Chapter 30! I never ever imagined that this fic would be so endlessly long, but here we are. Thank you all SO MUCH for your support and encouragement, undoubtedly the reason I'm still writing this. And to celebrate...
DEAN POV DEAN POV DEAN POV!
Yes bitches, I have answered your ill-advised prayers (OK I only got like 2 requests but still) and given a Dean POV chapter my best shot. The good news is, it's double length because I had a lot of catching up to do on Dean's ever fucked up mental state. The bad news is - as I have repeatedly warned you all - I can't write Dean for shit. So enjoy this rambling travesty and rest assured that I'm getting back to safer territory (Cas POV) next chapter. I actually had a lot of fun writing this. There is some smut and it's not beta'd this time, which was probably unwise as the lovely Alicemurdock is the reason the smut so far has been readable. But I felt weirdly confident about it? Mistakes were probably made. Oh well. Also, I know literally nothing about guns and it probably shows.
I've been reading basically all of the work of Unforth on AO3 and it's all SO GOOD check it out.
How did we feel about 12x02? I think I liked it overall but I had a lot of issues with it. It was Buckleming after all. Ugh.

It's been three days since Cas and I agreed on our dumbass plan, and it's another two days before the scheduled 'break up'. A morning quarrel, he thinks, with him storming out and me telling the cover story to Sam and Kevin over breakfast. He can sneak a bag into the Impala the night before. For a guy who pretty much flips between the same three facial expressions, Cas has a real dramatic streak.

The whole thing is insane. Like, even more insane than our usual crap.

And yeah, obviously even a fake break up is not ideal at this point. For fuck's sake, I'm still working on not being terrified of how utterly non-platonic my feelings for Cas are. I'm still a way off from being actually comfortable that Castiel, former angel of the Lord, is my boyfriend - wow, OK, nope, never using that word again - but I'm getting there. I've been doing great. If Ezekiel could have just stowed his villainous crap for a bit longer and given Cas and me some time… but no. This is my life.

I'm wondering, as I watch Cas sleeping soundly on my chest - looking ironically angelic - whether this has all been as big of a mistake as I always suspected it would be. Because, look, I'm not a total moron. I've been painfully aware of my not-so-little crush on Cas for years, but I've always stayed wrapped up in reasons not to do anything about it. The most obvious one being that Cas might not have felt the same way. Yeah, in hindsight it's been pretty clear from the start that he does, but still. Secondly, having spent most of my life steadfastly denying any attraction to dudes, suddenly giving in and jumping Cas was a lot for my pride to take. Still is, dumb as it seems. But the most important reason to keep my silence was the one that still causes doubt in me now.

It could all go wrong, and I could lose him.

Losing Cas has always been an especially shitty experience, which is saying something considering my list of shitty experiences includes several decades in actual Hell. When Cas isn't around nothing is OK, and seeing him happy makes me happy. Properly happy, like normal people get to be. But there's the catch. My goodie bag of issues or my curse or my karmic debt, or whatever the fuck is so deeply wrong with me, is always lurking in the background and it's hard to believe that I could have this. That I could shrug and accept how I feel about Cas and casually admit that we make each other happy and just expect nothing to go sour. It seems real unlikely, and ruining whatever tense friendship I had with Cas was never a risk I was brave enough to take. Because it would go wrong. It always does.

Things would have carried on that way, too. I was all set to just keep on needing more from Cas - more time and more contact and more fleeting glimpses of real contentment - but to stay comfortably in my tried-and-true denial. But then he fell and became human and suddenly he was everywhere, all the time, so soft and new and fucking tempting. In the end, I had to admit to myself that it was obviously gonna happen and I was doing more harm than good by pretending otherwise; I was no longer preserving or protecting anything with my stubbornness. Plus, literally everything he does is insanely attractive. It's not natural.

