[SPN] You Make Me Feel

[bellanovaskies]

Title: You Make Me Feel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Pairings: Dean/Cas.
Word Count: 11,100
Rating: NC-17 / M
Spoilers: Seasons 4 and 5
Warnings: None
Summary: Heaven's persuasion had been brutal, but there was one thing Castiel was sure of: he had learned to feel. And no one made him feel more than Dean Winchester.
Note: This was intended to be an exercise on writing feelings and ended up turning into a kink dump. There's brief wing!kink, dirty talk!kink, needy!Cas, toppy bottom!Cas and schmoop. I don't know how exactly that happened, but enjoy.



Jealousy was the first of an intricate web of very human emotions that bubbled to the fore of Castiel’s angelic psyche. It was a cruel reminder to just how volatile human beings could be, how easily they could cave and act on ‘the heat of the moment’, as Dean once had said, instead of choosing a more rational or in this case strategic path. It hit him like a blow directly to his grace, unsettling and overwhelming even through the natural filter of his very being. These were the things that separated humans from angels, what made these little insignificant beings his Father’s most blessed and favored creation. This is what made him the perfect soldier and them the flawed yet beautiful works of art worthy of Paradise. Feelings and emotions were always such an irrelevant thing to take into consideration, but now, as he stood in the crippling barn with the Winchesters and angels alike-he understood how dangerous those trifles could be.

Castiel’s gaze never wavered when staring upon the Righteous Man, not once. He fought through the legions of Hell, scarred his own grace in sacrifice of what had been Heaven’s most dangerous and fated rescue mission. Broke through the Gates and into the Pit, gripped the blindingly pure soul that sang with years-decades-of torment and despair and pulled it above the darkness, the flames and choking sulfur. Atom by atom, cell by cell, he had restored the fleshy prison, down to flawless perfection. He had rebuilt Dean Winchester, left a mark upon his very soul and-wrongfully-laid claim to him.

Now Castiel saw it necessary to look away. Not because he wanted to, simply because he saw no other choice with the traitorous twisting deep in his vessel’s stomach, slowly raveling its way up his chest-constricting, suffocating and sublime. No one had claim to Dean or his soul; he was free, his own leader in his own world. But it didn’t feel right. Castiel wanted to own him, felt like he did-hence why Anna had no business in touching Dean in a way that seemed almost intimate. She had no right to hold his gaze, to press her mouth to his, to whisper reassuring words. It was only when she pulled away, when she walked up to Uriel that Castiel let his eyes fall on Dean again-only ever on Dean. There’s a minute nudge in the wave of that foreign feeling when he finds Dean staring back, unsure and wavering, searching Castiel’s features for something he didn’t understand.

Jealousy was a dangerous thing. By the end of the night, after the battle, Castiel found himself thinking about the dispelled feeling. He surely didn’t envy the weight of feelings and emotions that rested on the shoulders of humans, opposite to what Anna claimed. Clouding one’s judgment was unwise, tactless and reckless. It was dangerous-a rule breaker one could not control, bordering on disobedience. It placed everything on a balance and unquestioningly tipped it all to one side.

Castiel clenched the fists on his knees as he sat stoically on a wrought-iron bench surrounded by snow somewhere in White Russia. There was no need for revelation to see that this marked the beginning of his imminent fall from grace, and he saw no way, even if it were possible, for him to stop it.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Doubt had a curious feel to it, due to the clashing need to justify one’s self and the insecurity that there might be no possible way to do so. Everything was just an excuse and it felt like one had to prove that they had every right to feel it-doubt. It was redundant, but it didn’t make it any less troubling. The word itself didn’t exist in Enochian-phrases that explained it yes, but not an actual solid word like in most human languages. Angels were supposed to be absent of that feeling above all else-but Castiel was on a downward spiral, and fast.

Castiel didn’t doubt his Father, never would; it just wasn’t in him. He loved God-it was perhaps the only emotion they had been created with, the only acceptable one. It was the orders that made him derail the strict train of mechanical thoughts. Who was truly transmitting them, how much have they been distorted, what ulterior motifs-if any-did the higher chain of command have? Anna fell because of it, Uriel was beginning to question it and he was already giving it too much thought. How much before he crossed the line, the point of no return? How could humans even function with something like doubt present in every situation?

Dean was sitting on the bench beside his, quiet as he looked on at the children playing beneath a clear blue sky. He and Sam had stopped Samhein, but the seal was still broken. They were one step closer to Hell on Earth and Dean didn’t seem as troubled as he should be. Instead, his eyes showed some sort of sympathy when Castiel explained that he wasn’t a hammer. He even cracked some joke Castiel didn’t understand but he still managed to laugh-discreet, barely noticeable, just for Dean to witness. The significance that it had been the first time he’d laughed within the confines of his human vessel did not go lost on him.

His Father’s creations were works of art. Why couldn’t he bask in the treasures they truly were?

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sympathy was a bittersweet change of events; a complicated feeling as far as those went. It came entangled with a slew of other lesser emotions that made him reconsider his next plan of action. Heaven’s persuasion had been brutal-he’d been punished for the sea of emotions he had begun to stumble into, but even now, as he wandered between the astral planes and the human world, looking down at the Winchesters and his waken vessel… he knew. There was no power that could erase the sliver of humanity that had made itself at home within the confines of his vast mind.

Divine strategist or not, Castiel had not expected in his million years of existence that he would be moved by the tears of a woman and child. By the desperate plea of a man who had sacrificed everything for the cause Castiel was fighting for. Jimmy Novak was a good man; a man of unshakeable faith. It was then that Castiel understood that he had not deserved the fate of a vessel. He was a family man with a wife and child, someone who loved and tried to do well with what little actions he could manage; yet he was a man desperate to fill in the holes of raw human need. A perfect example of why God loved humanity so much-enough to cast his brightest archangel out of Heaven.

The thought of disobedience threatened again but he was still an angel. Uriel had met his end, and Castiel still had much to do to meet a similar fate. There was a bigger picture and he had to follow through until the very end.

Once again he stood shaken, confused, taken off guard as he looked through the eyes of the little girl at the dying man desperately telling him to take him instead. Not her, not Claire, leave her alone and take me. Castiel didn’t understand-couldn’t understand-why he would choose to be dragged across the earth, trapped, stabbed and sliced in every shape, way and form possible just to free a simple human child.

Self-sacrifice was the expression he was looking for. He had witnessed Sam and Dean do it countless times-figured it was somehow part of their genetic code. But seeing this scene before his very eyes, a man pleading for his daughter’s wellbeing and not being a Winchester-it was love. It wasn’t a feeling that was exclusive to the Winchesters and the realization dawned on him. There was an entire world filled with sentient beings that could derail destiny itself with their sheer force of will and one single irrational emotion.

