FIC: We still want to be reminded (that the pain is worth the plunder) [Part II]
Title: We still want to be reminded (that the pain is worth the plunder)
Author: blue_fjords
Pairings/Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel, OCs (Dean/Cas, Sam/OFC)
Rating: NC-17
Word length: ~12,375
Warnings: Spoilers through 6x11.
Summary: Sam and Dean's first case after Sam is re-souled leads them to rural Maryland. There's pie, an old naked guy, and a little less angst then you'll find on the show.
A/N: I started this as a coda to 6x11, and thought I'd do it for kel_reiley's birthday. Then it turned into a case!fic. Then it decided to add some sex. It got really long. Now it's weeks past kel's b-day. Happy birthday anyhow! And yay, I finished something!! Title from a Jars of Clay song.
Continued from Part One here
There were some things Dean didn't feel he needed to sit through. Listening to his little brother have sex was one of them, so when Sam followed Libby into the kitchen, Dean headed outside. He thrust his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around the smooth stone inside it.
He took a deep breath of the fresh country air and started across the street to the ruins of the old Town Hall. It was as good a place as any. As much as he'd been enjoying bouncing ideas off of Sam, he wanted to have a conversation with a bit of privacy, and besides, Sam did deserve a nice hard fuck after everything he'd been through. Though it was really weird for him to just . . .
Dean's footsteps slowed. It was really weird for souled-Sam to give in to an urge like that. And it was totally going to interfere with Dean's own urges. Just once, he'd like to talk to Cas about something normal. Not ask him for help.
"Fuck," he announced to the burnt-out remains. He closed his eyes. "Dear Castiel-in-Heaven, if you could spare a moment or two, I really need to see you. There's something weird with Sam . . ."
"Hello, Dean."
Dean's lashes fluttered open and an inadvertent smile quirked his lips. "Hey, Cas," he drawled, turning.
Cas was wearing his typical trench coat, his typical suit, his typical head tilt and his typical distracted and on the verge of annoyed expression. His deep blue eyes surveyed the ruins. "Did Sam do this? Is this the problem?"
"What? Nah, it was like this when we got here." Dean was grinning now. "You got here quickly."
Cas's eyes narrowed. "You only call to me when you have an emergency," he explained as if Dean were a bit thick.
"Ouch, Cas." Damn, he wanted to hug him. Cas looked like a little grouchy puppy sometimes and without taking a moment more to think about it, Dean moved forward and wrapped his arms around the angel.
"Dean, what - "
"Hush," Dean whispered.
From this close, Dean could see the crease between Cas's eyes and his perma-stubble, looking a bit thicker than usual. He really wanted to touch Cas's cheek, wipe away his worries. Get him to relax the ramrod set of his shoulders. Hear him laugh, and kiss his - WHAT THE FUCK. Dean stumbled out of the hug.
"Dean. You look distressed. What is going on, why did you call me?" Cas took a step forward, his hand raised, and Dean flinched back and walked into it at the same time.
"I want to give you a gift," he gasped out. Shit, he should have seen it coming. Maggie, Doug, Roger, Sam and now Dean - all gone round the bend. He was crazy, and he was about to heap a shit-ton of crazy onto Cas. He pulled out the stone.
"Here, here, take it. It reminded me of you." He picked up Cas's hand in his own and pressed the stone into it. Cas stared at him like he was one of those magic interlocking rings and Cas was going to figure it out, dammit. Dean had to look away from him, and focused on the stone - smooth, dark gray, and with one ragged vein of something else, something pure white, cutting through the middle.
"I don't understand what you mean by this," Cas murmured, shoulders slumping as he turned the stone over and over in his hands.
"I want - " Oh shit, shit, shit, he was going to say that he wanted Cas, he wanted cheesy romance with someone who knew every fiber of his being and always came back anyhow, shit, shit, SHIT. He jerked himself back with an effort, but he couldn't stop his traitorous mouth from babbling. "I want you near, I miss you. I want to solve your problems for you so you'd stop worrying and loosen up, like that night, do you remember? That night in Maine, you fucking laughed and I want to hear it again. Cas."
Holy shit, what if he meant it? What if the curse wasn't - act crazy! What if it was like their ill-fated run-in with Veritas, and everyone was just spouting the truth all over the place?
Cas was looking back up at him, lips parted like there was a question there, an important question, and he wasn't going to ask it. "That's rather illogical," he said instead, and anger flashed through Dean, hot and quick.
"Cut the Vulcan crap, Cas." His voice was harsh even to his own ears. "You always come back to me. I want to know why. Tell me why." His hands gripped the coat, pulling Cas closer, the scent of him filling Dean's nostrils - of thunderstorms and fire and the sun-warmed air of a Kansas summer - and his mouth was against Cas's neck when he whispered, "I want you to feel the way I do."
His fingers closed around empty air and his stomach plummeted. His heartbeat pumped blood to the tune of Cas, Cas, Cas. How had he managed to fuck things up so completely, so quickly? What the fuck was affecting this town? Shit, he hadn't asked Cas when he had the chance, so intent on declaring his - what?
He sat down heavily, unmindful of the ash that was staining his suit pants. The sick feeling in his stomach was growing, and it wasn't mere lovesickness. He groaned. He needed some of Cas's logic now. Fforpe wanted to talk, so he talked; Ruth wanted her husband to stop breathing, so she tried to strangle him; Thims wanted to run around naked, so he flapped in the wind. Sam wanted to get laid - Dean fumbled his cell phone out and glanced at the time. Hopefully Sam had rung the bell already. Dean hit the speed dial.
"Dean!"
"I really hope you're done." Pain clutched at his heart, a physical ache for Cas, and he whimpered, his vision going dark for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of Sam's feet, running closer.
"Dean!" Sam called again, his voice sounding tinny from Dean's dropped phone and reinforced by Sam in the flesh. Dean watched through bleary eyes as Sam dropped to his knees next to him. "Dean, what happened? Were you attacked?"
"Just thinking about what we're up against here, and I wanted something I couldn't have," Dean mumbled. "Though I feel a bit better now that you're here." He blinked, his vision clearing. "Shit, it must be because I want you to be happy, and you just got laid, therefore, you're happy. What the hell is this, the Hallmark Curse?"
"I don't know," Sam replied, his cheeks a bit pink. "But something is definitely making the people of this town, at least some of them, do whatever they want. Dean, what did you - "
"So 'want' is the connection? And I'm the asshole who wanted the impossible," Dean muttered. His brother was watching him with his head tilted like Cas usually did, and his stomach flip-flopped. He tried to muster a smile. "I'm screwed, Sam. I want to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony."
"Very funny, Dean. Tell me what you wanted, maybe I can help you." He reached out to grab Dean's shoulders, but Dean shrugged him off. "Come on, man, tell me."
Dean laughed. "I don't want to."
"Fine!" Sam rubbed his hands together briskly. "Let's try to narrow this down then. What do we know about this thing? It seems to be focused only on the inhabitants of Frederick's Hollow, temporary and permanent. Is it malevolent, benevolent or neutral? On the one hand, you have Maggie, Ruth and Roger. On the other, you have Libby, Fforpe, Doug and the Morgans with their colorful cows. Though I think we could agree that the pies, at least, are benevolent."
He looked like he was just getting warmed up, but Dean wanted to back up. "Dude. Do you hear yourself? You want to be on the case again, don't you? You really want to be a hunter."
Sam's mouth opened and closed. "Yeah, Dean, I do," he said with a sigh. "I like . . . solving stuff. This whole - " he gestured with his arm, waving his hand back and forth between their bodies " - figuring stuff out with you. It's what I want to do. That and get laid again tonight."
