Archive of Our Own

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January.

This is our place, we make the rules.

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear.

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

"This is the last box," Sam said, setting it down at the foot of the stairs. "All that's left is his guitar case which Dean made me swear not to touch." 

Castiel chuckled. "Sometimes I'm not sure which he's more protective of — his guitar or the Impala." 

"Think it's about equal. Okay if I steal a beer from your fridge?" 

"Help yourself. The pizza should be here soon." Castiel lifted the top flap of the unlabeled box to determine where it belonged. It contained an assortment of sex toys ranging from a giant silicone cock with an inflatable knot to a small bullet vibrator crafted to resemble an eggplant. There were also several magazines featuring muscular, half naked men on the covers. He hastily closed the box, his cheeks burning. "I'll, uh… I'll just take this upstairs." 

Sam was head and shoulders inside the fridge and seemed to have noticed nothing, thank God. Castiel hefted the box which wasn't very heavy and headed for the bedroom. He met Dean coming out of the home office where he'd been setting up his electric keyboard. "Hey, Cas. Watcha got there?" 

"Something neither your brother nor mine should ever see." 

"Ah." Dean smirked, completely unembarrassed. "Just stick it in the closet for now. I'll unpack it later." He added with a wink, "If you're good, I'll let you help." 

Castiel gave a choked laugh, his jeans suddenly a little tighter. "And what exactly constitutes being good in this scenario?" 

"Letting me have the last slice of pizza." 

"I suspect it's Sam you'll have to fight for that privilege." 

"Yeah, but it's your house, and you paid for the pizza, so you can tell him to give it to me." 

"Our house," Castiel gently corrected. "It's our house now, Dean." 

Dean flushed pink and ducked his head but not before Castiel saw his pleased grin and caught the buttery sweet pleasure in his scent. 

"Come on. Say it for me," he coaxed. "Please?" 

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, ya big sap. It's our house. Happy now?" 

Castiel grinned and shifted the box onto his hip so he could lean in and press his lips to Dean's. "Incredibly happy," he murmured. "Indescribably happy. There are no words in the English language that can adequately express how happy you make me, my Omega." 

Dean wrapped a hand around the back of Castiel's neck and reeled him in for a proper kiss, all teeth and tongues and spine tingling pleasure. The slight situation in Castiel's jeans quickly became a full blown situation, but he kissed back all the same, heedless of brothers who might walk up the stairs at any moment.

"Yeah, me too, Alpha," Dean murmured into the panting, humid space between them when they parted. "Can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you." 

A sharp, shrill whistle made them both jump. Castiel nearly dropped the box of sex toys but managed to save it just in time. He turned to glare at a grinning Gabriel. "Was that really necessary?" 

"It was either that or get a spray bottle," Gabriel said, unrepentant. "Pizza's here, but I'm sure Samsquatch and I can eat it all by ourselves if you two would rather have each other for dinner." 

"Nah. Think I'll save Cas for dessert," Dean said without missing a beat.

Castiel's face caught fire again. Fortunately, Gabriel's mere presence was an automatic boner killer (apart from that time he walked in while Castiel and Dean were knotted together, and biological imperative managed to override embarrassment, an experience Castiel wished heartily never to repeat). "I'll, uh… I'll just drop this box off and meet you downstairs." He fled to the bedroom to compose himself. 

There were already several boxes piled in the walk-in closet with labels like 'Jeans', 'Flannels & Tees', 'PJs', all in Dean's neat writing. Castiel set the box of toys on a vacant shelf for now, resisting the temptation to peek inside again. Looking once to determine where the box belonged was okay, but pawing through Dean's private things without permission would be rude and creepy. They might be mated and officially living together now, but there were still boundaries. Not to mention, he didn't want to go downstairs with a(nother) hard on. 

As he passed back through the bedroom, Castiel noticed that Dean had already made one small change. On the right nightstand, adjacent to what had long since become Dean's side of the bed, there now sat a framed photograph of a blond woman hugging a sandy-haired, freckled little boy of about four. Woman and child had matching green eyes. 

