Fic: Peanut Butter Pumpkin Wedding Cake, Part 3/3
Title: Peanut Butter-Pumpkin Wedding Cake
Author: sparseparsley
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Pairing: Total AU, Romantic Comedy, Dean/Cas
Summary: The good ones are sometimes assholes and always taken.
See Part 1 for extended headers and notes.
Part 3
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Dean's never been more grateful for his brother than he is the next day. Okay, maybe that time with the pickle and the Heimlich maneuver, but the point is, Sam rocks.
He hadn't pushed things last night when Dean insisted that, yes, he really didn't want to talk. It was nice, for a change, to be able to brood in peace. And the next day, it's Sam who irons their suits, Sam who calls ahead to double check the time they should be at the reception, Sam who packs up the last of what they need that evening. And, most importantly, it's Sam who lets Dean kick his ass at Mario Kart all afternoon. It's very cathartic. The classics always are.
So Dean's feeling, if not better, then at least okay when they head out the door before supper time. Apparently the wedding party will be doing some fancy dinner thing after the ceremony while people get everything ready at Cas', so the reception itself won't start until seven. They still need time to set up, though, so Dean aims to arrive around six. Or, Sam tells Dean to aim for around six. Whatever.
Jessica answers the door when they get there, looking excellently slinky in a sleeveless gold dress. She stares up at Sam (who Dean did not shove ahead of him to ring the doorbell, totally).
“Hi! Um. Hi. I'm Sam. And Dean. We're the bartenders?” Aww, Sammy likes her. His sentences always get all choppy when he likes someone. It's cute.
And apparently mutual, going by the blush on Jessica's cheeks. “Hi, it's nice to meet you. I mean, I met Dean, but it's nice to meet you.” Her eyes dart over to Dean. “Not that it wasn't nice to meet you, too! And again. Hello.”
Dean nods at her. “Hiya. Aren't you supposed to be not here? Nice dress, by the way.” He holds in a grunt as Sam kicks him in the leg. Bastard.
“Oh, thanks.” She's looking back up at Sam now, like she never stopped. “I volunteered to make sure everything gets done here. Plus they went to a seafood place and I get... rashy... when I... eat shellfish.” Her eyes widen and her whole sentence slows down near the end there, especially around the 'rashy' part. Dean can sympathize; sometimes you just can't stop talking, even when you know what horrible things are about to come out of your mouth.
Of course, Sam's too charmed to notice. “Oh that sucks. I get sick sometimes when I drink too much milk.”
They're both smiling at each other now, taking up most of the doorway. Dean smacks a hand to his brother's shoulder as he squeezes past. “Yeah, he's a nightmare when he gets gassy.” He grins wide at Jessica, who is clearly holding back a laugh. He can practically hear Sam fuming behind him as he makes his way to the kitchen.
They spend the next while counting bottles and cleaning glasses, making sure the champagne is ready to go for that first toast. They have a high table (a fancy, collapsible deal) set up on the deck out back, stocked with all they need for the most common drink requests. They have plenty of stuff for other drinks, but they'll have to come back to the kitchen to do those orders. People start arriving slowly but steadily, most of them milling around in the house for a bit and dropping off their gifts before going outside.
Sam is doing the small talk thing with one of them, something about the university, when Jessica bursts in looking excited. “They're almost here! Are you guys ready? Everybody gets a glass of champagne first, right?”
Dean feels his stomach drop while Sam answers her. Shit, Cas is almost here. Mister And Misses Ingalls. Or Ingalls-Milton, whatever they go with. Super. He sighs as Jessica leaves, moving up close to Sam. “Hey... uh... I'm gonna go check the car, make sure we didn't leave anything there.”
Sam's not fooled, but he gives Dean a sympathetic look and nods his head. “Sure. We're good here until we have to take all the champagne out. Take your time.”
*****
They had gotten here early, but still had that table to unload, so Jessica had been nice enough to let them park in the garage. Dean sits in the Impala there, windows down, listening to the sounds of people inside and feeling generally pathetic. Moping in his car because he doesn't want to see some guy he likes; might as well box up his dick and put it in one of those self-storage garages right now.
He turns sideways in the car, tossing a leg over the seat and leaning his head out the window. The door from the garage to the house is open, but so far no one's come this way.
Christ. What is wrong with him that he keeps falling for these people he can't have? That he shouldn't even want any way? There are lots of other men and women out there, and he's lucky enough to like it both ways, so he pretty much gets his pick. Like Pamela, a waitress at the strip club; she's nice and she's shown plenty of interest in him. But no, it's gotta be the unattainable ones. Maybe Sam's right. Not that he wants what he can't have, but that because he can't have something, that means it's okay to want it. Safe. Easy.
But fuck, this doesn't feel anything like easy.
The sound of vehicles pulling up outside freezes his thoughts for the moment. Freezes everything, really, before his heart jumps and starts beating double time when he hears the slamming of car doors.
He gives it another ten minutes, distracting himself by trying to remember all the words to 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. During the second run through of the 'mama mia' part, he can here an explosion of cheers from out back. The wedding party must have just made their grand entrance.
Shit.
It takes a minute to crawl out of the car and straighten his clothes, then he's inside and getting busy in the kitchen, trying to ignore the happy cheering outside. Sam must be out there, too, delivering the first glasses, so Dean takes up where it looks like he left off.
He's filling up a second tray of glasses when Sam comes in, looking... weird.
“You're back! Good. Come outside for a minute, there's something I want to show you.”
Dean frowns, accidentally spilling champagne onto one of the trays while he wonders what Sam wants. “Shit. What?”
Sam is still acting oddly. He looks like he does when he's trying to tell a joke and is afraid he'll laugh before he gets to the punchline. “Just come on, you'll like it, I promise.”
“What? I'm a little busy here. Take that other tray out.” Like Dean's going to like one damn thing he sees out there.
“Dean, come on!” Sam grabs him by the elbow now, and the corners of his mouth are actually fucking twitching.
“Fuck! What, Sam?” He doesn't give a damn how girly it sounds, he is not in the mood for this shit.
Sam looks a little stunned by his reaction, but the shock fades to contrition quickly. “Look, I'm sorry, I know you're upset, and I'm not trying to mess with you. Please just trust me for the next thirty seconds of your life and Come. Out. Side.”
Fine, whatever. He's gonna have to go out there at some point anyway. At least everyone will be distracted right now. He gives Sam a 'this better not be stupid' look and follows him out the back door.
It's beautiful out there. The wedding has a red and gold theme, and the setting sun makes everything glow. Little Christmas lights are strung around the yard, over the tables and through the archway he painted yesterday. A bunch of people are lined up to greet the bride and groom, and he can see Anna at the far end of the line, glowing in the dusky light. The part of his brain that's always thinking about sex pipes up with 'mmm, redhead, slinky dress' but the rest of him just kind of aches.
Sam is standing beside him, looking expectant. Apparently this is the world's cruelest game of I Spy.
He huffs a breath, getting ready to tell Sam where he can stick his games (hint: sun doesn't shine there), when Anna steps forward into someone's hug and...
“Who the hell is that?”
Dean's voice is too loud; the people closest to them turn to give him dirty looks, but he only has eyes for the man standing beside Anna. The short, bearded, nervous looking man in a blue suit. The man who's greeting people alongside her and just put his hand on her ass.
What the fuck?
Sam is full-on grinning now, practically bouncing on his toes. “That is Mister and Misses Chuck Shurley, just married.”
Dean's face won't work right. He can't make it stop twitching. His brain feels about the same way, trying to find some kind of purchase in whatever the fuck is going on here.
“And, according to the three people I asked to be sure,” Sam grabs Dean's chin in one big mitt, pushing his mouth closed before turning his head to the left a few inches, “that is Castiel Ingalls, Anna's half brother from her mother's first marriage.” He sounds triumphant and he probably looks annoyingly smug, but Dean wouldn't know.
Because it's Cas, standing off to the side, head bent in conversation with one of the reception guests. He looks fantastic, with his hair kinda wavy and sleek, wearing a black suit coat and what looks like a matching blue shirt and tie. Dean has to concentrate on how good he looks because his brain is still processing and can't pay attention to its higher functions at the moment.
Jesus Christ, Cas is Anna's brother!
Dean stares between the two, Anna then Cas then Anna then Cas. Anna catches him, seems to giggle a little at the sight of him with Sam's hand clamped to his chin. She waves. Dean waves back, numb.
Sam moves his hand to Dean's shoulder and steers him back into the kitchen. He sags against the island counter, staring at Sam.
“What the fuck?”
“Dude, I don't even know, I only had to ask one question to figure it out. It's barely even a thing to figure!” Sam is staring at him incredulously, arms spread in question.
“But... he...” C'mon, brain. Work! “He picked the cake flavor!” Dean remembers the conversation he'd walked in on then, the one about the person with no sense of taste. Oh. Maybe not just an anecdote then.
Sam shrugs. “I don't know. I'm not the one who's been dating him for a friggin' month.”
Suddenly there are about a billion questions running through Dean's brain. All the 'But what about's and 'Then why's running together into one giant question mark he can almost feel blinking above his head. A hundred little snippets of conversation are coming back to him, seen from a slightly different angle, and it's all completely overwhelming until one memory stops him cold.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit, Sam!”
“What?” Sam looks like he's expecting another bout of brotherly stupidity.
Dean is reliving the last conversation he had with Cas. Words like 'morals' and 'wrong' and 'Bible' ringing like gongs in his head. “Oh God, he thinks I'm some kind of closet case, homophobic, cock teasing asshole!”
“Wh...” Sam's brain skips merrily past the 'cock teasing' part, stuttering only slightly. “Why would he think you're homophobic?”
“Uh, last night...” Dean rubs a hand along the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“I thought you said nothing happened last night.”
“It didn't! Mostly. He kissed me.”
“And?”
“And what, you want me to describe his tongue? Ow!” Dean winces from the whack Sam gives his arm. “We kissed. I freaked out. He kicked me out. Possibly because I said some stupid shit that would sound even stupider from his side.”
Teetering between horror, sympathy, and outright laughter, Sam compromises with horrified laughter and big puppy eyes. “I seriously don't even know how this can be real life. It's like you should be Ben Stiller and he should be Renee Zellweger.”
“Fuck you, I'm at least twice as hot as Ben Stiller.” Dean smacks him back on principal, but he can feel a smile working its way out. This whole situation sucks, and he feels ten different kinds of idiotic, but it's just so... so inconceivable that he has to laugh. The ballooning relief, and the hope that Cas isn't completely untouchable, doesn't hurt either. It's almost like he lost a lung and only just got it back; there's more air in the world now.
“I'll take your word on that. So!” Sam's raised hand makes Dean flinch, but he only slaps it on Dean's shoulder and squeezes. “You should go talk to him.”
Right. Except, what's he supposed to say? Sorry, thought you were banging your sister? This whole month has been a lie but hey, wanna fuck? “I don't know.”
“You don't know? Are you kidding?” Sam gets a hand on his other shoulder and leans down to look him straight in the eye. “If I have to watch you wander around like a lovesick prom queen for one more day, I will stab myself. Okay? I'll go get him right now if you won't.”
“Okay! Okay.” Dean knocks both of Sam's hands away and holds his own up placatingly. “I'll do it. Just... when the time's right. I have to plan ahead here, he's not gonna want to talk to me.”
Sam points a finger at him and gives him a serious look, eyes intense. “You swear?”
“I swear. And hey, 'prom queen'? There's no call for that.”
Sam laughs as he picks up a tray of drinks, heading outside. “Yeah there was. But because I'm a good person, I wont say anything else for the next month. After that, all bets are off. I'm going to make fun of you for the rest of existence for this.”
*****
'The right time' comes surprisingly fast.
By luck (or Sam), Dean is the one who delivers the toasting champagne to the main table. It's not like he can say anything in front of all these people, but Dean still tries to catch Cas' eye as he sets the glass in front of him, needing to make some kind of connection now that he knows the truth. Cas barely looks at him, eyes moving up and back down at lightning speed, lips forming a soundless thank you. It's not encouraging.
He moves on, though, because despite the context, he had promised to be professional. It still takes him an uncomfortable minute to get away from the main table when Ed and Harry (Chuck's joint best men and best friends from the Internet) refuse to let him go. They flew in from LA and apparently they have a movie script that has the perfect part for Dean. They get as far as 'like Barbarella, but underwater' before Dean can escape and flee for his life.
Soon, the official introductions and first toasts are over, leaving a lull in activity. Dean's okay with that; it gives him time to think for a minute and make some plan of attack.
Or not, because Sam just loomed up out of fucking nowhere and is bodily shoving him into the house.
“Sam, what the hell?”
Sam is talking fast, and still shoving him through the house until they're at the base of the stairs. “They're using a guest bedroom as a coat room, he just took some jackets up, no one else is up there. Go.”