"Well, please, don't hold back on my account. I'm only suffering horribly over here." Dean's stomach lurched and he closed his eyes. He needed to think about something else, want something other than Cas. Wanting his brother's happiness had helped earlier, and he concentrated on him as Sam continued listing the facts they knew. Sam had begun to pace and his fingers twitched a bit, itching to punch things into a computer and pull up information. God, he was a dweeb. The pain in Dean's stomach eased up just slightly.
"Go back to who hasn't been affected, that we've come in contact with," Dean interrupted. Sam gave him a pissy face, but started in on another list.
"Rat and Smith, Ruth's husband Bill and your witness in flannel. What was his name again?"
"Maurice," Dean supplied. "Sam. It has to be him. Rat and Smith had their police headquarters burned down, and Bill was almost strangled. Nothing's happened to Maurice, and we were both in close proximity."
"But what - "
Dean could see the idea bloom in Sam's head. Whatever he thought, it was good.
"We need to call Cas," Sam said. The pain in Dean's stomach flared up to volcano proportions. All he could see was Cas, next to him in the Impala, telling him he had got exactly what he wanted, and then disappearing. But he had dared to want so much more since then, and it was killing him. "I need to ask him - Dean! Oh my God!"
Sam knelt on the ground next to him as he vomited up all his pie. There was a ringing in his ears and his eyesight was dimming again, but he could make out Sam's lips moving. It looked like he was saying 'Castiel.' Dean closed his eyes tight as the air stirred around him and a hand gripped his shoulder.
His stomach stopped roiling. There was no ringing to drown out the sounds of Cas and Sam talking, but he couldn't hear them anyhow because Cas was there. Dean shifted, pulling Cas down until the angel had no choice but to wrap his arms around Dean. Dean buried his face in Cas's white shirt and breathed in, his lips brushing Cas's neck, hanging on until his breathing and heartbeat stabilized.
The ruined Town Hall was completely silent by the time he looked up again. Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam was wearing the face of a pole-axed bullfrog.
"You can see why I didn't want to tell you," Dean muttered.
"Get up, Dean." Cas stood himself, and pulled Dean easily to his feet. "I was just telling Sam - I have discovered who is causing you to act this way."
"A spirit? A witch?"
"No - an angel!" Sam had found his voice again. "I was thinking it could be some kind of rogue angel, and Cas confirmed - "
"What would an angel get out of this?" Dean directed the question at Cas, and watched his face as he replied. He was kind of beautiful. Dean felt his cheeks heat and he tried paying closer attention to Cas's words, but he loved his voice, too. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT.
"Balthazar is not the only angel to decide to spend more time on Earth since the start of the civil war," Cas was saying. "There is a cupid here. And why he is playing with humans and their wants instead of arranging romantic matches, I could not say."
"Why don't you ask me?" A new voice joined them in a complaining whine, and Maurice stepped into view, standing in the doorway of the burned-out building. Cas raised his arm, and the hairs on the back of Dean's neck pricked at the surge of power. Suddenly Maurice was on his knees in front of them, his arms held over his face in a protective stance. "Wait, wait, wait!" he pleaded. "Hear me out!"
Cas glowered down at the lesser angel, and Dean had to wipe the drool from his bottom lip. Fuck.
"I want to ask him a few questions, Cas, can I?" Sam asked, stepping forward eagerly.
Cas tore his gaze away from Maurice to look at his human companions. His eyes widened at the look on Dean's face, and Dean wanted to die to save himself from the mortification. His heart stuttered and he fell to his knees. His last sight before his vision blacked was the panic in Sam's eyes and the furious set of Cas's mouth as he turned away from him.
When Dean came to, he was lying in a corner of the ruins, Cas's trench coat tucked around him, Sam sitting cross-legged beside him, looking across the room.
"Hey," he managed to croak, and Sam's head whipped around, a grin blossoming across his face.
"Hay is for horses," he said back, and Dean groaned.
"Where's Cas? Ripping that asshole cupid a new one?" he asked, struggling to sit up.
Sam nodded his head in the direction of the other side of the room. Dean followed his gaze to see the two angels, Maurice still on his knees, with his palms outstretched. Cas stood before him, hands clenched at his side and brow furrowed. He looked different without his trench coat. More assertive.
"They've been talking in Enochian," Sam told him. "After Maurice released us all. Cas was the angriest I'd seen him. It was kind of . . ."
Hot. Dean frowned. "Wait, he released us?"
"Yeah, Dean, you were dying. But Cas checked and Maurice's marks aren't on us." Sam was already schooling his face in preparation. Dean had to nip that in the bud.
"Dude. We're not talking about it."
"Dean - "
"Sam, I will get into the Impala and drive away and leave you here, I swear."
Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back against a half-wall. "Fine. We won't talk about that."
Dean watched him carefully for a moment, then leaned against the wall, too. They could see Cas and Maurice doing their angel ritual or whatever. It seemed to entail a lot of stillness.
"Cas let me yell at him while you were passed out," Sam said.
"Oh, yeah? What'd you say?"
Sam fiddled with the hem of his jeans. "I told him it was irresponsible of him to just let people do whatever they wanted."
"Papa Sam. I'd tell you to stop being such a fucking killjoy, but we did have to drink tea with an old naked dude earlier today, so."
Sam snorted. "Yeah." He left Dean's near-death experience out of it, thankfully, but shot Dean a very serious look. "You know how I was so - you know - earlier? He hadn't thought of what would happen if I couldn't, well, find a willing partner. He thought everyone would be happy just doing whatever they wanted. But what if he had turned me into a rapist? I wouldn't be able to live with myself like that, Dean. I wouldn't."
Dean squeezed his shoulder. "You would've stopped yourself, Sammy. I know you."
"Would I have? Dean, you were dying because you couldn't have what you wanted. Maggie, Ruth? Roger? The things they wanted to do were violent. No one died, but that's no thanks to Maurice."
Dean looked back over at the rogue cupid. He wanted to knock some sense into his idiot head and rage against the moron for making him admit something to himself that he'd had no intention of revealing. Fucker. And making Sam doubt his own intentions! He'd just got his brother back and he'd like to keep him, thank you very much. Speaking of which . . .
"Was there anything else, Sam? That you wanted, I mean?"
"I wanted to be working the case, Dean. I already told you that." Sam gave him a completely innocent look, which meant he was totally lying.
"And?" Dean asked.
"What?"
Dean raised a brow and Sam sighed.
"I don't want to know, Dean. Am I curious? Yeah. But I didn't want to know enough to break down that door. Hey, I'm still sane, right?" He gave what Dean suspect Sam thought was a reassuring smile, but he could see right through it. Sam had thought about it. Was probably still thinking about it. But they had put it off this time. They just had to keep putting it off and putting it off until the itch faded.
"Dean." Both brothers looked up at Cas's voice. The angels had approached soundlessly, damn them. Dean had wanted just a few more minutes or lifetimes to prepare to meet Cas's eyes again. "This cupid has something to say to you."
Maurice cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"What was that, space cowboy?" Dean needled him.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Maurice said a little louder. "I was just trying to help."
"Do us all a favor and don't help next time."
"I gave you a gift! You humans are always asking for free will, and I let you do whatever you wanted!"
"No," Dean corrected him. "You made us do whatever we wanted. Where's the choice in that?"
Cas gave him an inscrutable look. "I'm taking him with me. I'll be in touch, Dean. Sam."
They vanished in a whoosh of air. Dean's hands clenched in the fabric of the trench coat, still sitting in his lap. He ignored the pang at Cas's disappearance and turned to his brother. "I'm hungry. Shall we see if Libby wants to get rid of some of her pies?"