It was as beautiful as it was tragic, overwhelming and underwhelming all at once. Castiel leaned in and ran a hand through Jimmy’s hair in form of a promise, in understanding. Humanity finally made sense to him as he began to see them as flawed and irrational beings, not works of art meant to be on display and untouched. Castiel finally saw the appeal of emotions; saw what Anna had fallen for reflected in Jimmy’s eyes before him. His eyes as his grace made the transition after fair warning.

He watched quietly as Claire hugged her mother, Amelia looking at him with something akin to pain and loss in her eyes. There were different aspects to love Castiel was still to comprehend, and some of which he feared might never be possible.

Eyes shifting to Dean in warning, Castiel walked away, his promise fulfilled. The Novaks were safe; he’d keep Jimmy safe as well so long it was in his power. Sam’s display sparked something else-anger, dismay and disappointment. But only casting Dean a brief glance, something in his chest ached far more. He found himself longing for this love that was so particular to humans. He wanted it-probably just as much as he wanted Dean.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Several months and the beginning of the biblical apocalypse later, Castiel learned that his desire for both the human emotion of love and Dean Winchester went intricately linked. This was a fact that was proven when Dean flung an arm around Castiel’s shoulders, laughing raucously beside his ear as they exited the brothel and walked towards the old Chevy. Something went alight in Castiel’s chest, making him smile in turn at Dean’s boyish antics, silently thrilled at the proximity.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed that hard. It’s been more than a long time. Years.” Castiel looked over to where Dean was standing on the driver’s side; saw the momentary distant look before opening the door and slipping in. He didn’t need to read the hunter’s mind to know that it was Sam he was thinking of. The brother he loved so much, the only thing Dean had…-and there went the ache again.

Slipping into the passenger’s seat, Castiel found Dean looking at him attentively, brows creased and eyes narrowed. The angel hesitated, stared back just as intensely. “What is it, Dean?”

Dean was the first to break eye contact, shifting the car into gear and driving out into the main road before he answered. “You didn’t mojo yourself in here.”

There was silence then, long and not exactly uncomfortable. Castiel fidgeted in his seat, fingers pointedly caressing the belt of his trench coat. In just a matter of hours he’d have to face Raphael and he was spending his most likely final moments in Dean’s presence. Something in him told him that it was okay, that he wouldn’t have it any other way. Turning his attention to Dean again he caught him staring, lips lightly parted before looking up to meet Castiel’s eyes again and turning towards the road again. Now hyperaware of his current state, Castiel noticed the look in Dean’s eyes-the heat behind them as he’d been caught staring at Castiel’s exposed collarbone. Coat, jacket and shirt were still askew showing more skin than was entirely necessary. He didn’t bother fixing it.

Blue eyes traced Dean’s profile, lingering on the slightly parted lips that were being toyed it. A swipe of the tongue, a bit of teeth and repeat. Castiel recognized the action as one of seduction-Chastity had done the same back at the brothel. Dean, however, looked much more appealing doing so. Scarred hands gripped the steering wheel tightly before loosening, a thumb caressing the smooth leather before his right hand slid down slow enough to obviously pass off as sexual. The hunter shifted in his seat, sank down a bit and knocked his knees a part as he stole a brief look in Castiel’s direction just when the angel dropped his stare to look at Dean’s lap and the now obvious erection. It was a hot little dance of who caved first.

“Don’t worry about it, Cas.” Dean slipped on his Def Leppard tape into the radio, Pour Some Sugar on Me filling up the suddenly very hot atmosphere around them. He looked out his window with a smirk, catching Castiel’s disgruntled reflection in the process, his cock twitching with plenty of interest. “Told you I wasn’t going to let you die a virgin and I plan on sticking to that promise.” With a chuckle, Dean turned with every intention of cupping a feel in his angel’s direction only to be met with an empty seat. “Son of a bitch.”

Later that night-or morning-neither mentioned the incident as they trapped Raphael in a circle of holy fire.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas.”

“We had an appointment.”

Castiel has a barely there smile when Dean places a hand on his shoulder, relief and something else bubbling close to the surface as he chokes out a laugh. “Don’t ever change.” The load behind those words weighed more than either of them could entirely comprehend, but neither one mentions it.

“How did Zachariah find you?”

“Long story. Let’s just stay away from Jehovah’s Witnesses from now on, okay?” Dean fishes for his phone, hears Castiel asking what he was doing. “Something I should have done a long time ago.” He doesn’t make much of the angel’s expression, how it falls momentarily before slipping into its usual stoic appearance.

Castiel suggests they stay at a different motel that evening while he zaps the Impala to their current location, nearly giving Dean a heart attack in the process of it. The angel only shrugs it off as he gets in, arguing that Zachariah would probably still be scouting the area. He waits, watches Dean as he walks to the curb speaking into the phone, a palm running down his face with exasperation. Castiel knew the feeling, he thought idly, he knew a lot of feelings now and he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Dean, the tired and hopeless Dean who was now walking back to the car with a complacent look on his face.

Turning on the ignition and cranking up the air conditioner Dean sat back with a loud sigh, suddenly feeling tired beyond reason. He pinched the bridge of his nose, lingered for a moment before turning his head to Castiel with a strange look. “I’m meeting up with Sam tomorrow at noon.” The angel only nodded, understanding that he wanted to see his brother after they had parted ways a few weeks back. Whatever Zachariah had shown Dean must have shaken the hunter considerably. “We got the rest of the night to ourselves-and don’t even think about disappearing on me, Cas.”

Eyes wide, Castiel eased back into his chair. There was nothing dark or nefarious swimming beneath the surface of Dean’s words-the angel picked up on that much, but there was a softness there that didn’t fit. A silent plea that made Castiel curious enough to ask, “What did Zachariah show you?”

Dean blinked slowly, eyes still on the angel when he opened them again. “A lot of messed of crap. Just…-Dammit.” He wasn’t good with words, never will be, so he opted to do the next best thing.

Castiel went unnaturally still when Dean moved in on him, sliding across the front seat to be as near the angel as possible. There was a hint of panic in those blue eyes, the same kind he had seen a few weeks ago at the brothel. It made Dean laugh mirthlessly. He should have known better than to take Cas to some whorehouse, the angel deserved so much better than that. But Dean-Dean knew how to treat someone the way they should be treated. He knew how to wring out the best of pleasures from his partner. Just one night and he’d dispel the fear from Castiel’s eyes for good-show him that sex was pretty awesome if done with the right person. And now he was thinking like a chick. “Dean?”

