Unclothed And Fearrful

by abstractsta

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak take up the challenge of Unclothed and Fearful, the ongoing survival show where two people take on the wild with no clothes and next to nothing to their name. For three weeks they must forage and hunt for meager sustenance, they must survive, before they can truly declare they can't be bested by nature. Or, how Dean bit more than he can swallow.

Chapter 1: First Impressions

Here goes nothing, Dean thought, slipping out of his t-shirt and tossing it to the back of the pick-up he'd arrived in. He didn't hesitate to drop his boxers. It was part and parcel with this concept, so he'd better nut up and do the thing.

The heat of the day was already beating down and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet. The Bushveld of South Africa wasn't a joke.

Looking around, all he could see was dry grass, a few bushes and some distant trees, outcropping of rocks a way further, and not much else. He was already beginning to worry about water, and he hadn't even met his partner yet.

Speaking of devil, there he was, suspiciously adept at taking long strides on the pebbled ground, when Dean's bare feet had already reminded of themselves.

Dean cleared his throat and smiled politely, taking a step towards the other man, hand extended for a shake. He stopped on his tracks when the stranger smiled widely, grabbing his hand firmly. Dean swallowed. Hard.

He'd seen naked people before, and he was perfectly fine with running around butt nekkid for this thing, totally understood that being naked didn't equate sex, but the other man was something he hadn't prepared for. So he blinked away the pressing need to do a good once-over and concentrated on his eyes, returning the handshake that had gone a bit lax and probably lasting way too fucking long, but it was all Dean could really do right now.

"Castiel Novak, nice to meet you." There was earnestness on the man's, Castiel's, face in a way Dean couldn't remember seeing before. He decided to stop thinking beyond the absolutely necessary when his brain offered a notice of how cute this guy's smile really was.

"Dean Winchester." He wasn't too sure about the grimace on his face, or the way he dropped Castiel's hand like it burned. Suddenly he was all too aware of the cameramen and the truck still idling behind him, the producers making sure things went smoothly before leaving them to their own devices for the next twenty days.

His throat clicked, already too dry,when he tried to swallow around the feeling of embarrassment. Not knowing what to do with his hands since his skin didn't come with pockets apparently, Dean waved at the nearby bush where he'd spied their satchels.

"Wanna see what we got? Did you bring anything useful to the game?" He wanted to groan when Castiel's smile slipped. Dean gave himself a swift mental kick in the ass to get himself back into gear. He wasn't here to protect anyone's delicate sensibilities anyway. He'd just have to keep his libido in check.

Dean was saved by the producers catching their attention, and after a dual thumbs up, the car left them in its dust. At least they weren't at each other's throats. Naked as a newborn and if completely honest, slightly terrified.

Castiel gave him a cursory glance, shrugged, and started ahead, Dean hanging his head for a second before catching up with him. "I brought a primitive bow. Had to leave my pride and joy behind, too techno."

They reached the bush, and Dean found a metal pot, courtesy of Castiel, and his bow and five arrows at his feet. His machete must be in the sack.

Castiel showed him a flint and steel kit. Fire for sure. "That's awesome, Cas," Dean slapped a hand on his bare shoulder, then paused. "Can I call you Cas?" He was asking the three men at large, unsure if nicknames were allowed, or welcomed. A cameraman gave a thumbs up, and Castiel seemed to be staring straight into Dean's soul.

"Sure." He didn't sound all that sure. "Is there a name I should call you, or does Dean suffice?"

Okay.

Dean just looked at Castiel for a moment, before an already familiar smile started to form on the man's lips. Maybe the guy just had a dry sense of humor.

"You can call me princess if you like, but I prefer plain old Dean." The answering laugh did a number on Dean's insides. And he hadn't even drank any rank water lately.

Further inspection uncovered their diary cams they were supposed to spill their guts for, and a folded, crude map, the 'X' marking their extraction point on day twenty-one.

Cas tapped a finger to the paper,"I'd say our best bet for water is further past those acacias. See how there's more growth marked here? Maybe we'll find an animal trail to follow."

"There's enough of daylight left to try find water first. We'll worry about our shelter later," Dean nodded, squinting while approximating the distance. He was going to miss his boots.

Shouldering his satchel, Castiel - Cas - caught Dean off-guard hard enough for him to jerk his head back; "I usually wake up with a hard on," Cas announced casually, breaking the eye contact and turning to head towards the acacia trees. "Just thought you should know, to avoid any unpleasantness."

Dean scurried to catch up, mouth hanging open, drawing up a blank. "Okay then."

Chapter 2

They waded through the knee-high grass in silence, both concentrating on their foot placements since the grass was like needles on their bare feet if you stepped on it wrong.

After two hours of little change in the scenery, the undergrowth started to look greener. It got their hopes up, and they fought their thirst by putting a small pebble in their mouths to activate the salivary glands, effectively recycling their own water.

An hour more of trudging through the grass, they happened to spot a small clearing under a large tree, a stark bald patch of ground, ideal for setting up a camp with some adjustments.

There weren't any clear animal tracks in the vicinity, so they weren't served on a platter for lions and leopards, and it was small enough to cat-proof easily if they decided to stay there longer.

Right now there was no point in scorching themselves under the sun. They agreed on a break and sat under the tree, leaning on the trunk, thankful for the small reprieve the shadow allowed. It wasn't water, but it was something.

Dean woke up startled. Something had alarmed him, and this wasn't the time or the place to be taking naps. The heat was doing a number on him he hadn't expected, and he started to worry about heat exhaustion.

"I was just going to go take a leak," Cas frowned down to Dean. Him getting up had roused Dean. "Are you ok?"

He did a quick check; His head didn't hurt, he could breath fine, he didn't feel sick. All systems functioning within normal parameters. "I'm fine. Just a bit tired, 's all. I'll get over it."

"As you wish, your highness," Cas did a cheeky little salute and went on his way. Dean brushed a hand across his face, leaning his head to the tree with an eye roll. He wasn't sure if three weeks was going to be a long time, or not long enough.

When Cas returned, they decided not to rest on their laurels while they still had some juice left in them. They needed firewood if they wanted to last through the night.

Dean took Cas's offered hand a let himself be yanked up, grimacing at the sand in weird places. He'd better get used to it.

Half an hour into their trek, the grass under their feet was green and pliable, and they came to a virtual paradise.

A small pond glimmered in the sunlight, obviously used by the wildlife, judging from the wide track leading to the edge. It was all Dean could do not to rush and dunk his head in to drink his fill. He did have some common sense, contrary to popular belief, and understood full well the water had to be boiled first. This wasn't a clear, merrily running creek, and probably had antelope shit in it.

That did nothing to diminish his joy, and by the looks of it, Cas was right there with him. With Cas carrying the metal pot, Dean settled for a victorious fist-bump and a couple pats on Cas's back. He was so close to being rehydrated he could practically taste it.

They'd boiled the water then and there, Cas using his flint steel striker with practiced ease. Dean was no slouch in the fire starting department himself, but he had to admire how it was like lighting a match for Cas. It was beginning to look like the man sure knew what he was doing out here.

After the delicious, albeit hot water, they'd set about actualizing their camp with renewed vigor.

Their arms were pinpricked by the brambles they'd gathered around the clearing. Those thorns and the fire should keep big, hungry cats away, at least long enough for them to grab their pointy sticks Dean liked to call spears.

It had been a bitch to drag the prickly branches around, but at least they felt safer than just staying out in the open.

With their water source and the luxury of fire, Dean was good to call this home for the next three weeks.

"I'll be back in half an hour," Cas announced, picking up the machete and accepting a GoPro-like, small camera that the film crew strapped to his head. Cas gave a jaunty wave and headed to the direction of the watering hole, leaving Dean to twiddle his thumbs. He tried to ignore the light press of the wireless microphone fashioned into a necklace at the base of his throat. He'd never felt so naked in his life.

Cas came back as promised, with a few, deep green, pointy leaves Dean had recognized as aloe earlier. He took the leaves Cas gave him with a raised brow. "Aren't there studies this stuff don't do shit?"

At Cas's frown, he changed his tone, "I know there are others that say it does, but..."

"Would you rather suffer an infection than try this?" Cas was smearing the gel from the leaves on his arms, lifting his chin towards Dean expectantly. "It won't hurt, I promise," he grinned, clearly amused by Dean's reluctance.

Shrugging, Dean caught some of the gel on his fingers, conceding the point.

"And you're sunburnt."

Dean rolled his shoulders and hissed. It felt like his skin was two sizes too small. Son of a bitch...

"We can't all tan so perfectly," Dean grunted, affronted. "Some of us have to turn pink and sprout a thousand freckles."

"I like your freckles," Cas said matter-of-factly and snatched the machete up from the ground. He cut some of the aloe into smaller pieces. "Move over," he ordered, pushing Dean to scoot to give Cas space behind his back.