“But-” Dean has to hop up the first step to avoid falling on his face.
“Go.”
“I-” Step number two. Sam is fucking strong when he's pushy.
“Go, or I carry you.”
Dean stops talking, since it's not doing any good. Sam goes to push him again and he leaps up another two stairs, then turns and walks up the rest, sending a dirty look over his shoulder. Sasquatch bastard. He hears shuffling movement behind a door to his right. That has to be Cas. He shoves down the sick, hopeful twist in his belly before taking a deep breath, checking his hair, and opening the door.
Cas is facing away from him, arranging the pile of coats on the bed into some form of order. Or trying to, anyway. One pile keeps sliding over as he works on the one next to it. Dean clears his throat, and the polite smile on Cas' face falls as he turns and sees who's interrupting him.
“Dean.” It's that same flat voice again, with a hint of wariness underneath.
“Hey! Um.” He approaches Cas, stopping a few feet away, unsure. He'd prayed to anyone or anything that would listen that he wouldn't fuck this up, but face to face, whatever he planned to say flies out of his head. “I need to talk to you.”
Cas turns partly away from him, fiddling with the coats again. “I don't think that's wise.”
“Just for a second.” Dean lifts a hand, pleading.
“I don't think so. This...” Cas sets his eyes on the carpet for a long second before he seems to come to a decision. “Your problems are your own. I'm sorry, Dean.” Then he's moving, taking quick steps past and heading for the door.
Dean grabs at him, desperate, catching him around the elbow. “Don't! There is no problem, I-”
Cas speaks over him, voice tight and arm rigid where Dean holds him. “If you have have something to discuss with me about this evening, we can speak about it downstairs. If not, please excuse me.”
“No.” Dean's voice is firm; he has to get through to him. “This is all just a misunderstanding. Stay and-”
Dean can't hide his surprise when Cas tears his arm out of Dean's grip, mouth in an angry twist. “Do you have any idea how aggravating you are?” He walks away, thankfully not towards the door, and then paces back, hands fisted at his sides. “I assure you, I misunderstand nothing.”
He's close now, pushing into Dean's space and glaring up at him. It would be sexy if not for... hell, nothing, it is sexy. And unexpectedly intimidating. “I've spent enough of my life on people who don't know how to accept themselves. I don't care if you want to apologize, or discuss things, or if you came up here thinking, I don't know why, that we might have sex, I-”
He stops for a scant moment, not long enough, gaze moving over Dean like he's looking for guidance. His voice is softer when looks up again, but his eyes are hard. “You are... beautiful and warm and... there's clearly a great deal of love in you. But if you want to waste your youth hating yourself, then that's your choice. My choice is to not live that way. Not anymore. Now, will you let me be?”
Even now, with a giant neon sign screaming 'Here's your chance, dumbass!', it takes Dean a second to find himself. Those were a lot of words Cas just threw at him. Important words. “No, I won't, I-”
He can see Cas gathering himself up for more harsh words, hand raising in an angry gesture, so he raises his voice, talking fast. “I thought you were marrying your sister!”
The words land like a bomb of silence between them.
Cas' face does a complicated thing where it's trying to be five faces at once. His hand hangs in the small space between them, forgotten. “... What?”
Dean speaks slowly, making sure he's understood. “I thought you were Anna's fiancé, not her brother.”
Cas' face still hasn't decided what it wants to be yet. “Don't... why...”
It's taking a chance, but Dean covers Cas' raised hand with both his own, thumb rubbing at his knuckles. “I know I've been acting weird. Really weird. But I swear, that's why. That first night, at the bar? They said Anna's fiancé might show and then there you were and you guys were hugging and... she kissed you. I assumed things.”
“I remember. My cheek. She kissed my cheek.” Cas is bemused, and Dean's getting used to that head tilt he's doing. In time, he thinks he might be able to judge Cas' mood based entirely on the angle of his head.
“I thought she was being ladylike or something.” Dean has to smile at how Cas eyebrows raise at that. Because it looks funny, yes, but also because he can feel the tension starting to leech out of the room.
“But what about-” Questions are gathering up behind Cas' eyes.
Dean cuts him off before they can come out, squeezing his hand once and then letting go. “I don't know, I'm asking all the same questions here. But we can figure that stuff out later. Right now, I need- all that shit I said last night, it wasn't- I thought-” Suddenly, telling someone you thought they were a cheating dickhead doesn't seem like a well thought out plan.
Cas straightens up, full of sudden understanding. “You thought we were committing adultery.”
“Yes!” Dean smiles widely, the surge of relief making his words trip over each other. “Yes. I'm not some self-hating gay guy stuck in a closet. Or bi guy, whatever, doesn't matter. The point is, I'm not. Hell, Bobby sets me up with men! Big, scary men. I think one was a lumberjack. Like, an actual lumberjack.”
Cas makes a quiet noise at that. It could be a laugh. It's the best sound Dean's ever heard, but the pleasure fades as Cas' face goes somber again.
“Dean...” Cas takes a slow breath. “This is good news. Strange, yet good. But... there are things I would've made clear if this had progressed like a normal relationship.”
That doesn't sound good at all. “Like what?”
“I'm not... interested in the short term. The purely physical. I want you.” He stops here, gaze moving over Dean's body like it had in the tailors. Caressing. “That's no question. But I want something more serious than that. Something greater. This... I usually mention this very early in a possible relationship but you were so... changing. I could never tell if you really wanted to pursue this or not.”
Dean crosses his arms over his chest, looking contemplative. “You lose a lot of 'possibles' with that speech, don't you?”
Cas laughs again, though it's a little darker this time, more self-deprecating. “Yes. They don't often share my commitment.”
Dean doesn't speak for a long moment. It's really way too soon to be saying what he's thinking about saying. But then, not saying shit is what got him here in the first place. He takes a steadying breath and uncrosses his arms, laying his hands lightly on Cas' shoulders. “Cas, look.” May as well go for broke, here. “The last time I felt like this about someone, I asked her to marry me six months later. How's that work for serious?”
Cas' head draws back in amazement, eyebrows up. “Oh!”
“Yeah.” Dean lowers his head, memories swirling. “I mean, it didn't happen. She wasn't as into me as I was into her, or she was into someone else more, but- whatever, doesn't matter. I just want you to-”
The feel of fingers stops Dean short, and he looks up as Cas wraps gentle hands around his wrists. Cas' voice is quiet. “It matters.” The light squeeze and compassion in his eyes make Dean swallow down some heavy emotion. “Thank you.” It's simple, and it's everything Dean needs to hear right now.
“So...” Dean is rubbing his thumbs against' Cas' shoulders, tracing the bone underneath. He gives Cas a questioning smile. “We're good?”
Cas is smiling back, open and warm. “It seems so.” His eyes glance down just a few inches and Dean wets his lips in response. He's still staring at Dean's mouth when he speaks, eyes bright with focus. “I know I didn't ask the last time, maybe if I had we would have known about your misconception earlier, but... can I kiss you?”
That's quite possibly the dumbest question Dean's ever heard. He's nodding his head before it's even finished. “God, yes.”
Cas leans forward, angling his head. Dean closes his eyes at the last second, inhaling sharply and catching a quick scent of something sweetly spicy before every sense he has takes a backseat to 'touch'. The press of lips to his is gentle, just light pressure at first. Cas' lips are dry and soft, pliable as Dean starts moving his own mouth against them. It's short, but it's the sweetest kiss Dean can remember. Granted, his memory might be unreliable right now.
They pull apart, not far, and Dean takes the moment to twist his wrists away and take Cas' hands, pulling them forward to settle low on his neck. Cas takes the hint, slipping one hand further around to cup the back of his head. Their mouths come together again, and then again; short, teasing kisses with only the barest press of tongues.
He brushes a hand down Cas' body, slipping it inside his open jacket and around, palm rubbing slow circles against his back. Cas presses closer to him, both hands behind his neck now, fingers scratching wonderfully at the nape of his neck.
Everything gets a little faster when they press together, a little dirtier. Dean pushes past Cas' lips, licking at his mouth. Then Cas sucks on his tongue and Dean's body goes from 'this is really nice' to 'sex, now' in about a nanosecond. He groans gutturally and starts tugging at the back of Cas' shirt, trying to pull it up. He needs skin under his fingers right fucking now.
“Dean.” Cas pulls his mouth away, so Dean just kisses at whatever is closest. An ear, it turns out. “Dean, stop.”
He would, but the shirt is finally free and his hands are on bare flesh now, the skin of Cas' lower back smooth and enticing.
“Dean.” Cas digs a hand into his hair and pulls Dean away, fixing him with a look. “I am not going to have sex in the coat room at my sister's wedding.”
Dean grins, as dirty as he can. “You started it. And the bed's right there.”
Cas is shaking his head ruefully as he fishes Dean's hand out from behind him. “I did. But I'm still not having sex in the coat room at my sister's wedding. And definitely not on the coats.” He sighs with regret. “There are things I have to get back to downstairs.”
“Yeah, and so do you, Dean. Unless you want to give me your half of the paycheck.” The voice comes from behind them, irritatingly nosy.
Dean twists his head back to check the doorway and, yep, there's Sam. He turns back and leans his head against Cas' shoulder, groaning in frustration. “Cas, meet my asshole brother Sam. Asshole, Cas.”
“Nice. And we met on the phone, remember?” Sam rolls his eyes at him before smiling at Cas. “Hi. Congratulations on not being a cheating bastard.”
Cas disentangles himself from Dean before nodding his head solemnly at Sam. “Thank you. I apologize for keeping your brother so long.”
It's vindictively satisfying to see Sam shift in discomfort, awkward and guilty at the apology. Dean's pretty sure Cas is just playing with him, though. He has a good sense of humor when you know where to look for it. He suppresses a noise of disappointment as Cas tucks his shirt back in and straightens his tie. “This is your house, you know. You don't have to listen to him just because he's huge and does the sad-eyes.”
“Granted, but I do have a busy evening still. And so do you.” Cas waits for Sam to move out of the doorway before he leaves the guest room, looking back to give Dean a quiet smile. “We'll talk later.”
They'll make sounds with their mouths later, if Dean has anything to do with it, but he's not sure it could be defined as 'talking'. Dean waits until he can hear Cas walking down the stairs before he shoves Sam hard in the shoulder, whispering roughly.
“I can't believe you cock blocked me!”
“Locks, Dean! Doors have locks!”
*****
Dean's not useful for anything after that, beyond staring at Cas and laughing at Sam's irritation. Oh sure, he pours drinks, but Sam has to fix way too many mistakes and suffer the indignity of getting vodka poured on his shoe twice. Dean's surprised his brother hasn't developed a noticeable twitch by the time the speeches are through. Not that Dean pays much attention to any speech besides Cas'.
It's the usual stuff, 'I love my sister', 'heartwarming childhood tale', 'you're a good man, Chuck, but hurt her and they'll never find the body'. Of course all this is said more Cas-like, but the basic ideas are always the same. Dean watches mostly to enjoy the sight of Cas with his hair kind of mussed, knowing how it got that way. He gives him a wink when Cas glances his way and tries not to grin at the quick stutter in the speech.
Dean is uncapping a few beers later on, after the first dances, when Sam elbows him sharply in the side. “Here comes your sex toy.” Dean gives him a confused and slightly disgusted look before checking out whatever he's pointing at. He was expecting Cas, because Sam is a total perv, no matter how much he denies it, but what he gets is almost as good.
“Hey! The cake!”
Jessica and Meg are carrying it out. It's kind of square and not that big, with gold ribbons on top that are probably edible, but not something you'd really want to eat. Pretty cool looking, still. Dean has no idea where they hid it, because it definitely wasn't in the kitchen. He's not sure he could have resisted if it had been.
He licks his lips unconsciously. “You think there'll be any leftovers?'
“You can't have their cake. Jesus, Dean!”
“What? I was only wondering.”
He's still disappointed when the whole thing disappears after the cutting, and apparently not hiding it well since Sam gives him a teasing pout when he catches Dean eying the empty platter. Ass.
But then there's Cas walking up like a hero out of the mists, carrying two full plates and with two forks sticking out of his pocket. He only has enough time to drop off the cake and give Dean a quick smile and a 'you're welcome' before he has to go again, something about more official dances. Sam makes a pouty face at him again, and narrowly avoids a fork to the thigh. Dean seriously considers keeping both pieces for himself - it's just as peanuty pumpkiny fantastic as he remembers - but sometimes family means sacrifice. Sam pronounces the cake 'okay' and nearly gets a fork to the leg again.
*****
The end of the night comes up fast. There's dancing and toasts and more dancing and then all of a sudden it's Anna and Chuck's big Last Dance before they go. Apparently they're spending the night in a fancy hotel room and coming back tomorrow to open the gifts that are spread out like a pastel, ribbony lake in Cas' living room.
