Your merry Xmas mod (deancas_xmasmod) wrote in deancas_xmas,

[FIC] Four Times Dean Winchester Did a Very Poor Job -- (NC-17) for Mitsuki_shizuka

Gift type: Fanfic
Title: Four Times Dean Winchester Did A Very Poor Job Of Hiding His Feelings, And One He Didn’t
Recipient: mitsuki_shizuka
Author: janie_tangerine
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 7500
Warnings: none really. Or at least I don’t think there’s anything triggering or worth warning for.
Spoilers: pretty heavy up until 5x04, then it goes completely AU.
Summary: what the title says.
Author notes: I used the main jealous/possessive Dean prompt and then I tried to fit in both the angst and sort-of-fluff part of the request. I sort of re-used the Castiel-in-a-hospital prompt, even if I couldn’t use it fully. Endless thanks to _izu_ who had the dubious luck to be my sounding board while writing this and was a lifesaver when I needed it looked over. That said, I really wanted to use one of the prompts but when I sat down it just didn’t want to come through, so I hope you like this one anyway. <3 Also from your request it seemed to me that you enjoy the outsider/person-who-isn’t-Dean-or-Castiel POV, so I tried to fit that in too.


1. The time when Uriel understood it before everyone else

Uriel understands where this is all heading in the barn when he and Castiel are supposed to carry out their orders.

It happens when Castiel says that he and Anna have an history; and Uriel is pretty sure that Castiel hasn’t exactly realized that having an history, in mud-monkey language, also means being romantically involved with someone. Castiel can’t know that, he hasn’t walked this Earth in centuries and he hasn’t exactly needed to have a clue about mud-monkey figures of speech until now, but then Dean Winchester has a reaction that completely baffles Uriel.

Even if he doesn’t show it. Not at all. Please, give him some credit; he doesn’t claim that nothing exists which could surprise him (that would be a foolish assumption), but he can indeed claim that he can perfectly pretend that something does not affect him.

Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that considering what their supposed savior (and Uriel will take care of the problem soon; especially because if he wants a chance to recruit Castiel to his cause then he will have to act before Castiel gets more attached to his idiot, human charge than he already is. Also, if they want to free Lucifer, no one that could stop them can be in the way) just did last night with that other filthy renegade, his logical reaction should have been setting that very, very unnerving stare of his on Castiel.

After all, that Dean Winchester can get very, very jealous isn’t too hard to guess.

So Uriel is expecting Dean to look at Castiel with contempt, maybe superiority; by all means, he should be jealous of their history, but he should also feel smug because well, last night it was him and Anna in that car.

It doesn’t happen. Before, Uriel had not missed the utterly jealous look on Castiel’s face as Anna kissed Dean, but that could be justified. After all, Castiel did drag that ungrateful sorry excuse of a human being out of the pit, if he feels possessive he does have some sort of twisted reason. Even though Uriel doesn’t really get it. That isn’t really the issue.

The issue is that now, for a split second, Dean’s eyes turn on Anna like he’s envying her, like he wants to know what’s this history about, and like he isn’t caring about what Castiel would have done with his latest bed companion, but rather the contrary.

Ten minutes later, Castiel is losing with Alastair and Dean hits the demon with a crowbar. Which is, according to Uriel, definitely not a wise course of action.

Dean and Castiel share a brief look after that, and if Uriel didn’t really want to even consider the eventuality, he could swear he heard Winchester thinking no one is allowed to kick your ass except for me.

This, Uriel thinks, is not what he had figured. It is not what was in the plans.

Though maybe, he reflects later, when everything is done and he’s alone, it could still turn to be an advantage. He just needs to understand exactly which buttons he’s going to push.

2. The time when it was so obvious that even a complete stranger realized it

Beatrice McHenry, better known, at least in her line of work, as Candice (in this particular place their fake names are all supposed to start with C; whatever, not a problem for her) has been doing this job for five years and, contrary to general beliefs (but it’s mostly men who have no idea about this job), she doesn’t have daddy issues.

It’s not that she exactly likes it; she surely hadn’t studied for this, but she has to pay back her student loans and her daily job doesn’t cover it and while it pays her bills and some of the loan, this job pays more of the loan and allows her to have a night out once in a while, or new shoes during sales. Right, she’ll quit the second she doesn’t need it anymore, but whatever. That’s really not the point.