Dean tried to keep his noises to himself, but a groan escaped when Cas spread the gel across a particularly sensitive spot. The cooling effect was immediate. "Thank you," he murmured, closing his eyes when he felt a hand snake up to his hair, rubbing his scalp.

"We should check for ticks," Cas said quietly, not stopping his ministrations.

"Later. I don't want to move."

There was a silence that lasted a touch too long.

"You don't have to."

They'd found a log, dried and light enough for the two of them to carry, so they'd hauled it back to camp for a seat so they didn't have to be digging dirt from their cracks every time they sat down. Cas had found it comfortable enough for a makeshift pillow, and laid down. Crossing his ankles and shutting his eyes, Cas relaxed while Dean remained seated and whittled away with the machete.

He stopped splintering the stick and chanced a look at Cas, finally allowing himself to actually absorb what he was seeing. The guy was hot as hell with a face which put most angels to shame. Miles of tan skin over lean muscles made Dean want to ask if by any chance Cas enjoyed nudity outside Discovery Channel shows, and he stared at his thick thighs for longer than was entirely appropriate when there were people filming his every move. Shit.

The crew of two just hovered around them, keeping their distance and not talking to them, and, impossibly, he'd forgotten about them. Until his brain had taken a turn to the inappropriate. At least he wasn't staring at Cas's dick.

He stole a quick glance. Damn.

"How did you become interested in survival, Dean?"

They were sitting on their 'couch', staring into the fire in the darkening evening. There wasn't much else to do but to talk. Dean adjusted his satchel to preserve at least some semblance of modesty.

Dean understood the need to fill the silence. It hadn't had the chance to turn companionable since they knew squat about each other, so he cleared his throat and started talking. It wasn't a secret.

"I started hunting with my Dad since I was old enough to hold a gun and a bow." He picked up a stick and began drawing mindless circles in the ground. "We tried to get my younger brother into it but he wasn't interested. Not like me, I took to it like a duck to water, even built my own bow to catch small prey."

He smiled fondly at the memory, how John had tested the give and ruffled his hair, proud and pleased.

"Then he died, and I was seventeen, and suddenly my Uncle Bobby was the legal guardian of me and my brother. He was thirteen." This was why he kept his business his own. No one wanted to hear about this crap.

"I was angry at everything and everyone for a long time. I took off one day, just packed my bag and went hunting, solo" Dean glanced at Cas and found him looking back, serious and clearly listening to every word.

"So I got lost. I'm not even sure how it happened, but it was the first time I'd gone alone, and I got lost." He huffed out a self-reprimanding laugh and waved his stick. "It got really fucking old after four days without nothing but some snacks and an empty bottle. When I was found, I swore I'd never be that helpless again."

After a beat, Dean spoke again, not giving Cas the chance to ask more questions. "How about you?"

"Hmm," Cas squinted at the fire, a grin tugging his mouth. Once it spread, his teeth flashed white in the darkness kept at bay by only their campfire. "My father is a doomsday prepper. He expects God to rain His wrath upon the earth at any given moment. He even named me after an angel. I guess he kind of flipped when my mother died giving birth to me." Cas raised a finger to Deans lips, opened to give the usual 'I'm sorry.'

"It's okay. It's not like I knew her." Cas's smile didn't waver and Dean shut his mouth, out of shock or what, he did not know. But he really, really wanted to touch his lips. So he licked them instead, curious about how Cas looked away almost bashfully.

"How come you're not a whackjob?" Smooth, Winchester. "No offense, man."

"Ah," Cas looked back at Dean again, the flames creating shadows on his face. "None taken." Cas waved a dismissive hand. "Growing up, I was terrified. My bedtime stories were full of fire and brimstone, and my schooling was about learning to take inventory and setting snares, finding fresh water and stocking up on Snickers bars..." He peered into the fire, evidently gathering his thoughts."When I learned to read, I basically camped at the library and I read everything I could get my hands on. It saved me."

The utter honesty of that written on Cas's face made Dean want to hug him close. But before he could say or do anything, Cas continued. "The books kept me sane and gave me a new outlook on life. If people were free to use their imaginations in such multiple ways, surely my father was just using him. So many people living without fear, certainly I was allowed to do the same. So I stopped believing when I was twelve."

"You don't have to talk about it." And Dean thought his life had been all kinds of fucked up. Not that it wasn't, but it wasn't that.

"I rarely do," Cas gave a lopsided smile, raising his shoulder dismissively. "People don't usually want to know these things," he straightened his back and stretched a crick out of his neck with a pop. "But it really isn't sad. It's just my life, and where would I be if I kept thinking it were?" He clearly posed it as an actual question, blinking at Dean.

"Bottom of a bottle," Dean replied with surety. "Or worse."

There was a story behind that, and Dean wished he could take back the words. This really wasn't the kind of a situation to be commiserating about things past, not when their first night out here was wrapping blackly around them.

As if reading his mind, Cas clapped his hands and got up to stoke the flames. "If you're ready to sleep, I'll take the first watch." The warm smile was back, and it made Dean want to touch him. The man was beautiful.

"Sure," Dean laid on the cleared patch near the fire. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

There was laughter in the voice that followed him into fitful sleep.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Mention of canon character death

On the fourth day they were ready to go as soon as there was enough light to see without problems, and before it was too hot to do much else than to lie down and wish for the sun to go away.

They were set to do some foraging, determined to find something to eat today, Dean trusting their combined researches enough to feel confident there would be something in his stomach today. He even took his bow and arrows along, just in case.

They hadn't ventured too far yesterday, mostly just doing water runs and gathering firewood for the night, in an effort to conserve their energy for today. Knowing how to pace yourself was essential in a survival situation, so even if nothing actually kept him here except his determination to see this to the end, Dean took that rule seriously.

They passed their pond and headed further into the woodlands, their spears doubling as hiking staffs.

Eventually, they came to a tree that was clearly bearing fruit, but they were too high to reach. So they focused on the ground, and in moments Cas showed Dean an odd looking, spiky, yellow fruit.

Dean did recognize it as edible, but couldn't remember the name.

"Horned cucumber," Cas offered, slipping it into his satchel.

All in all, they found seven of the fruit, the last which Dean sliced in half. Handing Cas his, Dean sniffed at the fruit. It smelled very... Fruity. But it looked a lot like passionfruit, though green, so he gave it a try. It was delicious. Like bananas and limes mixed together, and the first bite made his stomach growl.

He wasn't sure if it was the hunger he was feeling, or if it really tasted that good, but he planted his face into the flesh and swallowed almost without chewing.

Cas didn't seem to be much better off, judging by the way his face was covered in juices. It was just what they needed. And there would be more where that came from.

Arriving to the camp, laden with their hoard of fruit, some leaves for tea and firewood, complete with a few fruits from a Baobab tree, made Dean sigh in relief. There wasn't any rush to get water now that they had the juicy food, and Dean was going to take full advantage of that.

He'd grown up in Kansas, so he wasn't stranger to heat,but this climate was so dry it seemed to wring out every last drop of him. He needed a break.

Cas, on the other hand seemed fresh as a daisy, his tan already darkened evenly during the past couple days, and was obviously planning on something.

"Don't you think we could spruce up the place a little?"

"Yes, a real bed would be an improvement, know where to find one of those?" Dean hadn't meant to sound so grumpy, but Cas took it in stride.

"Something like that. Like all that grass could be useful, or would you rather just lie on the ground?"

Cas had a point. If nothing else, it would at least offer insulation against the cold nights.

Dean watched Cas traipse off, annoyingly light on his feet on the unforgiving terrain, and rose with a groan. That man would be the death of him. And he missed his boots.

The task of bundling up the tall grass and bring it back to the camp wasn't that bad, really. Cas did all the chopping and distracted Dean from his bad mood with the muscles in his back dancing when he hacked away, making Dean wonder how they might feel under his hands in a different scenario.

What was strange was how easily Dean had slipped into the touchy-feely way Cas acted around him. Even while foraging, the man had, instead of leaning against the tree, just planted his hand on Dean's back for balance to remove a splinter from his foot.

And if Dean thought about it, Cas always sat next to Dean so that their thighs touched if either one of them moved.

Or how, while Dean had blushed at the weird intimacy, it had been completely natural for Cas to poke in the hairs under Dean's arms to look for ticks. He'd checked his genitalia on his own, thank you very much.

It did help that while while inspecting Dean's scalp, Cas had given him an awesome head massage each time. The closeness, when Dean sat between Cas's legs, being turned into putty, had been so natural Dean hadn't had time to really question about it.

Maybe it was just Cas's way of being around people, talking without a filter and absolutely ignorant of the concept of personal space.

Dean didn't dare hope.

They'd laid the grass thickly on the cleared space they had set for themselves, close to the fire, and padded their seat the best they could without nothing to tie the blades together. It wasn't the Ritz, but it'd do.