They do a little thank-you speech after the dance; Anna cries and Chuck kisses her, and huh, they're really a cute couple. They also stop by to personally thank Sam and Dean. This turns out to be one of the highlights of the night because Sam loses his fucking mind when he gets a close look at Chuck and flips out like a twelve year old girl. Chuck, when he's beardless, is also known as Carver Edlund, author of the Black Expanse series, and “Oh my God, the best writer ever!” according to Sam. Dean does his best to pretend that he's never met his brother before in his life, and gives Anna and Chuck an awkward 'can't take him anywhere' smile when Sam runs off to find something for Chuck to sign.
At least Dean will have something to throw back at Sam next month, when the epic teasing begins.
Chuck is pretty eager to leave the party after that. Not that Dean can blame him; 6 plus foot of fanboy bearing down on you would make anyone want to flee the area. So he and Anna get out while they can, and then there's nothing left but the clean-up.
Well, it's clean-up for Sam. For Dean it's mostly watching Cas bend and flex while moving chairs and then, when Cas disappears into the house, it's thinking about him bending and flexing. Sam lasts about ten minutes before he drops the box he's moving (“Dude! Glass!) and gives Dean an exasperated look.
“Oh my God, just go!”
Dean blinks and looks down at the bottle he's measuring. It looks strangely like the three before that and, okay, he's really not getting anything done here. “Uh... sorry.”
“No, really, go. You're making more work than you're doing, I'll finish this and pick you up in the morning.”
“Seriously?”
“Please. Besides... uh.” A light blush fills Sam's cheeks. “I told Jessica I could probably give her a ride home.”
Oh really? Looks like Sammy's been busier than he thought. “Nice!” He pokes Sam hard in the chest. “No sex in the car, remember! I don't want to be dealing with your mysterious stains.”
“You're disgusting.”
“Totally!” Dean drags his brother down by the ears and lays a noisy, embarrassing kiss on his cheek. Excitement and anticipation might be making him a little goofy. “But you love me anyway. Have fun!”
He passes by Sarah on his way in, who must have seen that because she's giggling like a schoolgirl, and his last sight before going inside is Sam wiping at his cheek, shaking his head in disgust. Ha.
*****
Cas isn't anywhere downstairs, forcing Dean to ask the only familiar person he can see down here.
Uriel smiles knowingly. “Why, are you ready for your 'grand tour' now?”
Dean sighs. The shit he does for... uh... close, personal relationships. “I just need to talk to him.”
“Mmhm.” Uriel is already turning away dismissively, full of smug sureness. “He's upstairs. I'll make sure no one 'disturbs' you.”
Hey, that was less like pulling teeth than Dean had feared, maybe the guy is less of a bastard than he thought. He hurries up the stairs but stops partway down the hallway, suddenly uncertain. Cas hadn't technically invited him to stay tonight. 'We'll talk later' could mean all sorts of things, up to and including just talking at a later date. Shit. Well, it's not like he could come on stronger than he already has tonight, so what the hell.
There's an open door further down the hall, which turns out to be Cas' bedroom. Cas may be in there, but Dean's not sure yet, because he's having another 'shiny oven' moment with the awe-inspiring, gigantic bed sitting against the opposite wall. It's huge, with a heavy looking frame of dark wood, and it has to be a King, wider than it is long. Dean's brain makes noises that have no relation to human language.
“Dean?”
Oh look, Cas is here, standing by the closet in his shirt sleeves. “Hi... uh... nice bed?”
Cas glances at it, biting his lower lip. “Another indulgence. It's ridiculous, I know.”
“Oh, no. No, no. You should-” Dean moves around the bed to stand beside him, still staring in wonder. “You should indulge as often as humanly possible.”
Cas nods his head. “Tempting. I'm sorry if you were looking for me downstairs, I was just hanging my jacket up.”
“Damn, I was sort of planning on doing that myself.” It takes Dean's bed-addled brain a second to hear what he just said and he twitches a look to Cas. “Uh. Not planning. More considering? I'm not making any assumptions here.”
Cas gives him a small, straightforward smile. “Would you like to spend the night with me?”
There could be countless funny little answers to that ('Duh', 'Is water wet?' 'How 'bout the next year.') but Dean can only think of one answer that's good enough. “Yes.”
Cas is turning out to be a huge tease, though, as a frown crosses his face and he moves towards the door. “I should help them finish up downstairs, though, first.”
Dean takes him by the elbow, the same way he had earlier, and pulls him back around. “They're your friends, I think they got it. Stay?”
Cas stands close as he comes to a decision, putting a hand flat to Dean's chest. “Yes.”
Cas goes for the door again and Dean barely has a chance to be confused before he hears the click of the lock. Clever man. Cas stops with his hand on the door, looking back at Dean. He almost looks demure with the way his head is turned to look over his shoulder. Dean's pulse picks up speed and, without any input from him, his legs carry him over, turning Cas around and crowding him against the door.
They kiss, and Dean wraps his hands over Cas' shoulders, kneading at them while they take time exploring each other's mouths. Cas works at undoing the buttons of Dean's jacket and when he's done, Dean stays as firmly attached to Cas' mouth as he can while he drops his jacket on the floor, leaving it where it falls.
When his arms are free again, he wraps his hands around the back of Cas' neck, fingers laced together. They pull apart finally, Cas gasping for breath and Dean not much better. “Sorry. I know you said you'd be right back, but I couldn't wait.” Dean grins, lopsided, and offers up his chest to Cas' narrow fingers as they undo his vest.
“That was probably wise, you have a large number of layers to take off.” Cas is intent on his work, fingers deft and gaze focused.
“Whatever, you like it.” Dean cards his fingers through soft hair as Cas finishes, reluctantly letting go to let Cas push the next layer off him. He feels fingers tickling at his throat, a tug, and then Cas is staring in bewilderment at the clip-on bow tie in his hand. Cas looks at Dean, and Dean looks at Cas, and they both look at the tie again before Dean takes it away and drops it on the rest of his clothes on the floor. “Not a word.”
Cas bites at his bottom lip, holding in a smile.“Never.”
“Give me your hands.” Cas obliges him as he opens the other man's shirt cuffs. He brings one hand to his lips when he's done, mouthing at the narrow wrist that's fascinated him since they first met. Teeth drag over the pale skin and Cas shudders, pushing closer to him.
Cas is breathless when he speaks. “The bed is right there behind you, you know.”
Dean laughs. “Smartass. Come on, then.” He wraps the end of Cas' long tie in his fist and walks backward, giving Cas no choice but to follow him.
When they reach the bed, Cas wraps his own hand just above Dean's around the tie. “This is not a leash.”
Dean contemplates their joint grip. “Kinda looks like one. How 'bout this.” He tugs once, pulling Cas a few inches closer. “Speak.” Cas opens his mouth but Dean goes on, leaning back. “No, wait.” He tugs harder this time, pulling Cas flush against him as he holds them up from the bed. Teeth bared, he lifts his face close to Cas. “Heel.”
Cas honest-to-God growls and mashes his mouth against Dean's, kissing him hard. He must like a little manhandling. His fingers are clumsier now as they open Dean's shirt and he's grinding his whole body against Dean's in a rolling wave. The drag of cloth against cloth feels fantastic and he can feel the hardness of Cas' cock moving against his own. Dean groans, shifting his legs apart.
“Take it off.” Cas speaks low and gruff, and Dean makes a questioning noise against his lips. Cas answers between the wet presses of his mouth. “My tie. Take it off.”
Dean doesn't need to be asked twice, loosening the knot and pulling the narrow strip of fabric through Cas' collar in one slow slither. He drops it on the bed and leans back on his elbows, quirking an eyebrow. “Do you wanna move up the bed a little more or are we gonna do this here?”
Cas leans forward to bite at his chin. “I'm not stopping you.”
“True.” Dean pushes him away to give himself some room before he undresses down to his pants and turns around, crawling onto the bed quickly. There's no elegant way to do this, especially on a bed this size, so he figures fast is the next best choice. He flips over when he gets there, leaning back against the pillows and giving Cas a smug look. “Coming?”
Cas just laughs and shakes his head before he kicks off his own shoes and socks and follows, crawling towards Dean, eyes never leaving him. And no, it's not elegant but fuck is it ever hot. Dean licks his lips in anticipation as Cas crawls over his body, knees straddling his thighs. Cas stops before he's close enough to kiss and slides one hand over Dean's chest, fingers wide and pressing. He leans down and presses his mouth to Dean's stomach. The muscles there jump in pleasure as Cas sucks and bites his way up.
“Oh fuck...” Dean's eyes roll back and he arches up as Cas reaches a nipple, teeth gentle but definitely there. “Oh, fuck yeah.”
“You like that?” Cas asks, and Dean thinks it's just dirty talk before he catches the look in Cas' eyes. He's really asking, and Dean remembers how new they are to each other despite how easy this has been so far.
“Oh, yeah. That whole- mm!” Dean moans behind his lips as Cas sucks hard at one nipple, fingers finally finding their way up to tease the other. “That whole area is good, yeah.” Dean lays his fingers over the ones pinching at his nipple, showing Cas the harder pressure that he likes. “You?”
Cas pulls away with another wet slurp, eyes glazed with want as he looks up Dean's body. “I'm not as enthusiastic as you, but I like it enough.” He lowers his head again, teeth getting bolder as they tug at Dean's sensitized skin. Dean's hips jerk up, trying to find something, anything to press against.
It takes Dean a second to gather his thoughts. “So what are you enthusiastic about?”
Cas replaces his mouth with his hand, both thumbs now rubbing firm circles over Dean's nipples. The sensations travel straight to his dick and he's so hard it hurts. He growls as Cas sits up and contemplates the question, weight trapping Dean's thighs.
“My hands, I think. I have very sensitive fingers.” He seems a little hesitant, despite the direct answer, so Dean distracts him by reaching out to undo his shirt buttons. “Or... or my neck. I like that as well.”
“Cool.” Dean grabs the two open sides of his shirt and pulls him down, clamping his mouth to the pulse point under Cas' jaw and sucking hard. Cas lets out a pained sounding groan as his hips stutter and grind against Dean's. Ohh yeah, that was a good move. Dean wraps his arms around Cas, hands pulling his shirt loose and shoving it up to drag his nails lightly over Cas' back. He adds a little teeth to the equation and then Cas' hips are finding a real rhythm, his cloth-covered hardness finding that perfect spot to ride alongside Dean's own cock. Dean shoves up in time with every breathy grunt Cas gives, hard and aching and then he's suddenly close, actually fucking close to coming from a little grinding foreplay. It's embarrassing, really.
He drags his hands down to Cas' hips, trying to still the movement.“Okay, okay, we gotta- fuck! Gotta move this along, or I'm gonna come in my pants.”
Cas' thrusting movements come to a stop and he lifts himself reluctantly, shrugging off his shirt. It sticks to the sweat beading at his back. “We could have washed them.” He smiles at Dean's huff of laughter. “But if you insist. Where, exactly, are we moving this along to?”
“Uh.” Dean rests his hands at Cas' hips, thumbing the sharp bones there. “You know. I'm willing if you are. Oh, wait.” Dean squeezes his eyes shut with a wince. “But I don't have any stuff. Condoms or anything. I wasn't really expecting... uh, you.”
“I'm very willing, and what we need is in the table on the right.” Dean relaxes with Cas' reassurances, palms caressing up his sides. Cas sucks in a shuddering breath before he lifts himself away, knee-walking to the side of the bed and stretching over to the drawer to get everything. Goddamn, this is one huge bed, it's like everything is five feet away from everything else.
Dean follows, flipping himself over and pulling himself along Cas' outstretched body; feet, calves, thighs, hips and then he's pulling Cas up against him, both on their knees. He wraps his arms around Cas, one snaking under his arm to rest a palm against his opposite shoulder, the other slipping low and filthy, the heel of his hand dragging down over Cas' cock.
Cas groans long and rough, dropping a tube and a small foil pack forgotten between his knees. “Dean!”
Dean moves Cas' head aside with his own and nips at the skin under his ear. “Yeah, I've got you. Wanna fuck me?”
Cas' whole body jumps at that, and his head falls back against Dean's shoulder. “Please.”
It's fast work after that to get Cas flat on the bed, pants open and off. Dean moves back up his body, hands trailing and tickling over hairy thighs, before stopping over his groin. “Nice.” He eyes the tented boxer shorts. The purple, silk boxer shorts. Cas gives him a dirty look that morphs into a dirtier groan as Dean leans down and mouths the head of his cock through the damp material. His hips jerk up and Dean squeezes his thighs hard to keep him still.
“Just a sec.” Dean peels Cas' underwear off quickly before kicking off his own pants and shorts. The foil packet tears open easy and then he's rolling the condom down over Cas' cock, giving it a few firm strokes when he'd done. It's hot and firm in his hand and Cas is gasping in relief at the touch. God, it's going to feel great.