The point is that Beatrice knows how to read a man, which is another necessary skill in her line of work along with discretion; which is why she doesn’t approach the guy with green eyes who has just sent off his visibly freaked out friend with Chastity. Who is probably not the best choice for someone who has never had any, she tends to be... ruthless, but Beatrice isn’t the one choosing here.

Usually, when they come in pairs, the second one wants to get some too. But this one, let’s call him guy #2 since #1 is the one taking advantage of the house’s services, just gets a beer and for half a minute or so he looks melancholic. Like there’s something bothering him. Like he really, really would like to have followed his friend back there. The second Chastity had turned her back on him he had shot her a look that was almost of longing. (Beatrice was ready to approach him, that’s the only reason why she knows that.) Which doesn’t make a lick of sense unless...

Unless guy #2 here has a thing for Mr. I-am-thirty-something-and-I-have-a-really-beautiful-face-and-I-never-got-laid and right now he’s quite jealous that Chastity is going to be the one popping his cherry.

Metaphorically speaking.

That’s interesting. It’s also the reason Beatrice is not approaching guy #2 as he shakes his head, forces himself to smile and drinks his beer.

That’s when the chaos starts and Beatrice follows the guy back to the rooms, where Chastity is having something close to a nervous breakdown and cute-virgin-guy is completely oblivious as she screams something about her father in his face. Apparently he had some information to spare about that particular subject.

Right. She doesn’t know how it is that he could know about Chastity’s (well, her real name is Katherine, and Beatrice always thought that Chastity was a very poor choice) father, but right. Whatever. While someone else tries to calm Chastity down, Beatrice goes to the window and sees guy #2 throw an arm around guy #1 and they smile at each other and for a second she thinks she sees pure happiness radiating from the both of them. Whatever was plaguing #2 before, it’s gone now.

Well, she hopes they’re going to have great sex when #1 finally realizes that #2 is head over heels for him. For now, she has a job to go back to.

3. The time when Bobby really, really didn’t have time for that shit.

Point is, Bobby does not have time for this shit.

He has had to make time for a lot of shit, but not for this.

See, Bobby knows Dean, he knows Dean just fine, and he can read him like an open book even if Dean still thinks otherwise, and this time he isn’t being subtle. Or reasonable. Right, Dean isn’t exactly reasonable most times, but this time he’s being downright stupid and Bobby is stuck on a wheelchair and he just does not have time for this.

Like hell he has.

Also, he knows that Dean tends to be a very possessive person (which is justified, considering that in the end he has never really owned much at all) and that he tends to get jealous at times and that he’d kill himself rather than actually showing it, if it concerns people he cares for.

Now they’ve been here for a week because they need to research stuff (mainly Dean wants to track down the Colt again), along with the angel, and Bobby knows that the situation is delicate and it requires a certain care to keep a balance. After all Dean and Sam have quit their period of finding themselves away from each other just lately and Bobby is particularly careful as he checks how things are going on.

He’d have figured that since Dean spent a heap of time with the angel, Sam wouldn’t be too happy to find out that they suddenly became best buddies while he was out doing his own thing, but that was where things started to go differently than he had thought.

At the beginning Dean was there watching the both of them like they’d disappear every fucking second (it took two days and two bottles of very, very good whiskey to convince him to spill it out; after Bobby had learned about Dean’s trip to the future, he opened a third one) and both Sam and Castiel had looked like they didn’t know what to do with each other.

Then Sam was breaking his head over some book in some weird-ass language Bobby had even forgotten he owned, the angel had started suggesting interpretations and in twenty minutes they both were, as Dean proclaimed, completely into utter geek mode.

Now, for the next following two days Dean actually went around saying that they were so cute he wanted to throw up as they spent half of the day chatting over some text book or bonding or whatever it was, and Bobby had been thankful for small favors because when everyone gets along things are better on automatic.

Clearly it had lasted just two days because that’s pretty much exactly the length of time things go well when you have people named Winchester around the house. After those forty-eight hours, when it wasn’t exactly rare to find Sam and the angel discussing faith issues whenever you went, Dean had stopped joking about it and he had started to look at them strangely, like he felt fucking left out. (Which, sincerely? Nonsense. One could see that whenever Dean was in the room he had the angel’s attention regardless of the circumstances and same thing for Sam. Right, maybe Dean was the only one who couldn’t see that.)

The strange look had progressed into completely pissed off and then into what Bobby could only describe as brooding.

