[dcbb fic] Living In A Godless Universe - 3/3

[a_carnal_mink]

Title: Living In A Godless Universe
Author: a_carnal_mink
Rating: NC17
Summary: From the throne hall of the fairy realm to the gift shop at Niagara Falls, Dean's happy for the godlessness in their lives.
Art: by temporalranger here



(backward to Part Two)

Dean was glad that the room's table was in fact as solid as it looked. Bending Cas backward over it as he was, and adding his own weight to the mix, too… lesser pieces of furniture wouldn't have coped.

Their first kiss had been almost chaste. Their lips meeting dryly for maybe three seconds, tops. Then Dean had moved his hand from Cas's shoulder, up over his coat collar and into his hair, cradling the back of his skull, pulling Cas back to him downright demandingly. Once Dean made his mind up to go with a certain course of action, he was nothing if not determined.

Not surprisingly, Cas had caught on quick and laid on Dean the same move he'd put on Meg six months ago, exerting a fraction more of his strength and pinning Dean against the nearest bit of wall. Crowding in on him, holding his head steady and kissing him so fucking hard that Dean actually grunted into it.

It would take a great amount of alcohol and a very trusted companion for Dean to ever admit out loud what a fucking turn-on that was. But, hot or not, it couldn't be allowed to go on for too long - Dean wasn't the virgin in this tango, after all.

Using one hand on a shoulder and the other on the opposite hip, Dean was able to apply enough pressure to get Cas moving; Cas was amenable, otherwise Dean wouldn't have been able to budge him. Their mouths never moved too far apart the whole way, the whole five awkward steps it took for Dean to back them toward the nearest item of furniture. Ideally, it would've been one of the two beds in the room, but instead it turned out to be the table. Not wanting to give up the hold he had on Cas's hip, Dean moved his other hand up to the nape of the angel's neck and bent him backwards over the table, pressing his own body ultra close and following him down.

Dean's duffel bag was still on the tabletop, of course, but that actually turned out to be a blessing, providing not only a little cushioning for Cas's shoulders, but also helping to angle the top half of his body up toward Dean as well. There was no support for his head, so Dean took care of that himself, sliding his hand up to the back of Cas's skull, splaying his fingers wide there to cradle him properly as they continued to kiss.

Their thighs interlocked straight away, though it took Dean a clumsy moment or two to find the perfect alignment of hard-ons and hips and legs - especially tricky, given the tendency of zippers to cut into over-sensitive flesh when said hard-ons were trapped inside the confines of clothes as they were. When he did find that perfect fit though… holy fucking shit. He rocked down against Cas and Cas rocked up against him in answer and the table made an unsettling creaking sound, but held firm.

Cas had his left leg wound so tight around Dean's right thigh, the pressure of it was enough to distract Dean's brain from the awesome tongue-fucking he was currently being given. He let his other hand wander downward, groping at the long, solid muscle of Jimmy's thigh, appreciating the firmness beneath the press of his fingers. God, he wanted to bite into it. Not exactly practicable right then though, so he slapped it instead.

"Get this up," he ordered against Cas's mouth, pulling back from the kiss the barest distance so his words could be better understood. "Pull this leg up," he said again. "Put it around my waist."

Cas grunted beneath him and obeyed, immediately drawing his leg up and hooking his calf over Dean's ass. The change pushed their cocks harder together. Cas made a sound that may have started out as a gasp, but the rest of it got lost in Dean's mouth.

When Dean next broke for air, he took a moment to study the face so close to his. The tips of their noses were brushing together every second or so breath, so Dean couldn't focus as clearly as he might like on those blue eyes or that now-swollen mouth, but he gleaned enough to see that the overload of sensation was clearly affecting Cas. The intensity of what they were doing together, the shocking focus of the heat and urgency of mounting desire, was taking its toll. Cas was starting to look wrecked, like he couldn't believe it, couldn't believe what Dean was doing to him, how Dean was making him feel.

And Dean, for all his years of sexual experience, totally got that. It was pretty fucking amazing, that they were doing this. Not just that they'd finally got over all their bullshit, or even that they'd both survived long enough to still be around to get it on like this, but that it was them - Dean Winchester and Castiel, the perpetual sinner and the triumphant angel of Heaven - doing this. That, that right there, was so fucking amazing that Dean came in his jeans like a schoolkid and could only laugh about it and kiss Cas again, the kiss so sloppy it made Dean laugh more.

"Shit, Cas, what did you go and do that for?"

"I thought you'd appreciate not having to clean up the mess we made."

"Dude. The mess is half the fun."

"Half?"

"Well, okay, fine. Not half. But it's part of the fun, okay? Trust me."

"I see. Would you… like me to replace the mess?"

"What? Oh fuck no! Dude! Weird! Way weird!"

Sam pounced on his phone when it buzzed him Bon Jovi's "Keep The Faith", the ring tone he'd assigned calls from his brother. "Dean?! Hey. How you doing?"

"Yeah," Dean drawled down the line. There was faint music in the background and a sudden, booming voice requesting a price-check. A Walmart, Sam guessed, or something similar. "Everything's fine, Sam. Just calling 'cos I said I would when I got somewhere."

"So where are you?"

"New York."

"City?"

Dean huffed a laugh into his phone. "Nah. State. Niagara."

Sam laughed a little himself. "Wow, Dean. You're being a tourist?"

"S'what folk do on vacation, isn't it?"

In the background, a deep and incoherent voice asked something and Dean muffled his phone to reply. It sounded vaguely like "No, that's Scottish, get an American one".

"Dean?"

There was movement while Dean obviously juggled his phone and then he was talking properly into it again. "Yeah, Sam? What?"

"Was that… Is Cas there with you?"

Across the room, Bobby glanced up from his book for the first time since Sam's phone had rung.

The only answer Dean deigned to make was, "Frigging angels, man, can't tell the difference 'tween bourbon and scotch." Which, of course, was all the answer Sam needed. Dean was taking a holiday, with Castiel. Sam couldn't help his grin.

"So," he said airily, "what're the Falls like?"

"Fuck knows," came Dean's reply. "Haven't seen 'em yet. Just getting in some supplies right now. Might go see 'em tomorrow."

Sam nodded, even though his brother couldn't see him. "Okay. So. Any idea how long this vacation's gonna last?"

Dean made a non-committal noise. "Why? We gotta job? Hey - you wanna postcard?"

"Uh, sure, if you wanna. And no, I haven't found us a job yet. Coupla possibilities, maybe…"

"Well, you find anything, just lemme know, okay? I gotta go, Sammy. Say hi to Bobby for me."

"Yeah, course."

"See ya."

"Yeah, Dean. Bye."