The rest of the day went uneventfully, just the menial tasks of getting water and firewood.

They'd agreed that it wasn't necessary for them to stay up to watch the fire since they both woke up several times during the night anyway, and if the fire went out, it wasn't much of an effort to stoke it back to life again.

In guaranteed Cas fashion, he'd promptly suggested they slept next to each other to share their body heat.

So here they were, laying on their new bedding, facing one another, under the striking sight of the Milky Way practically competing with the moon in brightness.

Dean wished he could see the blue of Cas's eyes, instead of the dark gray the night turned everything into.

"What do you do when you're not surviving naked with strangers?" Cas's tone was low, as if to preserve some semblance of privacy.

"I'm a mechanic," Dean replied, equally quiet. "Fixing my Baby was my first real assignment after Bobby took us under his wing."

"Baby?"

Dean grinned proudly. "Yeah. A 1967 Chevy Impala. Almost as black as this night."

"You must be very good with your hands," Cas said huskily, bumping Dean's knee with his own.

Dean barked a laugh, pushing Cas lightly by the shoulder. "I aim to please."

"Bobby taught you?"

Dean sobered, looking away for a moment. "I knew some stuff before, but he's the one who gave me the overalls and told me to start moving with the drip pan. Worked my way up from there." Dean paused, gathering his thoughts. How much of this sharing thing was he going to do?

The way Cas didn't seem to expect anything from him made the decision easy. "I worked there until he died two years ago. I mean, I still work at the garage, but it wasn't that easy. It almost all went to shit, since Sam and I were the benefactors and had a bunch of bills to deal with we knew nothing about. Had to sell the business to get everything covered."

Dean cleared his throat and continued; "The buyer hired me and the rest of the gang. I don't know what I would've done if he didn't. Dick Roman." The look on Cas's face told that he knew about Dick.

"A real smarmy jackass I'd love to punch in the face, but it pays the bills," Dean shrugged. He'd made his peace with it. At least he loved his job, which was more than most people could say.

Dean shifted, straightening his arm over Cas's head, his fingers brushing the softness of his hair. He hoped Cas didn't notice his involuntary flinch. Then he decided to push his luck and started playing with a strand.

"What about you?"

Cas had closed his eyes, and blinked at Dean. "I go surviving with strangers. Appropriately dressed, though."

"What, you're professional at this?"

"Doesn't it show?"

"It does." Dean nodded. "You're so sure with everything you do, like you'd already been here for weeks."

Cas squinted, and seemed to approve what he was seeing. "I make a living doing what I know and have grown to love. I can think of worse things to be doing." The next words were almost inaudible and Dean had to strain to hear. "Or better."

They fell silent, the night a blanket around them, and Dean's heart started beating faster. His fingers tingled.

Cas raised his hand and touched a finger to Dean's nose, drawing a line to his lips. "Would you mind very much if I kissed you?" Cas's eyes were so dark.

Dean swallowed hard, and managed a whisper; "Please do."

Cas pushed at Dean's shoulder gently, following the movement and leaning closer until his lips pressed on Dean's.

In slow movements, their mouths slotted together perfectly, and Dean sacrificed half of a thought for the distinctly sour taste in his mouth, speaking volumes of teeth crudely cleaned with finely ground charcoal and his finger. The thought vanished by way of Cas touching his tongue to the seam of his lips, and Dean opened his mouth easily.

His hands wandered up to the back of Cas's head, fingers burying into the mess of his hair.

The film crew could go get bent for all he cared. Even better if this was on film. At least he'd have some evidence it had happened, just in case this wasn't a very realistic dream.

They broke apart and Dean stared at Cas with wide eyes, fascinated by the way Cas's lips glistened in the light of the campfire.

"I want to do that again," Dean breathed, and Cas chuckled softly. "I'd like that very much."

Maybe it was just Dean whom Cas acted so freely around.

Dean sat up, annoyed. The camera people had eight hour shifts. The Range Rover shuttling them and their equipment had come and gone in the wee hours of the night, this time bringing back the woman and the man who'd been here sixteen hours ago, making a godawful racket while doing so. How Cas could sleep through this was beyond him.

They weren't allowed to interact other than in an emergency, their rifles were a testament to that, but Dean thought it would be rude not to acknowledge them. He lift his chin curtly with a jerk of his hand that passed for a wave, and the pair waved back.

Settling back down, Dean tucked a hand under his head with a huff, his other hand curved on Cas's hip where he slept soundly in front of him. It really was warmer this way. And if Dean wanted to be close to the man, then it was nobody's business but his own.

Now, if anyone didn't mind, he'd like to get some goddamn sleep.

Chapter 4

Warnings: An animal is killed. It's quick and as painless as possible in the situation, and I tried not to be gory.
Mentions of Dean/Others and Castiel/Others.

Cas had carved the ninth notch to their 'calendar' in the morning. It was getting late in the day and Dean was growing anxious a little distance from their pond. They'd been here for ages and there was only so many ways a man could squat waiting comfortably with his junk hanging out.

They'd observed the animals coming to drink for three days. All that sitting motionlessly for hours ate into their time of gathering resources, but they'd established a pattern by which they were now acting on. There was food here, that's for sure. Real food. Meat.

A brief conversation had brought them to an understanding that they'd try to catch something they'd actually be able to consume. No point in killing something large and have it spoil. It was an ideology behind which Dean stood proudly.

Now Cas was sitting on his haunches behind a bush near the water with their machete in hand, a spring ready to pounce in an instant. Dean trained his eyes on the water's edge, a sound catching his attention. He held his breath, hoping against hope that he was hearing right.

Just as sudden, there it was; A small wild boar.

Dean got it in his sights, and as soon as he released the arrow, the animal fell on its side, squealing like all hell, unable to get up, Cas already in motion before Dean could step closer.

The unholy noise stopped instantly as Cas slashed the boar's throat almost to the spine as Dean moved. Sheer joy bubbled up Dean's throat and he let out a hoot, punching the air, and slapped his hand against Cas's for a high five. They'd eat well tonight.

"Does this count as the first date?" Cas grinned at Dean over his shoulder from where he was tending the fire, Dean pushing pieces of fresh meat onto a stick to fry their food on. They'd have to slice the rest of the boar thinly and dry it, way the hell away from the camp, once their strength had been replenished.

"Well, there's dinner," he acquiesced with a slow nod, "but there's no candles. I'm not sure this qualifies."

"The canopy of the stars isn't romantic enough for you?" Cas chuckled, "I didn't peg you for so high maintenance."

The stars had indeed come out on the last tail of the setting sun.

Cas shifted his weight and faced Dean, dead serious. "If it came down to it, if you were desperate, which part of me would you eat first?"

After a beat, Dean twirled a finger in the air. "Turn around." Cas stood and turned his back to him. "Yeah. Your thighs." Jesus Christ, what was wrong with him? He blushed up to the tips of his ears, the heat of it burning hotter than the South African sun when Cas faced him again with an all-too-knowing smirk.

"I mean," Dean rubbed the back of neck, avoiding Cas's laughing eyes. "Why let all that muscle go to waste, right?" No. There really wasn't a way out of this.

They'd sliced the meat and left it dry about a hundred yards away, just to be on the safe side, and wished to anyone who was listening that the animals didn't get to it. It was a feeble hope, but it had been too dangerous to start building a better cover in the rapidly darkening evening.

After they'd eaten their fill, and then some, they had made themselves comfortable on their bedding, Cas pillowing his head in the crook of Dean's elbow, hand resting on Dean's chest.

"I lost my virginity to a man." Dean went stiff and grimaced. Had he said it out loud? It sure sounded like him.

He could feel the smile Cas had on his face.

"I lost mine to a woman. How did yours happen?" Cas sounded innocent enough so Dean relaxed again. Surely the production of this show wouldn't use these kind of conversations for the show.

"I was at a bar, I was seventeen. Fake ID and all."

"After your..."

"Yeah. After Dad crashed Baby and died. It's okay to say it." He smiled at Cas, meeting his eyes for a moment.

"You kept your virtue until you were seventeen." Cas sounded incredulous.

"Shuddup," Dean grinned, kicking his ankle in retaliation. "So, I was at this bar, and a guy, probably a few years older than me, caught my eye. He started to buy me drinks and I was only too happy to accept. We kept flirting until I felt a little buzzed and adventurous, and agreed to go to his place."

Dean turned to peck a kiss on Cas's mouth. "No regrets, the guy was a perfect gentleman. Gave me quite the show too, showing me how to prep a guy. And called me a cab afterwards. That stuff went to my spank bank for a long time, after I got my head out of my ass and stopped panicking about what had happened."

Dean liked how Cas listened. Attentive and accepting, but keeping his questions and interrupting comments to himself, if he had any. The way he just let Dean ramble on was a kind of freedom he hadn't experienced before. He loved his brother, but fuck how the Samsquatch could interrupt.