So here we are, finally having stumbled into loving each other without lying about it, and I'm working so fucking hard on accepting the situation as a good thing rather than a slippery slope to catastrophe. And now we have to break up. It doesn't matter how fake it is, part of me still wants to punch something at the predictable unfairness. It's such bullshit, though. Cas is rushing off to play the hero, putting his newly vulnerable self into clear danger, and there's not a part of me that can really consider going with him because Sam really does always come first. And Cas actually is fine with that, because he's so damn perfect. Angels really are dicks. Metatron for being the biggest douche to ever douche, Ezekiel for lying through my brother's teeth and Cas for making it impossible to stay legitimately angry at him because he's the best person in the universe. Although actually, I need to stop thinking of Cas as still being an angel. He's not.

And there's another problem, like I have some sort of fucking quota to fill, of bullshit to stay awake at night fretting over. Cas is human, and he doesn't want to be. Of course he doesn't want to be, it's miserable. But what's really shit, what really pinches at me in the back of my mind when I'm quiet like this… is that I do want him to be. I'm glad he fell. Not glad that it hurt him, but glad that it tethered him. He's stuck down here, and it's a new low that I want to keep him that way, caged up with me, but I fucking well do. I might not have ripped off his wings and taken his grace away but I'm reaping the rewards just as surely as if I had. I might as well send Metatron a damn gift hamper.

And now he wants to go after Metatron, because of course being human sucks and he misses his angel freedom and he's determined and badass enough that he'll probably end up getting his grace back, or finding another way to reverse the fall. And then he'll leave, because Cas always leaves. He's getting all domestic now, thinking that he's trapped in a mortal existence, but once he gets his wings back he can fly away and what's to stop him? Me? What right do I have? Why should he have to stay with me?

Cas snuffles a little in his sleep and I tighten my arms around him, petulant. He loves me, weirdo that he is. If I wasn't such a fuck-up I could just trust in that and not be so selfish.

The bleak, anxious thoughts fade into grey dreams at some point and I wake up a few hours later, just as tired as when I fell asleep. I switch on the lamp and check the time; almost eight in the morning. Cas is snoring softly beside me, on his back, inelegant and kinda cute. It's still pretty funny to see him like this. I lean over him, amused as he exhales and I wrinkle my nose at his sleep-sour breath. It might be mean of me but watching Cas have to deal with the ugly reality of mortal life has turned out to be both hilarious and oddly comforting. It makes me feel close to him. Finally, I understand how he's experiencing the world. When he was an angel it was all mysterious celestial crap that made me feel like a glorified ape.

"I love you," I murmur, eyes trailing over his face. He slumbers on and I grin, rolling away to get out of bed and stretch. I've formed a bad habit of admitting it to him in his sleep, like the emotionally stunted creep that I am. I get a weird kick out of finally saying it out loud but the idea of him hearing it is still a bit too much to contemplate. I'll screw up at some point and he'll catch me. It doesn't matter anyway, he knows by now how I feel about him. I hope.

Throwing on my robe - Cas and I slept in just our underpants last night and I'm thinking that should become a regular thing, or maybe we could lose the underwear too - I leave Cas to his 'healthy amount of sleep' and wander to the kitchen, blearily imagining how great my coffee is going to taste. Sam is already up, of course, freshly showered after his six o'clock run, sipping at his home-made smoothie. Fucking freak. I ruffle his damp hair as I walk past and smile serenely at his pissy swearing. We chat aimlessly about guns or something as I make my coffee and cereal but he's eyeing me speculatively as I settle at the table.

"So how are things with Cas?" he ventures after I've taken a nice deep gulp of caffeine. I roll my eyes at him.

"You asked me that yesterday, dude. Answer's still the same. Things are good."

I heave a slow sigh. "Can you get some flashcards or something? So you don't lose your voice repeating yourself every time we have a damn conversation."

"Piss off, jerk."

I grin at him over the rim of my mug. "Bitch."

Cas wanders in at that moment, a vision in pinstriped boxers and the old Metallica shirt, hair absolutely insane and eyes unfocused. I always got a bit preoccupied with his hair even when it was relatively constant and neat, presumably kept in check by his grace. But since he's been human I've formed some kind of fixation on it. I can't keep my hands out of it when we're alone. It just looks really, really good messed up. Plus, there are some fun ways to get it looking that way.