After testing the quality workmanship of the dining table so rigorously as they had after check-in, Dean had convinced Cas they needed to make a supply run to the nearby store. He'd called Sam while they were out, letting his little brother know where he was at least. He and Cas stocked up on whiskey and Twizzlers and chips and Mountain Dew. Dean stocked up on lube. He found a ridiculous postcard with a bunch of girls standing at the Falls in the middle of winter, wearing ski boots and bikinis - perfect. On the walk back to the motel, they detoured into a diner where Dean ate a bacon sandwich and bought half a dozen doughnuts to go.

Cas had sat across from him while he ate, watching the bacon oil soaking into the bread in Dean's hands with faint distaste. "How you maintain your athletic build is beyond me," he said across the formica tabletop. "Considering your diet of habit."

Dean had grinned around his mouthful. "Perks of the job."

When they'd got back to their room and set down all of Dean's purchases, things got temporarily uncomfortable. Now what? Should they watch some TV and act like they weren't both desperate to tear each others' clothes off? Or should they just own the fact that they were on what amounted to a "dirty weekend" and get on with it? Dean looked at Cas and Cas looked at Dean and neither of them seemed to be able to think of anything intelligent to say. Then Cas did something Dean had never seen him do before.

Cas carefully removed his trenchcoat, looking Dean boldly in the eye the whole time. Dean's breath deepened, just watching that. The coat got thrown onto a chair and Cas stood there, arms at his sides, one eyebrow quirked slightly. Dean's legs had moved him forward without his brain really even thinking about it.

Slowly removing the holy tax accountant outfit, item by item, was vaguely terrifying. And well it should be, Dean figured, seeing as how it meant all kinds of things involving intimacy and points of no return and things that can't be unseen and all. He willed his fingers to quit it already with the tiny tremors they were making and got on with the job.

He took the suit jacket off first. Pushed it off Cas's shoulders and slid it down his arms, blindly throwing it toward the same chair the trench was already on. He'd gone for the cuffs of the white business shirt next, though was momentarily thrown by the fact the buttons there were already undone. Dean moved in even closer than he already was and pulled Cas's shirttails out of his suit pants, listening to his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Cas tilted his head while Dean worked, watching his face curiously as Dean lifted his hands to the knot of Cas's tie. The eyes that matched that tie were kinda hard not to meet right then, watching him with such trust and wonder as his trembling fingers blindly worked the knot loose. Dean let the tie hang where it was while he moved on to the translucent shirt buttons, fumbling them all open until Cas's chest was bared to him. In one go, shirt and tie were both removed and thrown onto the chair.

Jimmy's body, living its years firstly in civilian life and then in the stasis of angelic vesseldom, was slight in build and largely unscarred in flesh. An appendectomy was about the extent of trauma this body had endured prior to meeting with Castiel.

Dean ran his thumbs along Cas's collarbones and let his hands glide down over his chest, flirting across already hard nipples and stroking firmly down his sides. Stomach muscles jumped slightly under Dean's fingertips and sharp hipbones fit his palms so perfectly that there was nothing else for it but to pull on them gently and let Cas's body fall against his.

From there, things got a little… heated. Their mouths, apparently, had been away from each other way too fucking long and had some serious catching up to do. And Dean's body, apparently, had way too fucking many clothes on it; Cas quickly remedied that.

By the time they finally got horizontal together - on one of the beds this time, thank god - they were both hard enough to pound nails, painting each other's cocks in pre-come as they rutted against one another on a stupendously fugly orange bedspread.

Dean had never been naked with another dude before. He'd done his fair share of fooling around, of course. Hand-jobs, blow-jobs. He'd screwed three or four guys over the years. Let one screw him once. But they'd all been short-lived hook-ups, moments grappled with in alleyways and men's rooms, a tumble in and out of a seedy rent-by-the-hour. There hadn't ever been anything that required nudity, just exposure of the necessary parts and corresponding places. And maybe Dean understood better why that was, now. It was more than just his body being laid bare. He was letting himself be vulnerable with another guy and - outside of family - that was something Dean Winchester simply did not allow himself to be.

He straightened his arms on either side of Cas's ribcage and lifted his head up, gasping in air. Beneath him, Cas tilted his chin toward the ceiling and looked up at Dean through narrowed eyes, one corner of his kiss-bitten mouth tugging upward into a tiny smile. His long, pale throat already sported a round bruise of mauve just above the leather cord that held his amulet, and the shadows of his collarbones gleamed faintly where sweat was already collecting. For an angel, Cas was looking pretty debauched, and Dean only wanted to make it worse.

"Wanna mess you up, Cas." Dean slid his cock hard alongside Cas's as he spoke. "Wanna show ya what I can do."

A bare foot stroked down the back of his right calf and Cas licked his lips. "You wish to mount me?"

"Shit, don't call it that!" Dean chuckled anyhow. "But… yeah. I guess." He sobered and stared down into Cas's eyes. "What d'you think about that?"

"I'm curious to experience it." As he spoke, Cas trailed his hands swiftly down Dean's back and stopped on his ass.

"But, it's a sin. Right?"

Cas squeezed at Dean's ass rhythmically. "Like you care."

God, that squeezing felt good. Dean's cock leaked a little more and Dean closed his eyes against the sensation briefly. If he couldn't get his dick inside something soon, this conversation was gonna be pointless.

"I don't care about it being a sin for me," he said bluntly, opening his eyes again. "But it's gotta be a bigger deal for you, right? Or to your folks upstairs?"

"They already… whisper about my attachment to you. My sin would be in lying with a human, not in the physical specifics of the act. And as far as I can tell, Dean, I've committed this sin once today already."

Huh. Dean hadn't thought of it like that. Here he was, deliberating over whether what he wanted to do was gonna get Cas in trouble, and he'd already gone and done the damage - and on the fricken dining table, no less - without even thinking about it.

Damn it.

They ended up doing it from behind, Cas face-down on the bed with Dean settling over his back. Cas let him in so easy, just two shallow thrusts and a third that went long and deep and had him all the way in, all the way home.

"Holy - !" Dean buried his face into the side of Cas's neck, found himself mouthing at the knot in the amulet cord. "Fuck, Cas. Fuck…"

Cas groped behind himself with his right hand and grabbed hold of the back of Dean's thigh, digging his fingers into the muscle as Dean got moving in earnest. With his other hand, Cas stretched up and took a hold on the top edge of the mattress, using it to help brace himself into each of Dean's thrusts. Shit, for a virgin he certainly seemed to know all the good things to do.

"How you know to do that? Hm?" Dean whispered hotly with his mouth right on Cas's ear.

"Much time spent watching," Cas stuttered back, his words broken up with breathy little cut-off gasps as he took Dean's cock, Dean's weight. And hell, Dean loved hearing his voice like that.

"Always knew you were a voyeur, Cas."