Naked, he straddles Cas' hips. He doesn't have long to admire the long contours of the body underneath him or feel the hot, hard line pressing up against his ass before Cas' hand finds his cock. His head tips back as he groans in pleasure. “Oh yeah...”
It's almost torturous how slowly Cas touches him at first, fist twisting around the head, spreading slick pre-come. Dean tries to thrust up into his hand, but Cas just follows the movements, his other hand low on Dean's side, nails teasing.
Dean grabs the little tube sitting beside them, emptying a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He keeps his eyes on Cas as he leans back, one hand on Cas' leg to steady himself and the other pressing two wet fingers against his ass.
Cas is panting in lust as his gaze moves from Dean's cock to his face to the arm disappearing behind him, but Dean waits until they lock eyes again before he presses his fingers inside. It's a quick, stretching burn that makes his body tense up and pushes a harsh cry from his lips. Cas' answering groan sounds almost as tense as his fist tightens over Dean's cock.
Dean is breathing fast, the combined pleasure of Cas' hand and his own fingers driving him to push in harder and thrust up against Cas' grip. Cas is staring up at him, open mouthed, completely overtaken with the sight of Dean fingering himself open. Dean can feel the lift of Cas hips, the insistent jut of his cock as it rides the hot space behind Dean's balls.
It doesn't take long to get himself ready, or as ready as he needs to be. It'll hurt some, sure, but he knows it's going to be good after that. The switch from pain to pleasure is almost his favorite part. Cas' hands at his waist stop him as he lifts to reposition himself. “That can't have been long enough.” Cas sounds fantastic, his voice rough and low and unbelievably fuckable.
“I'm good, I'm good.” Dean swallows hard as he reaches behind himself, moving the head of Cas cock into position. “I promise.” He lets his other hand cover Cas' on his waist, warm and reassuring. Then it's just a deep breath and a shift down and-
Shit, fuck, yes!
-and then Cas is inside him. Oh it's good, the burn, the fullness. He's pulling in loud breaths as he tries to relax, needing more.
Cas digs his nails in at Dean's sides with one long, gruff moan. His hips stutter up, and Dean leans forward, holding himself up with a hand on the bed and one against Cas' chest. “Gimme a second, it's good, it's really good, just a second.”
Cas is nodding, staring up at him wide-eyed. “Yes, Dean, please, please.” There's shuddering desperation in Cas' voice and Dean can feel the pounding heartbeat under his hand.
Dean pushes down a few more inches, grunting, fingers digging into the covers. Jesus, Cas is still begging him in that broken gravel voice and that's all Dean needs to keep going, to take him all the way in. It's too fucking much for a second, the long stretch of it is blinding him, has him tossing his head back, stopping his lungs.
Everything goes still except for the tremors of their bodies and Cas' nearly silent whimpers. Then, like a man coming up for air, Dean gasps a breath and the world starts moving again.
Still catching his breath, Dean starts rocking up and down in small movements that barely lift him away from Cas at all. Cas' hands are all over him now, clutching at his hips, running up his chest and sliding over his neck, his jaw, his mouth, like they can't keep still. Dean shifts himself back to an upright position, shuddering at the change of angle, and grabs one of Cas' hands to pull it to his mouth. He licks at Cas' palm, as wet as he can, sucks at Cas' fingers as he rocks himself up further, faster.
Cas is giving short little grunting moans with every breath now, eyes dark and almost sightless as he slides his fingers into Dean's mouth, matching the rhythm below. When he decides it's wet enough, Dean pushes Cas' hand down and wraps it around his cock. “C'mon, c'mon, touch me, just like this.”
Cas moves his hand at the speed Dean sets, spit-slick palm sliding gloriously. He's up on one elbow now, watching Dean move on top of him.
Dean sets a fast pace. Not that he wants this over quickly, it's just... he waited a long time for this and now that he has it, he's taking. He can feel it when Cas puts his heels into the bed and really starts to thrust up into him, the hard thud of their flesh meeting making his whole body shake. The rougher motion pushes him further in Cas' fist and it's perfect, fucked from behind and grinding into Cas' hand in front.
He leans forward again, trying to give Cas more space to move in, and that's just fucking right. The angle is exactly what he needs to get Cas' cock hitting the right spot on every thrust. He lays his forehead against Cas' chest, sweat-damp hair sticking, and begs with no idea what he's even saying.
“Dean, I can't- this angle- you have to-” Cas is breathless, he can barely get the words out. “Dean, touch yourself for me.” Dean hadn't even realized that Cas' hand was gone from his cock. He's right, though; he can't get a proper grip they way they're lying. Dean leans more of his weight on Cas' chest, cheek pressed against his shoulder, and slides an arm between them, gripping himself tight.
It's actually better this way. Cas can get both arms around him and really fucking give it to him, grinding against that sweet spot. Dean is close in no time, shaking and biting into Cas' shoulder, stroking his cock with rough abandon.
“Cas, Jesus fuck, Cas!”
And then, holy hell, Cas has him by the hair and is pulling, lifting him up. “Let me see it, I want to see it.” God, it's like stars bursting behind his eyes and Dean barely has the presence of mind to get his free arm against the bed and shove up. Cas stares down at where their bodies join, still thrusting hard into him as he watches Dean's hand fly over his own flushed cock.
Dean cries out roughly, making Cas tighten the grip in his hair and that's it, that does it. Dean feels his balls twitch and tighten and then a blazing, wild rush and he's coming all over his hand and Cas' stomach. He's quaking and gasping, shoving himself down hard on Cas' cock, trying to milk every sensation he can out of this.
The world spins and he's on his back, still shaking with the aftershocks. Cas is above him, somehow still inside him, hitching Dean's legs up around his own hips and moving deep inside him. Cas is just gone, shoving Dean against the bed, hands clamped to his hips. He's whimpering harshly with every breath, lips forming Dean's name.
Dean spreads his arms wide on the bed and just takes it, every push making his aching cock twitch in response. He wraps his legs up higher around Cas, changing the angle, and Cas cries out. Then Cas is on him, leaning down chest to chest, forcing Dean's legs wider as he shoves his hands under Dean's shoulders, grasping them from behind. Dean can feel the sticky drag of his own come as Castiel's stomach slides against his. He almost wishes he hadn't come, because this position would have done it for sure, maybe even without help. Cas is over him, all around him, sweating and moaning and holding him tightly, rutting into him, totally lost, and Dean wishes he could be there with him.
He doesn't have long to wish, though, as Cas' arms suddenly become a vice around his shoulders. He can feel Cas' mouth wide and gasping against his throat as he comes. He's deep, cock pressed in as far as he can go, tilting Dean's ass right off the bed with less thrusting and more just a grinding flex of hips.
When it's over, Cas slumps against him, body going loose and boneless. Dean lets his legs flop down on the bed. Things are quiet for a moment as they bask in the afterglow, the slow evening-out of their panting breaths the only sound.
Eventually Dean musters up the energy to drag a hand in and pet slow strokes down Cas' spine. “Hey... right there with you, but we're gonna be shellacked together if you stay there much longer.” He keeps his voice low, trying to sustain the quiet atmosphere as long as possible.
Cas stirs, lifting his head. God, he looks - and Dean will deny thinking this with his dying breath - but he looks adorable. Wide eyes full of a confused haze, face flushed pink, and his hair totally beyond repair, just a pile of fluffy brown going in every possible direction. Dean can't suppress a goofy smile.
“Oh.” Cas seems to remember where he is finally, lifting himself up on all fours and pulling out of Dean with a shiver. “Sorry.”
He starts moving down the bed, moving away for some stupid reason, before Dean stops him with a look. “Where the hell are you going?”
Cas tilts his head, questioning. “I...” On all fours like that, he looks disturbingly like a puppy.
“We're not done with the after part, yet. Get your surprisingly strong ass back here.”
Cas laughs quietly, moving back up to lie at Dean's side, face and shoulder on his chest. Dean can feel the damp touch of a softened cock on his thigh and it's not as gross as he usually finds that. It's... nice, really. Intimate. He wraps an arm around Cas' shoulder, loose and relaxed.
Cas lays a hand on his chest, fingers toying with his chest hair. “Surprisingly strong? You will be alright, won't you?”
Dean buries a laugh in Cas' hair. “Yeah. I like it when I can feel it the next day. Nice move with the hair pulling, by the way.”
The hand on his chest pauses for a moment as Cas clears his throat. “Well... you enjoyed the biting, so I... extrapolated.”
“Mm, yeah, talk dirty to me.” Dean can feel Cas shaking his head, hair tickling his chin. He smiles to himself and tugs Cas closer. “So, I can stay, right?”
There's no hesitation or tension at all in Cas' smaller frame, just sleepy acceptance.“Of course.”
Of course. Dean likes the sound of that.
The last thing he's conscious of, after they clean up and crawl under the rumpled covers, is the gentle press of Cas' lips to his forehead. He goes to sleep with a smile on his face.
*****
Dean wakes up the next morning with that special brand of confusion that comes with strange beds in unfamiliar rooms. He's on his side, with and arm curled around the warm body in front of him, and then it all comes back to him. He makes a croaky noise of surprise, warming with pleasure at the memories.
Cas shifts with the noise, turning on his back. He blinks his eyes open slowly and squints at Dean. “Hello.” His voice is rough with sleep.
“G'morning.” Dean lifts himself up on one elbow.
Cas is still blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Morning.”
Dean laughs. “Takes you a little while to get up to speed in the mornings, huh?” He has about two seconds to notice Cas' wandering hand before he feels a sharp pinch on his ass cheek. “Ow! Oh, that's it.” Grinning, he holds Cas down by the shoulders and lays a deep kiss on him.
They're both making identical grimaces when he pulls back. Yeah, morning breath, not good. “Geh... okay, lets come back to that. You don't have a spare toothbrush, do you?”
Cas nods up at him. “Several. Dental hygiene is important.”
Dean lies back on the bed, snuggling down into his pillow with his hands behind his head. “Yes it is. So... “ He stops for a cracking yawn. “What do you write, anyway?”
Cas shifts closer to him, head nuzzling against his upper arm. “Theology textbooks and essays on spirituality. And a cookbook, once.”
Dean raises his eyebrows. “Heavy stuff. Well, not the cookbook, I guess.”
“It was quite stout as well. I know many recipes.”
Heaving a theatrical sigh, Dean smacks Cas lightly on the back of the head. “You really are a smartass, y-” He interrupts himself, turning an ear to the door. “Is that...” Then he's sure; it's the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Fast. “I think somebody's-”
There's a knock at the door, more of a light scraping, really, and a voice stage-whispering from the other side. “Cas... Cas... Castiel!” It's hard to tell, but Dean thinks it's female. He looks over at Cas, who seems just as confused as he is.
“Cas, wake up!”
Cas blinks, taken aback, and calls out. “Anna?”
The door opens, and Dean clutches the blanket over his chest, feeling a little ridiculous. He sees a shock of red hair and hears a gasp and then Anna is right in the room, closing the door softly behind her. Dean stares at her open-mouthed. What the fuck?
“Anna, what... “Cas looks like he doesn't even know how to finish that sentence, brow furrowed in astonishment.
“What are you doing!” Anna is staring at them both in horror, hand covering her mouth as her voice raises on the last word. She looks back towards the door, distressed.
Cas is up on his elbows now, starting to look worried as well. And a little irritated. “I thought it would be fairly apparent. Anna, what is going on?”
She's glaring at them now; well, mostly at Cas. “I can't believe you'd do this, you know better! And you!” She turns to Dean, pointing a finger at him. He sinks back against the headboard, wondering how scared he should be of the crazy newlywed. “Shame on you!”
He'd be insulted if he knew what the fuck he was catching hell for. She doesn't even look embarrassed to be in the same room as her naked brother and the naked guy her naked brother fucked last night. It's really weirding Dean out.
“Anna, please. Can you just explain-”
“His boyfriend's right downstairs! Looking for him!”
Wait, what?
Dean's mouth hangs open for a moment, processing. “My what? I don't-” He turns to Cas, suddenly serious. “I don't have a boyfriend, I swear. Or a girlfriend.”
Cas nods and turns back to his sister, raising his eyebrows and waiting for an answer.
“He... yes you do, he was your partner at the reception!”
Oh for Christ's sake, again? Dean winces, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, that's my brother.”
“But you...” She tilts her head to the side, bewildered, and Dean is acutely reminded of her brother. He wishes he'd caught that bit of family resemblance back at the bachelor party. “Sarah saw you kissing!”
“Uh. Yeah, but...” That's technically true, yes. “I was just messing with him. Really. Brother.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas bury himself back under the blankets. Dean doesn't blame him a bit; he wishes he could hide too.
“Oh.” Anna's voice is small and embarrassed. “Oh! Oh God, I'm so sorry! I'll go. And tell him you'll be down... um, soon?” With another distressed wince, she's out the door like a shot, face nearly as red as her hair.