"I went on a string of one-night stands. I didn't care about anything else than that they had to be women. Like it'd wash away the gay. To be the good little straight soldier my Dad raised me up to be." He held Cas closer, and the man went willingly, hugging his arm around Dean.

"I'd thought I was fine with being bi, glad I didn't have to go through the existential bullshit so many people struggle with. Until it happened to me. Now, my most meaningful relationships have been with men, so I'm, like, what. A four on the Kinsey scale. My Dad would shit a brick."

Cas silenced him with a soft kiss, brushing away the sting of the unwanted thoughts and bringing him firmly back into the present. Amazing how much Cas could do by doing so little.

Cas settled back down, pressing his body against Dean's side. "Mine was a nightmare. I was twenty-two and I thought I just wasn't interested in sex. I could appreciate the aesthetics of a handsome or a beautiful person, but I didn't feel anything more outside masturbating. Not until I fell in love."

He went quiet, and Dean gave him room to think, like Cas gave him.

"It was unrequited, but she thought I was cute, so she dated me for a while. Mostly to feel wanted, I'd assume. It got to the point where I was in her bedroom, naked and shaking like a leaf. I barely got the condom on without tearing it apart, and after that, it was just one thrust and a long stare."

Dean couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing. The idea of poor young Cas fumbling and practically coming on the woman's thigh was too much. It was so unlike his Cas that it bordered on the absurd.

"Laugh it up, Winchester," Cas reprimanded, and promptly bit his nipple. Which indeed shut him up, except for the throaty groan.

"I haven't had that many partners." Cas's voice sounded like a confession, despite the distinct laugh he was holding back. "But I'm experienced enough that I won't repeat that mortification."

Dean's cock gave a feeble twitch and he took deep breaths to quell the heavy feeling between his legs. He was only a man, and the subject matter didn't help. Not to mention the current company. He concentrated on the stars.

They ended up talking deep into the inky night, sharing more tidbits about themselves in hushed voices, laying close and, in all honesty, probably spending more time quietly staring into each other's eyes than actually speaking.

Dean had learned that Cas had traveled some, doing survival excursions to the Amazon and South America. He'd wanted to know more about plants.

Dean had confessed that his adventures were limited to the US and Canada because of his fear of flying. Cas's eyes had shone even brighter.

They could both make a gillnet, among other various fish traps, from scratch. Dean was a little bit in love with the way Cas's nose scrunched up when he laughed.

They'd fallen asleep like that, facing each other, curved like bows, Cas's hand covering Dean's where it lay between them, him doing nothing but curling his fingers around Cas's before his eyes slid shut.

True to his word, Cas woke up with an erection more often than not. Dean had ignored it the best he could after the initial, accidental ogling, and Cas dealt with it by curling in on himself and breathing deeply for a minute.

On day fifteen, Dean became conscious of his surroundings in increments. Then his vision was filled with the slow smile on Cas's lips. The man batted his lashes at him.

"Morning, Cas." He felt a bit slow.

"Good morning, Dean." Cas kept looking at him, then glanced down.

Dean squeezed his eyes closed and groaned. He didn't have to look to know that he was hard, and he'd slung his leg over Cas's somewhere during the night.

Cas patted his shoulder and sighed, sliding his hand down his side and grabbing him by the knee, pushing to free himself. "I already dealt with mine. The cameras weren't working. More's the pity," Cas whispered, then flicked his tongue to Dean's lip and pressed a kiss there, before getting up and taking the metal pot for a water run.

Dean was left to decide whether to laugh or cry. He resulted to banging his head with his fist. He needed a cold shower to get rid of the image Cas left him with.

"The cameras really aren't working, I wasn't kidding," Cas said when he came back to find Dean still lying on the bedding. Dean opened his eyes to peer at Cas in disbelief.

"So you really..." Dean made a rude motion with his hand.

"No," Cas smirked. "But if you bother to get up, I have an idea. Follow me." Dean scrambled to do just that.

They ignored the camera people's shouts.

They hiked for about twenty minutes until Cas stopped and took Dean by the hand, guiding him under a lush Marula tree and shoving him against the trunk.

"Now would be a good time to say no if this isn't okay." Cas's hands were on Dean's shoulders and he looked into Dean's eyes seriously, with intent. Dean swallowed hard and assessed the situation; There wasn't anyone around to see, and while they had their microphones, it wasn't very likely the recording would be any use to anyone.

Mere inches separated them, and Dean's breath was coming fast. Whatever Cas had in mind, Dean was on board wholeheartedly.

"I want you," Dean managed, surging forward to catch Cas's mouth in a kiss. It was over too soon.

"We don't have much time," Cas murmured against Dean's lips, hands sliding down his torso, thumbs catching his nipples. "I want to suck you," Cas's hot breath in Dean's ear made him shiver.

Cas was on his knees in a flash, Dean's shaft already filling in Cas's hand. His knees buckled when Cas took him in his mouth.

Thank god for their thorough wash last night.

The way Cas's tongue worked relentlessly promised that Dean wouldn't last long. Even if he hadn't been strung out by their prolonged body contact, he'd been on the cusp in a matter of moments.

Cas sucked hard and Dean saw stars far brighter than the ones on the sky at night. Without the tree to his back, he'd probably toppled over with the wave of his impeding completion, sparking lightning through his spine. His nails dug into the bark of the tree.

"Cas, I'm gonna—"

Cas only doubled his efforts until Dean spilled into his mouth.

"Proteins," Cas offered an explanation, a silly little smile curving his mouth. "Got to take what you can get out here."

Dean chortled, catching his breath. He bent to lean on his knees, and saw the state Cas was in. Something he could help with. So he hauled Cas up, thrush him against the tree, and got down to returning the favor.

Chapter 5

"It's time for Ra to die again," Cas said thoughtfully while they watched the sun go down on day fourteen, startling Dean from watching the changes of light on Cas's bare skin. The deep hues were fascinating.

"Who, what now?" Dean leaned his elbows on his knees, sitting on their makeshift couch, not getting his eyes off Cas beside him, relaxed with his ankles crossed, and for once, his satchel covering his lap.

"Ra, the Egyptian god. He dies every sunset."

Another story. Dean remembered the one about his zodiac sign a few days ago, and perked up. Cas's insistence that Ganymede had looked exactly like Dean had been... Interesting. And very hands-on.

"He's a god. How can he die?"

"He's very old," Cas turned to watch Dean with a smile. "He can't even live on Earth, he's too old for it."

Dean chuckled. "I feel the same way sometimes. Especially when I have to google a word just to understand what the crazy kids these days are talking about."

"Yes, but at least you don't have to fight a snake demon of the underworld every evening."

"Ra has to fight demons? Who does that? Crazy people."

"Ra does, so he can bring us day again." Cas punched Deans shoulder lightly in reprimand, laughter in his voice. "If he wins the fight, the morning comes and he can ride the sun boat until he dies again."

"And what if he doesn't win?"

"That's when solar eclipses or storms happen. It means the demon has won."

"And then he's just born again? But I thought he was old. That doesn't make any sense."

"He must have very tiring days." Cas shrugged and shifted, turning more towards Dean. "And he's a god, Dean. Of course it doesn't make any sense, it's all a matter of faith," Cas said very seriously, obviously fighting a grin at Dean's pouting.

"That... That still doesn't make any sense."

"Ra's name is actually Auf at night."

"Is that, like, a Batman thing?"

Cas laughed, shaking his head. "I think it's more like a Deadpool thing, what with all the dying and all."

Dean felt a surge of warmth for the other man, how he was when telling these stories, how effortlessly he paraphrased tales of constellations and nature, how he had a knack for integrating Deans comments into the stories.

He straightened his back and took Cas's face between his hands gently, thumb brushing his cheek, closing in slowly as if searching for permission. Most of their more tender moments happened in the dark, like the cameras wouldn't see them under the canopy of stars, like it was more acceptable to get lost in a feeling for a long moment in the darkness.

The last blood-red licks of the setting sun colored Cas's face, his lips lightly apart, eyes closing, and it was all the permission Dean needed. The soft press of Cas's lips quenching a thirst he'd felt all day, the hand coming up to his hair a confirmation that the feeling was mutual, while Ra died to bring them night.

Chapter 6

Day fifteen dawned, and as soon as there was enough light to be roaming around, Dean was tripping on his feet rushing to find the patch of African wormwood he'd spotted on their first trek to the camp. He swore to be as fast as humanly possible on his poor, bare feet, and had nearly thrown a shit fit when the camerawoman handed him the fucking forehead strap-on. He didn't have time for this crap.

Cas was a hot mess, his fever climbing, and it was all Dean could do to keep him hydrated. The night had been hell, keeping an eye on the fire while trying his damnest to offer the shivering Cas some comfort, spooning the man from head to toe, blowing warm breaths into his hair, rubbing warmth in his arms.