Dean used his knees to spread Cas's legs wider, dropping the angle of his hips a little into the created space. Soon as he did so, Cas made an entirely new noise and Dean stilled his movements, panicked for a moment that he'd hurt him somehow. Ridiculous, obviously - dude was way stronger than Dean ever would be, Dean would only be able to hurt him if the angel actually allowed him to. He made the noise again as Dean pushed back into him and Dean's brain high-fived him as he realized what he'd done. He was fucking up against Jimmy's prostate gland. Cas was finding out what the male G-spot was all about. Dean grabbed around the back of Cas's left knee and pushed it higher up the bed, making him spread his legs so wide he had to take some weight onto his knees, lift his hips up from the mattress.

"Yeah," Dean groaned. He reached around Cas's hips, now that there was space to do so, and circled his hand around the hard, wet cock. "Can tell you like this, Cas." He slid his hand up and down the sticky shaft a couple of times. "Fuckyeah, you love this."

"I - " Cas started, but lost his train of thought somewhere in the middle of what Dean was doing to him. He turned his head as far onto his shoulder as it would humanly go and gazed up at Dean from the corners of his languid eyes. "Want your mouth," he moaned out softly.

Dean didn't need telling twice. He twisted a little to the side and stretched his neck sufficiently to be able to slide their mouths against each other. It wasn't exactly a kiss - they were both too far gone for that and the angle was tricky - but they could breathe together and taste one another. And that was all it took to bring them both off, Cas crying out first and Dean following him, both of them oblivious to the headboard banging into the wall.

Cas was about to find out what was so convenient about having one bed to fuck in and another, fresh one, to bed down in.

Castiel lay awake - always awake - in the dark and listened to Dean sleeping, felt Dean sleeping. After the sodomy they'd indulged in together, Dean had hauled Castiel across to the second bed and the two of them had tumbled into it in a tangle of overheated limbs. Dean had smiled at him all soft and droopy-eyed, loose and languid with satisfaction, and promptly fell asleep across his body. Castiel had pressed his nose into Dean's damp hair and inhaled his scent hungrily, breathed him in like springtime, like mornings, like… He'd realized, with a shock, that he was waxing poetic about the smell of Dean's sweat.

So this was why humans were so fond of unnecessary copulation. Above and beyond the imperative to breed, there was this. This closeness of feeling. This curious light-headedness. This conspiracy of shared pleasure. This… bond. Castiel had never really understood the odd phrasing humans had assigned to the act - "making love". How could love be "made", he'd always wondered. But it seemed he'd found a new understanding now. And, as with most of the revelations he'd experienced on Earth, the man sleeping in his arms, dribbling onto his shoulder, was at the heart of that understanding.

Hours passed. Castiel mused.

"I can feel where he's been," Jimmy roused himself to quietly tell him.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed. "I wanted to hold onto that sensation a little longer. Would you like me to erase it?"

Jimmy took a moment to respond. "No, it's okay," he said eventually. "This isn't about me."

"Thank-you for making this possible."

"Yeah, you owe me."

Castiel gave a little smile. "I do, indeed."

"I'm happy for you, Cas. Truly." Jimmy sighed shallowly. "I'm going back to sleep now."

Castiel thought that was the end of the conversation, but then Jimmy's voice floated through his mind once more - "You know, I honestly don't think Dean'd mind if you woke him up for another round right now. Just saying."

Dean woke up with a hand on his dick. Though not his hand. It'd been a while since he'd got a wake-up-call that nice. The room was still dark but a vague lightness around the shape of the curtained window suggested dawn was pretty damned close.

"I find it fascinating," Cas murmured against his temple, obviously realizing that Dean was awake now. "That I can feel your heart beating through your erection."

"S'just blood pumping," Dean mumbled. He wrapped an arm around Cas's neck and dragged him half on top of himself. "Get up here."

Cas slid the rest of the way on top of Dean and settled his weight carefully, primly, as though he was scared he might crush him. Dean just wrapped his arms around him and pressed their bodies tight together.

"This is much better without clothing."

Dean grinned into the darkness. "No argument there."

Cas rocked against him experimentally, his cock sliding in the crease of Dean's thigh, and Dean stroked his hands up and down Cas's sides and onto his ass and back again. Found himself wondering briefly if Jimmy had been much for cycling or running, maybe. Dude's thighs were so hard he could probably crush someone to death. If they were lucky.

The rhythm was a bit hit and miss, but the enthusiasm couldn't be faulted. And when Cas honest-to-god manhandled him suddenly onto his side and shoved his cock between Dean's thighs from behind, Dean decided to just let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, let him take what he needed. Hot damn.

"You wanna fuck me, Cas?"

"Yes." Cas palmed Dean's cock as he rutted against his ass. "I'll do that later."

Ohhkay. "Not now?"

Cas bit into Dean's shoulder, stifling a moan. "No. Right now I'm doing this." And he came. Just like that.

No guy he'd ever got it on with had come like that, between Dean's thighs, splashing jizz all over his balls. He'd never have believed how fucking hot that would be. He put a hand over Cas's on his cock and squeezed, made him stroke harder and faster, thought about Cas fucking him later and blew his load into their hands.

It shouldn't have surprised him, really, that Cas then raised his come-covered fingers up to his mouth and tentatively trailed the tip of his tongue through Dean's spunk. Dean was pretty frigging happy that the room had lightened enough for him to be able to see that, to see Cas getting his first taste of come, of Dean's come. Christ. He hauled Cas in close and kissed the hell out of him.

"I'm getting my ass into the shower. Seriously, I look like something out of a bukkake video."

"What's a… bukkake video?"

"Er. Never mind. You comin'?"

"Into the shower?"

"Yeah, into the shower. Get rid of all this jizz 'n' lube. Then we can start getting dirty all over again. Crap."

"What?"

"We've gone and fucked up both beds now. That wasn't smart of us."

"The one you sodomized me in will be dry by now."

"Will you stop calling it that?"

"But I like the word."

"Great. I'm screwing a traditionalist."

Castiel discovered he liked showers.

And oral sex.

Dean was sitting up, leaning back against the headboard, getting mercilessly teased by a motherfucking angel of the lord. Cas was straddled over Dean's lap but kneeling up tall, and Dean slouching down the bed a little meant that Cas was able to slide his cock into Dean's mouth. Only, the fucker wasn't doing that. Instead, he was trailing his cock all over Dean's face and neck, watching its progress with a riveted expression.

"C'mon, man," Dean groused. "Quit fuckin' teasing me. Just stick it in my mouth, for chrissake. Lemme suck you off."

Blue eyes flashed to his. Cas guided the tip of his cock across the seam of Dean's lips and when Dean opened to him, he slowly pushed in. Grateful, Dean closed around him and sucked noisily. But then Cas pulled out again, trailed his cock down to Dean's chin and rubbed it along the hard line of Dean's jaw.