Also, Bobby might not be in his prime years anymore (or in his best conditions altogether) but he isn’t an idjt as those other three are and sees right through the bullshit, and Jesus Christ, he knows that Dean has issues, serious issues, but there’s a limit to everything.

Also, he does not have time for this shit, which is why the second he catches Dean sulking over the coffee pot in the kitchen (his brother and the angel are in the next room, the angel researching and Sam passed out on the couch), Bobby closes the door and hopes this is the first and last fucking time he has this conversation.

“Dean, just quit it the fuck already.”

What?”

“Feather’s not going to elope with your brother anytime soon and the fact that he’s a friend of yours don’t mean he can’t be civil with Sam. Also because you seemed pretty happy ‘bout it in the beginning.”

Dean bites his lip and doesn’t say anything.

Of course. Bobby was so right.

He so doesn’t have time for this shit.

“You can’t possibly be je...”

Don’t say that. I’m not.”

“Yeah, tell that to yourself another time. From the way you look at them it seems that Sam either stole the guy... angel... whatever from you and that the angel fucked you sideways and then left you to suffer. I know you don’t exactly wanna share, but don’t you think that it’d be best if they were civil to each other?”

Dean sighs and stares obstinately at the pot; it almost seems like he’s trying to force the coffee to be ready and out just by staring at it.

“I want them to be civil to each other. What do you think? I just... it feels like they don’t... I mean...”

“Jesus Christ on a... Dean. Please. Your brother spent more than a year thinkin’ that the guy...angel... whatever he is, was a dick. Feathers there spent another year thinking that your brother was on the verge of going Darth Vader on you and becoming some sort of abomination. They just found out they’re neither. They ain’t gonna ignore you much longer, princess. Just deal with it. Also, if maybe you went researching with them instead of fixing cars that don’t need fixing you’d brood less and have more fun. And give that coffee here instead of starin’.”

Dean swallows, looking almost ashamed, and then nods and pours Bobby a generous amount.

That’s better, Bobby thinks as he takes a sip.

Dean finishes his in barely a minute and then starts from the door. To be honest, Bobby would really rather leave him be, but then again he’s not going to have this conversation ever again if he can help it and since he started, he might as well finish.

Also, he knows Dean.

“Dean. If you really think what I suspect you’re thinkin’, chill the fuck off. Sam knows better than stealing your thunder.”

Bobby will have to admit it: leaving the room while Dean stares at him like Bobby had just told him that he really should re-paint the Impala in sparkling pink is so satisfying that he almost forgets that he’s on a wheelchair.

He will also have to admit that seeing Dean actually doing research and calling his brother bitch more times than strictly necessary while Castiel looks at the both of them like they’re completely alien things but nonetheless amusing to watch is a pretty good darn sight, too.

Dean’s face still has first place, though.

4. The time when Sam had suspected it, coffee was spilt on the hospital floor and at least he got a date out of the whole business.

It’s not like Sam hadn’t suspected it; Sam has been suspecting it since his and Dean’s time of-finding-themselves-away-from-each-other was over. Mostly because he knows his brother way too well and Sam is not stupid and can definitely read the signs. And there have been signs since he and Dean became a team again.

For instance.

a) Castiel is around. But not as he was before. He’s around in the sense of being there a lot. Before he was there for maybe five minutes and then he was gone and they wouldn’t hear from him for weeks; now he’s here for stretch of hours and the few days when he isn’t around at all he calls. Right. Sam will never get used to Castiel having a cellphone and his plan being Virgin, but he’ll keep his opinions to himself.

b) Dean can’t help the touching. He thinks he’s being subtle, but he isn’t. If it was just the staring, well, that got old two weeks after Castiel got Dean out of the pit so Sam wouldn’t have probably noticed it; but it isn’t just the staring. Dean will touch Castiel more often than not; hands on shoulders or on the small of the angel’s back, a pat here and there, their knees or shoulders will bump against each other when they’re sitting one next to the other. It isn’t anything other than friendly, but considering that Dean does not touch people as a general rule, well, Sam thinks that in this case? Definitely extra friendly. (Also, once they were ordering lunch in this diner, Castiel had been with them and he had tagged along, the waitress had totally checked Castiel out while he was frowning upon the menu and Dean had turned to her with a mine, bitch, back off written all over his face. She had been the loveliest redhead Sam had seen in about four states. Right.) So, body language? Totally saying that his brother likes Castiel. A lot. A whole lot, for Winchester standards.

c) Before, Castiel used to look at Dean like he was going to be the guy that would save them all, and that was it. Well. Right. That was it because now (especially when Dean isn’t paying attention) he looks at Dean like he’s the center of the universe or something like that and sincerely? At the beginning it kind of crept Sam out. Because well, he thinks he used to look at Dean that way, had looked at Dean that way until he was thirteen or so, but there’s something else about it when Castiel gives Dean that look and well, if Dean is extra friendly (for his standards) then Castiel is extra-extra-extra friendly. Also considering that at the beginning he was everything but friendly. If you get the drill.