The thick voice made Dean focus again, a small smile forming out of the blue. Castiel shifted so his back was against the door, ready to flee at any given moment but Dean crowded him with a hand on each side of his head against the glass. It would have been funnier had he not been so focused on the task at hand. “Just trust me, Cas.”

“Always.” The word was out before he could stop himself.

Dean stopped a breath away from Castiel’s lips, head tilted and ready to slide home but instead he waited. He felt the seconds tick by like honey, slow and sweet, waiting for that first contact-the one he felt Castiel had to initiate. The hunter knew his angel would do practically anything for him; all he had to do was ask-but that right there, it had to be of Castiel’s own volition. True enough, the angel’s shoulders dropped slowly, brow easing past the usual stoic or confused expression into something unreadable but soft. Blue eyes searched out for green ones and held them.

For years did Castiel look down on humans, on Dean himself and he’d seen them kiss, touch-have sex. He understood the mechanics of it, like a lot of other things, but just because he knew them didn’t necessarily mean he could pull them off. Now, for instance, he knew Dean was waiting for him to tip forward, press their lips together and-what then? Dean licked his lips, Castiel breaking the stare to chase after the small movement before giving in. A surprised sound escaped the hunter, apparently he hadn’t been expecting for Castiel to take the bait, but he immediately shut his eyes, leaning farther into Castiel’s personal space.

Strictly lips, tightly pressed against the others’ for a brief moment before the angel pulled away, dropping his gaze almost immediately. Dean thought him to be embarrassed or ashamed, but a better look told him otherwise-left him nearly breathless. Castiel, the son of a bitch, was looking up at him through thick lashes, lips parted and softly panting. The little fucker was actually teasing him, subtle and straight to the point like some pro. Before he could react, Castiel kissed him again, this time with slow moving lips; hesitant and bold all at once-the angel’s very essence poured into it. Dean groaned as a hand came down to grip at the lapel of Castiel’s coat, lips moving, brushing, pulling apart before pressing in again. Some short and others longer, but just as wickedly delicious. Heat became incorporated when Castiel’s hand came up to tug at Dean’s hair almost desperately, lips clumsy but audacious and Dean couldn’t help but moan. He was rock hard and there wasn’t even any tongue yet.

The hand left his hair with a soft protest but his interest peaked when Castiel began to push at his chest, urging him to lie down as he shifted on the seat to kneel between Dean’s legs. The hunter complied, winced when the steering wheel bit onto his side but he ignored the uncomfortable position in favor of spurring Castiel on. Not minding the sudden weight of Castiel’s frame strewn over his body, Dean sighed against his mouth before meeting it again, a little unnerved by the angel’s eyes scrutinizing him still. “It’s rude to kiss with your eyes open, you know.”

Castiel’s eyes had the audacity to twinkle. “I enjoy looking at you, Dean.” Dean’s cock took care of answering the remark with a twitch. The smug little look on the angel’s face immediately vanished however, when Dean retaliated by shoving his tongue past Castiel’s lips. It was fast and messy, just a momentary shove before it rushed away again, leaving a stunned Castiel in its wake. Smirking cockily, Dean winked.

There was a beat of nothingness, silent for the exception of the Impala’s engine humming in the dark of night and two ragged sets of breathing. Castiel sat up then, eyes steady on the hunter beneath as he thought about something long and hard-enough to make Dean more than a little nervous. Stare roaming the taut body, a hand came to rest just above the hem of Dean’s pants where the shirt had ridden up, fingers cool against the warm stomach. There was a cloud of calculation in Castiel’s eyes, thoughtful and deep and precise enough to send fear into the enemy’s heart. Or in this case, blood to Dean’s cock. Something had just been added into the equation-a something that made itself clear when Castiel danced two of his fingers on Dean’s mouth before slipping them in. Dean made a sound like a man drowning, fingers suddenly twirling with his tongue before pulling out just as quickly as they had slipped in.

He chuckled as he watched Castiel slip the same fingers into his own mouth with obvious curiosity. It made sense; Dean figured that Castiel hadn’t known tongue was an important factor when it came to kissing. Now the angel looked like a kid with his first hit of candy. “Wait till we get to the biting.” He leered, enjoying the added layers of curiosity painted bluntly across the others’ face.

There’s another intense moment in which Castiel continued to lavish his fingers. It was foreign, strange-but the sensation was exquisite. He took in the new information along with what he had just been taught into consideration, played with the ideas expertly, devising a strategy that should be enough to initiate-

“Cas, you’re thinking too much.” Dean’s voice broke through his thoughts, but the plan had been made. Castiel made a foreign sound when a hand came up to cup the bulge in his trousers and lingered, teasingly fondling his erection with wicked intent. “In case you’re wondering, there are other places a tongue can go to.” If Castiel had been wondering what he meant, all questions fled when he gave his crotch a squeeze. The angel choked out Dean’s name, slowly coming apart at the teasing touches. “We’re only getting started, baby.”

Swatting away Dean’s hand, Castiel took a moment to compose himself, evening out his breath and clearing his head from the suddenly overwhelming need to undress, claim and devour. He gave Dean a dirty look which in turn earned him a breathy laugh. “I’m aware.”

Dean felt the need to shrink into his seat when Castiel-somehow-lifted himself up on one arm, the smaller figure suddenly imposing and very, very real. Blue eyes darkened with unquestionable lust, as the spit slick fingers found their way to the exposed sliver of Dean’s stomach again and began to slide up, over his shirt. Castiel’s palm was firm and sure as it moved up his stomach and chest, shifting minutely to the side in order to catch a nipple on the pinky and make Dean gasp loudly. Continuing its course, the hand slid up to Dean’s neck where the thumb gently caressed the Adam’s apple before slipping to the back, moving up a fragment and latching long elegant fingers to Dean’s hair. Castiel gripped tight, and tugged.

The sound that came out of his mouth nearly made him miss the familiar sound that accompanied it-had it not been for the body pressed to his and the hand firmly grasping at his nape, he would have panicked at the thought of Castiel leaving him high and dry. Dean swallowed hard when he saw the shadows cast by the streetlight against the hood of his car, spreading out from Castiel’s sides like the representation of wings they were. Majestic and fucking huge, making the interior seem smaller still-making Castiel look like the divine warrior he was.

With little warning Castiel leaned in, holding Dean’s head just right for him to dip his tongue into the hunter’s gaping mouth. Twisting, twirling, chasing and flicking-playful and demanding as it explored the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. Castiel sucked on his teeth, flicked his tongue across his parted lips, sealed their mouths together in a proper kiss before breaking for air, taking Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it hungrily, biting and tugging it along as he pulled away, excess spit still clinging to their lips.