"Is there coffee?" Cas yawns, running his fingers through the sex hair in an annoyingly sexy way. I scowl at him, which is unfair but he doesn't seem bothered.

I must scowl a lot. Figures.

"Yeah, in the pot," I mumble, turning my attention back to Sam, who's checking his phone. "Sammy, any plans today?"

Sam glances up. "Not really, why?"

I shrug, wondering how long I can keep tabs on Sam's every movement before he or Ezekiel suspect something. "Just hanging out in the bunker?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Probably gonna help Kevin with his translations today. You?"

"Not too much, got some more training planned with Cas." I've been throwing all sorts of training at Cas, mostly drilling him on incantations and creature lore, although he's already pretty clued in. But it's past time to work on his shooting. He's not too experienced with guns. "Is the firing range unlocked?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Cas sits heavily beside me, eyes closed as he sips at his sweetened black coffee and bites at a piece of toast with peanut butter and jelly. My gaze catches on where his boxers have bunched up a bit on one leg, exposing a lot of gold-skinned thigh. I've only very recently started to appreciate Cas's legs. I knew he had a decent sort of body from early on, from way too much 'casual' observation and that time he made me carve a banishing sigil onto his chest like the lunatic he is. But the ever-present layers of clothes left me with the impression that he was, if not skinny, certainly quite slim and rangy. And I'm tall, so I never really noticed that Cas is tall too, because he's still shorter than me. I always thought he was cute. A cute little guy.

But Kevin was right, Cas is kinda buff. He's a couple of abs short of being a damn underwear model. He's actually about the same size and build as me, except hotter. It's been a nice surprise, because I was already totally hung up on the slender little Cas in my head. Real Cas has eye-catching biceps and a defined chest and edible hipbones and thickly muscled thighs that look way better in jeans than they ever did in business slacks. I haven't really had a chance to check out his bare ass properly yet, but I'm willing to bet I'll like it.

I realise that I've been staring, not quite drooling but damn close, and I look up to see that Sam is smirking at me. I mouth at him to fuck off and the smirk deepens. Right, time to go then. I spoon up the last of my cereal and gulp it down quickly.

"OK Cas, meet me at the firing range in twenty minutes, alright?" I say loudly, pushing back from the table. Cas smiles and nods, looking more awake. I wash my breakfast things before leaving the room, not bothering to say anything more as Sam and Cas are already exchanging small talk about the weather. Losers.

I get changed and brush my teeth, examining my shadowed eyes in the bathroom mirror. I look tired. I feel tired. This entire situation with Ezekiel is so damn tiring. I just want Sam to be safe and Cas to be staying, but until we get another angel into Sam neither of those things can happen.

I go to the firing range and set up, laying out guns and ammo, whistling tunelessly. Chances are Cas will be awesome at this too. For someone who's constantly lamenting the loss of his angel superpowers, the guy is freakishly good at everything he attempts. Sam taught him to make pancakes and within fifteen minutes Cas had produced a neat pile of perfect crepes. I am definitely training him up to make pie.

"Hello, Dean."

I wheel around, grinning at the familiar greeting. "Hey, Cas. Ready to shoot?"

He comes to a halt beside me, peering at the targets with keen interest. He's fully dressed and seems to have combed his hair, which is a shame really. "I think so."

"OK," I say, picking up a nice little easily concealed handgun, probably the exact one that I'll be sending Cas off with. "Here's your weapon. We need to load it first…"

I take Cas through the basics, droning on, paraphrasing the same speech that Dad gave me in elementary school. He nods seriously and frowns in concentration and handles the gun with care, those long fingers steady and gentle. Shit, Cas has nice hands. I clap him on the shoulder, point at the target and cheerfully tell him to go ahead and blow its brains out. He hesitates before lifting the gun one-handed and pointing it vaguely at the target's head, frowning. I snort. What a dork.

