There was nothing out of the ordinary when Castiel and Dean were reading, comfortable and cozy, on their bed in their shirtsleeves, 1984 and Cat's Cradle, respectively, when Cas put his book down, visibly distraught by what he'd read.
Cas moved, alerting Dean from his book, and the look on Cas's face caused some instant alarm.
"Cas? Sunshine, what's wrong?"
"This book. It's just like a prophecy." Cas still stared at the book like he didn't believe what he was seeing, blue eyes wide with dread.
Dean tucked his book under his pillow and sat up properly, properly focusing on the problem at hand. "It's just a book, Cas," Dean took the book away from Cas gently, speaking in tones low enough to vibrate through Cas's lungs. "Vivid imagination 's all it is, that's all."
"But it rings so true." Dean could see Cas despairing, tucking the book under his pillow and taking his hands in his own, listening. "For all the years I've observed humanity, these are the times described in this book. Even history is being re-written."
With a gentle hand, Dean turned Cas's head so he would look at him, momentarily at a loss for words at the distraught he saw in Cas's eyes, written all over his gorgeous face.
Dean kept Cas's gaze with his own steadily; "If it was written by a prophet, you wouldn't be able to read it, right?"
Cas nodded slowly, a tentative, small smile tugging the corner of his mouth, falling silent for a moment to press his forehead against Dean's. "I suppose you're right. But it rings so true. How can humanity just ignore it, when it's happening like it was foretold."
"It wasn't 'foretold'. Just like The Lord of the Rings isn't a history book. Its fiction, and it's called fiction for good fucking reason. Listen," Dean moved to bracket Cas's thighs, framing his face with his arms resting against the wall. "Nostradamus figured himself capable of foretelling the future, and look how that turned out, huh?"
Deaan breathed together with Cas, when took a shuddering breath and began to relax, albeit minutely.
Closing his eyes, Dean buried his fingers in Cas's hair, massaging his scalp gently, further calming the angel. He continued in soft tones; "Sure, there are those yahoos who think Orwell was right about everything, what with their interpretations molded to fit what has happened after the fact. I doubt the dude was even psychic to begin with."
That earned a small chuckle from Cas, his arms coming around Dean in a loose hug, thumbs tucked firmly under the waistband of Dean's jeans. That made Dean's eyes open again, just to assess the situation.
Cas sighed deeply, now smiling more widely, and leaned his head back so he could look Dean in the eye. "Then I doubt Mr. Orwell possessed that ability either. Humanity is only taking the steps where free will lead them."
"That's right, Cas. And at some point humanity will look around and say enough is enough. Trust me. It's happened before, and it'll happen again."
After a moment of silence, Cas lift his face up solemnly to press a kiss to Dean's lips. "Thank you, Dean."
"For what?" Dean was genuinely bewildered. All he'd done was talk a bit.
"For putting things into perspective," Cas snaked a hand under Dean's shirt, pressing his large, warm palm against his back. Dean felt like purring when Cas began to stroke his skin.
"Dean, ever since Metatron forced all that knowledge in me, its been hard to differentiate which parts are real. I would have much preferred to have read all those books myself, like we're reading here, but now they're all muddled in a big lump of knowledge, and that is bound to cause misunderstandings."
The honest, wide eyes Cas gave him made Dean's heart leap in his chest. "I'll tell you what," Dean kissed Cas, simply because he was right there. "Whenever you feel out of your depth, ask me, and we'll figure it out together." Another kiss. "And we can even lasso Sam in for reinforcements if need be," Dean grinned, knowing his partner, knowing the worst had passed.
"Consider it a deal," Cas smiled, tucking his other hand under Dean's shirt, sliding it over Dean's side firm enough not to be tickling.
"What are you doing, Cas?" Dean admonished playfully, betraying the innocent tone he tried to accomplish.
"I might need further distraction, I'm still a bit preoccupied with the "prophecy"," Cas deadpanned, taking the time from rucking Dean's shirt up higher for air quotes.
"You know we don't have time for this," Dean straightened his arms up once Cas's hands were back on him, leaning against the wall, his voice hitching when Cas's fingers found a nipple, twisting gently. "Sam's back in about fifteen and I promised him burgers."
"We'll just have to make it quick, then."
Dean let out a very undignified squeak when Cas lift him up by the hips and wriggled himself prone on the bed, landing Dean straight on his lap, the change on seating bringing Dean up to pace, as he was now sitting on something very suspiciously hard, and long, fulfilling, and thick. He bent down and stuck his tongue into Cas's mouth, and by the sound Cas made and the way he instantly licked back, it was very much welcomed.
