Chapter Text
Castiel is nervous and his vessel’s senses feel magnified. Dean’s hand is warm in his and his fingers are tight as he drags him across the street. He turns him and presses Castiel against the car. The metal frame of the impala is cold against his back but Dean’s lips are hot against his. He’s a long line of solid heat pressed all down his front.
“Dean –” Castiel exhales against his mouth when he pulls away to breathe. It’s the only thing he can get out before Dean licks back in, insistent and possessive and there.
Dean’s hands are like brands on his waist, fingers pushing up the hem of his shirt and searing the skin he finds there. Castiel doesn’t know where to put his own. He’s fisting handfuls of Dean’s jacket before running them through his hair and settling them on his shoulders. He can’t keep them still and they slip down along his back. He wants to touch all of Dean.
Teeth play over his bottom lip and Dean sucks on it before soothing it over with a wash of his tongue. It sends shivering bolts of lightning down Castiel’s spine and he stifles a moan against Dean’s lips. Sinking his fingers into Dean’s hair, he tips his head and parts Dean’s lips with his tongue and he claims. He tastes bitter beer and the salt of peanuts and everything that is purely Dean.
He parts his thighs and Dean slides closer, fitting a leg between them. His pants are tight and firmly holding his growing erection down. It’s uncomfortable and if he would allow himself to feel it, it would probably be painful. Castiel wants them off. He wants Dean’s clothes off too. He wants to see and feel just how scarred Dean’s skin has become since Castiel put together the grave rot that was left of Dean Winchester over six years ago.
Six years. A pin prick in the millennia of Castiel’s life. And nothing he has ever done, no one he has ever met, have meant more to him than the man rolling his hips against his. Dean swallows his startled gasp and his fingers tighten in the hair at the back of Castiel’s head. They pull back, baring the column of his throat to Dean’s mouth.
Castiel exhales heavily and his fingers scrabble for purchase on Dean’s arms as Dean seals his lips over his pulse point and sucks. He presses his fingertips harder than necessary into Dean’s back, pulling him closer. There are small noises tearing their way out of his mouth and he can’t be bothered to stop them.
Teeth scrape over skin and his hips stutter against Dean’s. There is warm breath ghosting over his ear and Castiel has to bite his lip to stifle another loud moan when Dean’s tongue traces the curve of it. He can’t stop the second groan at the rumble of Dean’s voice against his skin.
“She touched you here, right? The chick at the bar. She put her lips on you here?”
Dean’s fingers find Castiel’s wrists and pull them away, pinning them down at his sides against the car door. He squirms, rubbing against the thigh pressed between his legs. Castiel could easily break his hold. They both know it and it’s a sign of trust that Castiel doesn’t.
“Dean –“
“Yes or no, Cas.” Dean nips sharply at his ear and a number of things happen all at once with Castiel’s vessel.
The word escapes him on a hiss of air. “Yes.”
He whines, loud and sudden. His back arches, pressing his chest against Dean’s. His hips twitch hard against him. Dean is smiling against his skin, he can feel it with the press of lips to the soft skin below his ear. He does it again, worrying the lobe between lips and teeth before sucking hard and dipping his tongue in. It makes Castiel’s whole body tremble.
Castiel can sense eyes watching them. He knows they’re out in the open, pressed against the impala on the side of a street and Castiel is being anything but quiet. He wants to hear the same sounds from Dean. He wants everything Dean is willing to give. And he doesn’t want anyone else to have it, to see it, to hear it, ever again.
He surges forward and hooks his foot behind Dean’s ankle. He pulls and pushes, forcing Dean back and for one moment Dean is wide-eyed and falling. Castiel spreads his wings in the sub-space where he hides them. They beat once, twice, and Dean’s fall is stopped by the mattress of Charlie’s bed.
“Shit! Cas!” Dean sits up only to be pushed back down, Castiel’s hand firm against his chest.
Castiel straddles Dean’s lap and ignores the tight stretch of the jeans over his erection. He’ll deal with that later. Dean’s hands are on his thighs and sliding up to his hips as Castiel leans over him. He tips his chin up and Castiel knows Dean is expecting a kiss, but he isn’t going to give him that. Not yet. He needs to do for Dean what he’s already done for him.
Dean makes a noise of protest as Castiel grips his chin and makes him turn his head to the side. Castiel is more harsh with his teeth and tongue and lips than Dean was as he cleans away the smears of lipstick along the edge of his ear. The taste is cloying and he can smell her perfume. He cleanses his palate with the salt of Dean’s skin and rubs the stubble of his cheek and jaw against Dean’s neck.