Castiel found himself irresistibly drawn across the room to sit on the bed and examine the picture more closely. Dean didn't talk much about his mother, but Castiel knew that she was the first person to foster Dean's love of music. Dean recalled her singing “Hey, Jude” to help him fall asleep, and later teaching him to plunk out the melody on the Winchester family's ancient upright piano. After she died, music helped Dean feel close to her, so he kept playing and writing songs, taught himself guitar as well as piano, and now he was about to start recording his first album. She would have been proud, Castiel was certain. 

He was less certain what she would have thought of him. Would she have preferred Dean mate a female alpha? Or perhaps someone wealthier, able to support Dean in style so he could focus solely on his music instead of taking part time modeling gigs to make ends meet. Castiel wanted to believe that Mary Winchester would have seen how much he loved her son and nothing else would have mattered, but you never knew with parents. 

"I'm going to take good care of him," he said aloud to the woman in the picture, frozen in time. "I promise. I'm going to do my very best to keep making him happy for the rest of my life. And if there's an afterlife, I'm going to find you there and thank you for giving me the most wonderful mate anyone could ask for." 

He put the picture back on the nightstand and went to join Dean, Gabe, and Sam downstairs before the pizza got cold. 

"Thank God we'll finally have some decent movie choices around here," Gabriel was saying as Castiel entered the room. 

"Says the man whose DVD collection is ninety-five percent porn," Dean shot back. 

Castiel snorted. "He's got you there, Gabe." He helped himself to a slice of pizza and a paper plate from the coffee table before claiming the spot Dean had saved for him on the couch. Dean immediately tucked his feet under Castiel's thigh. 

Gabriel held up a finger. "But only the highest quality porn. True art." 

"Uh, no," Dean said flatly. "An alpha offering an omega a bite of his 'kielbasa' in a terrible Polish accent is not art."  

Sam nearly choked on his pizza. "You watched his porn? Why?"

Dean shrugged. "I stayed at his place for a couple weeks after I left Michael. I was bored and it was sitting next to the TV in the guest room." 

Sam turned his horrified look on Gabriel. "You leave porn in your guest room?!" 

Gabriel grinned around a mouthful of pizza. "Course I do. I'm a good host." 

"I've learned never to watch any movies I find lying around at his house," Castiel confirmed. "No matter how innocent they look. And always check the DVD slot before turning on the TV. Actually, for safety's sake I usually bring a book and don't touch the TV." 

"Whatever," Gabriel scoffed. "If it hadn't been for my porn collection, you might never have found out what your dick was for." 

Dean perked up. "Oh, this sounds like a story I want to hear." 

"I don't," Sam said, but everyone ignored him. 

"The unfortunate incident to which you are referring," Castiel said with dignity, "did not constitute any sane kind of sex education, as I discovered when I lost my virginity to Meg Masters at a party and she burst out laughing when I asked if I should spank her before or during the intercourse or both." 

Dean spat out a mouthful of beer. Fortunately, it mostly landed on his plate, his pizza crust swimming in a foamy brown puddle, but his clothes and the couch remaining dry. "Please tell me you phrased it just like that." 

"I may have." 

"Oh, man." Dean giggled. "That's priceless." 

Castiel could admit, now that the memory was over a decade past, that it was pretty funny, and Meg had been nice about it once she stopped laughing. "It was only half the fault of the porn. Gabriel was the one who told me spanking was necessary to stimulate slick production outside of heat." 

"What was I supposed to say?! I catch my thirteen-year-old brother watching a "dirty movie" as Mom liked to call them, and instead of acting at all guilty, he acts like it's just another one of his nature documentaries. And then he turns to me and asks very seriously, 'If the alpha loves the omega, why does he keep hitting her on the butt?'" Gabriel did a frighteningly good impression of Castiel's confused squint before widening his eyes innocently. "I had to think fast! You were already such a little scientist. I knew if I didn't satisfy your curiosity on the spot, you were going to go ask Mom or Dad. And they were going to want to know where you found this movie—"

"And I was going to tell them that I found it in your sock drawer. And probably what else I found in there. Yes, I can see why you panicked."

"What else did you find?" Dean asked. 