These were just the three main signs; going through everything now would take too much time and anyway that’s not the point. The point is that Sam had suspected it (and on Castiel’s part? For a much longer time) and right now it’s being confirmed and he wishes it had happened in another way.

See, when Castiel had said he couldn’t heal, they had assumed other people. Or maybe back then it was just other people and then three months cut off from Heaven had meant losing more mojo, Sam doesn’t know and he isn’t sure that he even wants to, but that’s not the point. Well, it is, but not right now. Right now the point is that he and Dean are waiting in a corridor of a random hospital in Jackson, Alabama, which in Sam’s opinion doesn’t rank in the top ten of the hospitals he has had the displeasure to visit all his life, and not because of something that happened during a hunt, which wouldn’t have been better but at least it would have been less stupid than what it is.

What it is, is that while they were all getting back from the diner to the motel at night and crossing the road, Castiel’s phone had started ringing and he had ended up staying a bit back while taking it out of the pocket of his trench (it was Bobby; Dean’s phone was charging in the room and Sam’s got busted during the hunt that afternoon and it was too late to buy a new one) and as he was standing in the middle of the road some idiot who was going thirty miles over the speed limit with a red light crashed directly into the angel and of course fled without even trying to stop.

Sam thinks that the only reason Castiel didn’t die on the spot is that he’s still an angel. But when after a minute it was clear that he wasn’t going to heal... Sam can only remember Dean cursing like he never heard Dean cursing in his whole life, while someone who had witnessed the accident called 911. Well, wrong. He can also remember Dean shouting at Cas that he just wasn’t fucking allowed to die and that the trench and the shirt and the soft, pale skin of Castiel’s vessel were covered in goddamned blood and it wasn’t going away and then when the ambulance came Dean was too shaken to answer any questions. Sam had taken up the answering, and there he had done the mistake.

He told they were friends and not family.

And suddenly, they weren’t allowed to ride on the ambulance.

Sam thinks that thirty miles over the speed limit didn’t exactly cut it; while heading to the hospital Dean had gone at least fifty miles over the speed limit. Even if at least Dean had respected all the red lights.

Then, when they arrived, Sam had been the one to talk to the nurses; but after he filled the form (with the false data of the first of his unused credit cards he could remember) they were told to wait and that was it.

Now they’re stuck in the hallway, they have been stuck there for three hours, and no-fucking-one is coming and Sam is sure that if nothing happens in a very short while Dean is going to snap. Hard. It’s not like Sam can blame him.

Jesus. A car accident. That’s just no way for an angel to go, if...

No. He is so not allowing himself to think about it. At least not when said angel is the only reason that he doesn’t feel anymore like he got completely cheated for the twenty-three years tops he spent praying every single fucking night.

Sam stands up, goes to the coffee machine and pushes in ten cents, hoping that it doesn’t end like the last time he got someone coffee while being in a hospital.

He reaches Dean’s seat and drops down on the nearest one. Then he hands him the coffee. Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam isn’t surprised when he sees how tired Dean looks.

“I’m not sure you need caffeine but that’s the only option. No sugar, even if I think that it just makes it taste worse.”

“Thanks,” Dean mouths, his voice hoarse (probably from all the screaming before), and then he picks the cup and drinks half of it in one go. Sam winces, he knows for sure that it was burning, but before Dean can drink the rest a nurse with a very, very annoyed look asks if there’s someone named Winchester around here.

Dean lets the cup drop and the remaining coffee spills on the floor.

Then he stands up and goes to the nurse; Sam just grabs a tissue from his pocket and tries to clean the mess up before joining them. He lost maybe a minute of conversation.

“... situation looked much worse than it seemed, but he’s out of danger. He has a splint wrist, four cracked ribs and... a splint ankle. And the cuts, of course. And there was some tissue that got damaged internally, but nothing that three days under observation won’t cure. He’s in room 14, second floor.”