“She touched you too.” He’s almost startled by his own voice. It’s rasping and deep. Dean groans and bucks against him and if Castiel was allowing himself to move, it might have unseated him. “Where else did she touch you?”
His hands find their way under Dean’s jacket and the flannel over shirt. He presses rough, nibbling kisses along the line of Dean’s jaw until he reaches his lips again. Dean lifts his head from the bed, seeking another burning kiss like the ones they shared against the car. Castiel pulls back after the first tantalizing brush of lips.
“Dean. Where else did she touch you?” He repeats the question with narrowed eyes. If she touched Dean elsewhere then Dean needs to be cleansed of it.
“Christ, Cas, that was it. Now get down here.” Dean fists handfuls of Castiel’s shirt and he allows himself to be pulled into another bruising kiss that leaves him breathless.
He feels his shirt get pulled tight across his back before he hears the sound of stitches popping. It’s a monumental effort of will to pull away from Dean’s lips and tongue. Castiel looks down at the tatters that remain of the front of his shirt. Only the top two buttons, which weren’t even buttoned in the first place, are still attached. The rest are scattered across Dean’s chest.
Castiel sits back and shrugs the shirt off. It’s fixed and devoid of safety pins before it even hits the floor. Dean works his arms out of his jacket and over shirt, leaving them lying on the bed as he sits up. His mouth is warm and wet on Castiel’s clavicle and his hands are everywhere. They’re firm but fleeting over his chest, thumbs pausing only a moment to rub at his nipples. The action elicits another full-body quake and Castiel tips his head back with his moan.
Dean’s grin is obvious and he trails kisses down Castiel’s chest. His licks and sucks and bites are experimental. Castiel knows he’s testing all areas for his reactions. He presses himself as tightly inside his vessel as he can, soaking up every sensation and how it makes his body tremble. Dean’s hands pass over his ribs and up along his shoulder blades and down his spine. They move around his hips, fingers skirting the hem of the low slung jeans until he presses warm palms to Castiel’s stomach.
He slides his fingers up Dean’s back, dragging the t-shirt with them. Dean grunts in annoyance when he has to move away to allow it to be pulled over his head. Castiel throws it over his shoulder and leans against Dean as he moves his clothing off the blankets. Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist and drags him with him when he shimmies further up the bed.
Castiel blindly finds Dean’s lips again and presses quick, insistent kisses to them. It’s his turn to touch and taste and map the differences of Dean’s body since the last time he held it in his hands. He copies the same path Dean took, stopping to pay special attention to the areas that make Dean react. They aren’t all the same as his own.
His hands work over Dean’s sides and his stomach and he ghosts his fingers over the swell of Dean’s shoulder where his handprint once marked it. Dean’s arms twitch and tighten where they still hold Castiel.
“Why’d you fix it?” Dean mumbles into his hair and Castiel lifts his head from tasting the tattoo above his heart, eyebrow raised in question. Dean’s face is turned and he’s looking down at his shoulder. “It was gone after Stull. When you fixed me up, why’d you get rid of it too?”
Castiel tilts his head and examines Dean’s shoulder. He quirks a small smile and presses his hand unerringly over the exact spot the handprint used to be. He watches Dean closely before sending a pulse of his grace through his palm and fingertips. Dean gives a surprised shout that quickly dissolves into a pleased groan. His back arches almost violently beneath Castiel.
“What the hell was that?” Dean gasps, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows.
He moves his hand and the red of the brand burns brightly against Dean’s skin. Castiel leans forward and presses a soft kiss to the center of the palm print. Dean hisses and his hips twitch. Castiel can feel him hard and hot through the layers of clothing they both still wear. It sends a shivering bolt of want to curl low and throbbing in his gut.
They both watch as the mark fades, leaving Dean’s shoulder smooth again. Castiel traces his fingertips over the spot. “Stull was two years after I’d raised you from perdition. It should have healed on its own without leaving a scar within the first year.”
“Why didn’t it?”
Castiel shifts and presses his forehead to Dean’s shoulder. “I was selfish. I liked that humans, demons, angels, that everyone could see that I was the one who pulled you out of Hell. Not Uriel or Hester or anyone else, but me. And every time I was around you, I used my grace to keep it in place.”