"A bag of weed. At the time I had no idea what it was, but I'm sure our parents would have figured it out pretty quick if I mentioned a bag of funny smelling green stuff." 

"Wait. Hang on," Dean said. "I thought you didn't have a TV growing up."

"We didn't," Gabriel said. "We had a VCR and a small collection of approved tapes, mostly documentaries with the occasional period drama thrown in if it was deemed historically accurate enough to not stunt our intellectual development or whatever."

"Our parents were very concerned about the ill effects of the 'idiot box' on our developing brains," Castiel confirmed, sketching air quotes around the words. "They also preferred we not read too much fiction. For every novel we read, we had to read two non-fiction books." 

"And don't forget the ban on talking animals," Gabriel said. "I'll concede they might have had a point about the TV, but that was just fucking bizarre." 

"Talking animals?" Sam said. "Like… Winnie the Pooh?" 

"And Peter Rabbit, and the Alphapets, and later on, Redwall," Gabriel listed off. "Any book where animals wore clothes and talked was basically the work of the devil as far as they were concerned." 

"It was unscientific," Castiel corrected. "The devil had nothing to do with it. They simply felt it was unwise to anthropomorphize other species, oversimplifying or entirely erasing their true nature in favor of centering human nature and human morality." 

Dean's eyes slid back and forth between Gabriel and Castiel. "So… you're not gonna let our kids watch Finding Nemo? 'Cause I gotta tell you, Cas, that might be a dealbreaker for me. I don't care how scientifically inaccurate it is. I love those fish." 

Castiel huffed a laugh. "I didn't say I agreed with my parents' views nor that I intend to copy their parenting approach exactly. I think, as long as our children are also provided with a few age appropriate books about real marine life, we can risk exposing them to Bruce the vegetarian shark." 

Gabriel grinned. "Look at you two, moving in together and talking about kids.      Before you know it, you'll be a couple of boring old farts. Well, Cassie's been old and boring since he was six, so no surprise there."

"Hey! Cas is not boring!" Dean snapped, real annoyance flaring in his scent. "Just because his kind of fun doesn't involve drugs and orgies, that does not mean—"

"Okay, okay, I take it back," Gabriel said hastily. "He's not boring, and I shall never thus impugn his honor again. Jeez, baby bro, you wanna call off your mate before he takes my throat out?" 

Castiel, who had long since become immune to his brother's needling, was too busy looking at Dean. The omega's eyes were flashing dangerously. "Thank you for all your help today, Gabe," Castiel said, "but I think it's time for you to get out of our house so I can take my mate to bed." 

Dean's gaze snapped to Castiel, and his scent shifted again, anger bleeding into something sweet and intoxicating like honey wine. 

Sam’s nose twitched. "Oh, ew. Come on.” 

"You too, Sammy. Time to go home," Dean said, eyes never wavering from Castiel's. "Gabe'll give you a ride." 

"Oh, he will, will he?" said Gabe, but one glare from Dean quelled him. "Fine. Whatever. Come on, Samsquatch. Let's leave the happy couple to mark their territory."

 Ladies and gentleman, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man

To be my lover.

The box of toys was forgotten for tonight. Maybe tomorrow they would play. Tonight Castiel just wanted his Dean, his soulmate. They fell into bed without pulling back the covers, just like their first time. 

"Like we talked about, right?" Dean whispered between kisses. "When I come, you'll… you'll bite me?" 

Castiel nodded. "And you'll bite me." 

Mating bites were a little old fashioned, and not everyone did them anymore. They were, after all, very permanent. A marriage could be dissolved. A scent bond would fade with time and distance. But with a bite, the most you could do was cover it up with a tattoo. It would always be there. Castiel's inner alpha purred enthusiastically at the thought, but he still had to double check. 

“Are you… are you absolutely sure, Dean? Because we don't need to do this tonight. We can wait as long as you want.”