"The fuck you doin', Cas?"

Cas hissed in a sharp breath and closed his eyes for a beat or two. "I'm… reveling, luxuriating in you. Enjoying the differing sensations." He repeated the actions again, pushing into Dean's mouth momentarily. "Your mouth is so very warm. Wonderfully wet. And when I move back - " he slid his cock out again " - the ambient room temperature feels deliciously cool where I'm wet with you. And when I touch against your jaw - " he pushed his cock along the line of Dean's chin again, hitching in another sharp hiss as he did so " - the sensation of your beard growth against this sensitive flesh is - " his gaze dragged up to meet Dean's again " - the sensation is beyond description."

Dean stared up into his face, fascinated by the open, unashamed lust he saw there. "Kinky sonofabitch, Cas," he whispered, half in awe.

Cas tilted his head and watched as he trailed his cock up to Dean's right cheekbone. In its wake, Dean could feel what must have been a streak of pre-come. Cas quickly bent down and licked the trail away again, then straightened and resumed exploring Dean's face with his dick.

"I'm enjoying marking you in this way," he told Dean impassively. "Making you taste of me, smell of me."

Dean snorted a short laugh. "Next thing, you'll be wanting to piss on me!"

Seeing the calculating look in Cas's expression, Dean immediately regretted putting that idea in the angel's head. "Dude! You are NOT pissing on me!"

"I think I'd like to sodo - have sex with you now."

Dean smirked. "Tell me you wanna fuck me, Cas."

Cas sat back on Dean's legs, hands resting lightly on Dean's shoulders. "Dean. I very much want to fuck you right now."

"I've only let someone do that once, you know. Lotsa years ago now." Dean licked his bottom lip. "Then there was Hell - "

"Dean." Cas stroked one hand through Dean's hair, looking deeply into his eyes. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to Dean's, a swift and heartfelt kiss. "Dean, I want to make love to you." He stroked his hand into Dean's hair again, forceful but careful. "May I? May I pleasure you in that manner?"

Dean smiled up at him. "You are such a friggin' dork." He let Cas tilt his head up and kiss him deep and hard and wet. "Yeah. Yeah, you fucking may." He made sure to capture Cas's mouth again when Cas tried to pull back. "Just… fuck me face to face, okay?"

In the heaven of the poet Akhmatova, Castiel had once stood witness to the creation of beauty. It was a precious memory, comforting and life-affirming. He didn't know exactly why he was thinking of that as he penetrated Dean's body, as he caused Dean's breath to deepen and Dean's heartrate to ramp up. But thinking of it, he certainly was. Thinking of poetry, of beauty, of… The memory changed to a completely different one and Castiel laughed awkwardly as he thought on it.

"What?" Dean asked him. "What are you laughing at?"

"It's just occurred to me," Castiel told him. "That I can no longer truthfully declare I've never been in your ass."

Dean's expression swiftly morphed from confusion to amusement and he chuckled, too. And oh - the sensation of that, Dean's body trembling around Castiel's penis as Dean laughed, how was that so sublime?

Dean squeezed his hands upon Castiel's buttocks and smirked up at him. "And don't you dare even think about getting out of it within the next few minutes. At least."

"Not likely."

"Good. Now start fuckin' fucking me."

"Have you always been obscene?"

"Never was an altar boy, Cas. Now c'mon." He slapped Castiel's behind and grinned sharply. "Make me scream to your daddy."

He was incorrigible. Sinful and blasphemous and so beautiful and good. So good, he could enrapture an angel, drag a warrior of God from the path of obedience, while barely even knowing his own goodness. It was a cosmic inevitability that Castiel would love him.

And so Castiel did. He loved him deep and hard. He loved him quietly and loudly and he entertained a vague idea that they could perhaps break the bed if he loved him too vigorously. He loved him with his entire being, every fiber of his grace and his host body both. He loved him with Jimmy's permission and sacrifice, and he loved him with Jimmy's surprised enjoyment.

When Castiel ejaculated, Dean did indeed commune with Castiel's father - though it was more a groan than a scream. And when Castiel folded Jimmy's body and bent his head down to take the crown of Dean's erection into his mouth, Dean called him a "bendy bitch" and spurted hot across his grateful tongue.

No poetry could compare.

Dean was on-hold to a pizza place and surreptitiously ogling Cas. Good ol' multi-tasking. This vacation was shaping up to be the best Dean had ever had. Basically - a LOT of sex. How could it be beat?

"Thank-you for holding. May I take your order?"

"Uh yeah. Can I get a large meat-lovers with extra cheese? And a six-pack of beer."

"We do a meal offer on large pizzas with a bucket of wings for just four dollars more…"

"Wings, huh? A whole bucket?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hell yeah, sign me up! Can I get some hot sauce with that?"

"Mild, Hot, Triple-X, Death or Make You Cry?"

Dean was kinda loving upstate New York right now. This was the best vacation ever!

Twenty-two minutes later, when there was a knock on their room door, Dean grabbed a pair of shorts off the floor (Cas's, it turned out, or Jimmy's, rather) and put them on quickly. He stooped to pick up his jeans and wrestle out his wallet, then dropped them and padded over to the door, scratching a flake of dried come off his stomach.

The delivery kid had a whiny voice and a disturbingly giant zit on his chin, but the pizza and wings smelled fantastic.

"Dooood," the kid drawled at him as he passed items across the threshold. "Your room, like, totally reeks of jizz."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. Seriously? He nudged the door with his shoulder, letting it fall open further. "Yeah?" he said, smug as can be. "Must be all that mind-blowin' sex we've been having in here."

The kid's eyebrows disappeared under the peak of his green delivery dude cap and his eyes went owlish. Dean smirked and glanced back into the room, seeing what the kid was seeing - the room in a mess, both beds wrecked, clothes all over, and Cas butt-naked and sprawled on his front on the far bed, watching some "Casa Erotica" of very tasty lesbian strap-on action with all the concentration of a scientist solving the world's problems.

"Say, what's the weather been like?" Dean asked, nonchalantly thumbing three notes out of his wallet and holding them toward the kid, giving him his best shit-eating grin. "I haven't put a foot outside in days."

The kid's cheeks were burning as he stammered out some crap about the cloud cover this time of year and Dean decided to be nice and quit fucking with him. Dean was feeling incredibly well laid, after all, and that always put him in a generous mood. He thumbed a ten from his wallet and held it out.

"Here, kid. Go buy yourself a skin mag."

"Serious?! Wow, thanks." He gratefully plucked the money away and favored Dean with a crooked grin. "I'll never say a bad word about fags again!"

"Too fuckin' right you won't," Dean growled at him, suddenly serious. "Because I'd hate to have to put you down." He knew how dangerous he could look to civilians. Even in nothing but boxers and clearly unarmed, he was making that kid quake. Oh well - he could use his powers for good, at least. "And don't throw that word around like that," he ordered. "Ya hear me?"