It had even gotten to a point where one of the crew had stepped forth to ask if they needed to talk to a producer. If Cas wanted to tap out. Cas nearly bit his head off.

Teeth clattering, but a glint in his eye that brooked no argument. That was the Cas Dean had grown to know and. Well. Something. He sure as hell was something.

Finally, Dean found the plants and shoved handfuls of the leaves and flowers into his bag, the picture of miserable Cas replaying in his mind. What if they decided it was best for Cas to leave anyway? What if he found the camp empty? What if he was left alone?

He tried to reason with his circling thoughts, to calm down, telling himself that it was probably nothing to agonize about. But the man had been burning up by the time Dean left, and the hike had felt like forever.

He practically power walked his way back to the camp.

Dean tossed his camera to a guy uncaringly and rushed to Cas.

"Hey, hey," he fell on his knees beside Cas, a knot of fear in the pit of his stomach.

He shook him slightly, thankful when Cas roused from what looked more like unconsciousness than actual sleep.

"Hi," Cas replied, opening his eyes groggily. He mumbled something incoherent, gaze slowly focusing on Dean. "You're back."

"Yeah, Cas. I'm going to take care of you, just don't get delirious on me now, you

hear?" His hands were shaking when he brushed Cas's hair back off his forehead.

Cas's cheeks were ruddy and he could barely keep his eyes open. For a split second Dean was ready to call the damn producers himself, just to make sure Cas was safe.

Cas's words got him back on track; "Did you find it?"

"Yes. I'm going to fix some for you right now." Dean held Cas down when he made to sit up. "Get your rest, babe. Leave it to me."

The water from last night he'd boiled again was still hot enough, so Dean bruised the leaves and dropped them in the pot, willing the concoction to brew faster. If this didn't work, they were out of options, the possibility to something being seriously wrong with Cas casting a dark shadow on Dean's thoughts. He went to Cas and helped him to rest his head on Dean's thigh, hand stroking soothingly through his sweat-damp hair.

They'd come to rely on one another here, in the middle of nowhere. It was said that survival was about adjusting to the situation, and that's pretty much exactly what they had done. Adjusted to the surroundings and each other.

Dean shut his eyes tightly, stopping the growing gloom in the bud. Being stuck here with nothing but himself to keep him company was unthinkable, so he wasn't going to think about it. Cas wasn't gone yet.

"You're thinking so hard I can hear it," Cas put a tired hand on Dean's shin, thumb rubbing a slow circle there. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Am I really that easy to read?" Dean got up carefully, trying not to jostle Cas too much.

"Not always. But most of the time your actions do speak louder than words. And sometimes it's the other way around."

Dean's mouth worked but nothing came out. He really had nothing to say to that. He knew all too well he wore his heart on his sleeve. He'd gotten burned enough times to know it as a fact.

He dipped his finger in the pot to test the temperature, and deemed it drinkable. He put it next to Cas and helped him up to a sitting position, maneuvering so that he could guide Cas to lean on his chest.

"I meant it as a compliment. Your openness makes it easy to for me to be me," Cas tried to turn to look at Dean and grunted. "My neck hurts. Every part of me hurts."

"I bet it does. Now drink up."

Cas's fever broke about an hour after Dean had managed to cajole him into drinking all of the mixture, and he sighed in relief when Cas's eyes were clear when he looked up from where he was laying, head in Dean's lap, sweat beading on his forehead.

Dean smiled at him. "Feeling better?"

"I'm hungry," Cas replied grumpily, swiping a hand across his face. "I could do some very interesting things for a cheeseburger right now." He sat up slowly, stretching his neck.

"If you promise to take it easy for the rest of the day, I'll see what I can do. Your method of payment sounds promising." Dean leered and got up, taking the pot with him. They both needed water, and Cas could probably do with washing up a bit.

There was no way he'd let Cas wander to the pond today. Not until he got his strength back, such as it was with their current diet of fruits only.

He made Cas promise to try to get some sleep and left to do Cas's bidding. Maybe he couldn't turn into a cheeseburger, but he sure could find Cas some of those wild peaches he liked.

The sight of a wild boar scurrying off like its tail was on fire made Dean's fingers itch for his bow. That one night had been the only one when they'd had any real proteins, some vultures probably having raided the rest of the meat.

He'd learned that Cas liked sweet things when he'd bitten into a Governor's plum and made the best pucker face Dean had seen in his life. That memory would never not be funny to him.

Dean caught himself smiling softly thinking about the man, and it stopped him on his tracks.

When had it happened? How had he let himself get so dependent of someone he couldn't imagine being stuck here without them?

Dean had come here to prove to himself that he could take care of himself in any situation, and he'd somehow trampled headlong into one that he was loathe to be alone in. And it was all Cas.

He started walking slowly, mentally shifting through their days together.

Their lazy days between morning and early evening, waiting for when the sun wasn't baking them alive, were full of moments that made the time fly by, when it by all rights should've been dragging on endlessly. Even their silence had turn into something neither of them rushed to fill.

Cas's clever hands kneading Dean's shoulders and kissing the top of his head to signal it was his turn. The downright pornographic noises he made when Dean pressed his tums into a knot. He was sure the bastard did it on purpose. More than once Dean had had to adjust his satchel to preserve the last illusion of modesty around here.

The nights, if pressed, he'd admit, were spent cuddling until they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs. Comfortable where by no means he should've been comfortable. Happy.

Dean was well and truly fucked.

He picked up his pace and went looking for the dude's favourite fruit.

Chapter 7

The darkness of the night had once again embraced them after a scorching day. Cas had collected some more of the aloe to soothe Dean's sore, angry pink shoulders, but the rest of him had managed virtually unscathed.

It was the evening of day fifteen, the day when Dean had his heart in his throat out of fear of losing Cas, of having to spend the rest of the time here alone. Which sounded odd. He could spend weeks in solitary existence on his hunting and fishing trips, but now, being alone had seemed too much to handle.

Once the scare of having to get Cas out of here had passed, Dean had only barely allowed Cas to roam around, on the condition that they went together. So the aloe situation had been sorted.

Dean, as per his need to protect, had insisted that Cas rest and let Dean go do the heavy lifting. Much to Dean's surprise, Cas had agreed without argument. The fever really took a toll on him.

Now it was campfire and darkness, the random sounds of nature, and somehow they'd ended up with Dean sitting cross-legged on the ground with Cas's head on his thigh.

It had happened so naturally that Dean wasn't sure if he'd even noticed, so lost in thought staring at the flames, so comfortable with Cas's presence, but he'd stumbled onto a thought that made him realize he was caressing Cas's shoulder, and was gently massaging Cas's scalp and running his fingers through his hair.

"Don't stop," Cas mumbled drowsily, tilting his head to look up at Dean,who wasn't sure which expression he was sporting. Until he felt a smile take over his face. One reserved for cute girls and even cuter guys.

He blamed the flames in front of him. Fire had always been fascinating to him, as long as it was safely contained. There was something so primal about it, it brought out the deep side of him. What had startled him from his ministrations was simple. As he had suspected earlier, he had feelings for Cas. And not just the 'pin him to a wall and fuck him senseless' kind.

Here he was, skin to skin with a man he'd probably have wet dreams about for the rest of his life, (and awake jerk-off sessions if he was really honest with himself,) fingers buried in Cas's mess of a hair, and all he wanted was to kiss that confused look off his face and replace it with open mouthed moaning.

Dean swallowed hard and tried to refocus his thoughts. Something of a safer territory. Like hedgehogs or goldfish. Yellow jackets. Skunks. Anything to stop him from popping a chubby with Cas's head in his lap.

He brushed Cas's hair off his forehead, and returned to watching the flames but he could still feel Cas's eyes on him.

"What's bothering you?" Cas made to sit up,but Dean held him down with a firm hand to his arm. Typical Cas – straight to the point, no tiptoeing around a subject,just diving in head first.

Dean let out a self-deprecating laugh and tilted his head back to seek wisdom from the skies. "What's bothering me is that we're here, and if we were anywhere else, life would be so much easier. So right now, everything is bothering me."

"But if we weren't here, we wouldn't have met." Cas went silent for a moment, both the men staring at the fire as if it held all the answers. "Unless you believe in destiny and fate," Cas continued quietly. "In God's plan."

Cas took Dean's hand, carefully lifted it off his shoulder and sat up, mirroring Dean's posture, and slid his fingers along Dean's arm to curl his fingers around Dean's. "I believe we make our own destiny."

Dean could only nod, sensing there was more. He squeezed Cas's hand to encourage him.

"I was once so indoctrinated into believing that God could no wrong, that he held the filaments of our lives in his hands and lead us on our paths exactly where we needed to go." Cas glanced at Dean, who stared at him intently.

"It took a long time to shake the last vestiges of those beliefs, but how can we be free, if there is a puppet master pulling our strings for his own amusement? Who is this God to make my decisions for me?"