“I don't want to wait.” Dean nipped at Castiel's throat as though to demonstrate his eagerness. “Unless–” He pulled back a little. “Unless you're hinting that you want to wait and see how living together goes before you commit–” 

Castiel cut off that thought with a bruisingly hard kiss, rolling Dean onto his back and crawling on top of him. “If you think I am not already one hundred percent committed to spending my life with you, you haven't been paying attention,” he growled. “I have wanted to bite you since I first caught your scent at Gabe’s party. If you're ready–” 

“I am.” Dean nodded frantically, twisting under Castiel. He wasn't seeking to escape, just seeking friction. The head of his cock left a wet trail on Castiel's thigh. “I'm so ready.” 

“Then so am I.” Castiel rubbed his nose up the side of Dean's neck, chasing his scent right to the source. Honey sweet arousal was thick in Dean's sweat, mixed with a sharp, spicy note like cinnamon, and cutting through it all, the fresh, green aroma of Dean's happiness and contentment (a smell Castiel was willing to bet Michael had never coaxed from Dean in all their time together). And layered over, under, and within Dean's scent was Castiel's scent, notes of coffee, chocolate, and woodsmoke. 

They'd been tentatively scent bonded since the night they met, fully scent bonded to the point where it didn't fade after just a few days apart since Dean helped Castiel through his rut in February. It was early May now, marking four months that they'd been dating. Not very long by most people's standards, but Castiel had never been one to live his life according to other people's standards, and he had never been more sure of anything in his life. Dean was his soulmate, and not merely because of their high scent compatibility. Because…

Because Dean was Dean. Because even when the scent bond would temporarily fade in the early days of their relationship, the growing love in Castiel's heart hadn't faded. Not one bit. Because even when they argued, Castiel still thought Dean was the most amazing person in the world and there was no one else he would rather bicker about cereal brands with. Because if someone had offered Castiel the opportunity to design his perfect mate, he still couldn't have come up with anyone half as transcendently beautiful as Dean was both inside and out. 

As if to prove the point, Dean chose that moment to say, “Don’t forget to spank me to stimulate my slick before you fuck me,” and Castiel cracked up, his face still buried in Dean’s neck as he shook with laughter.

“Something tells me that’s not going to be necessary,” he said when he could speak. He slid his hand up Dean’s thigh and around the perfect curve of his ass until he found… “Yep. Plenty wet for me. As always.” He dipped a finger into Dean’s slick and brought it to his own lips. “Mmm. Delicious.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed, his pupils wide and dark, and his irises starting to glow omega gold like sunlight through green leaves. That didn’t always happen during sex, but Castiel wasn’t surprised that it was happening now. A day spent moving his possessions into Castiel’s space, building a shared nest. The knowledge that they were about to exchange mating bites, permanently staking their claim for the whole world to see. It was more than enough to bring Dean’s omega instincts to the surface. If he hadn’t lost his ovaries to an autoimmune disease a decade ago, Dean would probably be in spontaneous heat right about now. 

But Castiel would never get to experience a heat with Dean, never get to see Dean’s belly grow round with their child, nor smell the ways pregnancy changed his scent, making it even sweeter and more intoxicating. There were times when Castiel felt a pang of loss, but he knew that sharing those thoughts with Dean would only make his omega feel guilty. Dean had spent so long feeling broken and less than because he didn’t have heats and couldn’t carry a child. He had genuinely feared that Castiel would reject him for it. Castiel would never forget that conversation, the wariness in Dean’s eyes as he said, "Does this change things for you?" And the surprise when Castiel said, “If we want children one day, we can adopt.” 

He remembered too Dean telling him how Michael had used Dean’s lack of heats against him, frequently reminding him that he’d better put out as much as possible to keep his alpha interested. So Castiel kept his occasional moments of selfish sadness strictly to himself. They were nothing compared to his desire to protect Dean from further pain. 

Now he bent to kiss Dean, letting the omega taste his slick on Castiel’s tongue as he began to finger Dean open. Dean groaned into Castiel’s mouth and writhed on his fingers. “M’ ready. M’ ready. Come on, Cas. Get inside me,” he gasped. 

He really was very wet, and Castiel could already fuck him with two fingers easy as a kiss. He had learned in the past four months that Dean didn’t like too much prep. He liked to feel the muscles stretch and burn as Castiel sank into him. He also had no qualms about taking matters into his own hands if Castiel spent too long teasing him, and while Castiel usually loved provoking his omega into forcibly flipping him on his back and riding him hard and fast, that wasn’t what he wanted tonight.