“Fuck.” It was as eloquent as Dean could voice it, about to come in his pants from a kiss alone. He stared up at Castiel with wild eyes, involuntarily bucking up at the look the angel was giving him. This was a long shot from the panicked look he had given him when they first kissed just twenty minutes ago, give or take. Now, Castiel was looking down at him with the ferocity of a celestial soldier about to divide and conquer-ready for anything. Not bad for a million year old virgin. “Where’d you learn to even do that?”

Bringing their hips to rub together, Castiel dropped a hand to tweak at Dean’s nipple. “I was simply putting what you’ve told me into practice.” Leaning down, Castiel allowed a generous amount of saliva to pool on the tip of his tongue before flicking it out and twirling along Dean’s erect nipple through the shirt. “A strategic mind doesn’t function on the battlefield alone.” He bit down softly, giving the nub a tug that had Dean moaning out his name like a desperate prayer. “You are welcome to ask the others-I’m the best at my craft.”

Struggling for breath, Dean glared at the smug little bastard. “That’s all nice and well for playing Romans and Pagans… but sex? Sex? I thought you were new to this.”

That sinfully wet mouth moved to Dean’s neck, kissing and nipping at random as a hand continued to inflict sweet torture on Dean’s nipple. “Don’t mistake my virginity for ignorance, Dean. I’ve been around far longer than your mind could possibly comprehend. Tell me what you want-and I’ll give it to you.”

“And that’s it-right there.” Castiel stopped what he was doing, planting both his hands on either side of Dean’s head with a confused, not to mention frustrated, look. “It’s the same as everything else.” Dean hated having talks when he could have Castiel’s mouth doing something else entirely, but that little trip Zachariah had sent him on made him reevaluate several things. He figured a few minutes couldn’t hurt. Besides, it was amusing to watch the exasperated look on the angel’s usually blank face.

Castiel frowned, his body thrumming with brand new heat but it was slowly beginning to waver. “What do you mean?”

Dean sat up then, nearly throwing Castiel off in the momentum but only pulled him closer, hands resting on his lower back. Finally he had the chance to taste the angel’s skin. He pressed irregular kisses along his jaw line, one on the lips before attacking the other side. The position was awkward, his leg was starting to cramp up and Castiel was sitting too far up to properly be sitting on his lap. Thankfully he got the hint and scooted a bit further back so that their erections bumped enough to be teasing, but not enough to get them off. This was perhaps the sexiest fucking foreplay Dean had ever participated in. “You gotta feel it, Cas. You do what feels right. This isn’t a war or some biblical mumbo jumbo.” Mouth to mouth, Castiel was too distracted to feel the hands pushing his coat to the side and pulling out the shirt from his pants. He did notice them when they slid up his back sinuously, pulling him closer against Dean’s chest. It felt good, Castiel noticed, and it made his chest constrict with that feeling again.

Pleased with the now smooth look on Castiel’s face, Dean pulled a stunt that left the angel speechless. Reaching between the sharp shoulder blades, he poised a nail at dead center and scraped down in one smooth stroke-not too hard, just enough to tickle. He watched with heavy lidded eyes as Castiel threw his head back sharply, eyes rolling back as his entire body shook, mouth falling open with a silent moan. Castiel’s arms wrapped themselves around Dean’s middle as he hunched forward, face hidden against the hunter’s neck as he let out a strangled groan, hips pistoning fiercely now, nearly enough to bring them both over the edge.

There had never been a time that Castiel could remember having the breath get knocked out of him. He felt lightheaded, the sudden shock of almost losing control something entirely new to him. That one touch had been more than just a mere physical form of contact-it had reached down into his very grace, melded with his vessel in a near cosmic way. After a moment he pulled away to look at Dean with a question in his eyes. “How-”

“Let’s say an old friend told me about that one.” Dean added before he could continue. He didn’t want to go into detail on the vast amount of things a very human, and a very stoned, Cas told him a few years in the future. “You get what I mean? It isn’t a salt n’ burn-you gotta go in and play along, explore with what you like. And when it feels like your grace is about to blow out of your nostrils, you know you’re doing it right.” He stole a kiss from the angel’s already swollen lips, hips still stuttering on his lap. “None of that military bullshit. You can either do this as a friggin’ angel of the Lord, or you can do this as-”

“Cas.”

Dean’s hands smoothed their way back down, holding the angel-his lover-closer to his body. His eyes were blue again; wide and curious like a child. There were so many facets to the man sitting on his lap and Dean was fond of, mostly, all of them; but he liked that one the best. For the first time Dean was able to kiss Cas senseless when he pulled the lost puppy look on him, huge-eyed and head canted to the side. It was freaking adorable. “Or you can do this as Cas.” He concluded with a warm half smile, nuzzling Castiel’s side in a very ‘manly’ manner. “Let’s get rid of these and take this to the backseat so I can have you properly.” Dean said with an intensifying grin, giddy at the thought of finally blowing a load.

Castiel looked away, seemingly offended. “I’d rather not.”

Looking between Cas and the backseat, Dean gave him a dignified look. “We just had a moment and now my car suddenly isn’t good enough for you?” He felt personally insulted. Some of Dean Winchester’s greatest hits happened on that seat-oh.

If ever did Dean feel like a dick, it was at that moment. Had there been any lingering doubt about Cas’ sudden reluctance to have sex, it was immediately dispelled when his hand ran up Dean’s left arm, sliding into place with the scar that had been left there when the angel himself dragged him out of the Pit. Like a pro, Dean read the flicker of emotions swimming behind Cas’ endless blues. Nostalgia, jealousy, anger, betrayal-and something else Dean didn’t want to name.

He bumped their heads together, resting forehead to forehead and chuckling when Cas gave him a confused look. The angel still had a lot to learn about humanity. He was like a kid wanting to run before he could crawl and that’s what made him different from the others-what made him more human. It was miniscule actions, like bumping noses or pinching a cheek-seemingly insignificant human actions that reminded him of that. “There should be a motel nearby. A bed sounds about good right now.”

His smile was grateful as he slid off of Dean’s lap, helping the hunter straighten up with popping joints and painful groans. As sexy as the position had been, he was too old and nowhere near as flexible for that kind of shit. Before buckling up, Dean leaned over again and pressed a chaste kiss onto Cas’ lips. They felt warm, a little chapped and real. Easing back into his side, Dean thought for a brief moment about how in the hell they hadn’t accidentally thrown the car into gear in midst of the entire ordeal.