***
Dean stared up at the ceiling, wishing he had a little Metallica, or anything, to drown out the sounds of Sam and Libby in the room next door. Turned out they were both still game for a night of wild sex, much to Sam's relief, even without the influence of Maurice. He shoved one of his pillows over his face on one particularly loud squeal. Fuck my life.
His bedsprings creaked and a weight settled across his thighs. Dean sat bolt upright, or tried to, ripping the pillow away and reaching for his gun.
"That won't be necessary," Cas said. The angel was straddling his thighs, the suit coat folded neatly over the desk chair where Dean had thrown the trench, shoes by the door. Dean's brain had a little trouble processing the visual clues.
"You're sitting on me," he said stupidly, and Cas pushed him back against the pillows, nodding.
"Yes, I am. I wanted to know something, Dean." His head tilted and his eyes narrowed as he leaned down, his tie falling forward to brush against Dean's thin t-shirt. "Do you still want me here?"
Dean swallowed hard. "Cas, I - I . . ."
"I see." No trace of disappointment or anger leaked into Cas's voice, but his eyes were hooded and he stood abruptly. "I'll be leaving now. I'm sure you will be in contact if you have need of my help."
Dean caught his wrist before he could take another step. "Wait. Wait, please. Give me a minute."
Cas stared back at him, the moment stretching out between them, while Dean's heart raced and fluttered like a trapped bird.
"I have no idea what to say, Cas," Dean said finally. It was fucking awkward, him sitting up in bed, holding the angel's wrist, but only because Cas allowed it. He dropped the wrist, stood up, and that inch or so of a height advantage helped, never mind that Cas clearly knew why he was doing it. "I want you to stay. I like having you around," he offered, which just sounded lame. Cas barely shifted his shoulders, but Dean could tell that he agreed on the lameness.
Dean rubbed at his neck. "I hate this navel-gazing shit, you know that. And come on, you're the only friend I have! What if I want, what if you don't . . ."
They were back to staring at each other, a look that was equal parts challenge and reassurance, warning and longing, inquisition and knowing, as it'd been from the first time they'd met. Dean licked his lips. His height advantage was worthless when Cas met his eyes, enough power lurking in Cas's blue depths that he could extinguish Dean's life with a mere thought.
"I shouldn't want anything from you, shouldn't ask anything of you," Dean said. "What do you want?"
"You to make up your mind," Cas growled, and it was as if the question had opened the floodgates and Cas was determined to let it all out. "I have already told you I would prefer being in your presence. What is your reticence to ask for what you truly want?" He crowded into Dean's personal space, pushing, and Dean took a step back, Cas taking a step forward. "You have asked me to go on countless suicide missions, Dean, and I have always done so. How can you possibly think you could want something I would not be willing to give?"
The backs of Dean's knees hit the mattress and he sat down heavily. Cas immediately slotted into the space between his knees, one hand gripping Dean's shoulder and the other going up to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck. "Tell me, Dean. Tell me you want me."
Dean stared up at him. He had a terrible beauty, addictive and powerful, and Dean should be scared shitless. He was scared shitless, but more from the clawing need and want he felt than from Cas's otherworldliness. It was enough to burn him to a crisp before he even reached the raging inferno that was Cas.
And then Cas tilted his head, and very nearly smiled. "Be not afraid," he said.
A startled laugh burst from Dean's throat. "Yeah, I love you, Cas," he said before he could tell himself not to. "I want you."
Cas did smile then, and Dean just had to reach up and tug him down, pulling on the tie that hung at a perpetually crooked angle from his neck. Cas was an aggressive kisser, and Dean found himself accommodating the angel before he even thought of it, shifting on the bed until Cas was straddling him again, Cas's weight forcing him back against the pillows. Cas's tongue kept thrusting into his mouth. Dean felt he should protest the intrusion, but then Cas started in on the moans and tiny surprised gasps, and who was Dean to protest being the cause of such delicious noises? He slid his hands around Cas's waist, pulling the dress shirt out and spreading his hands over the warm skin.
Cas pulled back with a grunt, his eyes wide, and Dean immediately let him go. Shit, had he messed it up again? Had he wanted too much?
"No," Cas answered. "Stop thinking that. I just want fewer barriers."
He fumbled for his own buttons and Dean grinned. "I got that, you fucking mindreader."
"You have a very foul mouth, Dean," Cas said, frowning at him as he made short work of the tie and dress shirt.
"Oh, yeah? What're you going to do about it?"
Cas answered with a growl, pushing him back until he was flat on the bed. Dean chuckled under his breath until Cas shoved at his t-shirt, sliding it up so he could nuzzle at Dean's stomach.
"Fuck!" he gasped, his hips lifting of their own accord when Cas bit into his flesh, swiped his tongue experimentally into his navel.
"More," Cas said, and hooked his thumbs into Dean's waistbands and pulled, dropping clothes over the side of the bed. His lips and tongues and fingers went everywhere, along Dean's hipbones, thighs, knees, cock, balls, ass as Dean writhed and moaned beneath him.
"Cas, Cas, Cas," he babbled. "How are you - oh fuck, do that again, please, Cas, Cas!" His fingers tangled in Cas's hair as Cas went down on him. His hips thrust up, shoving his cock deeper into Cas's mouth and the angel took it easily. Dean began to laugh. He'd forgotten that technically, Cas didn't need to breath. But Cas did like licking and sucking and swallowing and Dean lost himself in the sensation. Someone was keening and whimpering and begging and it took him a minute to realize it was him. He came when Cas looked up at him, the flash of blue beneath thick lashes demanding it of him.
He lay back against the tangled sheets, catching his breath, as Cas moved off the bed. He watched lazily as Cas took off his socks and rolled them up, his pants and folded them over the coats, and finally his underwear, leaving them on the floor. Moonlight and shadows played across his skin and Dean wanted him to step closer so he could see.
"Tell me, Dean," Cas said, kneeling by Dean's duffle bag. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you," Dean mumbled hoarsely.
"Tell me again." He located the lube and pulled it out, frowning down at it.
"I want you," Dean repeated. "Now get over here."
Cas raised an eyebrow, but walked back to the bed and finally Dean could see him, the way his skin glowed, the lean muscles of his chest and legs and arms, and his cock erect and eager.
"Um," Dean started. "My muscles are like water now."
"Dean. You are with me." Cas waited until Dean met his eyes again. "Tell me."
"I want you," Dean whispered and swallowed. Shit. "I want all of you."
His cock twitched as if thinking about joining in the festivities sooner rather than later when Cas slid a lubed finger inside of him. Dean grunted at the feeling, unsure until Cas lay next to him and kissed him, and kept kissing him as another finger joined the first and they found his prostate. His brain ignited in pleasure again and he began to babble as Cas moved on to kissing and sucking his neck.
"Want you, Cas, want you. Cas, Cas, Cas." It was fucking embarrassing, but he'd babble and beg as long as Cas lavished that kind of attention on him. "Please, Cas, please. Want you to fuck me."
He almost wept when the fingers disappeared, but then they were replaced by something much larger and he forgot to breathe.
"Dean!" Cas's voice snapped him out of it and he gasped for air.
"Okay, we're good, okay. More." Cas slid all the way inside and Dean closed his eyes at the sharp burn of pain.
"Dean, look at me," Cas commanded him and he opened his eyes. Cas's skin was flushed with excitement, sweat curled his hair on his forehead and his eyes blazed with lust. Dean's jaw dropped as Cas began to lose control before his eyes, moaning low in his throat and thrusting in with no sense of rhythm.