Officially moving in together and agreeing to exchange mating bites had summoned up primal instincts in him as well. His vision was tinged pinkish at the edges, and he knew his eyes were shining a luminous purple, alpha red filtered through blue. His inner alpha didn’t want fast or rough or playful. It wanted to make love to Dean, to take care of him. And Dean seemed to want the same thing. So Castiel gave them both what they wanted.

Dean arched his back and made a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh of relief as Castiel lined up and sank into him in one hard thrust. Castiel nearly forgot how to breathe as Dean’s body gripped him tight. It had never felt this good with anyone else. Truthfully, for his entire adult life prior to meeting Dean, Castiel had been baffled by the way other people talked about sex. Sure, it could be fun, but mind blowing? Earth shattering? He’d wondered if he was doing it wrong. Turned out, he was just doing it with the wrong people.

“Fuck. Move already,” Dean whined. “Please, Alpha. I need– Fuck!” 

That last was because Castiel had expertly nailed his prostate on the first try, making Dean’s cock jump and the gold in his eyes glow even brighter. 

Castiel set a gentle pace, trying to make this last. Dean was on the same page, gazing into Castiel’s eyes and for once making no attempt to goad the alpha into going harder. “God, I love you,” Castiel breathed, looking at Dean spread open for him, vulnerable and fearless. “Sometimes I can hardly believe you’re mine.” 

Even with Castiel’s dick in his ass, Dean still blushed at the compliment. “Right back atcha, Alpha,” he said. “Sometimes I… ah!” His eyes rolled up in his head at a particularly well aimed thrust. When he recovered he continued, “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real. Someone as smart and beautiful and fucking amazing at sex as you shouldn’t exist outside of a romance novel.” 

Castiel huffed a laugh. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Rockstar Underwear Model.” 

Dean’s blush deepened, the tops of his ears turning red. “Not a rockstar yet. Haven’t even dropped my first album.” 

“It’s only a matter of time,” Castiel said confidently. He glanced down at Dean’s cock, red and dripping against his stomach. “Do you want me to touch you?” Dean couldn’t usually come from prostate stimulation alone. 

But Dean shook his head. “Don’t need it this time. I’m really close already. Just… just keep doing what you’re doing. Don’t stop.” 

Castiel had no intention of stopping. He did, however, lift Dean’s leg over his shoulder so he could go just a little deeper. 

Dean gasped, “Oh! Oh, yeah. Just like that, Alpha. Oh, God. I’m gonna… Fuck! Bite me, Cas! Bite me now!”

Castiel dropped Dean’s leg and clamped his teeth down on the omega’s scent gland just as Dean came untouched. Dean screamed with ecstasy, and oh fuck, Castiel could taste his orgasm in his sweat and in his blood. He couldn’t have described the flavor even if his brain had been capable of words in that moment. It would be like trying to describe the taste of blue or the sound of three. But it made his knot throb. When had his knot popped? He couldn’t remember it happening, but he was definitely tied with Dean now, his own climax spilling out of him as though it might never stop. 

It felt like rut, like one orgasm cascading into another and another. Dean’s teeth were in his neck too now, and the omega was still coming, his cock twitching weakly against Castiel’s stomach, his ass clenching around Castiel’s knot, and that indescribable flavor flooding Castiel’s tongue. Nothing felt real except every point of contact between him and Dean. 

    It seemed like hours passed, but it was probably only a few minutes before the hormonal tidal wave receded, leaving them panting and sex drunk, still knotted together. And then came the aftershocks. There were always a few when they knotted, little mini-orgasms as the slow relaxing of Dean’s muscles stimulated Castiel’s knot. This time they felt significantly less mini and significantly more orgasmic. Three, four, five, six? Castiel moaned into Dean’s neck, beyond overstimulated and yet wanting to stay inside Dean forever. 

Dean seemed to be experiencing something similar. His cock had gone completely soft against Castiel’s stomach, and yet it still twitched and leaked warm, sticky come. Dean wormed a hand between their bodies and petted it idly, making soft, whimpering sounds of pleasure, his teeth still clamped down on Castiel’s scent gland. 