"Wow, OK, I clearly need to spend more time talking about a little thing called 'aim'. Although it's kinda hard to explain it, you do have to sorta work it out for yourself. Here-"

And yeah, it's a cliche and I probably should have realised that, but I'm honestly just trying to be a good teacher when I step up close behind him. He freezes and then relaxes as I lightly guide his arms so that he's holding the gun with two hands, shaping my own fingers around them. My chin is almost on his shoulder, my cheek pressed to his ear as I line up the target and then adjust the angle slightly for Cas. It's tricky to concentrate much draped all over Cas with his hair smelling like my own fucking shampoo but I'm a professional, god damn it.

"Exhale as you squeeze the trigger," I murmur in his ear, feeling a bit light-headed and a lot like I've slipped into some cheesy novel or TV show. Shit, there actually was a scene like this in Dr Sexy, just with a scalpel instead of a gun.

"OK," he breathes, and I'm so distracted by how close my lips are to his skin and how well the curve of his ass fits against me that I jump badly when the gun goes off. I look to the target, heart hammering, and see that there's a neat new bullet hole right next to the dummy's nose. Of course. Perfect.

"Nice," I say dryly, softening my tone by squeezing Cas's hands where they're still cradled in mine. I nose affectionately at his cheek and I can feel him smiling, the smug bastard.

"I don't know, I'm a little too far to the right."

"Shoot again then," I mumble, trailing my fingertips up his sleeves and then dropping my hands from his elbows to his waist, pulling him more securely against me and watching his hands tremble slightly around the gun. This time I don't flinch when it goes off, although he does. The shot whizzes over the top of the target's head and I tut in Cas's ear, amused.

"First one might have been a fluke," I say softly. "Concentrate, don't get cocky."

He sighs in an irritated sort of way and I hide my smile against his neck, hearing the gun go off again a moment later. I know before I look that he's aimed well again, purely from his triumphant little sound and the way he leans lazily back against me. I need to keep an eye on his damn ego.

"Still a bit skewed to the right," I mutter pettily. Cas has shot the target directly through the right eye. He snorts lightly and I rub absently at his taut sides, thumbing at his ribcage through the double layer of his shirts. It's still so good to see him in relaxed and familiar clothes, like he's donned the Winchester uniform. It suits him, although I do still daydream about that tie sometimes. He takes a deep breath, clearly about to shoot again, and I grin to myself.

"Go on," I breathe encouragingly in his ear, following it up with an open-mouthed kiss to the skin beneath. He shivers and shoots and when I glance up, he's shot the target in the shoulder. I try not to laugh. Cas huffs in annoyance.

"Dean, would you mind-"

"Gotta be able to shoot in all sorts of circumstances, Cas," I interrupt innocently. His jaw twitches and I kiss it happily, wondering if I can get him to properly miss the target again. It'd do him good to have to work hard at this. I'm doing him a favour, really.

"Fine," he sighs, adjusting his feet a little and inhaling slowly. I slip my hands under his shirt, running my fingertips across his hipbones, subtly tugging him back so he can feel beyond doubt that I'm sporting a semi. For good measure, I lick along the shell of his ear, breathing hotly against the skin. Cas makes a wounded little sound just before he shoots that I am instantly fucking interested in hearing again. When I check a moment later, he's completely missed. I actually do chuckle this time.

"Oh, dear," I purr between kisses to his neck. I've pushed my hands up under his shirt properly now and I stroke just below his nipples, not quite getting there. He tips his head back onto my shoulder, breathing heavily, lowering the gun. I'm flattered that he's more interested in me than in winning whatever game we're playing, but I'm also not done having fun with this because I'm clearly an absolute little shit. I whip my hands out from under his shirt, guiding his grip on the gun back up at the target, resting my chin on his shoulder.

"Come on, Cas," I whisper. "You can do better than that."

He's still and silent for a moment but then he exhales through his nose and lifts his hands from mine, settling back into a ready stance.

"I really doubt you've ever had to shoot anything under quite these circumstances," he says snippily, eyes fixed ahead when I turn my head to look at him. His eyelashes are longer than I realised up close, the line of his nose weirdly pretty. Ah, shit, I'm calling another person's nose pretty in my head. This must be what a mid life crisis feels like. I snake my hands under Cas's shirt again, splaying them across the barely-there curve of his stomach, feeling it flex at my touch. If this is a mid life crisis then I kinda love it.