Dean lets out a breath of relief as Sam nods at the nurse; at least it means that Castiel does still have some angel to spare because Sam is pretty sure that a normal person wouldn’t have survived or gotten off that lightly.

“Can... can we go see him?” Dean asks then, and the nurse raises an eyebrow, not looking particularly moved by the fact that Dean’s voice is just a bit short of begging.

“You aren’t related. Visiting hours are over, I am sorry. Unless you are family, but you said you aren’t.”

Sam curses himself and then tries to see if he can try to salvage the situation before Dean kills the poor woman. Who might not exactly be a nice person but after all she’s doing her job.

“Listen, he’s... your patient I mean... me and my brother, they’re... they’re partners,” he says, stressing the last word, not minding Dean looking at him like he’d kill him right the fuck this moment. “Are you sure you couldn’t... I mean, they are...”

Her face hardens. “Sorry, no exceptions.”

And then she’s gone and Sam is left with Dean’s murderous stare. It lasts for about five seconds. Then Sam shrugs and meets the stare.

“What? Come on. It was the first thing that came to me, I hoped...”

“And why me and not you?”

“Because you’re the one who likes him, not me.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said it.

Then Dean’s head lowers until he’s looking at the floor, biting his lip, and he drops on the seat.

Sam’s was so right.

“Dean.”

“Shut up.”

Dean. It’s fine.”

“It’s what?” Dean asks, turning towards him, obviously not believing him.

“It’s fine. I mean, right, it’s... kind of weird and six months ago I’d have probably thought you were nuts but... well. I mean, you obviously like him, he more than obviously likes you...”

What?”

“Oh, shut up. He only has eyes for you or something. And when we were researching together at Bobby’s if he didn’t mention you at least once in an hour he’d mention you twice in the next one. He fucking turned his back on Heaven for you, and you think he doesn’t like you?”

“Not that way.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t think he really minds when you get all possessive on him, you know?”

“I don’t...”

“Dean. Seriously. That waitress last month? The redhead? In Missouri? Jesus, when she dared glancing at Cas you looked like you wanted to rip her heart out or something. Come on. Just admit it.”

“Well. Right. Fine. I might. Just, you’re really okay with it?”

Sam sighs, shaking his head and wishing he had some coffee at hand.

“Dean, I... I’ll admit that it is weird. Some. I mean, he’s an angel and you’re you and well, I’ll probably need time to adjust to it and actually, if you ever try to tell him then we’re getting separate rooms and that’s not negotiable, but... I sort of get it. A year ago maybe I wouldn’t have, but now I think I do and well, you’re... it’s obvious that you do like him and I don’t think he’s going to screw you over. If it’s what makes you happy then... it’s fine. You were right, you know. While I know that we’re better off together, you should have your life and I should have my own and I just can’t see why not. I’m okay with it.”

Sam doesn’t look at Dean until he’s done speaking, knowing that otherwise he might not have managed to say it all, but when he does Dean’s smile is small but there, soft and grateful and Sam can only reciprocate it.

“Sammy, I didn’t know you had such a romantic side,” Dean says then, and Sam can just roll his eyes. Of course he’d have to go and ruin it like that.

“Oh, you really are such a jerk.”

“Yeah, and you’re a total bitch, but whatever. Jesus, that’s the first time I regret not being able to vote.”

“Why, if you weren’t legally dead then next time you’d vote for whoever says he’ll allow some random male guy to see his random male boyfriend in some hospital even if they aren’t married?”

“Cas isn’t my boyfriend but whatever. Bullshit.”

“And since when do rules stop you?” Sam asks, trying to sound challenging. Dean raises an eyebrow, then takes a quick look at the hallway. Almost empty, except for the nurse on shift. Then he turns to Sam again, and Sam is relieved when he recognizes determination in Dean’s stare.

“Now, will you make me a favor and distract her a bit?”

Sam eyes the nurse, who is actually a lovely blonde, with a quiet, shy smile and huge clear eyes. Everything that Ruby wasn’t. Which is, in Sam’s honest opinion, just peachy.

“Why not.” He stands up and reaches the desk, flashing her his best smile; even when he hears Dean softly walking behind him and up along the hallway, he doesn’t stop talking to her because she seems to be having a good time and he gains himself a date for the next evening.