They floated like that for a while. Castiel lost count of how many times he came. The orgasms did seem to slowly decline in intensity until they were just warm little shivers of pleasure. He briefly wondered if he was in spontaneous rut because of the mating bite, but he didn’t feel feverish, and that wouldn’t explain what was happening to Dean. 

Hormone loop, some still nominally functional part of his brain supplied. Oh. Yes, of course, that would explain it. They were true mates, scent bonded from the moment they met, and when they bit each other simultaneously…

Dean finally disengaged his teeth from Castiel’s neck to croak, “What the fuck is happening? How am I still coming? It’s been, like, ten minutes and I’m not even hard.” 

“Hormonal feedback loooooohhh… loop,” Castiel managed, his knot pulsing weakly. He wasn’t sure if he was still producing sperm or coming dry. “It should stop soon.” 

“You sure? Because as good as this feels, and it feels amazing, I’m getting a little worried that my dick’s gonna fall oahhhh-ffuck!”

“It won’t,” Castiel assured him. “You’re not hard anymore which means you’re experiencing normal blood circulation.” 

“And what about you? You’re still hard.” 

“I’m an alpha. I can safely maintain a knot for hours during rut. A few more minutes won’t do me any harm.” 

He could already feel it tapering off, more time passing between each pulse. At last, five whole minutes passed without either of them coming, though Castiel’s knot remained. 

He lifted his head to look into Dean’s eyes. Dean gazed up at him, that ring of gold still shining through the green. “Holy shit,” the omega breathed. “I mean, we’ve always been good at sex, but that was… fuck!”

“Agreed,” Castiel said, his voice sounding hoarse and wrecked. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a fifteen minute orgasm, even in rut.” 

“Your eyes are still doing the glowy thing.” 

“So are yours.”

A grin spread over Dean’s face. “We did it,” he said. “We’re mates. Completely and totally mated in every possible way.” 

“We are,” Castiel said, smiling back. “How do you feel? Any pain from the bite?” 

“Nah. Think I’m still too sex drunk to feel it. Man, that was like ten million orgasms compressed into one! Every time I thought it was over, it kept going! Even back when I still had heats, I never experienced anything like that.” 

“I think that may have been an effect of the simultaneous mating bites,” Castiel said. “I recall reading somewhere that when an alpha and an omega who are already scent bonded bite each other at the same moment, it can create a hormonal feedback loop. You trigger my orgasm, I trigger yours, and it goes round and round until our bodies reach their absolute limit.”

“Ooh, yeah. Talk science to me, baby,” Dean purred. 

Castiel laughed. “I’m afraid that’s all I have on that subject. Human biology is not my area of expertise. Now if you’d like a lecture on the mating habits of bees…” 

Dean snorted. “No, thank you. I’m still not over the fact that male bees only get to have sex once in their life and then they drop dead. Poor bastards.”

“They don’t mind. They fulfill their purpose in the hive, and they die happy. Whatever happy means to a bee. They don’t really have individual consciousness. They’re more like cells in a larger body.”

Dean shook his head fondly. “One day I’m going to make you watch The Bee Movie just to see how much it pisses you off.” 

Castiel groaned at the mention of the most hated film in the entomology community. “Too late. I’ve seen it. Everyone in my line of work has seen it, and yes, it pisses us off very much. That is a prime example of centering human nature, and as if that wasn’t enough, they also managed to be inaccurate and insulting in their portrayal of humans who work with bees. Portraying apiaries as some sort of gulag and beekeepers as prison guards? Beekeepers love bees and are deeply invested in the health and happiness of their hives. It’s basically impossible to exploit bees anyway because if they’re not happy, they leave. You can’t keep them prisoner. I mean, you could, but if you want honey, you have to let them out to collect pollen. Apiaries actually do more to save bees from extinction than anyone!”     

Dean listened to this monologue with an amused smile on his face. “You know,” he said when Castiel was finished, “most of the alphas I’ve been with, their idea of knot talk was, ‘was it good for you, baby?’, and then falling asleep on top of me.” 

Castiel chuckled. “I’ve never been accused of being like most alphas.”