"You don't know that," I argue softly, watching him lick his lips nervously. Suddenly I'm not all that interested in target practice either, but I'm a stickler for finishing things I start, even if it disadvantages my dick. I'm heroic like that. "Might've had to shoot stuff while I was being attacked by something especially horny. I might've been in this exact situation."

Cas rolls his eyes and then visibly tries to focus, squinting along the top of the gun. I decide to give him a hickey and I'm busy applying myself to my task when he determinedly shoots, immediately swearing under his breath. I detach from Cas's neck to check how he went. He missed again. I hum in entirely false sympathy.

"Bad luck, dude."

"It is not 'bad luck'," Cas replies through gritted teeth, hands tight around the gun. I grin into his shoulder, feeling the bunched muscles there. He's pissed off and it's pretty damn hilarious. "You are sabotaging me."

"Me?" I ask incredulously, peering at his scowling profile. I start to unbutton his jeans. "Cas, man, I am hurt that you'd accuse me of something like that. Really, I am. Wow."

"Dean."

"Isn't it time for you to miss again?" I suggest smugly, running a finger underneath the waistband of his underwear. He shakes his head slightly but takes aim again and I decide to let him off the hook for this one, because I'm charitable. I go utterly still and a few seconds later, Cas shoots the target directly through the forehead. He relaxes back against me and I laugh in his ear.

"Well done," I whisper, kissing down his neck to brush my lips against the mark I made. I start to slide my hand into his boxer briefs, slow but purposeful. He shudders and presses back against me and shit, it won't take long for things to fully develop down there if he keeps on rolling his hips like that-

"Only eight more to go," I murmur hoarsely, real regret in my voice, withdrawing my hand. Cas scoffs and steps abruptly forward and away, drawing an undignified whine out of my mouth that I will never admit came from me. Dropping one hand, he angles his body to shoot single-handedly, his stance strong and effortless, almost arrogant and seriously badass. He empties the rest of the magazine in quick succession, the sound deafening, the target's face ripped apart as each and every shot hits its mark. He tosses the gun carelessly aside onto the table next to us as he turns to face me, his eyes dark and his jaw set. My own jaw is totally slack. Fuck.

"Fuck," I say stupidly. Cas raises an eyebrow. Fuck.

"Are we done?" he asks lowly, stepping towards me. I swallow with difficulty.

"That was really hot," I manage to get out, only slurring a little bit, my voice utterly sincere. Jesus, that might have been the hottest thing I've ever seen. Cas looks kinda like he wants to smile, but instead he takes a final step forward and grabs me by my open plaid shirt, yanking me towards him for a bruising kiss. I moan into his mouth in a way that is horrifically wanton but I can't care very much. I don't even register that Cas has been pushing me backwards until my ass hits the wall, followed none too gently my my head. The fact that I don't notice the pain is probably as much a sign of way too many head injuries as it is of mindless lust, but I'm pretty sure the mindless lust thing is playing a hefty role too.

"Cas," I gasp pathetically as he breaks away to nip and suck down my throat. He's getting more and more comfortable with being rough with me. We've never actually sat down and discussed this shit but I guess I make it pretty obvious what I'm into, by turning into a whimpering slutty mess whenever Cas so much as lightly shoves me where he wants me to go. It's shameful, but nothing I didn't already know about myself. Plus, Cas seems to be pretty into it too. At least, I think so. We haven't done more than make out since he sucked me off - which was amazing but kinda terrifying at the same time - except for last night when making out turned into dry humping which turned into my first pants-on orgasm since my early twenties. And hey, I'd be embarrassed, but watching Cas come is kinda my new favourite thing so I don't care all that much.

Right now I'm actually weirdly preoccupied with the memory of how I, for a brief mad moment, wanted to suck Cas off in return. I've never let myself think about sucking dick in much detail before and it's never seemed all that appealing anyway, but everything seems appealing when Cas is in the mix. And right now I'm having another mad moment.