During which he totally tells Dean that the room is off-limits, and then he finds out that Dean did manage to convince someone who wasn’t on shift when Castiel was admitted and that he spent the night there.

Right. His brother is so whipped, but in the end Sam thinks he doesn’t really mind. Serves him good.

Also, he had totally suspected it.

5. The time when Dean finally stopped beating around the bush and just spilled it out.

It takes Dean another month after Cas is allowed to leave that goddamned hospital before gathering the amount of guts he needs to spill it out.

It’s not the most terrifying thing he has done his whole life, because it isn’t, but it’s up there in the top five. After all, he has done it just once and everyone knows how it went down. Which is why he isn’t exactly too excited at the idea of doing it all over again, even if Cas isn’t Cass, and isn’t that just ironic?

Anyway.

If only it was just that. At least when he told Cassie about his job (which was the equivalent of saying I LOVE YOU written in capital letters in Dean Winchester Language) he really hadn’t had nothing to lose except her. Now everything is at stake.

He could lose Sam to Lucifer (and he swears he will never let that happen, not until he lives), he could lose himself to Michael (and he wants to say he will never say yes, but knowing himself? Never say never), the world could end if Lucifer wins, and he could lose Cas to that future that sometimes he wishes he never knew about and that sometimes he’s glad to have visited. If only because he has a chance not to fuck himself up, and Cas in the process. Because it seems like Cas has a tendency to follow him wherever he goes and if Dean fucks himself up then he will fuck Cas up, too, and that’s not what he wants.

What he wants is to just be able to go there and tell Cas and to hear Cas say yes to him and then, then, then there are a lot of things he would want to do to Cas. What he’s sure of is that even if Cas does say yes then it’s not going to last because that’s not how things go in Dean’s experience (Cas can say that good things do happen as much as he wants; that doesn’t change the fact that even when they do happen, they’re never permanent). What he does is spending a month trying to get just the fuck over it and spill it out.

Because otherwise? It hurts. It hurts when Cas is with them and the random girl will look at him appreciatively, like she’d really like to buy him a drink; it hurt when Cas spent more time bonding with Sam than talking to him (even if in the end he was talking about him, but still); it hurt when Cas said that he and Anna had a history even if Dean doesn’t think he had exactly realized who he was jealous of back then; it hurt when he had sent Cas off to lose his goddamn virginity with a Chastity whom neither of them knew from Adam. Because he had wanted to be that person, he wants to feel allowed to think mine when he looks at Cas and not just because he’s Cas’ charge; and when he had gone back to the future the only thing he had wanted to do, when he had seen what had become of the former angel, was punching the hell out of his future self.

He knows that he’s possessive of Cas, or as possessive as it’s allowed; but Cas isn’t family, Cas isn’t related to the job, Cas doesn’t have shit to do with Sam or his dad or his mother or anyone else. Cas is the only person that was his friend first, his business to deal with first, his and his only. As far as their relationship goes. Dean wants to call him his in a much less friendly sense so much that it physically hurts, too, but he isn’t getting the chance, not ever, if he just doesn’t man up and fucking says it.

After one month, he does. They get separate rooms (and Sam’s smirk when he specifies that they should not be adjoining is enough to make Dean want to drop everything), Dean closes the door, calls Cas’ number, tells him where he is and well, could he drop by? One second later Cas is there; he’s wearing the trench, but underneath he has jeans and a flannel because the trench was the only salvageable piece of clothing out of what he was wearing the day of the accident, and Dean has to say that he looks just gorgeous. The blue shirt matches his eyes and the jeans look fucking great on him, but the trench just screams Cas all the way and for a second Dean is breathless. Never change, he had said, but small changes like this one? Not too bad. Also, Cas isn’t wearing hippie shirts, yet, so he won’t start worrying for now.

He gave up on trying to come up with a speech or anything because it really never worked and so he goes with the lame I should tell you something but I think I’ll rather show you and then he brushes his lips against Cas’, trying to make it clear that this isn’t friendly but also trying not to push too much either. He sort of expects to be shoved away at once, but after a second in which Cas’ hands stay perfectly still against his sides, just as Dean is pulling off, long, warm fingers cup his cheeks and he doesn’t resist when Cas closes the distance between them again. They’re so close that Dean can feel Cas’ heart beat wildly against his own frame (Cas’, his own, and Dean spares a thought for Jimmy Novak. He hopes that while Heaven didn’t even try to take into account the fact that by killing Cas they were killing someone else, he really is in a better place now) and then Cas is kissing him and not like someone whose only experience was a hooker named Chastity. Cas kisses Dean thoroughly, almost methodically, his tongue reaching out and plunging as deep as he can; Dean can just close his eyes and go along with it, letting Cas take the lead even if that wasn’t exactly how he had planned for it to be. But it feels good, scratch it, it feels fucking awesome on every possible level and he can’t help it when a small gasp leaves his lips when the kiss is over.