Cas's hands roamed under Dean's shirt, claiming fingertips pressing into Dean's skin drawing faint red lines, while Dean's cock had got the memo and was hard against the deathly frustrating, multiple layers of clothing between them.
Dean got up for air, leaning on his elbows, when Cas planted his feet on the bed and began undulating against Dean slowly.
"I hate to break it to you, but this is only going to leave us both frustrated," Dean grumbled, meeting Cas's thrusts and his unwavering gaze. It was too tempting, too impossible to simply stop.
The angel looked thoroughly lickable all over with his eyes blown to near black with lust, Cas's hands sliding under Dean's sweatpants and boxers to grab Dean's ass, lips slightly opened and wet, so pornographic, and Dean whimpered at the futility of it all. There simply wasn't enough time.
"Trust me, Dean. Kiss me."
Those were two things Dean did without hesitation.
Then Cas opened his mouth a bit more, taking a hold of Dean's head with both hands, his eyes lighting bluish-white, while a tendril of wispy glow escaped his mouth, before Cas guided Dean's mouth to his own, sharing his grace with a slick lick of his tongue swirling around Dean's, his eyes blowing wide, staring at Dean in awe, and his jaw slack.
The effects were immediate.
Dean was iron hard in his jeans, harder he'd ever been all his life, and the feeling of Cas's grace coursing through him was making his entire body tremble, every hair on his body standing on edge, his balls drawn tight and so aroused and desperate for Cas he didn't know his own name. Hips pressing hard against Cas's, his hands delving into Cas's hair while the grace twined itself around Dean's spine, his orgasm building with each shared breath. He was so close he could taste the sweetness, the electricity of it. The delectable pain and pleasure it would cause.
Cas wasn't far behind if the harsh breaths and the hands grabbing Dean's ass were any indication, the angel bucking against Dean relentlessly, almost frantically, gasping Dean's name against Dean's lips, catching Dean's lower lip with his before burying his face into Dean's neck, sucking hard, leaving his mark.
Then Cas slipped his middle finger a against Dean's hole, pressing slightly. Dean lift his head, whimpering, eyes closed and indecisive, feeling the need for that dry finger to slide in deeper, but the urge to grind against Cas was as too strong. The battle dissolved quickly when warmth speared inside him, making him clench his teeth against the pleasure as Cas's grace wrapped around his prostrate, bursting Dean's world into bright light and pleasure so intense he'd never felt before.
Dean buried his face into Cas's neck in turn, pressing breathless kisses to the delicate skin, slumped over the angel, unable to move even if he wanted to.
Castiel ran his fingers through Dean's sweaty hair, his other arm like a vice around Dean's back, holding him close as they breathed each other's air, eyes locked between hooded lids. A couple minutes passed by, both the men catching their breaths, Cas holding Dean close with his nose buried in his hair. "You said we don't have much time, Dean. We should get up."
Right. Sam. Burgers.
Dean flopped an arm in the air listlessly, then buried it under Cas. "Sam can wait. It wouldn't be the first time."
Cas chuckled. "I know. And as a form of an apology, I think, for once, we should be on time."
Grinning, Dean managed to look at Cas, albeit droopily; "Are you sure?" Suddenly Dean was very uncertain, felling kind of ungrateful, now that he had finally come up for air for real. "That was mind blowing for me, but was it good for you too? Just give me a minute and I'll make it up to you. Distract you some more."
"Dean," Cas smiled beatifically, sleepily, cupping Dean's jaw. "I reached my own orgasm the moment I felt my grace surround you in such an intimate way. It's difficult to explain, but its erotic in ways I'm not sure humans can comprehend." Cas kissed Dean slowly, tenderly. "You gave me everything I needed. And more. As always."
Dean felt like blushing, so he leaned forward and kissed Cas languidly, sweet, loving lips against softness he once thought he's never get to experience. Grateful for every second, Dean jerked back when he heard noises from inside the bunker, announcing Sam's return. Dean pecked one more kiss to Cas's lips and busied himself with trying to make his boiled-spaghetti-legs function and got up, smoothing his clothing out, grimacing. "I need a shower. I reek of awesome sex."
Cas sat up and reached for Dean, a white light streaming from his palm. "Not anymore." Cas gave a wry smile that made Dean grin in return. "Unfortunately," Cas smirked, and Dean could've sworn Cas looked smug. "I like that particular scent."
A faint hollering reached the pair, indicating that Sam had indeed returned, making Dean smooth his hands over his clothes once more, and sniffing his pits for good measure. Squeaky clean.
Looking back over Cas, Dean burst into laughter, barely able to breath, managing only a jumble of words for Cas to make sense out of.
Apparently, if Cas was interpreting this right, the current state of Cas's hair after a good fucking, no matter how much grace, wouldn't fool anyone.