The rhythm-less thrusting suited them, though, and Dean began to pant and moan as Cas consistently hit his prostate. The mattress shook and the headboard whacked the wall with sharp cracks. Dean just hung on and let Cas do the majority of the work. He lost track of time, his world narrowing down to the pleasure Cas was providing and the sight and sound of Cas himself, and the feel of Cas inside him and against his skin. He shifted on his back, angling his hips, and Cas gasped.
Dean could see the orgasm paint Cas's face with wonder even as he felt it inside, on and on, but he didn't have time to be jealous at how long it lasted as his second orgasm of the night crept up on him. He moaned through the aftershocks.
"Dean," Cas panted, pulling out with a groan only to drape himself over Dean's chest and press his lips to Dean's neck.
"Yes, I want you," Dean murmured, and Cas laughed. Dean stared at him, brought his hand up and ran his thumb along Cas's jawline. "Especially when you do that."
Cas kissed the palm of his hand. "You've had me since the moment I first saw you. Now rest, Dean."
"We're messy," Dean said. His jaw was going to break from smiling so hard. He'd turned into a lovesick fool, that's all there was to it.
"You're with me," Cas reminded him again. "Rest."
Dean fell asleep, clean, with a smile on his lips.
***
Sam blinked the sand out of his eyes. The morning light was just starting to poke its way through Libby's blinds, but that's not what woke him up.
"Oh my God," he groaned. "Round three? I'm going to kill him."
"Still," Libby said, coming into the bedroom from her connected bathroom. "You've got to give them points for stamina. Where is Danny's boyfriend from again?" She rooted through her jewelry box on the bureau, looking for the perfect pair of earrings. "I swear he's pronouncing 'Dan' wrong."
"Harder, Cas, harder!" Dean's voice wasn't muffled enough by the shaking wall. Libby raised her eyebrows.
"I don't fucking care where he's from," Sam muttered. "Can I help you start cooking for the breakfast crowd?"
"All four of them? Sure, sugar." She sat back on the bed and kissed him. "And if you fall asleep in a booth, I won't blame you."
Dean and Cas didn't make their way downstairs to the diner until ten o'clock. The breakfast crowd had long since cleared out, and it was just him and Libby playing cards in a booth by the door, and Rat and Smith in the corner.
"Morning, partner, Ms. Libby," Dean greeted them without the slightest trace of a blush. As if Sam and Libby hadn't heard him get spectacularly fucked on three separate occasions the night before.
"Good morning, Agent Butterman," Libby responded, flashing her dimple. "I didn't hear your lovely boyfriend arrive last night."
"Seriously?" Dean asked. God, he truly had no shame.
"She means at the diner, Jesus, De - Danny." Dammit, Dean. "Libby, this is Cas. Cas, Libby."
Of course Cas paused before shaking her hand, but at least it wasn't too noticeable, and he even managed a half-smile. In fact, Sam noted, eyeing him critically, the angel looked more relaxed than Sam had ever seen him. Looser, somehow. The effect of three orgasms after hundreds of years of nothing, most likely.
"Well," Libby said, sliding out of her side of the booth. "Why don't I leave you gentlemen to talk while I get some breakfast together for you?"
Dean took her place across from Sam, and Cas slid in next to him.
"Sooooo," Dean started.
"No, shut up, Dean. First off, we are never getting adjoining rooms. EVER. Okay? And second," he continued, scowling, "why didn't you tell me about this? You said my body was getting laid, and we met fairies, and all the shit about Mom's side of the family, but you neglected to tell me that you and Cas were - you and Cas?"
"Dean and I did not copulate until last night," Cas said calmly and Dean's face immediately went red. "I apologize that you could hear me making love to him. I will be certain to construct a sound barrier in the future. I was too distracted by my amorous desires to do so last night. It won't happen again."
Dean's face was now purple.
"Um, that's okay, Cas," Sam managed to get out despite an overwhelming desire to laugh at his brother. "I accept your apology."
Cas inclined his head.
"So, then, are you guys - ow!" Dean had kicked him in the shins, the ass.
"Are we what?" Cas asked, tilting his head.
"He's asking about our feelings, Cas, ignore him," Dean muttered. "Here comes coffee."
"I love him and he loves me," Cas stated as Libby put two cups of coffee down on the table. Dean started violently, and coffee spilled across the table, just narrowly avoiding Sam's lap.
"We are not discussing this further!" Dean hissed furiously as they frantically mopped up hot coffee. "That's final!"
And it was, through the rest of breakfast. Dean ate, Cas watched him eat, and Sam filled them in on the aftermath of Maurice releasing everyone from his influence. For starters, Libby was done with pies for awhile. Roger was working on a deal to rebuild the Town Hall, paying for as much of it as he could, but able to use his own designs. Doug was wearing clothes in public again, Ruth and Bill were back home together (Ruth with earplugs), the Morgans' cows were back to normal, and Fforpe was talking about half as much. Maggie was still awaiting trial, though. Sam hadn't told them they'd been interfered with by a rogue cupid, and Fforpe was chalking everything up to a full moon. But not everything could go back to what it was before.
"Maggie's still planning to plead guilty. She talked to me, about an hour ago when I went down to see her," Sam said as Dean mopped up the last of his runny eggs with a piece of toast. "She said she didn't regret hitting that boy. So I don't know. Maybe she would have snapped at some point anyhow."
Dean grunted and gave Cas a sidelong glance. Sam doubted even Dean had a clue as to how long he would have repressed his feelings for the angel without Maurice's nudge. Which led to . . .
"What did you do with Maurice, Cas?" Sam asked.
Cas grimaced. "Recruited him."
"The angel who almost killed me? You want him in your army?" Dean's fork clattered against his empty plate and he would've stood up, had Cas not been sitting in his way.
"Maurice, as he called himself, went rogue because he was enamored of the idea of free will. He took it to the extreme. None of us here knows anything about that," Cas said with an irritable twitch of his shoulders. Sam had to stifle another laugh at his brother's face. Teach an angel sarcasm, you should be prepared for him to use it. "Believe me when I say that I, too, was furious at Maurice for his lack of forethought, and what his good intentions could have done to you. And Sam. He is learning now. But I cannot afford to destroy an ally. Not one who is fond of humanity, and would fight against it suffering from another apocalypse."
He held Dean's gaze for a long moment, before Dean gave in with poor grace and nodded. "Fine. Just keep him away from us."
"Of course, Dean. I would not want you hurt." His hand snaked around Dean's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Sam's eyes bugged a little. It was one thing listening to it through the wall, but seeing his brother deepen the kiss, and now there was definitely tongue involved . . .
"I'm going to pack up our things, say my goodbyes to Libby," Sam said hurriedly. "You guys take your time."
Half an hour later, it was just the two of them, hitting the road with Libby's final two pies. Libby had smiled her dimple, and asked if he would be coming back. He had thanked her for everything, and kissed her, and said he never knew what the future held. He could still see her dimple in his mind's eye when they were ten miles down the road, heading southeast. He frowned.
"Dean? Where are we going?"
"Korean War Memorial, remember? I asked Cas if he wanted to meet us there."
Sam nodded thoughtfully.
"Uh, Sam? My eyes are on the road. Was that okay with you?" Dean's knuckles were white around the steering wheel and a flush was traveling up his neck. Their dad had been the same way, the few times Sam had seen him nervous. Sam tended to go bug-eyes and stammering when he was nervous. He wasn't sure which was worse.
"Sure it is, Dean. It's all okay with me."
"Good," Dean grunted. "Now none of that touchy-feely crap. How much you wanna bet you still wet your pants when you see the statues in broad daylight?"