"Yes, sir," came the answering squeak.

"Good man," Dean nodded at him. "Now go on, get." The kid turned and fled and Dean closed the door.

"I think you just scarred that child for life," Cas told him casually, chin in his hands as he continued to watch the dykes on the tv screen.

"Yeah," Dean sighed in agreement, cracking open the lid on the bucket of wings and taking an appreciative sniff. "But I tipped him big and educated his ass at the same time. I'm still goin' to Heaven."

Cas gave him a long, knowing look. "Yes. Yes, you are." And returned his attention lesbian-way.

Two days after arriving in Niagara, Dean and Cas finally got around to visiting the Falls.

Dean leaned against the protective barrier, hands in his jacket pockets, and looked out at Canada and then down. "Yup," he said slowly, raising his voice a little to be heard over the crash of the Falls, even though Cas was standing right next to him. "Just as I suspected. It's a whole lotta water."

"It is," Cas agreed. He was looking decidedly windswept.

"C'mon." Dean knocked his shoulder against Cas's shoulder. "Let's hit the gift shop. Wanna see if they've got souvenir panties for Sam."

He ended up buying Sam a pen instead. A nice one in a box, with "Niagara Falls, N.Y." etched into its side. A cap for Bobby was an easy choice. He lost sight of Cas for a little while and eventually found him holding an I HEART NIAGARA FALLS bumper sticker, tilting his head at it like it was trying to tell him a secret.

"Oh hell no," Dean told him firmly. "You ever hope to have your cock sucked again, you put that thing down right now. Nothin' douches up my baby!"

"I wasn't seriously considering - "

"Yeah, well you keep not seriously considering. Pick somethin' else."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. A shot glass or somethin'. Think little." He clapped Cas on the shoulder and wandered away to look at bottle openers.

Several minutes later, Cas found him again and sheepishly held up a shot glass that had a tiny picture of the Falls on one side and DEAN printed on the other.

Dean couldn't help smiling. "Lemme guess - you couldn't find one with your name on?"

Cas shuffled a little. "There was a Cassandra."

"Heh. Oh! Hey! Was there one with Samantha?"

If Cas were actually human, he'd most likely be pretty sore, Dean figured. Leg cramp, maybe, from having one bent up over Dean's shoulder for so long. And butt-hurt - literally - probably for certain. But almost twenty minutes into a severe ass-pounding and the guy was still gazing up at Dean like he'd just found nirvana. It was kinda confronting, really. Dean couldn't help gazing back, though, no matter how intense the staring got, no matter how under-his-skin that gaze could be, how stripped bare it could make him feel.

The both of them were pretty fucking far gone, apparently. Squeezing each other's hands constantly as they shuddered into one another, fingers threaded through each other's hold; helped get better leverage for the screwing, Dean bullshitted himself. Their eye-fucking was every bit as hard and forceful as what their bodies were doing. They were so tangled up together, so welded tight, Dean wouldn't have been surprised if their hearts were even thudding about in tandem. Dean watched a bead of sweat that fell from his own face landing onto Cas, just near the corner of his mouth, and Cas snaked his tongue out immediately to lick it up and claim it. So fucking far gone…

When his phone suddenly jumped on the nightstand and blared out its ring tone, the first - pretty stupid, really - thought that slammed into Dean's brain was that the motel manager was probably ringing to tell them he'd had complaints about the noise they were makin'. In that instant, too, Dean suddenly realized that the bed was groaning how much it hated them and the headboard was beating a staccato on the wall that had probably been going on for the last ten minutes or more.

"Fuck. Sam." Of course it wasn't the motel calling on his cell. Dean un-twined his fingers from between Cas's and let his leg slide heavily off his shoulder. He got his knees a bit more under himself and, cock still inside Cas, knelt up enough to reach over and grab his phone. He took a deep breath, collecting himself, before picking up the call.

"Oh hey! You're there!" Sam's voice said in surprise. He'd obviously expected to be chatting to Dean's voicemail.

"Yeah, I'm here, Sam. What's up?"

"Well. You told me to call if I found us a job. You okay, man? You sound a bit puffed."

"Course I am." Dean sat back onto his heels and let his dick slide slowly out of Cas. "Just ran for the phone," he white-lied.

Sam snorted at that. "Getting slow in your old age, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah. Fuck you very much. What kinda job?"

"Mass haunting in a private girls' school near Longview in eastern Texas. Seems their friendly ghosts have suddenly turned less-than-benign on 'em, though no one knows why..."

"Sammy," Dean purred into his phone, "you had me at 'private girls' school'." He caught the look Cas was giving him and cleared his throat. "I'm a day out from Texas though. I can be on the road in an hour, meet ya there this time tomorrow."

"Yeah okay. Me and Bobby are leaving pretty much now. How about I call ya when we get to Longview? We can have a motel or somethin' sorted out by the time you get there."

"Sounds good."

"You sure you're okay about ending your vacation?"

Dean looked down into Castiel's face. Cas was looking about as happy at having his holiday cut short and having a fuck finish without coming as Dean would expect.

"See you in Longview tomorrow, Sam."

"Dean?"

"Gotta go." He hung up and dropped the phone onto the nightstand with a clatter, simultaneously leaning back over Cas. "Hey," he said softly, lowering himself down. "Hey."

"I don't require comforting, Dean."

"No? Well, then." He leaned against Cas's side, bracing himself on one arm, and putting his other hand tentatively to Cas's cock. "You wouldn't be wanting me to do this, I guess?" He squeezed his fingers and watched the angel's mouth go a little slack.

"I don't require…"

Dean pressed their mouths together briefly and jacked Cas with a firmer stroke. "Yeah, you do." He kissed him again, a little longer. "I do, too."

They left Niagara Falls about half an hour later than Dean had told Sam they would, but they both seemed more relaxed about the drive ahead than they otherwise might have been.

Half an hour into Pennsylvania, Dean was singing along with his music even louder and with more gusto than he had on the journey between Minnesota and Niagara several days earlier. He even sang along with a lot of the instruments, window wound down, left elbow sticking out into the sun. He was loose and at ease, in his element, enjoying himself. Castiel fell into a contemplative mood, letting the music and Dean's voice and the rumble of the car carry and steer his thoughts as the road miles fell away behind them.

Would he return to Heaven now? Dean was returning to work, after all. Perhaps that was an unspoken indication that Castiel would be expected to do likewise. Strangely, after having fought so strenuously for Heaven as he envisioned it - very nearly losing himself and his life for it in the process - the prospect of living out the remainder of his centuries there didn't fill him with the joy he had hoped to feel.