“And thank goodness for that,” Dean said with feeling.  

Eventually, Castiel’s knot did go down, and no surprise, there was a lot of come and slick trapped in Dean’s ass just waiting to come out. The duvet was a lost cause.  

“Oh, gross,” Dean grimaced. 

“Wait here,” Castiel said. “I’ll get some supplies.” His inner alpha, having fulfilled its mission to fuck Dean to mind blowing orgasm and bite him up good, was now determined to aftercare its mate so hard he wouldn’t know what hit him. He stumbled to the bathroom down the hall where he collected a wet washcloth, a tube of disinfectant, a box of large band-aids, and a cup of water. 

Returning to the bedroom, he handed Dean the water. “Drink,” he commanded. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Dean muttered not quite under his breath, but he indulged Castiel, laying there pliantly and sipping his water while the alpha gently cleaned him with the washcloth. 

Once that was taken care of, Castiel moved on to the bite. Dean hissed as Castiel started to dab the disinfectant on it. “Sorry,” Castiel murmured. “This cream will numb it a bit too.” 

His inner alpha didn’t like covering the bite with a bandage, but Castiel did it anyway. Once the bite was healed and the risk of infection passed, they could display their bites to the world. Most people would be able to guess from the placement of the bandage what it was hiding anyway.  

“Your turn,” Dean said when Castiel was done. He handed Castiel the rest of the water and picked up the tube of ointment. Castiel smiled and let his omega fuss over his bite while he hydrated too. 

A glance at the clock showed it was barely ten. “Do you want to go downstairs and watch a movie?” Castiel asked. “I could make us a snack.” 

“I could eat again,” Dean agreed.

They threw on pajama pants, not bothering with shirts, and went down to the kitchen where Castiel made Dean drink another glass of water while a bag of popcorn rotated in the microwave. Once the popcorn was in a bowl, they headed down to the basement. There were a bunch of boxes down there, mostly labeled DVDs, though some said Vinyl. Dean rummaged through a box of movies until he found what he wanted. Castiel peered at the cover and was unsurprised to see a familiar cartoon fish. 

As they settled in for the opening scene, Castiel couldn’t resist saying, “You know, in reality, when Coral died, Marlin should have metamorphosed into a female clownfish and taken a new male mate to help care for her eggs.” 

Dean squinted at him. “Seriously?” 

“Yes. All clownfish are born male. They at least got that part right. When they reach sexual maturity, some of them become female, but the males always far outnumber the females, so to maintain balance when a female dies, her mate takes her place. Of course, there’s also a strict, size based hierarchy, and with Nemo being small and having a damaged fin, he probably would have been left to die while Marlin sought out a mate with whom to fertilize a new batch of eggs.” 

Dean’s expression slid from interested to horrified. “Okay, kinda ruining it now.”

Castiel chuckled. “I apologize. I’ll shut up.” 

Dean kissed his cheek. “You know I love your big, sexy brain, but nobody's leaving Nemo to die.”

They went back to watching the movie. Castiel had seen it once before, it being a favorite of Dean’s and therefore a high priority in Castiel’s movie education. The first time around, he’d been a bit preoccupied though. Having Dean snuggled up against him, smelling so happy, frequently had that effect on him. Now, with his body quite thoroughly fucked out for the time being, he could pay more attention to the plot. It was really quite good, and when they got to Dory's “I look at you and I'm home” speech, Castiel actually found himself getting choked up. He'd never subscribed to that alphas-don't-cry bullshit, so he didn't try to hide it. 

“Are you crying?” Dean asked, but not in a what's-wrong-with-you tone. More of a that's-sweet-and-I-might-love-you-more-for-tearing-up-at-my-favorite-movie tone. 

“It’s a beautiful speech,” Castiel said,  wiping his eyes. “And it's how I feel about you.” 

“Awww, you are high on mating hormones right now,” Dean laughed, nuzzling Castiel’s neck. Then he added more quietly, the words murmured into Castiel’s skin, “But yeah, right back atcha.”

Castiel smiled. 

My heart’s been borrowed and yours has been blue

All’s well that ends well to end up with you