✚ ✚ ✚

The door closed behind Dean with a muffled click as he looked at his watch. It was four in the morning; nowhere near enough to do what he was about to do and manage to meet Sam on time. He stopped for a moment, wondering if now was a good a time to cross that bridge or if they should wait for a more quiet moment. But then he remembered, hell, it’s the freaking apocalypse. There was no time like the now. It was a thought that was backed-up when he looked up to see Castiel shedding his coat, carelessly throwing it over a chair before moving on to his suit jacket. With a smirk, Dean placed his phone and keys on the table; took off his jacket and crossed the space to grab the angel by the hips and turn him around.

There was that look again, swimming so bluntly in those unfathomable blue eyes. Dean would be surprised if Cas didn’t blurt it out before the night was done; he mentally prepared himself for the hell of a chick-flick moment that was bound to be. They kissed for a moment, Castiel’s arms coming up to drape over Dean’s shoulders like some clichéd movie but he didn’t comment on it. He was the first to pull away, moving up to kiss Cas’ nose, making him blink with momentary confusion. “I’ll be right back for you.” Castiel nodded and sat on the ledge of one of the large beds as Dean made his way to the bathroom and locked the door behind him.

Dean took the shortest shower in recorded history. Made sure to rub clean all remnants of his little Back to the Future episode a few hours ago, and with it, the memory of a broken man. He had been around death and monsters and blood-he knew the pain of loss and hopelessness; but he feared those images were seared into his brain until the day he stopped breathing. For a moment he feared that he wouldn’t be able to stop it, that they would always end up there-as Lucifer had so elegantly put it. Dean didn’t want to think about it, had to, but he didn’t want to.

The thought of losing Sam, the thought of Sam saying yes to the Devil should have sounded insane to him, but somehow it didn’t. It was a very real possibility and a very dangerous one. Dean couldn’t let Lucifer jump Sammy’s bones, couldn’t just allow the world to end, and he couldn’t allow Cas to become the broken shell of a man he had witnessed. He had hosted many nightmares since his return from hell, but those three days spent five years in the future made them all pale in comparison.

Running a hand through his face, letting the hot water sluice him just long enough, Dean exhaled with hollow frustration. His future self had been swallowed into a vacuum of self loathing and despair-broken, less human than most of the things he’s hunted over a lifetime. He remembered Cas’ words, voice trembling as his body shook under the influence of some pills Dean couldn’t name. Bloodshot eyes and sunken cheeks; dry, mirthless and desperate laughter. Graceless and heartbroken; nothing like the beautiful creature waiting for him outside the bathroom door.

He had felt sick when Cas’ hand caressed his cheek, lifeless eyes pleading for something, anything. A fallen angel-not a single drop of grace in him, full-blown mortal. And all because of him; because Dean asked him to fall, asked him to follow him until the very end and Cas did so without question. For what? For Dean to abandon him on the way down, to let him rot in a godless world where his only comfort came from drugged orgies and a bottle of pills a night or a lit joint perched between once luscious lips. Dean didn’t know why he let that Cas do it, why he allowed him to touch with expert hands, wringing wanton cries from the hunter and he was coming in just a matter of moments. Castiel knew what he was doing; he knew Dean’s body-not because he rebuilt it, but because he had time to study it. He knew what touches, what flicks of the tongue, what pressure applied where would make him come undone. Cas also taught him where to touch him. The joint where his wings had once been; the point where the connection between his vessel and his grace was thinnest. “I won’t always be able to be in complete control of my reaction… so make sure you look away if you want to keep those pretty little eyes.”

Dean shut off the shower and stepped out.

He didn’t want to think about the tears that rolled down Cas’ scruffy cheeks when Dean worked him to completion, fingers light and gentle and lacking the cruelty his future self so openly expressed towards the fallen angel.

“I’ve missed you. Oh how I’ve missed you.”

“I’m here-I’ve always been here.”

A dry laugh, broken and terrible with misery etched into every decibel. “You haven’t been here for a very long time, Dean.” Cas was too lost to notice his Dean standing at the door, looking at them with eyes cold enough to kill. But past Dean had seen him-and it was a sad day when a look scared yourself.

“Shit.” Dean dried his hair hurriedly, padding back into the room with a knot in his stomach. So much for not thinking about it. He stopped though, dripping all over the stiff carpet, had to smile when he caught sight of Cas struggling with the cuffs on his shirt. The angel looked like he was about to smite the fuck out of it, frustration creasing his face before giving up with a huff. “Need some help there, buddy?”

Without looking up, Cas outstretched his arm. “I would appreciate it.”

Smiling, Dean hopped to it. He removed them easily, letting the arm fall away as the other took its place. It was kind of stupid, but Dean found Castiel’s decision to actually remove his clothes instead of just wishing them away kind of endearing. It meant the angel was trying his hardest to be more human and Dean didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing. “There we go.”

“Thank you.” Castiel looked up then, blatantly worried. It was enough to knock Dean off his axis for a moment. “What is it, Dean? You feel… distressed.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He was quick to answer, a little too quick, but Castiel didn’t mutter another word. It took Dean a moment to realize what it was that Cas was looking at, and when he did he couldn’t will away the full-body flush that spontaneously spread out. He was standing beside the angel in a very wet and very naked state. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he lingered, watching Cas expectantly. The tight expression melted away when Dean’s expression turned giddy, cock hardening before Castiel’s eyes as he continued to be scrutinized.

Human physiology was a fascinating thing, but Castiel figured now was not the time to get studious. Instead, he slid up the bed to lie back against the pillows, looking up at Dean with a hint of a nervous expression. He hesitated, looking for what to say. “Aren’t you supposed to undress me?”

Again, Cas was thinking too hard, but Dean laughed this time. It didn’t matter how much Dean tried to make him think less, or make him act normal-Cas would always be Cas, should always be, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way. “Coming right up, tiger.”

Thankfully Cas had already removed his shoes and was more than a little fascinated with his toes for a moment. Flexing them and moving them about with rapt fascination. There were so many things that were still so new about his vessel and he regretted the fact that he had no time to sit and explore it properly. The thought fled when Dean began to play with the blue tie, biting the tip of the tongue with a wink before wrapping his fingers around the knot, pulling Cas up to steal a kiss around it before pushing him right back down.

Dean gave his cock a tug, handling it to feather over Castiel’s clothed one teasingly with a wicked little gleam in his eye. Cas had teased the fuck out of him earlier, now it was only fair to return the favor. He made slow progress at unbuttoning the white shirt, kissing along as milky skin became exposed, stopping only to nibble at the collarbones and tweak a nipple. Honestly, Dean wasn’t the least bit surprised at how vocal Castiel was. Every gasp and moan, every keening sound and the accidental Enochian that slipped out made Dean a little bit harder. It was almost unreal. By the time the shirt was completely opened, chest and stomach peppered with little marks, Castiel was panting, lashes resting over pale cheeks and Dean’s name on his lips.