Dean starts to card his fingers through Castiel’s hair and he pushes up into the touch. Dean’s voice makes the skin beneath his lips vibrate. “That why it went away after Stull? Because you weren’t around to keep it there?”
“My mark is burned onto your soul, Dean. Not your body. It’ll always be there.” He spaces his words with kisses to Dean’s collarbone, following it to the dip at the hollow of his throat. “The moment God brought me back after Stull, I knew I was going to have to leave you and return to Heaven to ‘play sheriff’. At the time, I didn’t think I would see you again. Healing the scar was… me letting you go.”
Dean is quiet and Castiel takes advantage of the silence to suck and bite several red marks around his neck. They’re low enough that the collar of his t-shirt will hide them. He brushes his thumb over his art work and notes the shiver that runs its course through Dean’s body. He moves up to kiss Dean and taste him again. The look in Dean’s eyes stops him cold.
“Is that what happened with Purgatory?” Dean’s voice is flat and hard and he wants to flinch away from it. “You just ‘let me go’ again?”
Castiel doesn’t know how to answer. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Dean’s leg shifts and he plants his foot on the bed. Castiel lets Dean roll them over until he’s hovering above him. He can’t begin to count the number of different emotions he sees in Dean’s face, in his eyes. But he sees the pain, the hurt and the betrayal.
He reaches up with both hands. He wants to cradle Dean to him and sing promises that he’ll never leave him. Not again, not ever. But Dean grabs his wrists and pins them to the bed beside his head. Castiel doesn’t fight him.
“Why this, Cas? Why now?”
This is a simple answer and Castiel responds without hesitation. “I want you.”
“Since when?”
Castiel frowns. It’s hard to even think of a time when he didn’t want Dean. He’s loved Dean since he first found the ragged smoke-edged light of his soul in Hell. But when did he start to want Dean in this way?
“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully and he doesn’t look away from the confusion that flashes over Dean’s expression. “Since the brothel? Before? After? I don’t know. I don’t remember when I started wanting you instead of just loving you.” Dean swallows thickly at those words. Castiel continues. “But Charlie and Sam’s efforts tonight made me realize I can’t stand letting anyone else have you.”
“Did you want me when we were in Purgatory?”
Castiel remembers every single one of Dean’s prayers calling for him. He remembers how much it hurt to hear them and have to stay away. He remembers the sound of Dean’s voice when he was crouched at the riverbank and the smile on Dean’s face. He hadn’t seen him smile like that in too long a time. He remembers how hard it was to not collapse into Dean’s hug and hold onto him and never let go.
“Yes.”
“But you still picked Purgatory.” Dean’s words are accusing and Castiel closes his eyes to them. The hold on his wrist tightens. “Look at me, Cas. I wanna know why. Why did you choose Purgatory over me?”
Castiel’s jaw clenches against a wave of frustration. This is not how he thought things would be going by now. He opens his eyes and his frustration ebbs at the desperation on Dean’s face. Dean doesn’t understand and he won’t be able to until Castiel explains. Dean won’t be able to accept Castiel like this until he can understand.
“I went to you. Before I made the deal with Crowley, I went to you.”
Dean is still and his eyes are wide.
“You were raking the leaves in the yard. You didn’t know Sam was alive and I could have told you, I should have told you, but I didn’t because Sam didn’t. I thought he knew best. You were out of the hunting business and if I went to you with my problems, I would be putting more weight on your shoulders than you should ever have to bear and I couldn’t do it. Not after everything you did and everything you sacrificed. Not when you had the closest thing to peace you might ever know. I made the deal with Crowley to spare you of my troubles.”
It’s coming in a rush now and Castiel won’t stop it. Dean needs to hear it all. He needs to understand.
“When Sam brought you back to hunting, when you called me down to help with the staff of Moses, I should have told you about the deal. I should have told you what I was planning. I didn’t because it was still more than you should have to bear. I hid it all from you to protect you. It was my war. If I brought you into it, Raphael would have used you against me. It was a war you never would have been able to fight in and I still don’t know of any way you would have been able to help. ”
He pauses and even though Dean tightens his fingers around his wrists again, Castiel closes his eyes. There is a tightness in his throat that makes it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. “And then I betrayed you in the worst way. I tore down Sam’s wall. I hurt the one person you care most about in this world because I knew it would distract you from stopping me. But it didn’t. You still tried. You tried and you failed because I was stubborn and so sure that what I was doing was right. That the souls from Purgatory would help me save what was left of my family.”