Maybe… one day, years from now… when Dean became part of the Heavenly landscape…

"Well, I'm a raaaamblin' man!" Dean sang at the top of his lungs. "Don't fall in love with a ramblin' man!"

Oh.

Castiel opened his mouth to make an announcement. Closed it again. Pressed the pads of Jimmy's fingers together in his lap.

"Cas?"

He glanced up to find Dean frowning at him in between looks back to the road.

"You okay, man? My singing givin' you a headache?"

Castiel intended to formulate an answer to the question. He had an answer to that question. But when he opened his mouth to speak again, something entirely different fell from his lips.

"I wish to stay."

It was probably just as well they were on an open stretch of road at the time, Castiel supposed, considering the way Dean pulled the Impala onto the shoulder so sharply and brought them to an abrupt halt. Dean threw the transmission into neutral and twisted the key in the ignition, shutting the car down. The engine clunked a little in seeming protest of the treatment.

Dean wrenched his door open and spilled out of the car, as though desperate to get to the outside, to the sunshine and fresh breeze. Castiel watched him put his hands on his hips and tilt his head up toward the sky. His back was to the car, so Castiel couldn't see his face, but he imagined that Dean would have his eyes closed just then, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The straight line of his shoulders very nearly shook with tension. Gone was the relaxed looseness of mere moments ago.

Quietly, Castiel opened his own door and climbed out of the car. He closed the door carefully and walked to Dean's side, wondering what outburst he was sure to be soon on the receiving end of.

When Dean heard his approach, he looked up sharply, meeting Castiel's eyes only briefly before looking away over the landscape. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and crossed his arms over his chest.

There was no outburst. Apparently, there were only questions.

"Who's gonna run Heaven if you're not there to keep all your jerk relatives in line, Cas?"

Castiel blinked. "Uh. Joshua agreed to step forward. A… a stewardship, if you will. And Balthazar will keep - "

"Balthazar?! Seriously?"

"He's actually very good at his job, Dean."

"And what job's that?"

"He was Heaven's quartermaster before the war. Hence his ready access to so many precious items."

"A quartermaster? Like, a fuckin' store keeper?"

"Julius Caesar was a quartermaster," Castiel pointed out quietly.

Dean made a dismissive sound and leaned back against his car, arms still crossed tightly over himself. "And what'll happen to you down here, huh? Will you lose your wings? Turn mortal?"

Castiel hung his head a little way. "My powers will diminish."

"Like last time?"

"No, it will take longer. Last time, I was cut off, on the run from Heaven. This time, I'll be taking my leave." He mentally groped for an analogy that Dean might understand. "Like… like an émigré, Dean. I'll assimilate over time, but I'll forever remain tied to my homeland."

Dean was staring at him, taking that in. Castiel considered that to be a good sign - that he could bear to look at Castiel for longer than he had two minutes ago.

"What'll you do?" Dean asked eventually.

"Do?"

"Like a job or whatever."

"I," Castiel gulped. He hadn't much contemplated…

"You'd make an awesome hunter, Cas." Dean's voice was quiet. "There's always folks need saving."

Castiel leaned against the car, too, his hands touching the metal behind himself as he considered Dean's suggestion. "I might eventually… need to learn shooting."

"I might be able to help with that."

Castiel looked sideways at him and saw that Dean wore a small smile now, his shoulders a little less tense, and Castiel allowed himself to relax by a few degrees also.

"You know," Dean ventured, "even if you never learn to shoot for shit, you've got one hell of an archive in that brain of yours. All those ancient languages and crap? You'd be an asset to any hunting outfit on the planet. Hell, you've probably already forgot more than any of us'll ever know."

Any hunting outfit on the planet. The couple of degrees Castiel had relaxed tensed up once again. Were he and Dean having two slightly different conversations?

"Any idea about where you'd like to live?"

Castiel felt an unfamiliar chill across the middle of his back, as though ice had just caught at the roots of his wings. He was glad for the comforting solidity of the Impala holding him up.

"Talk to him, Cas," Jimmy suddenly spoke up. "Ask him what you need to know. Ask him what he wants."

"I'd like to live - "

"Cas!" Jimmy insisted. "Ask him."

"Dean." Castiel turned his head and looked into guarded green eyes. "Dean, when I say I wish to stay…"

"Yeah?"

"I wish to stay… where you prayed for me to be."

Dean's brow furrowed in consternation.

"Sitting my ass down beside you," Castiel reminded him. "It's you, Dean. I wish to stay with you."

Dean seemed to chew on the inside of his mouth for a moment. "I don't want you to fall just because of me," he said tightly. "Can't have that on my conscience."

"It won't be Falling in the traditional sense," Castiel countered. "As I've tried to explain - "

"I don't want you to feel like you've gotta stick around just because I'm some pathetic sonofabitch who's never made a single relationship in his entire fuckin' life work out - "

"What gives you the impression I think tha - "

"Don't want you doing this just 'cos you think it's what I expect you to do!"

"I DON'T, Dean!"

"Well, what DO you think I expect you to do?!"

"LEAVE YOU LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES!"

The words, the volume and vehemence with which they were said, shocked them both. The glare Dean was giving him was, obviously, mainly anger, but Castiel could clearly discern the hurt that was fuelling it, too.

Dean's stance changed imperceptibly and in Castiel's mind, Jimmy tried to give him one helpful instruction - "Duck."

Castiel didn't though. He side-stepped casually as Dean took a swing at him, catching Dean's fist in one hand and simultaneously pressing him against the car with the other. He couldn't let Dean hit him; he'd only have to heal his knuckles for him afterward if he did.

"Lemme go," Dean growled.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"You've gotta let me make that sort of choice for myself, Cas!"

Castiel looked down impassively at his right hand splayed wide across the center of Dean's chest, and relented. He took a step back, letting his arms fall to his sides, watching Dean's gaze flit about as he straightened himself and his clothes after the manhandling. Castiel tried to relax his frame, his features, as much as he could, hoping to make himself softer, an easier target for Dean's fist to connect with.

Dean's hands came at him, but they weren't clenched. Instead, Dean grabbed up two fistfuls of suit and tie and trenchcoat and hauled Castiel bodily forward. He dragged Castiel right into his space, tight up against his body and stared him down with the last tendrils of the anger that had flashed so quickly to the surface.

"Kiss me, you feathery bastard."

A passing truck on the highway honked its horn at them as Castiel obeyed.

It was raining in Longview. Dean got a text from Sam telling him what motel to head for and he told Cas to stay in the car a few minutes while he went in and had a word with his brother. For some reason, Dean was actually nervous about explaining things.

Huh. "Explaining things". That kinda implied that things could actually be "explained". And Dean sure as hell didn't know how the fuck they could be. Still. He supposed he had to try.

"Hey, man." Sam slapped him on the shoulder, waving him into the motel room.