Legs open and hips thrusting up into thin air, Castiel looked like the personification of sin. Nipples peaked and wet, mouth open and panting, muttering a litany in his native tongue that mostly consisted of the hunter’s name and what he figured were swear words. A hand came down to rub at the tent in his pants, ripping a hiss from his own mouth as he squirmed on the spot, face creased with blissful pleasure and wanton abandon.

Dean didn’t doubt this was the first time the angel discovered that it was possible to pleasure yourself without a partner, and the thought of Castiel masturbating to his name made him fist at his own cock desperately. At this rate, neither of them were going to last. He slapped the hand away, replacing it with his own and maneuvering the pulsing dick so that the tip peaked out from Cas’ pants. Dean wasted no time as he leaned down, lapping at the smooth skin of the head, tasting precum and salt and Castiel. The angel let out a chorus of new sounds, all choked and strangled, pleading and high and desperate. “Dean-!”

Looking up from his place between Castiel’s legs, the hunter smirked, kissing his way up until their needs were pressed firmly against each others’, the angel humping him without restraint. They kissed, wet and clumsy and hard, before Dean whispered against his lips. “What is it, Cas? What is that you want?”

Mouth gaping and failing to form words, Castiel opted instead to claw at Dean’s back, pulling closer-wanting to meld with him, become one and share each intoxicating sensation. He didn’t know what he wanted; he wanted everything Dean had to give him and more. “Dean… I don’t-I don’t know.” He slammed their mouths together again, this time biting Dean’s lip liberally.

Bringing up his hands to ruffle Cas’ hair, tugging at it with just the right amount of strength, he felt the body beneath arch off the bed with a throaty moan. Cas liked it rough, something the future had told him-but that could wait. Dean wanted to make him feel good; wanted to show him just how good it felt to be human. “There’s a lot I can do, Castiel.” He let the name rumble off the tip of his tongue, slow and sensual and greedy. “Take you into my mouth-suck you off until I’m drinking you whole. Would you like that?” Blue eyes were huge, curious and aroused all at once. Dean noticed Cas slip a hand between them, popping the button and lowering the zipper. He didn’t stop him; instead Dean lifted his lips so Castiel could shove the pants downward enough so that his cock was free and bobbing heavily against his thigh. “We can also do this-you like this? Just our cocks rubbing together…” He trailed off when he lowered his hips again, grabbing them firmly in his fist and pumping torturously slow. “Or…”

Castiel’s hands were now kneading at Dean’s ass, enjoying the feel of the cool mounds firm in his palms. He looked up at Dean, wondering what he was going to say before he cut himself off. Licking along the column of the hunter’s neck, he whispered brokenly into his ear. “Or what, Dean?” He watched the Adam’s apple bob as he thought long and hard, his fist speeding up and bringing them both dangerously close. “You think too much.”

Dean did a noise lost between a growl and a laugh. “Or I can fuck you.” Before he even finished, he pulled away, leaving a dumbfounded Castiel feeling suddenly very cold and extremely irritated. There was tugging by his legs, vaguely noticed that it was Dean removing the pants entirely, grabbing the powerful legs and bringing them to press a kiss onto the calves. “God, I can fuck you.” There’s a sound of protest that Dean knew had nothing to do with the idea; he ignored it. “Feel you all around me, nice and hot and tight…” Trailing off, he leaned down and swiped his tongue along the thick underside of Cas’ cock, the vein pulsing beneath slick heat and twitching with want.

Looking positively wrecked, Cas took a hold of Dean’s hair and pulled him up again. As much as the idea of getting thoroughly fucked by his hunter made his insides churn with blinding need, he wanted Dean close to him. Bodies flushed against each others’, eyes just mere inches away-Cas wanted to be able to kiss Dean while they sunk into their mutual pleasure. Thankfully, Dean complied, crawling back up and depositing his weight entirely on the man beneath him, heartbeat ramming against his, legs coming up to tangle intricately as they slid along.

Claiming another sloppy kiss, their hands wandered aimlessly across their bodies, grabbing and scratching as their hips rutted shamelessly, harshly, balls tightening when Dean bucked a little too hard. Cas just took; he took all Dean had to give, all the disgruntled cries and choked moans of unspeakable words being held back even in their tangled limbs and throws of electrifying pleasure. Hands settling on Dean’s ass again, giving them a firm squeeze that had Dean growling deep against his ear, Cas aided his movements-urging him to go faster, to intensify the slick and hot chaffing of their dripping cocks, daring him to push him over the precipice.

“That feel good, Cas? Huh?” Voice deep and gruff, Dean took the moment Cas’ back lifted off to bed to slide his arms around him, tugging him closer still with barely any space for movement besides their furiously bucking hips. He could feel the body beneath him starting to tense, the litany of his name broken around ragged breaths, a tangled gibberish of both English and Enochian telling him that Castiel was ready, and he couldn’t fight the unusual bit of pride that lit in him. “You gonna come now, baby? Just do it; come on, nice and hard-get it all over us so I can fucking lick it right off.” Head tilting back, eyes wide and glossy, Dean took the chance to tongue at Cas’ neck, hips pistoning erratically when he felt himself close.

“Dean-I… Dean-!” If Castiel ever wondered what Creation would be like-he figured it was close to this. Like a gun going off, all it took was a precisely measured scrape between his shoulder blades and a bite hard enough to sting on his bottom lip, and he was flying higher than he had ever gotten the chance to. He fought to maintain his voice human as he screamed out Dean’s name like the most sacred and holy of prayers, body nearly thrashing in Dean’s relentless hold as a pulse of thrumming grace ripped out of him. Castiel felt like he was dying, like he was being reborn, like every cell in both his vessel and grace was being set on fire-and it felt good. It felt like sheer bliss, like Paradise-like that moment right there could be his personal heaven. He would throw down arms, forfeit his faith and give himself over, wholly, to Dean and Dean alone and this frighteningly beautiful light he lit within him.

There was a moment of nothing but ringing silence, erratic breathing and a foreign shifting. Castiel felt wet and sticky where both his and Dean’s body met, which was practically everywhere; a mixture of sweat and semen and saliva. It was the best Castiel had ever felt. His limbs were limp, muscles relaxed and grace free of its human cage-he felt sated. He felt rather than saw Dean move on top of him, head angling to rest his chin on the angel’s chest, green eyes a little shiny, large, a little confused and entirely too giddy. Dean offered Cas a small smile, soft and gentle and intimate-and only for him to witness. The smile eventually turned into a breathy laugh when he shimmied up the pliant body beneath to press a kiss to Cas’ jaw, the stickiness made more evident but went ignored for the time being.