Castiel looks up at Dean again. “It took too long to realize that the angels may be my family, but they are not my family.”
Dean lets out a shaky breath and his head dips lower. His mouth is only a few inches away and Castiel wants to rise up and presses kisses to it. He wants to trace its edges and taste the smooth veneer of his teeth and the velvet of his tongue. But he can’t because Dean doesn’t understand yet.
“I didn’t deserve to be saved. Not after all that. Not after what I did to you, to Earth, to Heaven. Not after unleashing the Leviathans. But God brought me back anyway. Saving Sam? Killing Dick? That’s not nearly enough penance, Dean. Not after everything I destroyed. Purgatory was where I belonged. It’s where I planned to stay even before you found me.”
He swallows around the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. He holds it for a long moment before continuing. “I wanted you out of Purgatory. I wanted you safe. But you… You wouldn’t leave me and I had to get you out. I never wanted to give you false hope, Dean, but going with you was the only way. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to understand how much that hurt, how hard it was to walk with you and deceive you a second time. It took everything I had to let you go again.”
Dean leans down the rest of the way and presses his forehead against Castiel’s, his eyes falling closed. “Was that why you didn’t tell me you wanted me then?”
Castiel frowns. “I don’t understand…”
“I told you I wasn’t going home without you. I told you I needed you. Coz’ I do, Cas. I wanted to wait until we were home, until we were safe to say anything – do anything – about how much I’ve wanted you.” He dips his chin and presses a too soft kiss to his mouth. Castiel tries to chase after it and grunts his disapproval when Dean pulls out of reach. “But then you picked Purgatory over me. I thought I failed you and then you told me I was wrong and that I didn’t fail you and that you left me.”
“Dean –”
“And then you came back. You keep coming back to me and what the hell was I supposed to think, Cas? You picked Purgatory over me and I thought you didn’t want me. I couldn’t deal with telling you and risking losing you. I can’t lose you again. I need you, Cas.” He presses his face against Castiel’s neck. “I need you.”
He’s heard enough. And at the same time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever not want to hear it.
Castiel flips them, despite Dean’s startled grunt. Their kisses are rough and desperate. He’s making little noises in the back of his throat and he doesn’t know why but he can’t stop. He mumbles Dean’s name with every breath and he feels like he’s going to explode because Sam was right. Dean loves him and he loves Dean and he can have this. If there is anything he can have, all he needs is this. All he needs is him.
“Mine.” It comes out as a growl and Castiel ducks his head to press a bite into Dean’s shoulder. He pushes his grace under his skin and Dean jerks up again, hissing out Castiel’s name. He likes the sound of it. The handprint flares back up, red and angry across his shoulder and it stays.
Dean’s hands are on his ass, pulling him down to meet the roll of his hips. The friction is a good burn and fans the fire that’s been burning in his belly since he saw Dean in the bar. He puts his lips to Dean’s ear and nips at the lobe like Dean showed him. He speaks low and soft through his panting breaths. “I need you too, Dean, and I will always come back to you.”
They both know it’s a promise Castiel won’t be able to keep. No matter what, Castiel will always try to protect Dean. He’ll always put himself in danger if it means he can keep Dean safe. And he knows Dean will do the same for him without a second thought. In the lifestyle they lead, those are dangerous paths to take and if Castiel dies, there is no guarantee that God will bring him back again. He doesn’t care. He’ll make that promise over and over because the only thing that will ever keep him from Dean – now that he knows Dean is his as much as he is Dean’s – is Death.
“Cas.” Dean groans, fingers tightening. “Get these fuckin’ skinny jeans off.” Castiel’s grace swells, ready to wish them away with a thought, but Dean dips his thumbs under the waistband. “Do it the slow way, Cas. Wanna see you strip for me.”
Castiel sits back slowly. Dean is flushed and panting and grinning. He’s watching him from under half-lidded eyes and his hips keep rocking up against him. Castiel presses his lips together and looks down at the button-fly of the jeans. He thumbs them open and stops.
“Dean, I’m aware of what you’re asking...” He lifts his eyes to Dean’s expectant look. “But apparently all the research I’ve done watching television has not prepared me for life on Earth – as you’ve mentioned previously.”
“Cas, if you’re trying to tell me you don’t know how to take off a pair of pants before sex–”
“I know howto take off clothing, Dean.” Castiel looks down at him steadily. Dean’s frowning now and he doesn’t like it. He leans forward to kiss the sulk away and murmurs against his lips. “I have a rudimentary idea of what I should do, but I want you to teach me. Show me what I should do to please you. Tell me how you want me.”