"Cas," I choke out again, pushing at his shoulders to unlatch him from my neck. Was he giving me a hickey to match his? I can't work out if that's weirdly romantic or just a dick move designed to annoy me later. Probably both. I heave a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. He looks pretty wrecked in the best possible way, eyes bright and hungry. Yeah, I'm doing this, I can freak out about it later.

I shove him further back and he stumbles a little, blinking in surprise. I can see the worry stealing onto his face, the thought that he's done something wrong. Better nip that in the bud. I fall to my knees, holding his gaze, thinking that this is kinda blasphemous since I'm kneeling like I'm in church and he used to be an angel. My dick twitches and I feel myself blush. I knew I was a kinky little sinner but I really do have issues. Oh well.

He just blinks down at me as I start undoing his jeans, mouth slack. It isn't until I tug them down to his knees and then reach for his boxer briefs - so glad I bought him those because they look very, very good- that he seems to catch on.

"Oh, Dean," he breathes. I smirk up at his awestruck expression, feeling a bit more confident - Cas, after all, is pretty easy to please so I probably won't stuff this up badly - and then drop my gaze as I pull his underwear down. He's hard and leaking and I can't say that I don't feel the old panic and guilt for liking the way it looks, because I do and there's a part of me that wants to get up and walk out of the room, get drunk and jerk off to Busty Asian Beauties like I'm supposed to.

But those days are gone. At least, I really want them to be, because they were sad and lonely days.

I've had enough blowjobs to know the dos and don'ts and the panic is still there, threatening to overtake me if I stop and think too much, so I decide to just go for it. Throwing myself into action and reflecting upon my mistakes in the aftermath is generally how I roll, and this is no exception. I watch Cas bite his lip and blink slowly down at me as I close my mouth around him and suck, resigning myself to every moment of this feeling really fucking weird. He exhales shakily and reaches one hand up to touch his fingertips to the side of my face, reverent.

I keep doing what I'm doing for a little longer, because it's a good basic but dependable way to make a guy feel good and I'm busy trying to think of other fail-safe things to do with my mouth. I try a few ideas out, getting my hands involved and testing out my gag reflex. Its a damn good thing I didn't attempt this with my eyes closed because staring up at Cas is doing wonders for both my confidence and my enjoyment. Watching him flush and groan and twist his face up with pleasure is actually way more addictive than I anticipated. It's weird, because I'm finding it predictably hot that he's in a position of dominance, gazing down at me with one hand almost casually cupping my jaw. But I've also never felt more in control of the sexual stuff between us. I own every fibre of Cas's attention right now. He isn't thinking about anything but me, doesn't want anything else. He can't look away. Maybe it's a bit douchey of me and I'm really not normally a power-hungry sort of guy, but the way Cas's blown eyes are locked on mine over his slack features is intoxicating.

He rumbles my name a lot and moans now and then, voice and eyes increasingly tense, hand trembling against my face. His hips are starting to shake too and I realise he's been holding back from moving. I don't want him to hold back. I grab his hips, tighten my mouth around him and pull him crudely in and then back out again, concentrating on breathing through my nose. He makes that wounded noise from earlier, which I count as a victory. Suddenly, his other hand is in my hair and his eyes are a little wild now, dark yet alight, combusting as he picks up the rhythm that I've started and begins to fuck my mouth in earnest.

"Dean-" he says brokenly, both hands gripping my short hair to keep me still for him. I hum a wordless response and he chokes off a noise, his breathing loud and distressed-sounding as he nears the edge. Fuck, he looks incredible. I thought I wouldn't like sucking dick much but the view is so worth it. I begin to knead his thighs as he draws close to coming, relishing the warm skin and the satisfying thickness of the firm flesh, moaning around his cock because I am actually enjoying this, all of it, and I never expected that.

Cas comes, hard. He almost sobs my name, his voice cracked and breathless. As I swallow it down and stare up at his transcendent, adoring face, I think that I'm going to miss him more than even I thought possible.