, he tucks his arms beneath Dean's knees and gently adjusts him so he's open and almost helpless against Cas' gaze. He knows his hole is red and swollen and slick, much like his cock, and Dean's eyes roll back in his head a little as Cas surveys him patiently, apparently committing him to memory.

"Cas, god dammit, please, sweetheart, I'm dyin' over here, I need you-"

Some of Dean's begging finally seems to sink into Cas' head. He leans forward to press a gentle kiss to Dean's mouth, effectively bending him in half (lucky for Dean, eight months of athletic sex with Cas have allowed him to be in this position without discomfort). Dean winds his arms around his boyfriend's neck to keep him here, to keep him pressed against him, hot skin to hot skin, and whines deep in the back of his throat.

"I love you," Cas murmurs into his mouth, never really stopping the kiss, just speaking low and reassuring through it. "I love you so much, and you are enough, more than enough, you are everything I've ever fucking wanted. I'm so sorry, dearest, I love you."

The combination of Cas cursing (which always turns Dean on in bed) and the endearment he only really calls Dean when they're alone or in bed (also a turn on, though a more surprising one) has Dean writhing a bit, wishing he had more leverage to fuck himself on Cas' cock. As it is, all he can do is beg. "I love you, too, it's okay, please, baby-"

Cas finally, finally, finally starts to sink into Dean, stealing his breath again and making him shudder with the feeling. Cas is, ahem, gifted in the cock department, and it always feels like Dean is being impaled, split wide open, never-gonna-recover spread for Cas.

He loves it.

He groans, long and loud, into Cas' mouth, shuddering uncontrollably. This isn't going to last long. Cas seems to feel the same way. He readjusts his grip so his hands are on Dean's hips, bruisingly hard, and he picks up a slow, steady, absolutely devastating pace.

It's only a short time before Dean's chest is heaving, trying to haul breath into his lungs as Cas slowly but surely drives him completely batshit insane. Dean is writhing in his hold again, but Cas is deceptively strong for a nerdy lawyer and holds him fast, not letting him hurry this along or rush Cas' process.

The only thing he does do is let Dean continue to beg and babble, moaning and whimpering when Cas starts to tag his prostate, bringing tears to Dean's eyes and making his head thrash side to side, completely overwhelmed by everything that is Castiel.

The sparkly heat at the base of Dean's spine is starting to climb up his back and down his legs, starting to make him tighten in pleasure as his orgasm builds. "Cas," he gasps, as coherent as a warning as he can give right now.

Cas smiles against his sweaty temple. Cas is also covered in a fine sheen, the only real sign that he's as affected as Dean is, the only way his body betrays how totally wrecked he is.

"Go ahead, dearest, come on my cock," he hisses into Dean's ear, and that's it, that's all she wrote, Dean is done. Dean tilts his head back and wails as his orgasm washes over him, blacking out his vision and painting both he and Cas' chest in thick ropes of white. He's barely conscious of Cas' thrusts speeding up and getting harder, but he's very aware of when, just a few moments after he goes over himself, Cas tilts over the edge and stiffens, pumping the condom full and trembling in Dean's arms.

When Cas collapses on him, letting his legs fall open limp, the mess between them is the furthest thing from Dean's mind. He holds his boyfriend close, pressing a kiss to the damp, dark hair on the top of Cas' head. "I love you," he whispers roughly, before he's even caught his breath.

Cas nuzzles his chest. "I love you, too, Dean."

They're gonna be all right.

- Feedback gets my motor running.