For several seconds Dean does nothing but blink up at him with wide eyes. He squeezes them shut and tilts his head back with a groan. “Fuck.” Dean loops an arm over Castiel’s shoulders and pulls him down into a hard kiss that is little more than a crash of mouths and teeth and tongues.
He rolls them again and starts tracking another course down Castiel’s chest. Dean grunts soft words against his skin between bites and sucking kisses and sweeps of his tongue. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“I have an idea-ah!” His hips jerk when Dean’s tongue dips into his navel. “An idea of what I’d like to do to you.”
Dean groans again and rests his forehead against the slope of his stomach. Castiel brushes his fingers through Dean’s hair, dancing them along the back of his neck and across his shoulders. Warm breath is sliding across his skin and into the opening of the jeans. It makes Castiel squirm and buck his hips. He wants more.
He cants his hips upward, searching for friction, for something, for anything. Dean doesn’t disappoint. Castiel makes a strangled noise of surprise when Dean mouths at his erection through the front of the jeans. He whines when Dean doesn’t stay long, lips moving down one leg. Dean’s fingers work quickly to divest Castiel of his shoes and socks and then that mouth – that hot, wet, glorious mouth – is back. Castiel squirms to help Dean pull the jeans down off his hips and then Dean’s pulling them off his legs and tossing them away and he’s looking at Castiel like Castiel is something precious, something to be treasured, something to be kept.
He reaches for him and Dean comes willingly, but he doesn’t settle against Castiel. He remains just above him, straddling only one of his legs. He’s close enough that Castiel can feel the heat from his skin but far enough that he can’t feel his skin. Dean kisses him slowly, gently, but the kiss is on fire. Castiel can’t get enough of the taste of Dean and he paws at the jeans he’s still wearing. He fumbles a hand between them and Dean breaks the kiss to look down and watch as Castiel undoes his belt and opens his jeans.
Castiel’s dick is hard against his stomach and he’s leaking clear little drops of precome. Dean pushes his hands out of the way and finally, finally, touches him. He hisses in pleased surprise when Dean runs the heel of his palm down the length of his dick, fingers curling, cupping, teasing. Castiel’s breath hitches and his hips won’t hold still, rolling in tiny thrusts into Dean’s hand.
It’s still not enough.
Castiel is quick and efficient and maybe just a little frantic. He wants Dean naked and wet and moving. Against him, in him, on him, he doesn’t care as long as he gets to have Dean. Dean’s jeans and underpants make it halfway down his thighs before Castiel gives up on them and with a thought, he wishes the rest of his clothing away.
Dean laughs. “Impatient, are we?”
“Yes, I am.” Castiel pulls him back down and Dean open willingly to the insistent push of his tongue. He tastes every corner of his mouth and draws Dean back into his and he groans when Dean pulls away. “Dean.”
“Shhh, Cas. Just lemme do this, okay?” He kisses him once, lightly, before sitting back on his heels.
Castiel buries his fingers in the blankets before he tries to force Dean back against him. Dean’s hands are on Castiel’s hips, thumbs brushing over the bones. He’s rubbing his own dripping erection against Castiel’s thigh, leaving a little patch of wet that never gets a chance to dry before he’s running over it again. It’s driving Castiel to madness and Dean isn’t even touching him where he wants it the most.
Dean rises up and shuffles until he’s kneeling between Castiel’s legs. Without being asked or told, Castiel spreads his thighs wider and he’s rewarded with a pleased grin.
“Fuck, Cas, there’s so much I want to do to you I don’t even know where to start.”
“Anywhere, Dean. Just do something.”
He raises an eyebrow and his grin turns lascivious. “If you say so.”
It’s the only warning Castiel gets before Dean’s is licking a burning stripe up the length of his dick. Castiel cries out and his back bows, hips trying to press up against the downright sinful movements of Dean’s tongue licking, tasting, swirling over him. Dean holds them down firmly and suckles at the head of his cock. He tongues the slit before taking Castiel fully into his mouth and sinking down.
There’s so much warm, wet, heat and Castiel is making noises that sound dangerously close to whimpering and he doesn’t care. He’s panting and scrabbling at the blankets until Dean reaches out and takes his hands. He guides them to the back of his head and Castiel’s fingers are trembling as he runs them through Dean’s hair. He presses gently, urging without words for more.