Sam rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, a smile ghosting his lips.
Author: blue_fjords
Pairings/Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel, OCs (Dean/Cas, Sam/OFC)
Rating: NC-17
Word length: ~12,375
Warnings: Spoilers through 6x11.
Summary: Sam and Dean's first case after Sam is re-souled leads them to rural Maryland. There's pie, an old naked guy, and a little less angst then you'll find on the show.
A/N: I started this as a coda to 6x11, and thought I'd do it for kel_reiley's birthday. Then it turned into a case!fic. Then it decided to add some sex. It got really long. Now it's weeks past kel's b-day. Happy birthday anyhow! And yay, I finished something!! Title from a Jars of Clay song.
Continued from Part One here
There were some things Dean didn't feel he needed to sit through. Listening to his little brother have sex was one of them, so when Sam followed Libby into the kitchen, Dean headed outside. He thrust his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around the smooth stone inside it.
He took a deep breath of the fresh country air and started across the street to the ruins of the old Town Hall. It was as good a place as any. As much as he'd been enjoying bouncing ideas off of Sam, he wanted to have a conversation with a bit of privacy, and besides, Sam did deserve a nice hard fuck after everything he'd been through. Though it was really weird for him to just . . .
Dean's footsteps slowed. It was really weird for souled-Sam to give in to an urge like that. And it was totally going to interfere with Dean's own urges. Just once, he'd like to talk to Cas about something normal. Not ask him for help.
"Fuck," he announced to the burnt-out remains. He closed his eyes. "Dear Castiel-in-Heaven, if you could spare a moment or two, I really need to see you. There's something weird with Sam . . ."
"Hello, Dean."
Dean's lashes fluttered open and an inadvertent smile quirked his lips. "Hey, Cas," he drawled, turning.
Cas was wearing his typical trench coat, his typical suit, his typical head tilt and his typical distracted and on the verge of annoyed expression. His deep blue eyes surveyed the ruins. "Did Sam do this? Is this the problem?"
"What? Nah, it was like this when we got here." Dean was grinning now. "You got here quickly."
Cas's eyes narrowed. "You only call to me when you have an emergency," he explained as if Dean were a bit thick.
"Ouch, Cas." Damn, he wanted to hug him. Cas looked like a little grouchy puppy sometimes and without taking a moment more to think about it, Dean moved forward and wrapped his arms around the angel.
"Dean, what - "
"Hush," Dean whispered.
From this close, Dean could see the crease between Cas's eyes and his perma-stubble, looking a bit thicker than usual. He really wanted to touch Cas's cheek, wipe away his worries. Get him to relax the ramrod set of his shoulders. Hear him laugh, and kiss his - WHAT THE FUCK. Dean stumbled out of the hug.
"Dean. You look distressed. What is going on, why did you call me?" Cas took a step forward, his hand raised, and Dean flinched back and walked into it at the same time.
"I want to give you a gift," he gasped out. Shit, he should have seen it coming. Maggie, Doug, Roger, Sam and now Dean - all gone round the bend. He was crazy, and he was about to heap a shit-ton of crazy onto Cas. He pulled out the stone.
"Here, here, take it. It reminded me of you." He picked up Cas's hand in his own and pressed the stone into it. Cas stared at him like he was one of those magic interlocking rings and Cas was going to figure it out, dammit. Dean had to look away from him, and focused on the stone - smooth, dark gray, and with one ragged vein of something else, something pure white, cutting through the middle.
"I don't understand what you mean by this," Cas murmured, shoulders slumping as he turned the stone over and over in his hands.
"I want - " Oh shit, shit, shit, he was going to say that he wanted Cas, he wanted cheesy romance with someone who knew every fiber of his being and always came back anyhow, shit, shit, SHIT. He jerked himself back with an effort, but he couldn't stop his traitorous mouth from babbling. "I want you near, I miss you. I want to solve your problems for you so you'd stop worrying and loosen up, like that night, do you remember? That night in Maine, you fucking laughed and I want to hear it again. Cas."
Holy shit, what if he meant it? What if the curse wasn't - act crazy! What if it was like their ill-fated run-in with Veritas, and everyone was just spouting the truth all over the place?
Cas was looking back up at him, lips parted like there was a question there, an important question, and he wasn't going to ask it. "That's rather illogical," he said instead, and anger flashed through Dean, hot and quick.
"Cut the Vulcan crap, Cas." His voice was harsh even to his own ears. "You always come back to me. I want to know why. Tell me why." His hands gripped the coat, pulling Cas closer, the scent of him filling Dean's nostrils - of thunderstorms and fire and the sun-warmed air of a Kansas summer - and his mouth was against Cas's neck when he whispered, "I want you to feel the way I do."
His fingers closed around empty air and his stomach plummeted. His heartbeat pumped blood to the tune of Cas, Cas, Cas. How had he managed to fuck things up so completely, so quickly? What the fuck was affecting this town? Shit, he hadn't asked Cas when he had the chance, so intent on declaring his - what?
He sat down heavily, unmindful of the ash that was staining his suit pants. The sick feeling in his stomach was growing, and it wasn't mere lovesickness. He groaned. He needed some of Cas's logic now. Fforpe wanted to talk, so he talked; Ruth wanted her husband to stop breathing, so she tried to strangle him; Thims wanted to run around naked, so he flapped in the wind. Sam wanted to get laid - Dean fumbled his cell phone out and glanced at the time. Hopefully Sam had rung the bell already. Dean hit the speed dial.
"Dean!"
"I really hope you're done." Pain clutched at his heart, a physical ache for Cas, and he whimpered, his vision going dark for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of Sam's feet, running closer.
"Dean!" Sam called again, his voice sounding tinny from Dean's dropped phone and reinforced by Sam in the flesh. Dean watched through bleary eyes as Sam dropped to his knees next to him. "Dean, what happened? Were you attacked?"
"Just thinking about what we're up against here, and I wanted something I couldn't have," Dean mumbled. "Though I feel a bit better now that you're here." He blinked, his vision clearing. "Shit, it must be because I want you to be happy, and you just got laid, therefore, you're happy. What the hell is this, the Hallmark Curse?"
"I don't know," Sam replied, his cheeks a bit pink. "But something is definitely making the people of this town, at least some of them, do whatever they want. Dean, what did you - "
"So 'want' is the connection? And I'm the asshole who wanted the impossible," Dean muttered. His brother was watching him with his head tilted like Cas usually did, and his stomach flip-flopped. He tried to muster a smile. "I'm screwed, Sam. I want to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony."
"Very funny, Dean. Tell me what you wanted, maybe I can help you." He reached out to grab Dean's shoulders, but Dean shrugged him off. "Come on, man, tell me."
Dean laughed. "I don't want to."
"Fine!" Sam rubbed his hands together briskly. "Let's try to narrow this down then. What do we know about this thing? It seems to be focused only on the inhabitants of Frederick's Hollow, temporary and permanent. Is it malevolent, benevolent or neutral? On the one hand, you have Maggie, Ruth and Roger. On the other, you have Libby, Fforpe, Doug and the Morgans with their colorful cows. Though I think we could agree that the pies, at least, are benevolent."
He looked like he was just getting warmed up, but Dean wanted to back up. "Dude. Do you hear yourself? You want to be on the case again, don't you? You really want to be a hunter."
Sam's mouth opened and closed. "Yeah, Dean, I do," he said with a sigh. "I like . . . solving stuff. This whole - " he gestured with his arm, waving his hand back and forth between their bodies " - figuring stuff out with you. It's what I want to do. That and get laid again tonight."