They’re still so close, so impossibly close, and Dean needs to say something.

“I... I guess I made my point clear,” he mutters, perfectly conscious of how inappropriate it sounds.

“You did,” Cas answers, sounding just a bit smug, and there’s some humanity creeping into his voice but it’s just a bit and Dean sort of likes it.

“Cas, I... shit, I guess I wasn’t really expecting that you would... I mean, I...” he trails off, but he can’t finish because Cas’ fingers are right there on his neck tracing small circles and blue eyes stare up into his with a look he can’t really define.

“From what I have seen of you, I believe that this is not the point where you... explain.”

“Usually it isn’t, but... I mean...”

“Dean, do you really think you need to explain me? Or do you really need to know why I felt relieved for weeks when the den of iniquity proved itself not to be your wisest idea?”

“What, you...”

One of Cas’ hands suddenly reaches under his shirt and Dean can see Cas’ fingers slightly brushing his own amulet before Cas looks at him again, a look so intense that for a second Dean remembers their first meeting, when Cas was otherwordly and alien and magnificent and holy, but then his eyes soften just slightly and he loses the hard edge.

“Do I need to remind you that I did it all for you and that I don’t regret a second of it? And before you bring it up, I do realize that when I told you it sounded like I did regret it.”

Dean’s breath is caught in his throat and things are going too smooth and this moment has good things do happen written all over, which is so definitely not what he was expecting here, and then Cas shakes his head.

“I would just accept it. No, I’m not reading your mind. Your thoughts tend to be quite loud.” Right, of course he isn’t. Dean isn’t even getting the chance to open his mouth before Cas tells it before he can. “I was also hoping you would show me what I was missing in the den of iniquity.”

“... where did you go and what did you do with the person who was actually freaked out at the... den of iniquity?” Dean snorts, the definition sounding so wrong on his lips he can’t even say.

“Let’s say the more I spend time here, the more I get adjusted. I think it’s called adapting. I don’t even think I am minding too much. I... I believe I get why do you care so much about this world being saved as it is.”

“What, you’re starting to enjoy the perks?”

“Maybe,” Cas answers, his small smile a complete tease, before he kisses Dean again with a forcefulness that was lacking before.

That’s all Dean needs. Really.

He kisses back, hard, and if he draws blood from Cas’ upper lip and if Cas will get bruises on his hips from how strong is Dean’s grip on his pale, naked flesh then Dean doesn’t give a damn. Not when Cas is moaning into his mouth and saying yesyesyesyes every time their lips don’t touch.

They fall on the bed, still fully clothed except for the trench (Cas dropped it when he started kissing Dean back), and Dean can feel heat rising under his skin and spreading all over him as his hard-on presses against Cas’ leg and Cas thrusts his hips upwards.

“Cas, before I can’t stop myself anymore... are you really sure? I mean, wouldn’t it...”

“Dean. That’d be hardly a concern by now, I think.”

Then Cas drags him down again and he kisses Dean again as he rubs his very, very hard cock against Dean’s thigh and Jesus, it’s so hot, Dean thinks, so hot that he might come right here and right now but really, no. That just wouldn’t do, and so he keeps on kissing Cas (or letting Cas kiss him, however it is), and he takes his time undoing Cas’ flannel as Cas takes his time undoing his own. They kick away their shoes and Dean takes a minute to watch Cas without any clothes on, his body pale and fitting just right against his, and he wishes they were in a nicer place and not motel #he-doesn’t-keep-count-anymore but Cas doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t even seem to be freaked out at all, not by the way his hands touch and roam all over Dean’s frame, like he could feel Dean’s skin under his fingers for the rest of time and be perfectly happy with it.

The fingers brush against the handprint and Dean shivers, a small moan escaping his lips, and Castiel’s smile is still definitely teasing and... well. If Dean thought that sex would freak Cas out, he was wrong. Utterly wrong.