Dean hums in approval and Castiel’s body spasms, the vibrations sending tingling zigzags of pleasure everywhere. He’s gasping and moaning and crying out Dean’s name and he doesn’t ever want it to stop. He thinks he might always want that soft, warm, wet mouth and the graze of teeth and the hollowed cheeks as Dean bobs along his length, working one hand over what he can’t take.
His other hand is roaming over his hips, his thighs, and brushing against his balls, stopping sometimes to cup them and roll them gently. Every touch is making the fire in his belly coil tighter and burn brighter and Castiel knows what’s going to happen when it reaches the breaking point but he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He’s never felt this thrumming beneath his skin, this electricity that dances along his bones and makes his limbs twitch and his toes curl.
Dean presses his thumb to a spot behind Castiel’s balls and he rubs it firmly. It’s like gasoline to the inferno boiling in his gut and it makes Castiel writhe. He’s chanting Dean’s name and he’s not even sure if he’s speaking English anymore and he doesn’t care. His whole world has narrowed down to Dean and where he’s touching him and when Dean pulls off his dick with a wet pop Castiel almost cries.
Dean shushes him with a hand over his mouth and one command. “Lick.”
And Castiel obeys. He coats Dean’s palm and sucks on his fingers, working his tongue around the digits and biting at them softly when Dean pulls them away. Castiel thinks he knows what to expect next and he hitches his legs wider that extra little bit. It earns him an almost wistful smile.
“Sorry Cas, but I don’t think I’m gonna last long enough for that.”
Castiel doesn’t pout, but it’s a near thing. Instead, he watches as Dean reaches down with the hand he wetted for him. Dean strokes himself, thumb swiping over his leaking head and spreading the wetness along his length. Castiel licks his lips and he wants to know what Dean tastes like there too. “Next time, then.”
Dean hips jerk forward and his response is lost in a gasp because Castiel is pressing the pad of his finger against the head of Dean’s dick. He watches with wide eyes as Castiel rubs his finger over the sensitive crown, gathering the beading precome there. Dean outright groans when he brings his hand back to his lips and sucks his finger clean.
Castiel is surprised when Dean rips his hand away and replaces his finger with his tongue. He’s chasing his own taste and Castiel closes his eyes and lets him. He moans when he realizes the flavor on Dean’s tongue is his.
There’s a hand under his thigh and he lets Dean guide his leg up until he understands what Dean wants. He hooks his leg around Dean’s hips and Castiel chokes out a pleased groan when Dean finally presses down their hips together. Dean ruts against him with a few slow, measured thrusts that slide their cocks together in a delicious mix of wet and friction. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean’s shoulders to keep him there.
He wants Dean’s kisses through the rest of this. He wants to see his face and eyes as Dean comes undone above him. Because of him. Because Dean is finding pleasure in the feel of Castiel’s vessel and the sound of his voice.
Dean’s hand is on him again. It’s on them both, squeezing and pumping in all the places Castiel didn’t know were right. They thrust with erratic rolls of their hips into the tight tunnel of Dean’s fingers until they find a rhythm that has Castiel whimpering and gasping and pleading into Dean’s kisses.
The fire has spread into Castiel’s chest now. It’s burning behind his ribs and through his stomach and deep into his gut. It’s blazing down his legs and up into his arms and he’s so close to something and he might be begging Dean to get him there because he doesn’t know how to reach it. Dean knows. He leaves Castiel’s lips despite Castiel’s groan of disappointment and presses kisses along his jaw to his ear again.
“It’s okay, Cas. I got’cha.” Dean drags his tongue over the sensitive skin under his ear. His voice is sandpaper rough and he’s breathing almost as hard as Castiel is. “Let go.” He punctuates the order with the sharp sting of teeth.
Castiel clutches at his handprint on Dean’s shoulder and arches off the bed. His loud cry is drowned out by the ringing in his ears and he almost doesn’t feel the splash of warmth on his stomach as he comes over Dean’s fingers. The inferno raging under his skin ruptures his control and Castiel realizes it was never a fire. It’s his grace that’s burning. His wings rip out of the sub-space and everything goes white and perfect and Castiel hopes Dean noticed the signs and closed his eyes.
Castiel comes back to the senses of his vessel slowly. His body feels heavy and satiated and content. His hand is still clamped firmly over Dean’s shoulder. Dean is collapsed on top of him, trembling and breathing hard against his neck.