“Dude, that was awesome.” Dean’s voice was hushed, just as warm as the hand now stroking Cas’ forearm. “I think you just blew out the entire state.” Only then did Castiel notice the darkness in the room when both lamps had been on the moment they walked in. “And the neighbors… I’m sure you woke ‘em up too.” Castiel at least had the decency to look embarrassed, ducking his head to hide in Dean’s hair, and Dean decided that that was the damn cutest face the angel had ever pulled.

“I’m sorry. Do you need-” Finding himself at a loss of words, again, Castiel instead decided to just take matters into his own hand. Surprisingly he found Dean just as spent as him. “Dean?”

“Already there, buddy. Think you just grace-fucked me or something.” Dean shivered when those long fingers began to idly trace at the mark on his shoulder almost reverently, adoringly. He was talking too much, Dean thought for a moment. Pillow talk was one thing, and he absolutely didn’t do that, but right then all he wanted to do was sleep for a long time. To prove the point, he yawned, closing it off with a slow kiss. “You feeling okay?”

Castiel nodded in the dark, shifting onto his side so Dean could slip onto the mattress beside him. “I feel…-good.” In truth, Castiel was sure there were no words in any human language that could properly express how he was feeling. He disliked those restraints, but laying by Dean’s side alone in the dark, he couldn’t bring himself to wallow in them for long. Searching his mind for words Dean would deem proper, he asked, “Do you feel good?”

There was a snort, quickly followed by a hand caressing the side of Cas’ face, slipping down until a thumb ghosted across slightly parted lips. It was okay to do this in the dark, Dean reasoned, where no one could see and where no one would mention it come sunlight. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss onto Cas’ eyelids, ruffling his hair a bit more before settling back down on the bed, ignoring the prickling feeling on his side. “Damn straight.”

And almost like hitting a switch, he was out like a light.

When Dean came to, stretching his legs like a cat fresh out of a nap, he smiled lazily when his arm collided with a wall of solid heat. Beside him, Castiel was lying on his back, blissfully naked, with an arm strewn over his eyes in an attempt to block out the sun. He looked-hell-he looked happy, if not a little embarrassed, judging by the pinkish hue on his cheeks and chest. Dean shifted, noting that they were both not surprisingly clean, which he figured was thanks to Cas’ mojo, and stopped before he could do anything else.

“What the hell…?” His eyes went from Castiel’s chest to the rumpled bed, to the floor, the empty bed next door and all around the damn room. Silence stretched out, long and awkward, before Dean burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

Castiel looked about ready to smite him on the spot. “It’s not funny, Dean.”

“Man, had I known you were gonna lay me in a bed of feathers, I would have taken you out to dinner first.” True enough, Dean had never seen so many feathers in his entire life. He figured that was the source of the prickling a few hours prior to waking up, but the absurd reality of it was just hilarious. Bunching up a handful, he childishly rained them over Castiel’s body, stifling a laugh as he did so. “They look good on you.”

The glare was still there, but the blue of his eyes softened with a sigh. “Of course they do; they’re mine, after all.”

“So, what? Your wings made an appearance last night and I missed them? That blows.” Dean draped himself over Castiel’s side, the angel’s arm coming up to wrap him closely as the hunter traced random patterns over his chest with an ebony feather. “We’re gonna have to get them out again, sometime.”

“Dean-”

“I can grope them while I fuck you, thoroughly. Damn that’d be good. Can you imagine-”

“Dean, enough.” He could deny it all he wanted, but Dean didn’t conjure up the body-length shiver Castiel made at the words. “Perhaps some other time. We have work to tend to.” Cas’ hands stroked Dean’s side, thumbing gently at the ribs and making the hunter melt further into him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean never really wanted much from life, unlike Sam and his aspirations from long ago, or his mom’s wishing to settle down and have a normal family. But this was something he could wrap himself in, not that he would, not that he could afford to do so, but in another life he wouldn’t have minded. He loved seeing Castiel so vulnerable, unable to hide behind the armor that was his suit and trench coat. He loved to make Castiel feel. Seeing jealousy swim so obviously in those usually guarded eyes, seeing pleasure and lust, happiness, confusion-everything. Dean wanted to see everything Castiel had to feel, and hold him like this when he explored the myriad of emotions humanity brought with it. He wanted his human angel, holy and grounded all at the same time, and his. Only his. Chick-flick moments could fuck off, but he needed it just as much as he wanted it. But Dean Winchester didn’t take; he admired from a distance, longed for it, but never once did he take. He wouldn’t deprive Castiel of Heaven, he wouldn’t ask him to fall-but he would ask him to stay. Dean wasn’t sure if there was a difference, if he was being selfish-this much he was sure off-but he wanted Cas to stay.

“You’re thinking too much, Dean.” There was mirth in Castiel’s voice, along with understanding and a gentleness that made Dean’s eyes burn.

“Cas, look-”

“I’m not going to leave you.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Stop poking at my head.”

“I wasn’t.” And it was the truth. Castiel could feel the line of thought in the tension Dean’s body held so closely to his. It was a foolish fear, one unlikely to occur no matter the circumstance. Half the times Castiel feared he couldn’t reassure Dean in a way the stubborn hunter could understand, but right there, entangled in one another’s arms, he was more than able to. He could whisper in foreign tongues a million declarations of love, hushed against Dean’s lips, each one as true as the next.

Or, he could just stay in silence and watch over the Righteous Man as he slipped back into restful sleep, safe against the angel’s chest and locked away within the private arch of his arms. If within his power, Castiel would continue to keep the nightmares at bay, and in the process of, steal a kiss from the lips belonging to the man he fell in love with.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The clink of beads being pushed to the side caught Cas’ attention though he didn’t bother to look up from the stained paper poised over his thigh. He finished the sentence he had been writing though, and waited for the intruder to speak. It was a hot and humid day, making the thin cotton of his pants cling to his skin unpleasantly, sweat forming everywhere from his lower back, to his temples and the greasy rivulets of his long hair. When the end of his bed dipped, he finally looked up at their Fearless Leader.

“Back so soon?” Cas hadn’t been expecting the convoy to arrive for another day or so from their scouting mission. Attention acquired, he placed down the makeshift journal by his bedside to better look at Dean. “Did you find it?” The man nodded stiffly. “Ah-well then, I guess this means we’re gonna have a meeting? Joy. I’ll bring the snacks. Would you like some cold cuts, or…?”

“It’s already been decided.” Dean’s voice, rough and low, startled him; Cas hadn’t been expecting him to speak at all. “Risa, Mike, Joel and I are going into Kansas City first thing tomorrow morning.”

There was a moment of tense silence before, “And me?”

“You’re staying here.”

“Fuck no, Dean-”

“That’s final.”