Dean slumps back on the bed with a sigh. He feels for her, he really does. He's been in her shoes fairly recently, but it's hard to be empathetic at stupid o'clock on the morning. And what the hell is Sam doing here any way? It can't be past eight. Or, oh wow, ten thirty according to the alarm clock. Oops.
He turns to say that they really should get up, and that's when he notices the sound coming from the lump of blankets that is Cas' side of the bed. It's kind of a snorty whimper, accompanied by a strange wriggling of the blankets. Dean grabs a handful of the cover and pulls it away.
And yeah, the little bastard is laughing, breathy giggles that he's trying to hind behind his hands. As soon as he sees Dean's face, he looses it completely, coughing up loud bursts of laughter, the kind that makes tears spring up in your eyes. He clamps both hands to his mouth again in an effort to stop it, but that only makes it worse. His eyes are shining with it.
“Oh, you think this is amusing?” Dean glowers at him.
Cas shakes his head but he's laughing even harder at that, curling towards Dean and burying his face in his chest while he gasps for air.
Dean wraps an arm around him. “It's not that funny!” He breaks up on the last word though, laughing into his pillow. He can't help it, he's not sure anyone could with Cas, who he's never seen more than snicker, laughing like a loon in their arms.
Cas pulls away soon, wiping at his eyes and laying back against the bed. “Oh, oh, I'm sorry, Dean.” Another chuckle takes him. “I am. I just... I think I've seen this movie, and it was quite bad.”
Dean doesn't have an answer right away, because Cas is smiling up at him and he remembers that smile. It's the same one he saw that first night, the one Cas gave Anna that had him convinced they were the love of each other's lives. Except it's even better this time, gums and all. It's his.
Dean smiles back. “I'm still prettier than Ben Stiller, though, right?”
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NOTE (August 2011): Okay so I've missed replying to a lot of feedback here while I've been mostly out of fandom and figured I should make a decision on what to do about that. I'm going to start answering the newer comments but I'll be leaving the older ones as they are. Even so, I have read it all and love it all and each bit of support makes me glow even more than the last one. That people are still even leaving feedback so long after the fact is also amazing and deeply appreciated. Thank you!
Author: sparseparsley
Rating: NC-17
Genre/Pairing: Total AU, Romantic Comedy, Dean/Cas
Summary: The good ones are sometimes assholes and always taken.
See Part 1 for extended headers and notes.
Part 3
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Dean's never been more grateful for his brother than he is the next day. Okay, maybe that time with the pickle and the Heimlich maneuver, but the point is, Sam rocks.
He hadn't pushed things last night when Dean insisted that, yes, he really didn't want to talk. It was nice, for a change, to be able to brood in peace. And the next day, it's Sam who irons their suits, Sam who calls ahead to double check the time they should be at the reception, Sam who packs up the last of what they need that evening. And, most importantly, it's Sam who lets Dean kick his ass at Mario Kart all afternoon. It's very cathartic. The classics always are.
So Dean's feeling, if not better, then at least okay when they head out the door before supper time. Apparently the wedding party will be doing some fancy dinner thing after the ceremony while people get everything ready at Cas', so the reception itself won't start until seven. They still need time to set up, though, so Dean aims to arrive around six. Or, Sam tells Dean to aim for around six. Whatever.
Jessica answers the door when they get there, looking excellently slinky in a sleeveless gold dress. She stares up at Sam (who Dean did not shove ahead of him to ring the doorbell, totally).
“Hi! Um. Hi. I'm Sam. And Dean. We're the bartenders?” Aww, Sammy likes her. His sentences always get all choppy when he likes someone. It's cute.
And apparently mutual, going by the blush on Jessica's cheeks. “Hi, it's nice to meet you. I mean, I met Dean, but it's nice to meet you.” Her eyes dart over to Dean. “Not that it wasn't nice to meet you, too! And again. Hello.”
Dean nods at her. “Hiya. Aren't you supposed to be not here? Nice dress, by the way.” He holds in a grunt as Sam kicks him in the leg. Bastard.
“Oh, thanks.” She's looking back up at Sam now, like she never stopped. “I volunteered to make sure everything gets done here. Plus they went to a seafood place and I get... rashy... when I... eat shellfish.” Her eyes widen and her whole sentence slows down near the end there, especially around the 'rashy' part. Dean can sympathize; sometimes you just can't stop talking, even when you know what horrible things are about to come out of your mouth.
Of course, Sam's too charmed to notice. “Oh that sucks. I get sick sometimes when I drink too much milk.”
They're both smiling at each other now, taking up most of the doorway. Dean smacks a hand to his brother's shoulder as he squeezes past. “Yeah, he's a nightmare when he gets gassy.” He grins wide at Jessica, who is clearly holding back a laugh. He can practically hear Sam fuming behind him as he makes his way to the kitchen.
They spend the next while counting bottles and cleaning glasses, making sure the champagne is ready to go for that first toast. They have a high table (a fancy, collapsible deal) set up on the deck out back, stocked with all they need for the most common drink requests. They have plenty of stuff for other drinks, but they'll have to come back to the kitchen to do those orders. People start arriving slowly but steadily, most of them milling around in the house for a bit and dropping off their gifts before going outside.
Sam is doing the small talk thing with one of them, something about the university, when Jessica bursts in looking excited. “They're almost here! Are you guys ready? Everybody gets a glass of champagne first, right?”
Dean feels his stomach drop while Sam answers her. Shit, Cas is almost here. Mister And Misses Ingalls. Or Ingalls-Milton, whatever they go with. Super. He sighs as Jessica leaves, moving up close to Sam. “Hey... uh... I'm gonna go check the car, make sure we didn't leave anything there.”
Sam's not fooled, but he gives Dean a sympathetic look and nods his head. “Sure. We're good here until we have to take all the champagne out. Take your time.”
*****
They had gotten here early, but still had that table to unload, so Jessica had been nice enough to let them park in the garage. Dean sits in the Impala there, windows down, listening to the sounds of people inside and feeling generally pathetic. Moping in his car because he doesn't want to see some guy he likes; might as well box up his dick and put it in one of those self-storage garages right now.
He turns sideways in the car, tossing a leg over the seat and leaning his head out the window. The door from the garage to the house is open, but so far no one's come this way.
Christ. What is wrong with him that he keeps falling for these people he can't have? That he shouldn't even want any way? There are lots of other men and women out there, and he's lucky enough to like it both ways, so he pretty much gets his pick. Like Pamela, a waitress at the strip club; she's nice and she's shown plenty of interest in him. But no, it's gotta be the unattainable ones. Maybe Sam's right. Not that he wants what he can't have, but that because he can't have something, that means it's okay to want it. Safe. Easy.
But fuck, this doesn't feel anything like easy.
The sound of vehicles pulling up outside freezes his thoughts for the moment. Freezes everything, really, before his heart jumps and starts beating double time when he hears the slamming of car doors.
He gives it another ten minutes, distracting himself by trying to remember all the words to 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. During the second run through of the 'mama mia' part, he can here an explosion of cheers from out back. The wedding party must have just made their grand entrance.
Shit.
It takes a minute to crawl out of the car and straighten his clothes, then he's inside and getting busy in the kitchen, trying to ignore the happy cheering outside. Sam must be out there, too, delivering the first glasses, so Dean takes up where it looks like he left off.
He's filling up a second tray of glasses when Sam comes in, looking... weird.
“You're back! Good. Come outside for a minute, there's something I want to show you.”
Dean frowns, accidentally spilling champagne onto one of the trays while he wonders what Sam wants. “Shit. What?”
Sam is still acting oddly. He looks like he does when he's trying to tell a joke and is afraid he'll laugh before he gets to the punchline. “Just come on, you'll like it, I promise.”
“What? I'm a little busy here. Take that other tray out.” Like Dean's going to like one damn thing he sees out there.
“Dean, come on!” Sam grabs him by the elbow now, and the corners of his mouth are actually fucking twitching.
“Fuck! What, Sam?” He doesn't give a damn how girly it sounds, he is not in the mood for this shit.
Sam looks a little stunned by his reaction, but the shock fades to contrition quickly. “Look, I'm sorry, I know you're upset, and I'm not trying to mess with you. Please just trust me for the next thirty seconds of your life and Come. Out. Side.”
Fine, whatever. He's gonna have to go out there at some point anyway. At least everyone will be distracted right now. He gives Sam a 'this better not be stupid' look and follows him out the back door.
It's beautiful out there. The wedding has a red and gold theme, and the setting sun makes everything glow. Little Christmas lights are strung around the yard, over the tables and through the archway he painted yesterday. A bunch of people are lined up to greet the bride and groom, and he can see Anna at the far end of the line, glowing in the dusky light. The part of his brain that's always thinking about sex pipes up with 'mmm, redhead, slinky dress' but the rest of him just kind of aches.
Sam is standing beside him, looking expectant. Apparently this is the world's cruelest game of I Spy.
He huffs a breath, getting ready to tell Sam where he can stick his games (hint: sun doesn't shine there), when Anna steps forward into someone's hug and...
“Who the hell is that?”
Dean's voice is too loud; the people closest to them turn to give him dirty looks, but he only has eyes for the man standing beside Anna. The short, bearded, nervous looking man in a blue suit. The man who's greeting people alongside her and just put his hand on her ass.
What the fuck?
Sam is full-on grinning now, practically bouncing on his toes. “That is Mister and Misses Chuck Shurley, just married.”
Dean's face won't work right. He can't make it stop twitching. His brain feels about the same way, trying to find some kind of purchase in whatever the fuck is going on here.
“And, according to the three people I asked to be sure,” Sam grabs Dean's chin in one big mitt, pushing his mouth closed before turning his head to the left a few inches, “that is Castiel Ingalls, Anna's half brother from her mother's first marriage.” He sounds triumphant and he probably looks annoyingly smug, but Dean wouldn't know.
Because it's Cas, standing off to the side, head bent in conversation with one of the reception guests. He looks fantastic, with his hair kinda wavy and sleek, wearing a black suit coat and what looks like a matching blue shirt and tie. Dean has to concentrate on how good he looks because his brain is still processing and can't pay attention to its higher functions at the moment.
Jesus Christ, Cas is Anna's brother!
Dean stares between the two, Anna then Cas then Anna then Cas. Anna catches him, seems to giggle a little at the sight of him with Sam's hand clamped to his chin. She waves. Dean waves back, numb.
Sam moves his hand to Dean's shoulder and steers him back into the kitchen. He sags against the island counter, staring at Sam.
“What the fuck?”
“Dude, I don't even know, I only had to ask one question to figure it out. It's barely even a thing to figure!” Sam is staring at him incredulously, arms spread in question.
“But... he...” C'mon, brain. Work! “He picked the cake flavor!” Dean remembers the conversation he'd walked in on then, the one about the person with no sense of taste. Oh. Maybe not just an anecdote then.
Sam shrugs. “I don't know. I'm not the one who's been dating him for a friggin' month.”
Suddenly there are about a billion questions running through Dean's brain. All the 'But what about's and 'Then why's running together into one giant question mark he can almost feel blinking above his head. A hundred little snippets of conversation are coming back to him, seen from a slightly different angle, and it's all completely overwhelming until one memory stops him cold.
“Oh, shit. Oh, shit, Sam!”
“What?” Sam looks like he's expecting another bout of brotherly stupidity.
Dean is reliving the last conversation he had with Cas. Words like 'morals' and 'wrong' and 'Bible' ringing like gongs in his head. “Oh God, he thinks I'm some kind of closet case, homophobic, cock teasing asshole!”
“Wh...” Sam's brain skips merrily past the 'cock teasing' part, stuttering only slightly. “Why would he think you're homophobic?”
“Uh, last night...” Dean rubs a hand along the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“I thought you said nothing happened last night.”
“It didn't! Mostly. He kissed me.”
“And?”
“And what, you want me to describe his tongue? Ow!” Dean winces from the whack Sam gives his arm. “We kissed. I freaked out. He kicked me out. Possibly because I said some stupid shit that would sound even stupider from his side.”
Teetering between horror, sympathy, and outright laughter, Sam compromises with horrified laughter and big puppy eyes. “I seriously don't even know how this can be real life. It's like you should be Ben Stiller and he should be Renee Zellweger.”
“Fuck you, I'm at least twice as hot as Ben Stiller.” Dean smacks him back on principal, but he can feel a smile working its way out. This whole situation sucks, and he feels ten different kinds of idiotic, but it's just so... so inconceivable that he has to laugh. The ballooning relief, and the hope that Cas isn't completely untouchable, doesn't hurt either. It's almost like he lost a lung and only just got it back; there's more air in the world now.
“I'll take your word on that. So!” Sam's raised hand makes Dean flinch, but he only slaps it on Dean's shoulder and squeezes. “You should go talk to him.”
Right. Except, what's he supposed to say? Sorry, thought you were banging your sister? This whole month has been a lie but hey, wanna fuck? “I don't know.”