"Well, please, don't hold back on my account. I'm only suffering horribly over here." Dean's stomach lurched and he closed his eyes. He needed to think about something else, want something other than Cas. Wanting his brother's happiness had helped earlier, and he concentrated on him as Sam continued listing the facts they knew. Sam had begun to pace and his fingers twitched a bit, itching to punch things into a computer and pull up information. God, he was a dweeb. The pain in Dean's stomach eased up just slightly.
"Go back to who hasn't been affected, that we've come in contact with," Dean interrupted. Sam gave him a pissy face, but started in on another list.
"Rat and Smith, Ruth's husband Bill and your witness in flannel. What was his name again?"
"Maurice," Dean supplied. "Sam. It has to be him. Rat and Smith had their police headquarters burned down, and Bill was almost strangled. Nothing's happened to Maurice, and we were both in close proximity."
"But what - "
Dean could see the idea bloom in Sam's head. Whatever he thought, it was good.
"We need to call Cas," Sam said. The pain in Dean's stomach flared up to volcano proportions. All he could see was Cas, next to him in the Impala, telling him he had got exactly what he wanted, and then disappearing. But he had dared to want so much more since then, and it was killing him. "I need to ask him - Dean! Oh my God!"
Sam knelt on the ground next to him as he vomited up all his pie. There was a ringing in his ears and his eyesight was dimming again, but he could make out Sam's lips moving. It looked like he was saying 'Castiel.' Dean closed his eyes tight as the air stirred around him and a hand gripped his shoulder.
His stomach stopped roiling. There was no ringing to drown out the sounds of Cas and Sam talking, but he couldn't hear them anyhow because Cas was there. Dean shifted, pulling Cas down until the angel had no choice but to wrap his arms around Dean. Dean buried his face in Cas's white shirt and breathed in, his lips brushing Cas's neck, hanging on until his breathing and heartbeat stabilized.
The ruined Town Hall was completely silent by the time he looked up again. Dean glanced over at his brother. Sam was wearing the face of a pole-axed bullfrog.
"You can see why I didn't want to tell you," Dean muttered.
"Get up, Dean." Cas stood himself, and pulled Dean easily to his feet. "I was just telling Sam - I have discovered who is causing you to act this way."
"A spirit? A witch?"
"No - an angel!" Sam had found his voice again. "I was thinking it could be some kind of rogue angel, and Cas confirmed - "
"What would an angel get out of this?" Dean directed the question at Cas, and watched his face as he replied. He was kind of beautiful. Dean felt his cheeks heat and he tried paying closer attention to Cas's words, but he loved his voice, too. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT.
"Balthazar is not the only angel to decide to spend more time on Earth since the start of the civil war," Cas was saying. "There is a cupid here. And why he is playing with humans and their wants instead of arranging romantic matches, I could not say."
"Why don't you ask me?" A new voice joined them in a complaining whine, and Maurice stepped into view, standing in the doorway of the burned-out building. Cas raised his arm, and the hairs on the back of Dean's neck pricked at the surge of power. Suddenly Maurice was on his knees in front of them, his arms held over his face in a protective stance. "Wait, wait, wait!" he pleaded. "Hear me out!"
Cas glowered down at the lesser angel, and Dean had to wipe the drool from his bottom lip. Fuck.
"I want to ask him a few questions, Cas, can I?" Sam asked, stepping forward eagerly.
Cas tore his gaze away from Maurice to look at his human companions. His eyes widened at the look on Dean's face, and Dean wanted to die to save himself from the mortification. His heart stuttered and he fell to his knees. His last sight before his vision blacked was the panic in Sam's eyes and the furious set of Cas's mouth as he turned away from him.
When Dean came to, he was lying in a corner of the ruins, Cas's trench coat tucked around him, Sam sitting cross-legged beside him, looking across the room.
"Hey," he managed to croak, and Sam's head whipped around, a grin blossoming across his face.
"Hay is for horses," he said back, and Dean groaned.
"Where's Cas? Ripping that asshole cupid a new one?" he asked, struggling to sit up.
Sam nodded his head in the direction of the other side of the room. Dean followed his gaze to see the two angels, Maurice still on his knees, with his palms outstretched. Cas stood before him, hands clenched at his side and brow furrowed. He looked different without his trench coat. More assertive.
"They've been talking in Enochian," Sam told him. "After Maurice released us all. Cas was the angriest I'd seen him. It was kind of . . ."
Hot. Dean frowned. "Wait, he released us?"
"Yeah, Dean, you were dying. But Cas checked and Maurice's marks aren't on us." Sam was already schooling his face in preparation. Dean had to nip that in the bud.
"Dude. We're not talking about it."
"Dean - "
"Sam, I will get into the Impala and drive away and leave you here, I swear."
Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back against a half-wall. "Fine. We won't talk about that."
Dean watched him carefully for a moment, then leaned against the wall, too. They could see Cas and Maurice doing their angel ritual or whatever. It seemed to entail a lot of stillness.
"Cas let me yell at him while you were passed out," Sam said.
"Oh, yeah? What'd you say?"
Sam fiddled with the hem of his jeans. "I told him it was irresponsible of him to just let people do whatever they wanted."
"Papa Sam. I'd tell you to stop being such a fucking killjoy, but we did have to drink tea with an old naked dude earlier today, so."
Sam snorted. "Yeah." He left Dean's near-death experience out of it, thankfully, but shot Dean a very serious look. "You know how I was so - you know - earlier? He hadn't thought of what would happen if I couldn't, well, find a willing partner. He thought everyone would be happy just doing whatever they wanted. But what if he had turned me into a rapist? I wouldn't be able to live with myself like that, Dean. I wouldn't."
Dean squeezed his shoulder. "You would've stopped yourself, Sammy. I know you."
"Would I have? Dean, you were dying because you couldn't have what you wanted. Maggie, Ruth? Roger? The things they wanted to do were violent. No one died, but that's no thanks to Maurice."
Dean looked back over at the rogue cupid. He wanted to knock some sense into his idiot head and rage against the moron for making him admit something to himself that he'd had no intention of revealing. Fucker. And making Sam doubt his own intentions! He'd just got his brother back and he'd like to keep him, thank you very much. Speaking of which . . .
"Was there anything else, Sam? That you wanted, I mean?"
"I wanted to be working the case, Dean. I already told you that." Sam gave him a completely innocent look, which meant he was totally lying.
"And?" Dean asked.
"What?"
Dean raised a brow and Sam sighed.
"I don't want to know, Dean. Am I curious? Yeah. But I didn't want to know enough to break down that door. Hey, I'm still sane, right?" He gave what Dean suspect Sam thought was a reassuring smile, but he could see right through it. Sam had thought about it. Was probably still thinking about it. But they had put it off this time. They just had to keep putting it off and putting it off until the itch faded.
"Dean." Both brothers looked up at Cas's voice. The angels had approached soundlessly, damn them. Dean had wanted just a few more minutes or lifetimes to prepare to meet Cas's eyes again. "This cupid has something to say to you."
Maurice cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"What was that, space cowboy?" Dean needled him.
"I'm sorry, okay?" Maurice said a little louder. "I was just trying to help."
"Do us all a favor and don't help next time."
"I gave you a gift! You humans are always asking for free will, and I let you do whatever you wanted!"
"No," Dean corrected him. "You made us do whatever we wanted. Where's the choice in that?"
Cas gave him an inscrutable look. "I'm taking him with me. I'll be in touch, Dean. Sam."
They vanished in a whoosh of air. Dean's hands clenched in the fabric of the trench coat, still sitting in his lap. He ignored the pang at Cas's disappearance and turned to his brother. "I'm hungry. Shall we see if Libby wants to get rid of some of her pies?"