“Dean…?” His name comes out slurred.
He stirs slightly and his back jerks in a huff of tired laughter. “Holy fuckin’ Christ. Warn a guy before you pull out the fireworks, Cas.”
“If it’s any consolation, I was just as surprised by it as you were.” Castiel murmurs, trailing his fingers lightly over Dean’s back, mapping the musculature. “Are you alright? Did you…?”
Dean laughs again and rolls to the side. Castiel looks down at the sticky mess smeared over his belly. It’s on Dean’s hand too. He wonders if Dean would mind if he cleaned them with his ‘mojo’. Although he’s very tempted to clean Dean’s fingers with his tongue instead.
He looks at him and Dean’s eyes are barely open, a lazy, satisfied grin stretching his lips. “M’fine, Cas. And I did. I most definitely did. ‘Bout the time you decided to pump up the angel juice and send it all right through this.” He gestures limply at his left shoulder with his dirty hand and then frowns at the mess on it.
In the space of one blink and the next, the mess is gone and Dean doesn’t even look surprised. Instead, he wiggles his arm under Castiel’s shoulders and pulls him tight against his side. Castiel can feel the press of lips against his temple and up to his hairline.
Dean mumbles softly, almost drunkenly, into his hair. “I don’t wanna move for the next week. I think grace-induced orgasms might be the best thing since… ever.”
Castiel smiles and tentatively wraps his arm around Dean’s chest. “Better than pie?”
He chuckles and hums in thought, but Castiel doesn’t get an answer. Dean’s breathing evens out into long, deep swells beneath Castiel’s cheek. He smells of sweat and salt and the ever lingering tang of the impala’s leather and metal. He smells like Dean and home.
Castiel fumbles blindly until he pulls the edge of the blanket up, folding it over them so Dean will stay warm. He curls as close as he can get and closes his eyes. He hasn’t slept since those brief days before Stull when he was human, but he’s content to lay here in the silence, the room lit by the street lamp through the window, while Dean sleeps.
x
Dean has been sleeping for nearly an hour when Castiel hears the rumble of the impala outside the house. He doesn’t move from his place pressed along Dean’s side, head on his shoulder and his cheek against the mark. He hears the key in the lock downstairs and he doesn’t open his eyes.
Sam and Charlie are talking as they come in. Castiel spares a brief moment of worry that they might wake Dean. He focuses a soft pulse of grace to ensure Dean remains sleeping and he listens to their conversation.
“Is he answering his cell yet?”
“No. Neither of them are.”
“Well where the heck could they be? Dean didn’t even take his car. You gonna tell him you hotwired it?”
“Hell no! And neither are you. As for where they are, your guess is as good as mi–” There is a heavy thud. “Ow! Shit!”
“Careful, genius. That would be the coffee table.”
“Thank you for that precious piece of information.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Would you just turn on a light already?”
“Nope.”
“Charlie.”
“I already flicked the switch. The lights are burnt out or something.”
“All the lights?” Caution is creeping into Sam’s tone.
There’s silence for a moment. “Yeah, even in the kitchen. It’s not a power outage though, because the stove and microwave clocks are still on. I’ve got some candles in the bedroom, be right back.”
“Wait.” Sam’s voice drops lower. “Every light in your house shouldn’t be busted all at once. Something might be here.”
Castiel winces. That would be his fault. He’ll tell Dean about it later and they can go shopping to replace all of Charlie’s light bulbs. They should get her a gift too. Something as a thank you for the kick in the pants they needed.
Charlie starts whispering too. “What should we do?”
“You have a flashlight app on your phone?”
“Duh.”
“Use it and stay behind me.”
Castiel hears the click of a gun being cocked. Their footsteps are light and near silent as they check the house. He could easily wing his way downstairs to tell them that it is only Dean and him here. But doing so would require leaving the warmth of Dean’s side and that isn’t something Castiel is willing to do. Now or ever.
He can hear them coming up the stairs now and he turns his face, pressing his nose against Dean’s neck. Castiel shifts that little bit closer and smiles when Dean’s arm tightens around his shoulders. Dean makes a small snuffling noise but Castiel’s small surge of grace keeps him from waking.
There is brief wash of light against his eyelids, but Castiel doesn’t react to it. There are two soft ‘oh’s. Charlie’s exhalation doesn’t end with that.
“Oh come on. Not in my frakkin’ bed!”
END