“You don't know? Are you kidding?” Sam gets a hand on his other shoulder and leans down to look him straight in the eye. “If I have to watch you wander around like a lovesick prom queen for one more day, I will stab myself. Okay? I'll go get him right now if you won't.”
“Okay! Okay.” Dean knocks both of Sam's hands away and holds his own up placatingly. “I'll do it. Just... when the time's right. I have to plan ahead here, he's not gonna want to talk to me.”
Sam points a finger at him and gives him a serious look, eyes intense. “You swear?”
“I swear. And hey, 'prom queen'? There's no call for that.”
Sam laughs as he picks up a tray of drinks, heading outside. “Yeah there was. But because I'm a good person, I wont say anything else for the next month. After that, all bets are off. I'm going to make fun of you for the rest of existence for this.”
*****
'The right time' comes surprisingly fast.
By luck (or Sam), Dean is the one who delivers the toasting champagne to the main table. It's not like he can say anything in front of all these people, but Dean still tries to catch Cas' eye as he sets the glass in front of him, needing to make some kind of connection now that he knows the truth. Cas barely looks at him, eyes moving up and back down at lightning speed, lips forming a soundless thank you. It's not encouraging.
He moves on, though, because despite the context, he had promised to be professional. It still takes him an uncomfortable minute to get away from the main table when Ed and Harry (Chuck's joint best men and best friends from the Internet) refuse to let him go. They flew in from LA and apparently they have a movie script that has the perfect part for Dean. They get as far as 'like Barbarella, but underwater' before Dean can escape and flee for his life.
Soon, the official introductions and first toasts are over, leaving a lull in activity. Dean's okay with that; it gives him time to think for a minute and make some plan of attack.
Or not, because Sam just loomed up out of fucking nowhere and is bodily shoving him into the house.
“Sam, what the hell?”
Sam is talking fast, and still shoving him through the house until they're at the base of the stairs. “They're using a guest bedroom as a coat room, he just took some jackets up, no one else is up there. Go.”
“But-” Dean has to hop up the first step to avoid falling on his face.
“Go.”
“I-” Step number two. Sam is fucking strong when he's pushy.
“Go, or I carry you.”
Dean stops talking, since it's not doing any good. Sam goes to push him again and he leaps up another two stairs, then turns and walks up the rest, sending a dirty look over his shoulder. Sasquatch bastard. He hears shuffling movement behind a door to his right. That has to be Cas. He shoves down the sick, hopeful twist in his belly before taking a deep breath, checking his hair, and opening the door.
Cas is facing away from him, arranging the pile of coats on the bed into some form of order. Or trying to, anyway. One pile keeps sliding over as he works on the one next to it. Dean clears his throat, and the polite smile on Cas' face falls as he turns and sees who's interrupting him.
“Dean.” It's that same flat voice again, with a hint of wariness underneath.
“Hey! Um.” He approaches Cas, stopping a few feet away, unsure. He'd prayed to anyone or anything that would listen that he wouldn't fuck this up, but face to face, whatever he planned to say flies out of his head. “I need to talk to you.”
Cas turns partly away from him, fiddling with the coats again. “I don't think that's wise.”
“Just for a second.” Dean lifts a hand, pleading.
“I don't think so. This...” Cas sets his eyes on the carpet for a long second before he seems to come to a decision. “Your problems are your own. I'm sorry, Dean.” Then he's moving, taking quick steps past and heading for the door.
Dean grabs at him, desperate, catching him around the elbow. “Don't! There is no problem, I-”
Cas speaks over him, voice tight and arm rigid where Dean holds him. “If you have have something to discuss with me about this evening, we can speak about it downstairs. If not, please excuse me.”
“No.” Dean's voice is firm; he has to get through to him. “This is all just a misunderstanding. Stay and-”
Dean can't hide his surprise when Cas tears his arm out of Dean's grip, mouth in an angry twist. “Do you have any idea how aggravating you are?” He walks away, thankfully not towards the door, and then paces back, hands fisted at his sides. “I assure you, I misunderstand nothing.”
He's close now, pushing into Dean's space and glaring up at him. It would be sexy if not for... hell, nothing, it is sexy. And unexpectedly intimidating. “I've spent enough of my life on people who don't know how to accept themselves. I don't care if you want to apologize, or discuss things, or if you came up here thinking, I don't know why, that we might have sex, I-”
He stops for a scant moment, not long enough, gaze moving over Dean like he's looking for guidance. His voice is softer when looks up again, but his eyes are hard. “You are... beautiful and warm and... there's clearly a great deal of love in you. But if you want to waste your youth hating yourself, then that's your choice. My choice is to not live that way. Not anymore. Now, will you let me be?”
Even now, with a giant neon sign screaming 'Here's your chance, dumbass!', it takes Dean a second to find himself. Those were a lot of words Cas just threw at him. Important words. “No, I won't, I-”
He can see Cas gathering himself up for more harsh words, hand raising in an angry gesture, so he raises his voice, talking fast. “I thought you were marrying your sister!”
The words land like a bomb of silence between them.
Cas' face does a complicated thing where it's trying to be five faces at once. His hand hangs in the small space between them, forgotten. “... What?”
Dean speaks slowly, making sure he's understood. “I thought you were Anna's fiancé, not her brother.”
Cas' face still hasn't decided what it wants to be yet. “Don't... why...”
It's taking a chance, but Dean covers Cas' raised hand with both his own, thumb rubbing at his knuckles. “I know I've been acting weird. Really weird. But I swear, that's why. That first night, at the bar? They said Anna's fiancé might show and then there you were and you guys were hugging and... she kissed you. I assumed things.”
“I remember. My cheek. She kissed my cheek.” Cas is bemused, and Dean's getting used to that head tilt he's doing. In time, he thinks he might be able to judge Cas' mood based entirely on the angle of his head.
“I thought she was being ladylike or something.” Dean has to smile at how Cas eyebrows raise at that. Because it looks funny, yes, but also because he can feel the tension starting to leech out of the room.
“But what about-” Questions are gathering up behind Cas' eyes.
Dean cuts him off before they can come out, squeezing his hand once and then letting go. “I don't know, I'm asking all the same questions here. But we can figure that stuff out later. Right now, I need- all that shit I said last night, it wasn't- I thought-” Suddenly, telling someone you thought they were a cheating dickhead doesn't seem like a well thought out plan.
Cas straightens up, full of sudden understanding. “You thought we were committing adultery.”
“Yes!” Dean smiles widely, the surge of relief making his words trip over each other. “Yes. I'm not some self-hating gay guy stuck in a closet. Or bi guy, whatever, doesn't matter. The point is, I'm not. Hell, Bobby sets me up with men! Big, scary men. I think one was a lumberjack. Like, an actual lumberjack.”
Cas makes a quiet noise at that. It could be a laugh. It's the best sound Dean's ever heard, but the pleasure fades as Cas' face goes somber again.
“Dean...” Cas takes a slow breath. “This is good news. Strange, yet good. But... there are things I would've made clear if this had progressed like a normal relationship.”
That doesn't sound good at all. “Like what?”
“I'm not... interested in the short term. The purely physical. I want you.” He stops here, gaze moving over Dean's body like it had in the tailors. Caressing. “That's no question. But I want something more serious than that. Something greater. This... I usually mention this very early in a possible relationship but you were so... changing. I could never tell if you really wanted to pursue this or not.”
Dean crosses his arms over his chest, looking contemplative. “You lose a lot of 'possibles' with that speech, don't you?”
Cas laughs again, though it's a little darker this time, more self-deprecating. “Yes. They don't often share my commitment.”
Dean doesn't speak for a long moment. It's really way too soon to be saying what he's thinking about saying. But then, not saying shit is what got him here in the first place. He takes a steadying breath and uncrosses his arms, laying his hands lightly on Cas' shoulders. “Cas, look.” May as well go for broke, here. “The last time I felt like this about someone, I asked her to marry me six months later. How's that work for serious?”
Cas' head draws back in amazement, eyebrows up. “Oh!”
“Yeah.” Dean lowers his head, memories swirling. “I mean, it didn't happen. She wasn't as into me as I was into her, or she was into someone else more, but- whatever, doesn't matter. I just want you to-”
The feel of fingers stops Dean short, and he looks up as Cas wraps gentle hands around his wrists. Cas' voice is quiet. “It matters.” The light squeeze and compassion in his eyes make Dean swallow down some heavy emotion. “Thank you.” It's simple, and it's everything Dean needs to hear right now.
“So...” Dean is rubbing his thumbs against' Cas' shoulders, tracing the bone underneath. He gives Cas a questioning smile. “We're good?”
Cas is smiling back, open and warm. “It seems so.” His eyes glance down just a few inches and Dean wets his lips in response. He's still staring at Dean's mouth when he speaks, eyes bright with focus. “I know I didn't ask the last time, maybe if I had we would have known about your misconception earlier, but... can I kiss you?”
That's quite possibly the dumbest question Dean's ever heard. He's nodding his head before it's even finished. “God, yes.”
Cas leans forward, angling his head. Dean closes his eyes at the last second, inhaling sharply and catching a quick scent of something sweetly spicy before every sense he has takes a backseat to 'touch'. The press of lips to his is gentle, just light pressure at first. Cas' lips are dry and soft, pliable as Dean starts moving his own mouth against them. It's short, but it's the sweetest kiss Dean can remember. Granted, his memory might be unreliable right now.
They pull apart, not far, and Dean takes the moment to twist his wrists away and take Cas' hands, pulling them forward to settle low on his neck. Cas takes the hint, slipping one hand further around to cup the back of his head. Their mouths come together again, and then again; short, teasing kisses with only the barest press of tongues.
He brushes a hand down Cas' body, slipping it inside his open jacket and around, palm rubbing slow circles against his back. Cas presses closer to him, both hands behind his neck now, fingers scratching wonderfully at the nape of his neck.
Everything gets a little faster when they press together, a little dirtier. Dean pushes past Cas' lips, licking at his mouth. Then Cas sucks on his tongue and Dean's body goes from 'this is really nice' to 'sex, now' in about a nanosecond. He groans gutturally and starts tugging at the back of Cas' shirt, trying to pull it up. He needs skin under his fingers right fucking now.
“Dean.” Cas pulls his mouth away, so Dean just kisses at whatever is closest. An ear, it turns out. “Dean, stop.”
He would, but the shirt is finally free and his hands are on bare flesh now, the skin of Cas' lower back smooth and enticing.
“Dean.” Cas digs a hand into his hair and pulls Dean away, fixing him with a look. “I am not going to have sex in the coat room at my sister's wedding.”
Dean grins, as dirty as he can. “You started it. And the bed's right there.”
Cas is shaking his head ruefully as he fishes Dean's hand out from behind him. “I did. But I'm still not having sex in the coat room at my sister's wedding. And definitely not on the coats.” He sighs with regret. “There are things I have to get back to downstairs.”
“Yeah, and so do you, Dean. Unless you want to give me your half of the paycheck.” The voice comes from behind them, irritatingly nosy.
Dean twists his head back to check the doorway and, yep, there's Sam. He turns back and leans his head against Cas' shoulder, groaning in frustration. “Cas, meet my asshole brother Sam. Asshole, Cas.”
“Nice. And we met on the phone, remember?” Sam rolls his eyes at him before smiling at Cas. “Hi. Congratulations on not being a cheating bastard.”
Cas disentangles himself from Dean before nodding his head solemnly at Sam. “Thank you. I apologize for keeping your brother so long.”
It's vindictively satisfying to see Sam shift in discomfort, awkward and guilty at the apology. Dean's pretty sure Cas is just playing with him, though. He has a good sense of humor when you know where to look for it. He suppresses a noise of disappointment as Cas tucks his shirt back in and straightens his tie. “This is your house, you know. You don't have to listen to him just because he's huge and does the sad-eyes.”
“Granted, but I do have a busy evening still. And so do you.” Cas waits for Sam to move out of the doorway before he leaves the guest room, looking back to give Dean a quiet smile. “We'll talk later.”
They'll make sounds with their mouths later, if Dean has anything to do with it, but he's not sure it could be defined as 'talking'. Dean waits until he can hear Cas walking down the stairs before he shoves Sam hard in the shoulder, whispering roughly.
“I can't believe you cock blocked me!”
“Locks, Dean! Doors have locks!”
*****
Dean's not useful for anything after that, beyond staring at Cas and laughing at Sam's irritation. Oh sure, he pours drinks, but Sam has to fix way too many mistakes and suffer the indignity of getting vodka poured on his shoe twice. Dean's surprised his brother hasn't developed a noticeable twitch by the time the speeches are through. Not that Dean pays much attention to any speech besides Cas'.