***
Dean stared up at the ceiling, wishing he had a little Metallica, or anything, to drown out the sounds of Sam and Libby in the room next door. Turned out they were both still game for a night of wild sex, much to Sam's relief, even without the influence of Maurice. He shoved one of his pillows over his face on one particularly loud squeal. Fuck my life.
His bedsprings creaked and a weight settled across his thighs. Dean sat bolt upright, or tried to, ripping the pillow away and reaching for his gun.
"That won't be necessary," Cas said. The angel was straddling his thighs, the suit coat folded neatly over the desk chair where Dean had thrown the trench, shoes by the door. Dean's brain had a little trouble processing the visual clues.
"You're sitting on me," he said stupidly, and Cas pushed him back against the pillows, nodding.
"Yes, I am. I wanted to know something, Dean." His head tilted and his eyes narrowed as he leaned down, his tie falling forward to brush against Dean's thin t-shirt. "Do you still want me here?"
Dean swallowed hard. "Cas, I - I . . ."
"I see." No trace of disappointment or anger leaked into Cas's voice, but his eyes were hooded and he stood abruptly. "I'll be leaving now. I'm sure you will be in contact if you have need of my help."
Dean caught his wrist before he could take another step. "Wait. Wait, please. Give me a minute."
Cas stared back at him, the moment stretching out between them, while Dean's heart raced and fluttered like a trapped bird.
"I have no idea what to say, Cas," Dean said finally. It was fucking awkward, him sitting up in bed, holding the angel's wrist, but only because Cas allowed it. He dropped the wrist, stood up, and that inch or so of a height advantage helped, never mind that Cas clearly knew why he was doing it. "I want you to stay. I like having you around," he offered, which just sounded lame. Cas barely shifted his shoulders, but Dean could tell that he agreed on the lameness.
Dean rubbed at his neck. "I hate this navel-gazing shit, you know that. And come on, you're the only friend I have! What if I want, what if you don't . . ."
They were back to staring at each other, a look that was equal parts challenge and reassurance, warning and longing, inquisition and knowing, as it'd been from the first time they'd met. Dean licked his lips. His height advantage was worthless when Cas met his eyes, enough power lurking in Cas's blue depths that he could extinguish Dean's life with a mere thought.
"I shouldn't want anything from you, shouldn't ask anything of you," Dean said. "What do you want?"
"You to make up your mind," Cas growled, and it was as if the question had opened the floodgates and Cas was determined to let it all out. "I have already told you I would prefer being in your presence. What is your reticence to ask for what you truly want?" He crowded into Dean's personal space, pushing, and Dean took a step back, Cas taking a step forward. "You have asked me to go on countless suicide missions, Dean, and I have always done so. How can you possibly think you could want something I would not be willing to give?"
The backs of Dean's knees hit the mattress and he sat down heavily. Cas immediately slotted into the space between his knees, one hand gripping Dean's shoulder and the other going up to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck. "Tell me, Dean. Tell me you want me."
Dean stared up at him. He had a terrible beauty, addictive and powerful, and Dean should be scared shitless. He was scared shitless, but more from the clawing need and want he felt than from Cas's otherworldliness. It was enough to burn him to a crisp before he even reached the raging inferno that was Cas.
And then Cas tilted his head, and very nearly smiled. "Be not afraid," he said.
A startled laugh burst from Dean's throat. "Yeah, I love you, Cas," he said before he could tell himself not to. "I want you."
Cas did smile then, and Dean just had to reach up and tug him down, pulling on the tie that hung at a perpetually crooked angle from his neck. Cas was an aggressive kisser, and Dean found himself accommodating the angel before he even thought of it, shifting on the bed until Cas was straddling him again, Cas's weight forcing him back against the pillows. Cas's tongue kept thrusting into his mouth. Dean felt he should protest the intrusion, but then Cas started in on the moans and tiny surprised gasps, and who was Dean to protest being the cause of such delicious noises? He slid his hands around Cas's waist, pulling the dress shirt out and spreading his hands over the warm skin.
Cas pulled back with a grunt, his eyes wide, and Dean immediately let him go. Shit, had he messed it up again? Had he wanted too much?
"No," Cas answered. "Stop thinking that. I just want fewer barriers."
He fumbled for his own buttons and Dean grinned. "I got that, you fucking mindreader."
"You have a very foul mouth, Dean," Cas said, frowning at him as he made short work of the tie and dress shirt.
"Oh, yeah? What're you going to do about it?"
Cas answered with a growl, pushing him back until he was flat on the bed. Dean chuckled under his breath until Cas shoved at his t-shirt, sliding it up so he could nuzzle at Dean's stomach.
"Fuck!" he gasped, his hips lifting of their own accord when Cas bit into his flesh, swiped his tongue experimentally into his navel.
"More," Cas said, and hooked his thumbs into Dean's waistbands and pulled, dropping clothes over the side of the bed. His lips and tongues and fingers went everywhere, along Dean's hipbones, thighs, knees, cock, balls, ass as Dean writhed and moaned beneath him.
"Cas, Cas, Cas," he babbled. "How are you - oh fuck, do that again, please, Cas, Cas!" His fingers tangled in Cas's hair as Cas went down on him. His hips thrust up, shoving his cock deeper into Cas's mouth and the angel took it easily. Dean began to laugh. He'd forgotten that technically, Cas didn't need to breath. But Cas did like licking and sucking and swallowing and Dean lost himself in the sensation. Someone was keening and whimpering and begging and it took him a minute to realize it was him. He came when Cas looked up at him, the flash of blue beneath thick lashes demanding it of him.
He lay back against the tangled sheets, catching his breath, as Cas moved off the bed. He watched lazily as Cas took off his socks and rolled them up, his pants and folded them over the coats, and finally his underwear, leaving them on the floor. Moonlight and shadows played across his skin and Dean wanted him to step closer so he could see.
"Tell me, Dean," Cas said, kneeling by Dean's duffle bag. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you," Dean mumbled hoarsely.
"Tell me again." He located the lube and pulled it out, frowning down at it.
"I want you," Dean repeated. "Now get over here."
Cas raised an eyebrow, but walked back to the bed and finally Dean could see him, the way his skin glowed, the lean muscles of his chest and legs and arms, and his cock erect and eager.
"Um," Dean started. "My muscles are like water now."
"Dean. You are with me." Cas waited until Dean met his eyes again. "Tell me."
"I want you," Dean whispered and swallowed. Shit. "I want all of you."
His cock twitched as if thinking about joining in the festivities sooner rather than later when Cas slid a lubed finger inside of him. Dean grunted at the feeling, unsure until Cas lay next to him and kissed him, and kept kissing him as another finger joined the first and they found his prostate. His brain ignited in pleasure again and he began to babble as Cas moved on to kissing and sucking his neck.
"Want you, Cas, want you. Cas, Cas, Cas." It was fucking embarrassing, but he'd babble and beg as long as Cas lavished that kind of attention on him. "Please, Cas, please. Want you to fuck me."
He almost wept when the fingers disappeared, but then they were replaced by something much larger and he forgot to breathe.
"Dean!" Cas's voice snapped him out of it and he gasped for air.
"Okay, we're good, okay. More." Cas slid all the way inside and Dean closed his eyes at the sharp burn of pain.
"Dean, look at me," Cas commanded him and he opened his eyes. Cas's skin was flushed with excitement, sweat curled his hair on his forehead and his eyes blazed with lust. Dean's jaw dropped as Cas began to lose control before his eyes, moaning low in his throat and thrusting in with no sense of rhythm.