Sensing and old argument, Dean chose to stay quiet, quietly admiring the fire burning so brightly inside Cas. Dean had had his moments of digging his heels with his dad, but never anything on this scale.

Cas took a calming breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and turned to squint at Dean. "What's important is that we did meet. I don't understand why the circumstances matter."

Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed and stared Cas in his squinty eyes. And winked.

"A-haa." Cas's features brightened. "Had we met at a bar, we'd have shared a drink and taken it from there, that's your point?"

"Basically, yes. It would have been easier." Dean kicked a leg out and leaned on his hands, watching Cas get up and get their pot of water.

Cas thrust the vessel to Dean, a grin forming on his lips. "Can I offer you a drink, Mr. Winchester? I know it's only water, but I'm assured this establishment carries only the freshest spring waters."

Chuckling, Dean took the pot with both hands, holding his pinky up and took a tiny sip. "Excellent vintage, Mr. Novak. Very fine indeed." He set the water aside and patted the space next to him. "Care to join me?"

Bowing dramatically, Cas then sat down, mere inches from Dean. For Dean, it felt like a chasm.

"Do the circumstances matter, Dean?"

With not entirely faked gravity, Dean shook his head, feeling lighter since last night, before Cas took ill and everything was fine. Everything was fine.

All the melancholy was gone, and Cas had certainly made his point. Maybe they couldn't do whatever they pleased, but they could spend their time together, get to know each other, be as silly as they wanted as long as they played by the production's rules.

So Dean turned to Cas, closed the chasm, and catching his jaw with his fingertips, kissed him slowly, unhurriedly. If kisses were all he was going to get, he'd take every single one Cas was willing to give.

Firelight painted phantom shadows behind Dean's eyelids, reminding him of his earlier thoughts.

At that moment, Cas's hand delving into Dean's hair, just this side of rough, spoke of unfulfilled needs they were just going to have to manage.

It was nice to know they were in this together.

Chapter 8

It was the day of extraction, and the mood at the camp was giddy.

Though big, a circle was still a circle, and both of them had been feeling a bit jittery for the past few days. The thoughts of home had filled their conversations the closer they got to this day.

They had tried to hunt another wild boar, but the ones they had half a chance to kill had been much too big. In the end, they'd settled for the surprising variety of fruits, and steeped mint-flavored tea from balderjan.

Dean and Cas strapped their cameras to their heads obediently, and shook the hands of the camera people. They wouldn't be following them this time around. A round of pats in the back for good luck, the survivalists said goodbye to the place that had kept them safe for three weeks. Dean wasn't sure if he was going to miss it.

They put their heads together to look at the map once again. The paper was crumpled and the edges were worn by having been on the bottom of Cas's satchel for all this time. Still, it bore the 'X' they had come here to achieve, and were so close to doing so.

With a final look, they started the twenty-two mile stretch across the woodlands.

"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get home?" Cas asked, a sort of game they had been playing. You had to give a different answer every time.

"Take Baby for a drive. She's been trapped under a tarp for way too long," Dean smiled wistfully. "Don't get me wrong, she's a beauty, but she's thirsty. What about you?"

"Eat a cheeseburger."

"That's not fair, you've already used that."

"That was for what I'm going to eat first when I get home."

"It's still cheating."

"Technically it isn't since it's a different question."

"You're impossible."

"I like to think so."

Dean was met with a teasing grin.

Hearing it coming, they stopped to watch how a helicopter chop-chop-chopped above them, someone waving from the open door, and they waved back. They were energized, urged on by the realization that it was getting footage of the end of their journey.

If they could keep up their pace, with minimal breaks, they'd be done in nine hours. Even Dean's feet had toughened enough to walk briskly on the unforgiving terrain.

Dean was in the midst of singing Charlie's praises, how she'd programmed an awesome car tuning software for the garage, when Cas stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Look," Cas pointed something out. "Is that..."

In the distance, a big car came trundling down a dirt road, dust billowing in its wake.

Dean grabbed Cas in an excited embrace with a whoop, Cas's arms wrapping around Dean's waist just as tightly, and they spent a moment swaying alarmingly, almost falling over. Dean felt like his face was splitting in half, he was grinning so hard, and when he pulled back, Cas wasn't much better off, eyes shining and gums showing.

Dean squeaked and laughed when Cas lift him off his feet.

When Cas put him down, his radiant smile was enough for Dean to swoop in, Cas's camera dropping to the ground when it hit Dean's. His lips were on Cas's, quick kisses full of teeth and giggling, heady in the confirmation that this was really happening.

They came apart when the car stopped and a woman walked over, bottles of water in her hands.

They'd made it. Just like that.

The ride to the production HQ took about two hours, during which they were relieved of their cameras and microphones disguising as necklaces. It seemed like witchcraft to see buildings and even a gaggle of tourists, since for all they knew, Cas hadn't been taught to prep for nothing and the world had really ended, and they and the camera crew were the only ones left in the world.

Once they arrived to the glorified cabin, clad in bathrobes, they were escorted to a room which held two cots, Cas's suitcase and Dean's duffel, filled with stuff they'd brought from civilization.

A new cameraman had started following them around, and Dean couldn't help his irritation building. This guy was up their asses compared to the distance they'd had with the crew at the camp.

They were shown the bathroom, complete with an actual shower, but it had to wait since there was the table. A true table of plenty; Pretzels, jelly beans, hot fries and ketchup, cartons of orange juice, a jug of chocolate milk, Cheetos, and were those PB and J sandwiches?

Cas made a beeline for the peanut butter and jelly like he'd never seen food before, while Dean hovered over the table, unable to decide where to start. He grabbed a handful of Cheetos and stuffed them into his mouth, groaning at the salty taste after way too many fucking fruits. He crammed a few fries in too, and turned to Cas, a huge grin bulging his cheeks like a chipmunk's.

Beaming, Cas reached to brush some crumbs from Dean's jaw and bit into his sandwich again. His eyes fluttered closed. "I've missed these."

The hot water streaming on Dean's back was heavenly. The scent of soap went to his head when he started scrubbing himself clean for the first time in three weeks.

He made sure every nook and cranny was thoroughly washed, going his entire body over three times before he was satisfied. Stepping out of the shower he wished there was still enough hot water for Cas too.

The towel was just on the right side of coarse, and Dean rubbed himself until he was bright pink and sufficiently dry. He turned to the mirror and unzipped his toiletry bag, rummaging for his shaving kit, and went to work. Three weeks worth of beard was waiting to be dealt with, and he couldn't wait to look like himself again. Spraying a dollop of shaving cream on his palm, he got to work.

Cas slipped through the door as soon as Dean got out of the bathroom, shutting it to his face. Shrugging, Dean went to dress himself and found that the table had sprouted a couple bottles of beer.

He dug jeans and a Metallica t-shirt out of his duffel and didn't really give a rats ass that they smelled a bit funky. They could air out while he was wearing them. After donning his attire, he rubbed his hands together and went to grab a beer. The first sip slid down his throat like ambrosia. His clothes, on the other hand, felt pretty fucking weird.

Cas arrived in the room and Dean forgot he's drinking from his bottle, frozen in place, save for swallowing hard.

Wearing jeans and a powder blue t-shirt, his face shaved and clean, his usually wild hair sticking up crazy where he has been rubbing it dry, Cas was a sight to behold.

Dean tried to adjust himself discreetly and glared venomously at the cameraman following them around.

They were served a light dinner in the kitchen. Food that Dean would have normally deemed boring since it was designed not to upset their stomachs, but he devoured every morsel and almost licked the plate clean.

Soon afterwards Cas yawned widely, and a producer told them they were free to go to bed. Their part was done. There would be no more cameras up their business. The official part was over, though their flight back home was the day after tomorrow.

After thanking everyone politely, they hightailed it back to their room, Dean crowding Cas against the door as soon as it was shut.

He pressed his nose to Cas's neck, inhaling deep. The clean scent mingling with what was distinctly Cas was intoxicating. That, and the feeling of freedom.

There was nobody watching them, nobody cared what they did behind closed doors.

They hadn't had a second chance for a moment to themselves, so the energy surrounding them had been electric for days. Now that they were alone, Dean felt desperate to act on it.

Cas pulled Dean flush against himself and lift Dean's face up with demanding fingers. The sun was setting, and Cas's eyes were dark gray where there should have been blue for Dean to dive in. He slapped the switch on the wall, and a light bulb lit the room with its yellowish light.

Dean didn't get much time to admire the view when Cas kissed him hungrily, groaning into Dean's mouth when Dean slid his thigh between Cas's.

They broke apart for long enough to yank their shirts off, mouths crashing together the moment they were free again.

Cas's hand's went to the fastening of Dean's jeans, and it was alarming how they slid down too easily after opening one button. He hadn't realized how much weight he'd lost.

He discarded the thought, fingers unzipping Cas's jeans and palming him through his underwear. He was already so hard there was a wet spot greeting him.