“No, I don’t think you understand what final means. ‘Final’ is you getting your ass into a Croat hot-zone to kill the Devil. Which also translates to: ‘suicidal and downright stupid’, you asshole.” Castiel disentangled his legs and stood up, bare feet thumping lightly against wooden floors. “You’re not going alone. And by that I mean you’re not going without me.”

“You’ll only get yourself killed.”

“So it’s perfectly fine for you to drop dead and for me to stay here like some ass waiting for you to get back when you clearly won’t? Dammit, Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

“Don’t-”

“You go down, I go down with you.”

Dean turned his face away, silently fuming at Cas’ petulant little pout that had no right to be cute in the current situation. “I need you to stay here, Cas. Someone needs to keep our hut safe.”

There was a snort, and then a laugh, followed by a smack to Dean’s shoulder. “Of course, I’m sure the burglars are just waiting for us to be both out of the cabin to steal out flat screen, sixty inch television and your AC/DC collection.” Although the sarcastic remark, Castiel slid between Dean’s knees, a hand coming up to tangle in his hair. “The only way you’ll get me stay is if you stay right here with me.”

“Cas-” Dean trailed off, hands drifting to Cas’ hips and pulling him closer. “Why do I even deal with you?”

“Because you love me.”

Green eyes traveled the expanse of Cas’ bare chest before stopping to stare at his old amulet, bronze heavy against the ex-angel’s pale and scarred skin. The fact that he still carried that thing around his neck was absurd, as if God would come knocking anytime soon. Dean never mentioned it, because he knew it meant much more than that. It was a reminder, for the both of them, of things lost and things gained-Cas was one nostalgic idiot. With a huff, Dean leaned his forehead against Cas’ stomach, arms loose around his hips. “I have to do this.”

“Not alone, you don’t.”

There was a surprised gasp when Dean easily maneuvered Cas onto the wiry bed, one that turned into a breathy laugh when lips sealed seamlessly with the lack of effort that came from being long-time lovers. Cas’ hands were gentle where Dean’s were rough, but only because they knew what each other needed. Cas gasped again when one of his nipples was tweaked, lips moving from mouth to neck in order to suck at the steady pulse there. It had been too long since they’d last done this, without words or fights, just quiet little moans that reminded them of how it used to be.

“Remember the first time we did this?” Dean continued to surprise Cas with the fact that he was actually talking, and talking about such dangerous subjects; diving right into the no fly zone. The laugh was short, more a snort than anything, but it was more emotion Cas had seen his hunter show in a very long time. “You were bitching about doing it in the same car I did your sister.”

He, on the other hand, felt a little too much whereas Dean had no room left in his fragile state of mind for emotion. The words that left his mouth cut more often than not, something Cas had gotten used to over the years but wasn’t entirely immune to. The tired sigh he released went unnoticed, along with the shoving at Dean’s shoulders to push him off, but a sudden thought stopped him. First times, as far as clichés go, were supposed to be unforgettable. Cas was sure their first time did not occur in the backseat of the Impala, but in a rather seedy warehouse somewhere in Colorado after a hunt that nearly cost him his life. “Dean?”

“Exactly.”

The attack on Cas’ neck seized, Dean favoring to look at the man’s face with mild concern and something akin to bottled laughter. Cas looked downright confused. “In the front seat-no. It started there, but… ”

“We took it to a motel.”

Cas’ more than sober mind began to play dirty little tricks, memories shifting into something completely new he knew didn’t belong there. Cotton, it felt like his head was filled with cotton and it was churning-something tugging in his stomach, burning-burning with grace. Above him, Dean smiled, moving to press a kiss to Cas’ temple. “This is cosmic, Dean. Something happened-something big.”

“Don’t need a rocket scientist to tell me that much. What the hell is going on?” The sudden overwhelming shift didn’t stop him from rutting down into Cas’ body though, ripping out a startled gasp. “If something happened back in the day I think it would have affected something other than our memories.” Dean’s face fell then, a little horror stricken. “What if I said yes?”

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Cas shook his head. Dean was a lot cleverer than people gave him credit for, if being able to connect a reality shift to something changing in the space/time continuum was anything to go by. Speaking of which, it had been a long time since Cas had been able to pull a sentence like that without stumbling halfway through it. “If it were so, I believe I’d be dead, or we just wouldn’t be here. None of this would have been here.” Feeling bold, he raked his nails down Dean’s back, making him elicit a choked moaning sound. “This is… odd.”

“No, odd is the fact that I kinda want to say I love you.”

“Huh, I guess this really was cosmic.” Cas laughed despite himself, Dean following shortly after as he let his weight drop onto the man beneath. They figured that whatever had changed would probably bleed back into their, apparently, not-set-in-stone memories as time went by. “But really, you should ride that impulse and say it.”

“You never told me.” Dean had it in him to look mildly insulted by this.

“Yes, I did.”

“I would have remembered the awkward as fuck chick-flick moment, Cas. You never told me you loved me as I made sweet love to you on the motel bed. And made you molt.”

Cas’ cheeks had the decency to turn a bright pink at that. “I did not molt. It was an unwarranted reaction of my grace attempting to keep up with my vessel under such extreme-”

“You came and your grace exploded, resulting in disgruntled feathers everywhere, including my mouth.” Cas punched him on the shoulder but Dean just laughed, loud and surprisingly honest, nipping at the swell of his lover’s lower lip. “But you never said it.”

Long fingers threaded through Dean’s hair, pulling him up to better kiss him on those plump lips he so much adored and held them him there. Pulling away, he looked hard and deep into those glossy green eyes, life slowly bleeding back into them. Something had indeed changed. “You’re right. I didn’t say it, I whispered it. Whispered and screamed it and chanted it like a final prayer.” Before Dean could protest, he stole another kiss. “It’s not my fault you don’t understand Enochian.” Dean’s frustrated frown melted into something unreadable, something Cas wasn’t entirely afraid to name anymore. “Now shut up and have me already.”

Dean kissed him again, hard and desperate, but there was something else in how his shoulders sagged, his body melting into Cas’ with blind trust. “I hate you.”

Spreading his legs to better accommodate the Winchester, Cas chuckled, hands running sinuously down his back in a calming gesture. “I love you, too.”

“I think ganking the Devil can wait until I’m done with you.” It was intended as an offhanded remark, but Cas read between the lines well enough to know what he meant. The acceptance in Dean’s voice made Cas’ soul burn hot enough to purify.

“You talk too much, Dean.”

Both the half bottle of watered down whiskey and the smaller bottle of valium went unnoticed by their bedside for as long as the both of them could even remember. For as long as tiny slivers of light threaded their way into their little Paradise of wood and stale sheets.