“It’s you,” Cas whispers before claiming his mouth again in a slow, lazy kiss, and Dean lets him for a while, and then he can’t help it anymore. He pins Cas’ wrist against the mattress, almost surprised when he doesn’t meet any resistance, and as Cas shivers in pleasure beneath him he places his lips on Cas’ neck, where the pulse point is, feeling its steady and fast beat, biting it just barely, the moan leaving Cas’ lips music to his ears.

And seeing Cas there, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted, his eyes half-open, looking at Dean like there’s no other place he wants to be and no one else he wants to be with he can’t help it.

“Jesus, Cas...” he whispers still against the pulse point, moving slowly towards Cas’ lips. “Let me tell you, my plan for tonight wasn’t as good as this.”

His plan for tonight was actually getting wasted or something the second after Cas disappeared saying he wasn’t really interested. Or at least that was what he had pictured.

“You’re... always never... assuming the best outcome. Is... this...” Cas’ voice trails for one second before he’s staring at Dean again. “Don’t you ever think that if you want something you should just ask for it?”

Instead of thinking it’s a lost cause in the beginning, goes unsaid. Even if it’s so obvious that Dean can hear it perfectly in the air.

“Don’t you think the same?” Dean shoots back, his voice low, his tongue slowly meeting the corner of Cas’ lips.

“I asked when I kissed you back. It seems to me that you didn’t say no.”

“... fair is fair,” Dean agrees, trying to avoid the urging need he feels to move because right now he just can’t.

“So ask. Anything. If I can give it.”

Dean takes a breath. “I just... I just want this. Not... not just now. I want it as long as it can last.”

“Dean, that has been yours for a while,” Cas answers, sounding just slightly amused and not too slightly fond, and then Dean loses it; he kisses Cas, hard, his hand reaches down where both of their cocks are aligned together and now rubbing against each other, slow first and fast after, and when he wraps his hand around the both of them each stroke says mineyoursmineyoursmine. Cas’ moans get louder with each second even if Dean tries to swallow them, each one saying yesyesyesyes all over again, and this is Cas saying yes to him and, as Dean thinks that it’s the only yes he wants to hear from now on, he feels his body tensing and then he comes, hard, his orgasm shaking through each of his muscles, but Cas is still breathing fast and saying Dean and yes and harder and Dean doesn’t allow himself to just fall down on the bed as instinct tells.

He takes his hand away and before Cas can protest he makes his way down the bed, lowers his head and takes Cas’ cock in his mouth without really thinking about what he’s doing, and he hopes that at least Cas doesn’t get that this is the first time he does this. He moves his head slowly up and down, his tongue licking and flickering hoping to find a place that will work and then he finds it just under the head; Cas’ fingers are in his hair then, gripping tight and saying yes and yours in gestures instead of words and when Cas shakes hard and comes Dean’s head doesn’t move and he doesn’t move up on the bed until he has swallowed everything down. It does taste weird, sure, but then Cas brings him forward and they kiss and it’s so fucking hot that if only he wasn’t exhausted, Dean thinks he could probably go for round two. Not now though, and he doesn’t try to fight it when Cas presses up against him. And their bodies really do fit, Dean thinks as he brings Cas closer, an arm around his waist and damn, he can’t really see enough that small, sated smile curling up the corner of Cas’ lips oh-so-slightly.

“Jesus,” Dean whispers, and in the silence it sounds deafening.

“I’d say don’t blaspheme, but this once you’re excused,” Cas answers, his fingers lightly smacking Dean’s hip. Dean sort of can’t help tightening the hold he has on Cas’ waist.

“Hey, will... would you... could we...”

“Dean. I already told you.”

And Dean just feels like never letting go, not now at least, not when everything he wants is stay here and don’t move possibly until they can get up and find out that the Apocalypse is done and that he doesn’t only get to have this but to keep it, too.

“You will, if I can help it.”

“Cas, stop reading my...”

“I told you. You’re loud. Though... Dean, if...”

“Cas. Shut the hell up. Goes unsaid... it’s yours too,” he whispers, and admitting it isn’t half as hard as he had pictured. “If you don’t realize better.”

“Dean. Shut...” Cas starts, then trails away, biting his lip, the word sounding alien on his lips, but then he shakes his head and looks in Dean’s direction again. “Just shut up. Yes. Yes.”

And maybe it’s just as easy as that.

End.
Tags: #xmas 2009, gift type: fic, length:5k-10k, rating: nc-17
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