Dean kicked his jeans away and began leading Cas to the bunk, shuffling backwards until his legs hit the edge. "I want you to fuck me," he said hoarsely, searching Cas's eyes.

"Do you have a condom?" Cas's chest was flushed under his tan, a gleam in his eyes making Dean want to whimper with lust.

"No," he whined pitifully. "I didn't come to the Bushveld to get my jollies on."

"Do we need one? I assume we're both clean, since we wouldn't be here if we'd failed the health screening. They were very thorough."

Dean pondered that for a moment. There was light at the end of the tunnel. "We don't need one. Lube?"

"I have a packet. I expected to have time for myself after the extraction."

"But you're uncut."

Cas stared at him, unamused. "I have fingers."

"Oh. Oh!I love a man who plans ahead," Dean pecked a kiss to Cas's mouth and let him go find the lube.

In no time at all they were rid of their underwear, Dean on his back on the cot and Cas kneeling between his legs. It was a tight fit for two grown men's activities, but they made do.

Gently, Cas opened Dean up, Dean thumbing the sharp rise of Cas's hips. Dean had to bite his lip to keep his groans from outsiders.

When Dean was ready, Cas pushed his knees back and guided himself in slowly.

Dean forced his eyes to stay open, to watch Cas, the way his mouth fell open when he thrust deep.

Cas curved over Dean, leaning on his elbows, and Dean hooked his legs around Cas, hands relentlessly sliding over the muscles of Cas's back when he began moving inside Dean.

This was what he'd dreamed about. The ebb and flow of this, the way he was filled, Cas all over him. He moaned quietly, Cas's movements quickening in time of Dean's need, his rush to get to the pleasure the crest of which eluded him. He just needed the right push.

Cas shifted his weight to one side, fisting Dean's cock.

"Dean. I-"

"I know, babe, just a little more, I'm right there with you." Dean reached for Cas, to catch his mouth with his own, to swallow Cas's breathy moans.

Dean came with a gasp, white noise taking over the sounds in the room while warmth spread throughout him. He smiled when he felt Cas's body lock up, and the tell-tale pulsing inside him.

It took a long time for them to untangle themselves enough for a quick cleanup, and for Cas to slump into his own bed instead of crushing Dean.

"Night, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Turning to his side, Dean kind of missed their bedding beside the fire. At least it had had space enough for two.

Chapter 9

Dean woke up with a start, head heavy and his joints achy, feeling an awful lot like hungover. He'd only had that one beer. And his surroundings were unfamiliar. He sat up slowly, taking in the fact that he was in an actual building, and checked the other bed. It was empty.

In his boxers and t-shirt, Dean wandered in the small kitchen, finding no one there. He ventured out of the open door.

"Hello, Dean."

Cas was sitting on a foldable chair, a mug dangling precariously in his hands.

Coffee.

Cas stood up and walked over to Dean, thrusting the mug into Dean's hand; "Hold this. Don't go anywhere." Cas winked before disappearing inside.

He was back just moments later with another mug and a thermos which, hopefully, was full. Otherwise it was doubtful Dean could get his eyes open all the way today.

Cas gave the other mug to Dean, then produced another chair seemingly out of nowhere and flicked it open one-handed. He gestured for Dean to sit down.

"Where is everybody?" Dean made a grabby motion towards the thermos.

Opening the bottle, Cas gave him a worried look but poured the coffee without argument. "They went to shoot some coverage for the show. Helicopter, remember? Dean. Dean! What's wrong?"

And Dean's world tilted.

He woke up to Cas kneeling down and swiping a wet cloth over his brow. "What happened?"

"You fainted. And you're burning up." Cas helped him up, which was a blessing since he felt dizzy the moment he was on his feet.

Pausing to reorient himself every few steps, they managed to get Dean to his bed.

The production's doctor, a severe looking man with graying hair had given him paracetamol and drawn blood. He'd informed that it'd have to be sent to a laboratory for further testing as the instant CRP test had come back inconclusive.

All Dean could do was wait.

Cas had been hovering over him for hours now. He'd been going back and forth, bringing Dean food and drinks, and generally fussing until Dean had reached his breaking point and snapped at him, asking if Cas was going to wipe his ass for him too.

Dean felt like the biggest dick on the planet when Cas looked like he'd been slapped, a quiet "You took care of me" his only response before leaving the room.

Meek was a look on Cas which Dean could happily live his entire life without.

Dean got out of bed on slightly shaky legs and tracked Cas down, standing outside, apparently staring at nothing.

Dean went to him wordlessly and sought Cas's eyes, slowly sliding his hands over Cas's arms and further around his waist. Seeking for permission, Dean held him loosely, and once Cas's eyes softened, Dean kissed him deeply for as long as it took for Cas to return the kiss in earnest.

"Are we okay?"

"We're okay," Cas nodded. "I keep forgetting I'm not responsible for your well-being anymore." He turned and went back inside, leaving Dean to find his own way back to his bunk with a frown on his face.

It was a relief when Cas came with a glass of orange juice for Dean and a refreshed mug of coffee for himself and sat on the edge of Dean's cot.

Cas wagged a deck of playing cards between his fingers. "I hope you play."

Dean shrugged. "It's one way to pass the time."

The smile on his face was nothing short of predatory.

African tick bite fever. It was a mouthful, but nothing that a couple weeks of antibiotics wouldn't deal with. Dean was set to fly home as scheduled. Which was tomorrow.

Why did it have such an ominous ring to it?

They weren't sitting in the same row, so Dean had to deal with the flight on his own.

It would have been bad enough even without the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, how everything was different now that they were out of South Africa. Maybe the Vegas rule applied.

They hadn't talked much on the way to the airport, or at the terminal. Cas seemed to be in a quiet mood, and Dean didn't want to bother him.

So he sat in his seat, bile rising in his throat out of pure fear and uncertainty, and mulled it over and over in his head. Did he want it to end? Was there even anything between them to really end? He sat up straight and tried to find Cas's head among the passengers. He couldn't locate him. Dean stood up and headed for the toilet. Seeing Cas on the way would be just a happy accident.

He had to stuff himself past a steward, and when he got to the seats Cas was sitting at, he found the man leaning his forehead against the seat before him, fast asleep. Dean left him to it, too uncertain. What would he even say if he woke Cas up? He went to take an angry piss and returned to his seat without looking at Cas on the way back. Maybe it would be easier this way.

Back on US soil, Cas waited for him to get off the plane, face tired and clothes rumpled. They went through customs and walked to the luggage carousel in silence. It hung heavy in the air, making it difficult to breath, but every time Dean tried to say something, the words died in his throat. He drummed a nervous beat to the seam of his jeans.

Their bags arrived too soon and Cas hauled his off the belt, then picked something out of his jeans pocket and pressed it into Dean's palm. A piece of paper.

Walking away backwards, rolling the suitcase with one hand, Cas made a gun with the other and winked with the saddest smile Dean had ever seen. Then he turned around, just another person milling about.

Dean felt like screaming. He would have, if his mouth hadn't gone numb. His heart twisted.

He opened the folded paper with shaking fingers.

It had a phone number scribbled on it.

xx

Castiel

Dean fished out his phone and cursed it when it took too long to turn on. His heart hammered inside his rib cage when he dialed the number, and pressed the phone to his ear. Chances were Cas's phone wasn't on either. Maybe Cas hadn't meant, like, right now.

It was too late now. He had to clutch his chest at the rustling sound after the third ring notifying him that he was connected.

"Hello?"

Definitely Cas. "Don't ever leave me like that again, Cas. I swear to god you gave me a heart attack." The chuckle on the other end was downright angelic to Dean's ears.

"Are you still at the luggage carousel?"

"Yes?"

"Stay there. Don't move. Don't hang up."

"Okay, I'm right here, staying right here, though I don't know why."

"I'm there now."

Dean looked to where Cas had vanished just moments ago and had to catch his breath. Cas looked absolutely disheveled, like he'd been running his hand through his hair nervously. He was willing to bet he wasn't much more presentable himself.

Cas walked over to Dean, putting away his phone only when he was two steps away.

In sharp relief to how careful they'd been with one another during the past day, they crashed into an embrace.

It was only after capturing Cas's lips in a long kiss that Dean realized he'd been terrified of not having this anymore. They were suddenly so far removed from living in each other's proverbial pockets it was hard to wrap his mind around. Reluctantly, he let go when Cas started to pull away.

"I want to take you on a second date," Cas blurted, eyes wide and questioning.

"Can we stay at a motel for a few nights after that?" Dean smiled, butterflies taking flight in his stomach.

"Sure," Cas flashed a relieved, if tired grin. "I don't know what your intentions are, but I have to warn you. You've already seen me naked."

Chapter 10

A whole month. A whole entire month surviving on phone calls and Skyping.