"Hey, Sam. Bobby." Dean fidgeted with his car keys.

"You wanna beer?" Sam offered, letting the door bang shut and crossing the room in two strides to reach the tiny fridge.

"Or there's some hunter's helper here, if yer prefer it." Bobby sloshed a bottle in the air over the paper-strewn table.

"Uh. Yeah." Dean was already calling himself a pussy for not stating his case as soon as Sam said hey. "Whiskey'd be great. Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, still hovering near the door. "So… nice room."

Both Sam and Bobby looked at him like he was an idiot. Which - yeah, fair enough.

"If yer anglin' for a swap," Bobby ventured, "no dice. TV reception's better in mine."

Dean spluttered a nervous laugh. "Nah. It's not that. I'll just, ah." He bit at his lower lip a little. "I'll be needing a separate room is all."

Predictably, Sam worked it out first. "Oh my god, Dean! You're kidding me?!"

"I don't think I am," Dean muttered.

Bobby, part-way through pouring Dean a drink, looked from one to the other of them. "Someone gonna fill me in? Or do I gotta beat it outta one of ya?"

Dean coughed into his hand. "Well. Me and Cas - "

"Ah," Bobby interrupted. "Guess I'll be needing another glass, then."

Sam was giving Dean a look that was so indulgent and goddamn wet that Dean couldn't even come up with a lame enough insult for it. "Quit lookin' at me like that, Sammy. It's not like I'm pregnant or something."

It looked like Sam attempted to pull a face at that, just because those were the rules, really, but it was obvious his heart just wasn't in it. "So where is he?" he asked excitedly. "You haven't left him sitting in the car, have you?"

A soft knock seemed to answer that. Though when Dean called out for him to come in, the angel simply popped into the room without using the entrance.

"Hello," Cas intoned to the room in general, hovering near Dean while Dean continued to hover near the door.

Bobby stood up from the table and silently brought them two tumblers of whiskey. Dean was sure the old guy looked like he was trying his best not to smirk at 'em.

"So what're you gonna do?" Sam wanted to know, his excitement still bubbling over. "How're you gonna live? Shit, where are you gonna live? You gonna settle down somewhere or what?"

"Fuck, Sam, how's about one damn question at a time?" Dean took a swig of whiskey and glanced at Cas. "Honestly though," he gave his attention back to Sam. "We don't really know. Though I'm certainly not settling down anytime in the near future, I'll tell ya that much for nuthin." He looked toward Cas again, gaze being drawn back like always. Cas was looking at him steadily over the rim of his tumbler as he drank. "We'll work it out," Dean found himself saying.

Cas lowered his glass and gave him a slow nod before sparing Sam and Bobby a glance. "We're making it up as we go along," he informed them solemnly.

Dean had heard him say those words before, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Dean just as he was right now. Telling Chuck the Prophet how the two of them had thrown in together and decided to save the world. It had floored Dean to hear him say it then, and the effect was no less fucking spectacular this time around. On both occasions, Dean packed it away somewhere private, swallowed it down to keep the knowledge of it safe inside, got on with the job at hand.

Speaking of…

Castiel drank bourbon quietly and observed the three hunters in the room discussing the mass haunting with which they had all gathered here to deal.

Multiple times within every minute that passed, Dean's gaze sought out Castiel's. Strangely, for all the steps forward they had taken their association in the past few days, such constant seeking out of gazes was not a new development. Castiel felt calmed and comforted by that.

"Cas!"

The sharpness of Dean's voice roused Castiel from his contemplations. "Yes?" he answered.

Dean raised one eyebrow at him. "I said, what do you think about this?"

"I, erm..."

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Dean took hold of the top of the last empty chair, the one beside him, and yanked it out from the table. "Sit your ass down over here."

Castiel experienced joy at the invitation, so close to the last prayer Dean had devoted to him. He crossed the room and took his place beside Dean. Within, he could feel Jimmy Novak nodding.

"Go with love, Castiel," Jimmy told him softly.

Epilogue

For all that Dean and Castiel insisted they were making it up as they went along, Sam couldn't help finding himself impressed, as Summer dragged on, by just how well they seemed to be making "it" work. That was the first revelation - that they were both actually working on their relationship. The second revelation came hot on the heels of the first - they were succeeding.

Sam didn't know what he'd expected it to be like. That Cas would become a permanent fixture in the backseat of the Impala? Or that Sam would be evicted from shotgun, even? That Cas and Dean would set up house together somewhere? Or what? Honestly, Sam had no idea. But even allowing for how little idea he had about it all, he still felt vaguely surprised at just how little their lives had actually changed.

Sam and Dean (and Bobby) continued to hunt. Despite there being no more impending Apocalypses and no more supernatural civil wars for them to get caught up in, the world was still full of ghosts and monsters and demons and any number of other things that went bump. Hunters still had work to do.

Sometimes Cas would join them - especially when they asked for his assistance. But most of Cas's time, while the Winchesters were hunting, was spent zapping himself about the place, "doing angel crap" as Dean so eloquently put it. Apparently, that short stint as some sort of god had unnerved the angel a little more than he'd let on and that, coupled with the prospect of his powers diminishing in a few short years, filled him with the need to get as much angelic work done as possible, while he still could. He was intent on small miracles, random acts of kindness, helping others. Dean didn't say much about it, but Sam came to realize there was another revelation there, just subtly, in the way Dean would clap Cas on the back or smile while Cas told them of his latest deed - his brother was proud of his partner's good works.

Evenings - or days, depending on what sort of hunt they were on, and whether the Winchesters were working days or nights at the time - Cas would fly in, heal anything that needed healing, and join them for dinner (he still didn't eat) and a catch-up on the day's events. He and Dean weren't overly demonstrative so nothing much seemed changed there. Dean might rest his arm on Cas's chair a bit more often than he used to but, apart from an occasional, barely even noticeable, casual little touch or two, that was about it.

Of course, there were the smoldering, lingering looks - but they'd been doing that for years. No revelations there.

Not even their accommodation requirements changed very much. Sure, Dean might insist on separate rooms a few times a month, but most nights found the Winchesters plus one in their usual two-bed room.

Cas and Dean had sex, Sam knew that, even if he tried not to think too hard about the details. In fact, he was pretty sure that Cas and Dean had a whole lot of sex. But, outside of the Separate Rooms Nights, he didn't know when or where they got up to it all. He figured that was probably one of the (many) things Dean appreciated so much about having a partner with super powers - Cas could zap them anywhere, anytime, for a little privacy.

Cas spent most nights with Dean, even though the angel didn't sleep. Sam had been a little apprehensive about that at first. Last thing he wanted was to be subjected to Dean and Cas in "honeymoon mode", screwing like rabbits just two feet away from him. But apparently he needn't have worried. They slept (or whatever it was that Cas did all night) in the same bed, but that seemed to be it.