It's the usual stuff, 'I love my sister', 'heartwarming childhood tale', 'you're a good man, Chuck, but hurt her and they'll never find the body'. Of course all this is said more Cas-like, but the basic ideas are always the same. Dean watches mostly to enjoy the sight of Cas with his hair kind of mussed, knowing how it got that way. He gives him a wink when Cas glances his way and tries not to grin at the quick stutter in the speech.
Dean is uncapping a few beers later on, after the first dances, when Sam elbows him sharply in the side. “Here comes your sex toy.” Dean gives him a confused and slightly disgusted look before checking out whatever he's pointing at. He was expecting Cas, because Sam is a total perv, no matter how much he denies it, but what he gets is almost as good.
“Hey! The cake!”
Jessica and Meg are carrying it out. It's kind of square and not that big, with gold ribbons on top that are probably edible, but not something you'd really want to eat. Pretty cool looking, still. Dean has no idea where they hid it, because it definitely wasn't in the kitchen. He's not sure he could have resisted if it had been.
He licks his lips unconsciously. “You think there'll be any leftovers?'
“You can't have their cake. Jesus, Dean!”
“What? I was only wondering.”
He's still disappointed when the whole thing disappears after the cutting, and apparently not hiding it well since Sam gives him a teasing pout when he catches Dean eying the empty platter. Ass.
But then there's Cas walking up like a hero out of the mists, carrying two full plates and with two forks sticking out of his pocket. He only has enough time to drop off the cake and give Dean a quick smile and a 'you're welcome' before he has to go again, something about more official dances. Sam makes a pouty face at him again, and narrowly avoids a fork to the thigh. Dean seriously considers keeping both pieces for himself - it's just as peanuty pumpkiny fantastic as he remembers - but sometimes family means sacrifice. Sam pronounces the cake 'okay' and nearly gets a fork to the leg again.
*****
The end of the night comes up fast. There's dancing and toasts and more dancing and then all of a sudden it's Anna and Chuck's big Last Dance before they go. Apparently they're spending the night in a fancy hotel room and coming back tomorrow to open the gifts that are spread out like a pastel, ribbony lake in Cas' living room.
They do a little thank-you speech after the dance; Anna cries and Chuck kisses her, and huh, they're really a cute couple. They also stop by to personally thank Sam and Dean. This turns out to be one of the highlights of the night because Sam loses his fucking mind when he gets a close look at Chuck and flips out like a twelve year old girl. Chuck, when he's beardless, is also known as Carver Edlund, author of the Black Expanse series, and “Oh my God, the best writer ever!” according to Sam. Dean does his best to pretend that he's never met his brother before in his life, and gives Anna and Chuck an awkward 'can't take him anywhere' smile when Sam runs off to find something for Chuck to sign.
At least Dean will have something to throw back at Sam next month, when the epic teasing begins.
Chuck is pretty eager to leave the party after that. Not that Dean can blame him; 6 plus foot of fanboy bearing down on you would make anyone want to flee the area. So he and Anna get out while they can, and then there's nothing left but the clean-up.
Well, it's clean-up for Sam. For Dean it's mostly watching Cas bend and flex while moving chairs and then, when Cas disappears into the house, it's thinking about him bending and flexing. Sam lasts about ten minutes before he drops the box he's moving (“Dude! Glass!) and gives Dean an exasperated look.
“Oh my God, just go!”
Dean blinks and looks down at the bottle he's measuring. It looks strangely like the three before that and, okay, he's really not getting anything done here. “Uh... sorry.”
“No, really, go. You're making more work than you're doing, I'll finish this and pick you up in the morning.”
“Seriously?”
“Please. Besides... uh.” A light blush fills Sam's cheeks. “I told Jessica I could probably give her a ride home.”
Oh really? Looks like Sammy's been busier than he thought. “Nice!” He pokes Sam hard in the chest. “No sex in the car, remember! I don't want to be dealing with your mysterious stains.”
“You're disgusting.”
“Totally!” Dean drags his brother down by the ears and lays a noisy, embarrassing kiss on his cheek. Excitement and anticipation might be making him a little goofy. “But you love me anyway. Have fun!”
He passes by Sarah on his way in, who must have seen that because she's giggling like a schoolgirl, and his last sight before going inside is Sam wiping at his cheek, shaking his head in disgust. Ha.
*****
Cas isn't anywhere downstairs, forcing Dean to ask the only familiar person he can see down here.
Uriel smiles knowingly. “Why, are you ready for your 'grand tour' now?”
Dean sighs. The shit he does for... uh... close, personal relationships. “I just need to talk to him.”
“Mmhm.” Uriel is already turning away dismissively, full of smug sureness. “He's upstairs. I'll make sure no one 'disturbs' you.”
Hey, that was less like pulling teeth than Dean had feared, maybe the guy is less of a bastard than he thought. He hurries up the stairs but stops partway down the hallway, suddenly uncertain. Cas hadn't technically invited him to stay tonight. 'We'll talk later' could mean all sorts of things, up to and including just talking at a later date. Shit. Well, it's not like he could come on stronger than he already has tonight, so what the hell.
There's an open door further down the hall, which turns out to be Cas' bedroom. Cas may be in there, but Dean's not sure yet, because he's having another 'shiny oven' moment with the awe-inspiring, gigantic bed sitting against the opposite wall. It's huge, with a heavy looking frame of dark wood, and it has to be a King, wider than it is long. Dean's brain makes noises that have no relation to human language.
“Dean?”
Oh look, Cas is here, standing by the closet in his shirt sleeves. “Hi... uh... nice bed?”
Cas glances at it, biting his lower lip. “Another indulgence. It's ridiculous, I know.”
“Oh, no. No, no. You should-” Dean moves around the bed to stand beside him, still staring in wonder. “You should indulge as often as humanly possible.”
Cas nods his head. “Tempting. I'm sorry if you were looking for me downstairs, I was just hanging my jacket up.”
“Damn, I was sort of planning on doing that myself.” It takes Dean's bed-addled brain a second to hear what he just said and he twitches a look to Cas. “Uh. Not planning. More considering? I'm not making any assumptions here.”
Cas gives him a small, straightforward smile. “Would you like to spend the night with me?”
There could be countless funny little answers to that ('Duh', 'Is water wet?' 'How 'bout the next year.') but Dean can only think of one answer that's good enough. “Yes.”
Cas is turning out to be a huge tease, though, as a frown crosses his face and he moves towards the door. “I should help them finish up downstairs, though, first.”
Dean takes him by the elbow, the same way he had earlier, and pulls him back around. “They're your friends, I think they got it. Stay?”
Cas stands close as he comes to a decision, putting a hand flat to Dean's chest. “Yes.”
Cas goes for the door again and Dean barely has a chance to be confused before he hears the click of the lock. Clever man. Cas stops with his hand on the door, looking back at Dean. He almost looks demure with the way his head is turned to look over his shoulder. Dean's pulse picks up speed and, without any input from him, his legs carry him over, turning Cas around and crowding him against the door.
They kiss, and Dean wraps his hands over Cas' shoulders, kneading at them while they take time exploring each other's mouths. Cas works at undoing the buttons of Dean's jacket and when he's done, Dean stays as firmly attached to Cas' mouth as he can while he drops his jacket on the floor, leaving it where it falls.
When his arms are free again, he wraps his hands around the back of Cas' neck, fingers laced together. They pull apart finally, Cas gasping for breath and Dean not much better. “Sorry. I know you said you'd be right back, but I couldn't wait.” Dean grins, lopsided, and offers up his chest to Cas' narrow fingers as they undo his vest.
“That was probably wise, you have a large number of layers to take off.” Cas is intent on his work, fingers deft and gaze focused.
“Whatever, you like it.” Dean cards his fingers through soft hair as Cas finishes, reluctantly letting go to let Cas push the next layer off him. He feels fingers tickling at his throat, a tug, and then Cas is staring in bewilderment at the clip-on bow tie in his hand. Cas looks at Dean, and Dean looks at Cas, and they both look at the tie again before Dean takes it away and drops it on the rest of his clothes on the floor. “Not a word.”
Cas bites at his bottom lip, holding in a smile.“Never.”
“Give me your hands.” Cas obliges him as he opens the other man's shirt cuffs. He brings one hand to his lips when he's done, mouthing at the narrow wrist that's fascinated him since they first met. Teeth drag over the pale skin and Cas shudders, pushing closer to him.
Cas is breathless when he speaks. “The bed is right there behind you, you know.”
Dean laughs. “Smartass. Come on, then.” He wraps the end of Cas' long tie in his fist and walks backward, giving Cas no choice but to follow him.
When they reach the bed, Cas wraps his own hand just above Dean's around the tie. “This is not a leash.”
Dean contemplates their joint grip. “Kinda looks like one. How 'bout this.” He tugs once, pulling Cas a few inches closer. “Speak.” Cas opens his mouth but Dean goes on, leaning back. “No, wait.” He tugs harder this time, pulling Cas flush against him as he holds them up from the bed. Teeth bared, he lifts his face close to Cas. “Heel.”
Cas honest-to-God growls and mashes his mouth against Dean's, kissing him hard. He must like a little manhandling. His fingers are clumsier now as they open Dean's shirt and he's grinding his whole body against Dean's in a rolling wave. The drag of cloth against cloth feels fantastic and he can feel the hardness of Cas' cock moving against his own. Dean groans, shifting his legs apart.
“Take it off.” Cas speaks low and gruff, and Dean makes a questioning noise against his lips. Cas answers between the wet presses of his mouth. “My tie. Take it off.”
Dean doesn't need to be asked twice, loosening the knot and pulling the narrow strip of fabric through Cas' collar in one slow slither. He drops it on the bed and leans back on his elbows, quirking an eyebrow. “Do you wanna move up the bed a little more or are we gonna do this here?”
Cas leans forward to bite at his chin. “I'm not stopping you.”
“True.” Dean pushes him away to give himself some room before he undresses down to his pants and turns around, crawling onto the bed quickly. There's no elegant way to do this, especially on a bed this size, so he figures fast is the next best choice. He flips over when he gets there, leaning back against the pillows and giving Cas a smug look. “Coming?”
Cas just laughs and shakes his head before he kicks off his own shoes and socks and follows, crawling towards Dean, eyes never leaving him. And no, it's not elegant but fuck is it ever hot. Dean licks his lips in anticipation as Cas crawls over his body, knees straddling his thighs. Cas stops before he's close enough to kiss and slides one hand over Dean's chest, fingers wide and pressing. He leans down and presses his mouth to Dean's stomach. The muscles there jump in pleasure as Cas sucks and bites his way up.
“Oh fuck...” Dean's eyes roll back and he arches up as Cas reaches a nipple, teeth gentle but definitely there. “Oh, fuck yeah.”
“You like that?” Cas asks, and Dean thinks it's just dirty talk before he catches the look in Cas' eyes. He's really asking, and Dean remembers how new they are to each other despite how easy this has been so far.
“Oh, yeah. That whole- mm!” Dean moans behind his lips as Cas sucks hard at one nipple, fingers finally finding their way up to tease the other. “That whole area is good, yeah.” Dean lays his fingers over the ones pinching at his nipple, showing Cas the harder pressure that he likes. “You?”
Cas pulls away with another wet slurp, eyes glazed with want as he looks up Dean's body. “I'm not as enthusiastic as you, but I like it enough.” He lowers his head again, teeth getting bolder as they tug at Dean's sensitized skin. Dean's hips jerk up, trying to find something, anything to press against.
It takes Dean a second to gather his thoughts. “So what are you enthusiastic about?”
Cas replaces his mouth with his hand, both thumbs now rubbing firm circles over Dean's nipples. The sensations travel straight to his dick and he's so hard it hurts. He growls as Cas sits up and contemplates the question, weight trapping Dean's thighs.
“My hands, I think. I have very sensitive fingers.” He seems a little hesitant, despite the direct answer, so Dean distracts him by reaching out to undo his shirt buttons. “Or... or my neck. I like that as well.”
“Cool.” Dean grabs the two open sides of his shirt and pulls him down, clamping his mouth to the pulse point under Cas' jaw and sucking hard. Cas lets out a pained sounding groan as his hips stutter and grind against Dean's. Ohh yeah, that was a good move. Dean wraps his arms around Cas, hands pulling his shirt loose and shoving it up to drag his nails lightly over Cas' back. He adds a little teeth to the equation and then Cas' hips are finding a real rhythm, his cloth-covered hardness finding that perfect spot to ride alongside Dean's own cock. Dean shoves up in time with every breathy grunt Cas gives, hard and aching and then he's suddenly close, actually fucking close to coming from a little grinding foreplay. It's embarrassing, really.
He drags his hands down to Cas' hips, trying to still the movement.“Okay, okay, we gotta- fuck! Gotta move this along, or I'm gonna come in my pants.”
Cas' thrusting movements come to a stop and he lifts himself reluctantly, shrugging off his shirt. It sticks to the sweat beading at his back. “We could have washed them.” He smiles at Dean's huff of laughter. “But if you insist. Where, exactly, are we moving this along to?”