The rhythm-less thrusting suited them, though, and Dean began to pant and moan as Cas consistently hit his prostate. The mattress shook and the headboard whacked the wall with sharp cracks. Dean just hung on and let Cas do the majority of the work. He lost track of time, his world narrowing down to the pleasure Cas was providing and the sight and sound of Cas himself, and the feel of Cas inside him and against his skin. He shifted on his back, angling his hips, and Cas gasped.
Dean could see the orgasm paint Cas's face with wonder even as he felt it inside, on and on, but he didn't have time to be jealous at how long it lasted as his second orgasm of the night crept up on him. He moaned through the aftershocks.
"Dean," Cas panted, pulling out with a groan only to drape himself over Dean's chest and press his lips to Dean's neck.
"Yes, I want you," Dean murmured, and Cas laughed. Dean stared at him, brought his hand up and ran his thumb along Cas's jawline. "Especially when you do that."
Cas kissed the palm of his hand. "You've had me since the moment I first saw you. Now rest, Dean."
"We're messy," Dean said. His jaw was going to break from smiling so hard. He'd turned into a lovesick fool, that's all there was to it.
"You're with me," Cas reminded him again. "Rest."
Dean fell asleep, clean, with a smile on his lips.
***
Sam blinked the sand out of his eyes. The morning light was just starting to poke its way through Libby's blinds, but that's not what woke him up.
"Oh my God," he groaned. "Round three? I'm going to kill him."
"Still," Libby said, coming into the bedroom from her connected bathroom. "You've got to give them points for stamina. Where is Danny's boyfriend from again?" She rooted through her jewelry box on the bureau, looking for the perfect pair of earrings. "I swear he's pronouncing 'Dan' wrong."
"Harder, Cas, harder!" Dean's voice wasn't muffled enough by the shaking wall. Libby raised her eyebrows.
"I don't fucking care where he's from," Sam muttered. "Can I help you start cooking for the breakfast crowd?"
"All four of them? Sure, sugar." She sat back on the bed and kissed him. "And if you fall asleep in a booth, I won't blame you."
Dean and Cas didn't make their way downstairs to the diner until ten o'clock. The breakfast crowd had long since cleared out, and it was just him and Libby playing cards in a booth by the door, and Rat and Smith in the corner.
"Morning, partner, Ms. Libby," Dean greeted them without the slightest trace of a blush. As if Sam and Libby hadn't heard him get spectacularly fucked on three separate occasions the night before.
"Good morning, Agent Butterman," Libby responded, flashing her dimple. "I didn't hear your lovely boyfriend arrive last night."
"Seriously?" Dean asked. God, he truly had no shame.
"She means at the diner, Jesus, De - Danny." Dammit, Dean. "Libby, this is Cas. Cas, Libby."
Of course Cas paused before shaking her hand, but at least it wasn't too noticeable, and he even managed a half-smile. In fact, Sam noted, eyeing him critically, the angel looked more relaxed than Sam had ever seen him. Looser, somehow. The effect of three orgasms after hundreds of years of nothing, most likely.
"Well," Libby said, sliding out of her side of the booth. "Why don't I leave you gentlemen to talk while I get some breakfast together for you?"
Dean took her place across from Sam, and Cas slid in next to him.
"Sooooo," Dean started.
"No, shut up, Dean. First off, we are never getting adjoining rooms. EVER. Okay? And second," he continued, scowling, "why didn't you tell me about this? You said my body was getting laid, and we met fairies, and all the shit about Mom's side of the family, but you neglected to tell me that you and Cas were - you and Cas?"
"Dean and I did not copulate until last night," Cas said calmly and Dean's face immediately went red. "I apologize that you could hear me making love to him. I will be certain to construct a sound barrier in the future. I was too distracted by my amorous desires to do so last night. It won't happen again."
Dean's face was now purple.
"Um, that's okay, Cas," Sam managed to get out despite an overwhelming desire to laugh at his brother. "I accept your apology."
Cas inclined his head.
"So, then, are you guys - ow!" Dean had kicked him in the shins, the ass.
"Are we what?" Cas asked, tilting his head.
"He's asking about our feelings, Cas, ignore him," Dean muttered. "Here comes coffee."
"I love him and he loves me," Cas stated as Libby put two cups of coffee down on the table. Dean started violently, and coffee spilled across the table, just narrowly avoiding Sam's lap.
"We are not discussing this further!" Dean hissed furiously as they frantically mopped up hot coffee. "That's final!"
And it was, through the rest of breakfast. Dean ate, Cas watched him eat, and Sam filled them in on the aftermath of Maurice releasing everyone from his influence. For starters, Libby was done with pies for awhile. Roger was working on a deal to rebuild the Town Hall, paying for as much of it as he could, but able to use his own designs. Doug was wearing clothes in public again, Ruth and Bill were back home together (Ruth with earplugs), the Morgans' cows were back to normal, and Fforpe was talking about half as much. Maggie was still awaiting trial, though. Sam hadn't told them they'd been interfered with by a rogue cupid, and Fforpe was chalking everything up to a full moon. But not everything could go back to what it was before.
"Maggie's still planning to plead guilty. She talked to me, about an hour ago when I went down to see her," Sam said as Dean mopped up the last of his runny eggs with a piece of toast. "She said she didn't regret hitting that boy. So I don't know. Maybe she would have snapped at some point anyhow."
Dean grunted and gave Cas a sidelong glance. Sam doubted even Dean had a clue as to how long he would have repressed his feelings for the angel without Maurice's nudge. Which led to . . .
"What did you do with Maurice, Cas?" Sam asked.
Cas grimaced. "Recruited him."
"The angel who almost killed me? You want him in your army?" Dean's fork clattered against his empty plate and he would've stood up, had Cas not been sitting in his way.
"Maurice, as he called himself, went rogue because he was enamored of the idea of free will. He took it to the extreme. None of us here knows anything about that," Cas said with an irritable twitch of his shoulders. Sam had to stifle another laugh at his brother's face. Teach an angel sarcasm, you should be prepared for him to use it. "Believe me when I say that I, too, was furious at Maurice for his lack of forethought, and what his good intentions could have done to you. And Sam. He is learning now. But I cannot afford to destroy an ally. Not one who is fond of humanity, and would fight against it suffering from another apocalypse."
He held Dean's gaze for a long moment, before Dean gave in with poor grace and nodded. "Fine. Just keep him away from us."
"Of course, Dean. I would not want you hurt." His hand snaked around Dean's neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Sam's eyes bugged a little. It was one thing listening to it through the wall, but seeing his brother deepen the kiss, and now there was definitely tongue involved . . .
"I'm going to pack up our things, say my goodbyes to Libby," Sam said hurriedly. "You guys take your time."
Half an hour later, it was just the two of them, hitting the road with Libby's final two pies. Libby had smiled her dimple, and asked if he would be coming back. He had thanked her for everything, and kissed her, and said he never knew what the future held. He could still see her dimple in his mind's eye when they were ten miles down the road, heading southeast. He frowned.
"Dean? Where are we going?"
"Korean War Memorial, remember? I asked Cas if he wanted to meet us there."
Sam nodded thoughtfully.
"Uh, Sam? My eyes are on the road. Was that okay with you?" Dean's knuckles were white around the steering wheel and a flush was traveling up his neck. Their dad had been the same way, the few times Sam had seen him nervous. Sam tended to go bug-eyes and stammering when he was nervous. He wasn't sure which was worse.
"Sure it is, Dean. It's all okay with me."
"Good," Dean grunted. "Now none of that touchy-feely crap. How much you wanna bet you still wet your pants when you see the statues in broad daylight?"
Sam rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, a smile ghosting his lips.