And there he was, the source of Dean's daydreams, clad only in his boxers when Dean arrived, squinting through the narrow opening Cas allowed between the door to his small apartment consisting of a kitchenette, a small living are and an even smaller bedroom.

After affirming it was Dean, Cas hauled him in by the lapel of his jacket, making Dean drop his duffel at the entrance and return Cas's welcome kiss with gusto, hands seeking the back of Cas's head with familiarity.

"Hey, hey," Dean managed between kisses. "Let me get by boots off."

Cas huffed in annoyance but let go of him, albeit reluctantly. The tent in his boxers spoke of its own story.

"You been saving that for me?"

"Two weeks is too long, Dean," Cas slid a hand over the bulge, making Dean want to slap his hand away. That was his.

"I hear you." He could feel his own cock answering the call of miles of tanned, bare skin, not to mention the demanding tone Cas had going.

He finally managed to rid himself of the boots and the jacket, standing there with his socked feet and a t-shirt, arms wide and open.

Cas attacked him like was starved, and Dean kissed back the best he could.

Cas's nimble fingers made short work of his jeans, puddling them around his ankles while Cas got rid of the shirt and fingered Deans nipple, knowing full well it would alight Dean's fire as surely as Cas's mouth on his cock.

"I already prepared myself." Cas rumbled straingt into Deans ear, making the hairs on his arms raise and a shot of lust coil in his stomach. "All you have to do is slide right in." Cas took the lobe of Dean's ear between his teeth gently.

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean breathed, swallowing hard while toeing off his jeans and kicking them off somewhere. "You're not playing fair."

"I don't care. I missed you, Dean." Cas took Dean's hands and walked him to the bedroom, stopping just beside the bed to kiss him deeply.

Cas maneuvered Dean so that his legs hit the bed, and slid his underwear down, Dean's cock jutting up proudly.

Cas grinned and swiped a finger over the tip to catch a drop of precome, then sucked the digit into his mouth. Dean groaned. "You're killing me here, Cas. Just so you know."

"That is not my intention. Unless la petit mort counts." Cas pushed him on the bed, and Dean arranged himself lengthwise.

With a smooth move, Cas threw his leg over Dean's hips and bent down to give Dean another deep kiss, Cas's grunt of apparent frustration making its way into the play.

Cas sat up on his knees and reached behind himself, lining Dean's cock up and sitting straight down.

Cas's eyes slid closed as Dean breached him, an ardent groan rising from his chest while Dean was struck breathless, managing small whimpering sounds and clutching on Cas's hips like his life depended on it.

Cas smoothed his hands across Deans chest, sitting up straight and throwing his head back with a long sigh. "I missed this." Cas lifted his head slowly, waiting for Dean to open his eyes. "The feel of you. Being with you. I want to cook you breakfast."

Lifting himself with those powerful thigh muscles, Cas set a slow pace, making them both feel every increment of Dean's cock sliding in and out, both of them fully aware that the patience would be well rewarded in the end.

Caressing Deans sides, Cas began thumbing Deans nipples, already erect as if starving for attention, and Cas was determined to give them that. He toyed with the other gently, while pinching the left bud of Deans nipple where the sensation hovered between too much and not enough. Dean pressed his fingertips to Cas's thighs, mouth open and panting, beads of sweat already forming on his chest while Cas continued the steady pace relentlessly.

"I want to kiss you," Dean pleaded between breaths, reaching for Cas who came down willingly, planting his palms beside Dean's head.

Dean hugged Cas to himself, thrusting his fingers in the wild hair of the man he knew was something special, and not only because of his lifestyle. There was something of the wilderness they both loved in Cas, a freedom that came with adventure.

His thought process was caught short when Cas swiped his tongue over Deans lower lip, and then planted those incredible lips to his softly. It was as unhurried as their lovemaking.

For all Cas had thought it urgent to get naked, there was none of that now. This was about closeness, with the bittersweet edge of them having to part ways on Sunday again, only so that they could arrange another weekend as soon as possible.

Dean had to move. The pressure in his balls was building up, so he wrapped his arm around Cas and held his head in place so he could keep kissing him. He wanted all of Cas.

Cas got the hint and scooted his legs under him, lifting his ass so that Dean had more room to fuck him.

They came together like they were meant to be doing this, Dean thrusting up and Cas meeting him halfway, each stroke making Cas gasp and clutch Dean's shoulders, their kisses a sharing of breath more than a touch, but neither of them closed their eyes.

It was like electricity buzzing inside Dean's skull as Cas's intense, dark blue eyes bore into Deans soul.

"Fuck me like that, and I'm gonna come in seconds," Cas panted, his neck cording with resistance. "I want you to come in me, Dean. Please."

This was something Dean was already familiar with, Cas getting off on Dean spilling inside him. He'd even come once while giving Dean a blowjob, barely touching himself. It was something to look into further.

"I'm close, babe, I just need-" Cas twisted Dean's nipple just so, and Dean jackknifed, burying himself inside Cas and spilling deep, the sudden buzzing in his ears almost blocking the delightful sounds of Cas's orgasm manifesting in a long groan, the sound of which made Dean's cock twitch a few last times. Obviously they were both onto each other's kinks.

Cas lifted himself up gingerly, laying on his back beside Dean, a hand coming to rest of Dean's stomach while they were catching their breaths.

There was the cleaning up, obviously, but not a single force in this world could deny them a few minutes of being there, especially when Cas snaked his arm under Dean's head and kissed him almost chastely.

In those minutes, Dean made a decision. It might take some doing, but it was possible if they both worked for it together, and if their mutual past had taught them anything, it was that they were good at just that.

He wanted to share a house with Cas. Permanently. No more driving and begging and pleading for time off to see each other. Just a place that they both called home. Where they cooked breakfast every day and planned hiking and hunting trips. Where they crawled into bed together, just to sleep. Sometimes.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Cas beat him to it; "This place is too small for two. We'll have to start looking for an alternative, don't you think?"

Dean's answer was to kiss Cas agreeably breathless.

Chapter 11: Epilogue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

The long distance-thing, no matter how much they Skyped and talked on the phone, didn't work. Their unlimited texting plans probably bankrupted their service provider.

Not to mention their weeping bank accounts when they'd been traveling back and forth the six hundred miles between Sioux Falls and Pontiac to meet each other, taking every possible chance to be together, trying to make up for the time they'd been apart and boinking like bunny rabbits. In the end, it just wasn't for them. Even taking Baby on road trips had lost its shine after some point, and that was saying something.

So they fixed it.

They'd agreed there was no point in uprooting them both, so Cas had conceded with moving in with Dean to the house he'd inherited from Bobby. After a couple months of struggling with money, Cas having issues with 'living off of Dean' while working at a Gas-n-Sip, it had panned out when Cas found a well paying survival instructor gig, and was now making enthusiastic noises about starting his own courses.

It wasn't like they were rolling in cash, but they got by comfortably. It helped that they knew how to take advantage of what nature had to offer, and used it every change they got. Their freezer was always full.

It turned out their episode aired without a hitch.

It had been downright anti-climatic to see them just going about their daily tasks and getting along swimmingly. They'd even managed to edit their extraction into something less enthusiastic, their celebration edited to dismiss their kissing. It somehow underlined how very boring it could have been, had they been paired with anyone else.

Although it was surprising, when Dean saw the footage of him leaving Cas alone to look for the African wormwood to bring his fever down. Somehow he hadn't quite realized just how distraught he'd been. So afraid of being alone and losing Cas before he even truly had him, until the film showed him muttering to himself in obvious distress.

It would have been embarrassing if it wasn't for the grounding hand on his thigh and the emotion in Cas's eyes when they saw and approved the episode together. They hadn't watched it since.

The whirlwind of their twenty-one days in South Africa had begun to bind them together, and they'd both learned to compromise along the way. Enough to allow them to navigate each other's lives. Enough so, that they'd been calling this house theirs for ten months now. (Instead of Bobby's, like Dean had referred to it until Cas came.) Officially dated and signed the first week Cas arrived with two suitcases, a backpack, and a stack of books the height of Sam.

Dean found Cas standing in the living room, staring at the framed, creased and battered map hanging on the wall with soft eyes. Once again he was gratified they'd come all this way. Granted, it could have gone smoother, but in the end, what could you expect from a couple of men too stubborn to give up.

Dean watched Cas, unnoticed, carrying two mugs of coffee. The vision Cas made, lips curved into a dreamy smile, had stopped him on his tracks. He put their coffees on the table and smiled in answer when Cas turned to Dean before studying the map again.

In couple steps Dean was front-to-back with Cas, hugging him by the waist, seeing what Cas was seeing. Where they stopped survival and began thrival.

He pressed a kiss to Cas's shoulder and tightened his hold when Cas rested his hand on Dean's arm.

Castiel would probably always make Dean's heart beat faster. This resilient man willing to deal with his shit.

Still refusing to tap out.