It didn't escape Sam's notice that Dean really hadn't ever slept so well.

Strange thing about those twice- or thrice-monthly insistences on separate rooms… Sam came to realize, after the first few months, that Dean'd make the demand after having been around attractive women for a sustained period. Like, if a particular job threw them into the path of a hot damsel in distress or another had them working closely with a smokin' female coroner or what-have-you. It struck Sam as curious when he first noticed it, but then it dawned on him and it was perhaps the biggest revelation of Sam's late Fall - Dean was being monogamous.

One night, about three weeks out from Christmas, Sam awoke in the middle of the night to noises from the other bed. Great, he'd thought. It was exactly what he'd been expecting and dreading from the start of the new arrangement. But, as he lay there on his side, listening to the night-amplified sounds that were coming from a few feet behind him, he realized it wasn't sex he was hearing. It was just kissing. Long, drawn out minutes of slow kissing, punctuated occasionally by whispers so soft that he couldn't make any words out. While it was a relief not to be listening in on his brother screwing an angel, it was almost worse - it was just that fucking intimate.

Barely into the start of Winter and Sam already had his biggest revelation of the season. Dean and Cas were actually in fucking love.

A few days after New Year's, Castiel healed Dean of a gunshot wound to the left calf while Dean necked a bottle of truck-stop whiskey.

"Perhaps, Dean, we should set a time limit to discuss re-negotiations of this arrangement."

Dean's response to the angel's announcement was a predictable, "Huh?"

"When you're thirty-five, maybe?" Cas suggested. "We can discuss again at that time if this… lifestyle is still suitable."

Sam stopped pretending to be interested in his laptop and sat back in his chair across the room, interested to hear what his brother had to say about the prospect of giving up hunting.

"Oh, hell the fuck no!" Dean spluttered in response. "That only gives me less than two years hunting! Hunting without a freakin' Apocalypse hanging over my head! Uh-uh. Forty. At least!"

"Thirty-six," Castiel haggled.

"Thirty-nine."

"Thirty-seven. And that's my final offer."

"Thirty-eight!"

"Thirty-seven."

"Thirty-seven-and-a-half!"

"Thirty-seven."

"Fine." Dean slumped in his seat, practically pouting. "Thirty-fuckin'-seven."

The new year had barely even started and Sam had a new revelation. Dean put Cas before hunting. (At least a little bit.)

In a police station in suburban Missouri, Dean asked the pretty duty officer if he knew her from somewhere. Sam couldn't decide which was more surprising - the fact that it looked like Dean was flirting again or the fact that his question actually sounded genuine. The duty officer had leveled a no-nonsense look at Dean then smiled when she obviously came to the same conclusion Sam had regarding the sincerity of the query.

"I'm sure I'd remember if I'd met you before," she told him, with obvious appreciation.

Dean smiled that boyish smile he got when he was genuinely flattered. "I'm sure I know you though," he pressed. "Just can't place where from." He motioned vaguely toward her name tag. "What's the R stand for?"

"Risa."

And the color drained right out of Dean's face like turning a TV's saturation control way down.

"Sorry," Dean mumbled as he headed for the door swiftly. "My mistake."

Dean booked a second room that night and Sam could hear the noise from two rooms away.

It was snowing on Dean's birthday in Shell Lake, Wisconsin. The three of them went out drinking and on the stagger back, Dean demonstrated for Cas the concept of a snow angel. Cas had laughed - honest-to-god laughed - so hard and so infectiously that Sam's sides hurt and he had to walk away to gasp for breath and collect himself.

Bobby got pneumonia in February while Cas was away in Belarus, doing something angelic. When Dean and Sam got worried enough they called him. Cas healed Bobby in a nanosecond, then spent the next thirty-odd minutes railing on the brothers for not calling him sooner; didn't they realize how serious a condition pneumonia could be? Especially for older humans? Didn't they realize Bobby could have died if they'd left things any later? It was a revelation that Sam supposed really should have occurred to him months earlier - Cas considered them all family and he got scared for them.

In April, Sam hooked up with one of those hot damsels in distress he no longer had to compete with Dean for, but the date ended abruptly with a family emergency and Sam drifted back to the motel earlier than expected. It was his own fault what he saw for a split second when he opened the door. Truly, it was. He'd told Dean he'd be out for the evening - hopefully the whole night - and he hadn't thought to call ahead that he was on his way home already.

On that night, Sam appreciated the fact that Dean had a partner with super powers. For no sooner had Sam clattered into the room and saw what he saw, than Cas zapped himself and Dean into, apparently, the empty room next door. Sam grabbed himself a beer and turned the volume up on the TV, trying to ignore the noises coming through the wall and trying his best not to think things like "I didn't know Dean was that flexible".

When a year rolled around, Dean and Cas spent a couple of days at Niagara Falls again. Only, this time Cas popped them across the border and they stayed on the Canadian side for their… word-beginning-with-A-that-no-one-was-allowed-to-say-around-Dean-in-reference-to-the-passage-of-a-period-of-twelve-months thing. When they got back, Dean told Sam the Falls were WAY more awesome from that side of the creek.

"So…" Sam ventured, not really knowing exactly what it was he was wanting to say.

"So…?" Dean prompted him.

"So… you and Cas."

Dean crossed his arms defensively. "What about it, Sam?"

"It seems, um, good."

"Good?" Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. "Aw hell, you're not tryin' to have a moment here, are you?"

Sam grinned. After all these years, there was something vaguely comforting about Dean's predictable responses. "I just think it's cool, is all." He shrugged a little. "I mean, it's not the relationship I ever might've thought would be right for you but, y'know… it seems like it is. It's good, Dean. I'm happy for you."

"Dork." Dean was smiling though, even though he was kinda trying to hide it. "Hey, I got ya something." He dug into his bag and pulled out a green t-shirt that he flung at Sam.

Sam caught it and shook it out. It had a picture of a moose on it. The moose was wearing a Mountie's hat and had a speech bubble saying "Eh?". He looked at his brother over the top of it. "Moose, Dean? Really?"

Dean cracked open a beer, smirking. "Don't blame me, man. Cas chose it for you."

"He's developing a sense of humor, I guess."

Dean's smirk seemed to fall a little but he quickly smoothed it over. "Nah. He just thought the color would do something girly for your eyes. Be grateful it's not a beaver on there."

"Ah, yeah," Sam chuckled. "My brother-in-law buying me beaver would be a little weird…"

Dean spluttered and coughed into his beer, wiped a hand over his mouth and, most bizarrely, didn't say a damned thing about what had just tumbled from Sam's mouth.

Castiel and Dean had been together for a year and Sam had his biggest revelation of all - it worked, and Sam liked it.

~ Fin ~