“Uh.” Dean rests his hands at Cas' hips, thumbing the sharp bones there. “You know. I'm willing if you are. Oh, wait.” Dean squeezes his eyes shut with a wince. “But I don't have any stuff. Condoms or anything. I wasn't really expecting... uh, you.”
“I'm very willing, and what we need is in the table on the right.” Dean relaxes with Cas' reassurances, palms caressing up his sides. Cas sucks in a shuddering breath before he lifts himself away, knee-walking to the side of the bed and stretching over to the drawer to get everything. Goddamn, this is one huge bed, it's like everything is five feet away from everything else.
Dean follows, flipping himself over and pulling himself along Cas' outstretched body; feet, calves, thighs, hips and then he's pulling Cas up against him, both on their knees. He wraps his arms around Cas, one snaking under his arm to rest a palm against his opposite shoulder, the other slipping low and filthy, the heel of his hand dragging down over Cas' cock.
Cas groans long and rough, dropping a tube and a small foil pack forgotten between his knees. “Dean!”
Dean moves Cas' head aside with his own and nips at the skin under his ear. “Yeah, I've got you. Wanna fuck me?”
Cas' whole body jumps at that, and his head falls back against Dean's shoulder. “Please.”
It's fast work after that to get Cas flat on the bed, pants open and off. Dean moves back up his body, hands trailing and tickling over hairy thighs, before stopping over his groin. “Nice.” He eyes the tented boxer shorts. The purple, silk boxer shorts. Cas gives him a dirty look that morphs into a dirtier groan as Dean leans down and mouths the head of his cock through the damp material. His hips jerk up and Dean squeezes his thighs hard to keep him still.
“Just a sec.” Dean peels Cas' underwear off quickly before kicking off his own pants and shorts. The foil packet tears open easy and then he's rolling the condom down over Cas' cock, giving it a few firm strokes when he'd done. It's hot and firm in his hand and Cas is gasping in relief at the touch. God, it's going to feel great.
Naked, he straddles Cas' hips. He doesn't have long to admire the long contours of the body underneath him or feel the hot, hard line pressing up against his ass before Cas' hand finds his cock. His head tips back as he groans in pleasure. “Oh yeah...”
It's almost torturous how slowly Cas touches him at first, fist twisting around the head, spreading slick pre-come. Dean tries to thrust up into his hand, but Cas just follows the movements, his other hand low on Dean's side, nails teasing.
Dean grabs the little tube sitting beside them, emptying a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. He keeps his eyes on Cas as he leans back, one hand on Cas' leg to steady himself and the other pressing two wet fingers against his ass.
Cas is panting in lust as his gaze moves from Dean's cock to his face to the arm disappearing behind him, but Dean waits until they lock eyes again before he presses his fingers inside. It's a quick, stretching burn that makes his body tense up and pushes a harsh cry from his lips. Cas' answering groan sounds almost as tense as his fist tightens over Dean's cock.
Dean is breathing fast, the combined pleasure of Cas' hand and his own fingers driving him to push in harder and thrust up against Cas' grip. Cas is staring up at him, open mouthed, completely overtaken with the sight of Dean fingering himself open. Dean can feel the lift of Cas hips, the insistent jut of his cock as it rides the hot space behind Dean's balls.
It doesn't take long to get himself ready, or as ready as he needs to be. It'll hurt some, sure, but he knows it's going to be good after that. The switch from pain to pleasure is almost his favorite part. Cas' hands at his waist stop him as he lifts to reposition himself. “That can't have been long enough.” Cas sounds fantastic, his voice rough and low and unbelievably fuckable.
“I'm good, I'm good.” Dean swallows hard as he reaches behind himself, moving the head of Cas cock into position. “I promise.” He lets his other hand cover Cas' on his waist, warm and reassuring. Then it's just a deep breath and a shift down and-
Shit, fuck, yes!
-and then Cas is inside him. Oh it's good, the burn, the fullness. He's pulling in loud breaths as he tries to relax, needing more.
Cas digs his nails in at Dean's sides with one long, gruff moan. His hips stutter up, and Dean leans forward, holding himself up with a hand on the bed and one against Cas' chest. “Gimme a second, it's good, it's really good, just a second.”
Cas is nodding, staring up at him wide-eyed. “Yes, Dean, please, please.” There's shuddering desperation in Cas' voice and Dean can feel the pounding heartbeat under his hand.
Dean pushes down a few more inches, grunting, fingers digging into the covers. Jesus, Cas is still begging him in that broken gravel voice and that's all Dean needs to keep going, to take him all the way in. It's too fucking much for a second, the long stretch of it is blinding him, has him tossing his head back, stopping his lungs.
Everything goes still except for the tremors of their bodies and Cas' nearly silent whimpers. Then, like a man coming up for air, Dean gasps a breath and the world starts moving again.
Still catching his breath, Dean starts rocking up and down in small movements that barely lift him away from Cas at all. Cas' hands are all over him now, clutching at his hips, running up his chest and sliding over his neck, his jaw, his mouth, like they can't keep still. Dean shifts himself back to an upright position, shuddering at the change of angle, and grabs one of Cas' hands to pull it to his mouth. He licks at Cas' palm, as wet as he can, sucks at Cas' fingers as he rocks himself up further, faster.
Cas is giving short little grunting moans with every breath now, eyes dark and almost sightless as he slides his fingers into Dean's mouth, matching the rhythm below. When he decides it's wet enough, Dean pushes Cas' hand down and wraps it around his cock. “C'mon, c'mon, touch me, just like this.”
Cas moves his hand at the speed Dean sets, spit-slick palm sliding gloriously. He's up on one elbow now, watching Dean move on top of him.
Dean sets a fast pace. Not that he wants this over quickly, it's just... he waited a long time for this and now that he has it, he's taking. He can feel it when Cas puts his heels into the bed and really starts to thrust up into him, the hard thud of their flesh meeting making his whole body shake. The rougher motion pushes him further in Cas' fist and it's perfect, fucked from behind and grinding into Cas' hand in front.
He leans forward again, trying to give Cas more space to move in, and that's just fucking right. The angle is exactly what he needs to get Cas' cock hitting the right spot on every thrust. He lays his forehead against Cas' chest, sweat-damp hair sticking, and begs with no idea what he's even saying.
“Dean, I can't- this angle- you have to-” Cas is breathless, he can barely get the words out. “Dean, touch yourself for me.” Dean hadn't even realized that Cas' hand was gone from his cock. He's right, though; he can't get a proper grip they way they're lying. Dean leans more of his weight on Cas' chest, cheek pressed against his shoulder, and slides an arm between them, gripping himself tight.
It's actually better this way. Cas can get both arms around him and really fucking give it to him, grinding against that sweet spot. Dean is close in no time, shaking and biting into Cas' shoulder, stroking his cock with rough abandon.
“Cas, Jesus fuck, Cas!”
And then, holy hell, Cas has him by the hair and is pulling, lifting him up. “Let me see it, I want to see it.” God, it's like stars bursting behind his eyes and Dean barely has the presence of mind to get his free arm against the bed and shove up. Cas stares down at where their bodies join, still thrusting hard into him as he watches Dean's hand fly over his own flushed cock.
Dean cries out roughly, making Cas tighten the grip in his hair and that's it, that does it. Dean feels his balls twitch and tighten and then a blazing, wild rush and he's coming all over his hand and Cas' stomach. He's quaking and gasping, shoving himself down hard on Cas' cock, trying to milk every sensation he can out of this.
The world spins and he's on his back, still shaking with the aftershocks. Cas is above him, somehow still inside him, hitching Dean's legs up around his own hips and moving deep inside him. Cas is just gone, shoving Dean against the bed, hands clamped to his hips. He's whimpering harshly with every breath, lips forming Dean's name.
Dean spreads his arms wide on the bed and just takes it, every push making his aching cock twitch in response. He wraps his legs up higher around Cas, changing the angle, and Cas cries out. Then Cas is on him, leaning down chest to chest, forcing Dean's legs wider as he shoves his hands under Dean's shoulders, grasping them from behind. Dean can feel the sticky drag of his own come as Castiel's stomach slides against his. He almost wishes he hadn't come, because this position would have done it for sure, maybe even without help. Cas is over him, all around him, sweating and moaning and holding him tightly, rutting into him, totally lost, and Dean wishes he could be there with him.
He doesn't have long to wish, though, as Cas' arms suddenly become a vice around his shoulders. He can feel Cas' mouth wide and gasping against his throat as he comes. He's deep, cock pressed in as far as he can go, tilting Dean's ass right off the bed with less thrusting and more just a grinding flex of hips.
When it's over, Cas slumps against him, body going loose and boneless. Dean lets his legs flop down on the bed. Things are quiet for a moment as they bask in the afterglow, the slow evening-out of their panting breaths the only sound.
Eventually Dean musters up the energy to drag a hand in and pet slow strokes down Cas' spine. “Hey... right there with you, but we're gonna be shellacked together if you stay there much longer.” He keeps his voice low, trying to sustain the quiet atmosphere as long as possible.
Cas stirs, lifting his head. God, he looks - and Dean will deny thinking this with his dying breath - but he looks adorable. Wide eyes full of a confused haze, face flushed pink, and his hair totally beyond repair, just a pile of fluffy brown going in every possible direction. Dean can't suppress a goofy smile.
“Oh.” Cas seems to remember where he is finally, lifting himself up on all fours and pulling out of Dean with a shiver. “Sorry.”
He starts moving down the bed, moving away for some stupid reason, before Dean stops him with a look. “Where the hell are you going?”
Cas tilts his head, questioning. “I...” On all fours like that, he looks disturbingly like a puppy.
“We're not done with the after part, yet. Get your surprisingly strong ass back here.”
Cas laughs quietly, moving back up to lie at Dean's side, face and shoulder on his chest. Dean can feel the damp touch of a softened cock on his thigh and it's not as gross as he usually finds that. It's... nice, really. Intimate. He wraps an arm around Cas' shoulder, loose and relaxed.
Cas lays a hand on his chest, fingers toying with his chest hair. “Surprisingly strong? You will be alright, won't you?”
Dean buries a laugh in Cas' hair. “Yeah. I like it when I can feel it the next day. Nice move with the hair pulling, by the way.”
The hand on his chest pauses for a moment as Cas clears his throat. “Well... you enjoyed the biting, so I... extrapolated.”
“Mm, yeah, talk dirty to me.” Dean can feel Cas shaking his head, hair tickling his chin. He smiles to himself and tugs Cas closer. “So, I can stay, right?”
There's no hesitation or tension at all in Cas' smaller frame, just sleepy acceptance.“Of course.”
Of course. Dean likes the sound of that.
The last thing he's conscious of, after they clean up and crawl under the rumpled covers, is the gentle press of Cas' lips to his forehead. He goes to sleep with a smile on his face.
*****
Dean wakes up the next morning with that special brand of confusion that comes with strange beds in unfamiliar rooms. He's on his side, with and arm curled around the warm body in front of him, and then it all comes back to him. He makes a croaky noise of surprise, warming with pleasure at the memories.
Cas shifts with the noise, turning on his back. He blinks his eyes open slowly and squints at Dean. “Hello.” His voice is rough with sleep.
“G'morning.” Dean lifts himself up on one elbow.
Cas is still blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Morning.”
Dean laughs. “Takes you a little while to get up to speed in the mornings, huh?” He has about two seconds to notice Cas' wandering hand before he feels a sharp pinch on his ass cheek. “Ow! Oh, that's it.” Grinning, he holds Cas down by the shoulders and lays a deep kiss on him.
They're both making identical grimaces when he pulls back. Yeah, morning breath, not good. “Geh... okay, lets come back to that. You don't have a spare toothbrush, do you?”
Cas nods up at him. “Several. Dental hygiene is important.”
Dean lies back on the bed, snuggling down into his pillow with his hands behind his head. “Yes it is. So... “ He stops for a cracking yawn. “What do you write, anyway?”
Cas shifts closer to him, head nuzzling against his upper arm. “Theology textbooks and essays on spirituality. And a cookbook, once.”
Dean raises his eyebrows. “Heavy stuff. Well, not the cookbook, I guess.”
“It was quite stout as well. I know many recipes.”
Heaving a theatrical sigh, Dean smacks Cas lightly on the back of the head. “You really are a smartass, y-” He interrupts himself, turning an ear to the door. “Is that...” Then he's sure; it's the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Fast. “I think somebody's-”
There's a knock at the door, more of a light scraping, really, and a voice stage-whispering from the other side. “Cas... Cas... Castiel!” It's hard to tell, but Dean thinks it's female. He looks over at Cas, who seems just as confused as he is.
“Cas, wake up!”
Cas blinks, taken aback, and calls out. “Anna?”
The door opens, and Dean clutches the blanket over his chest, feeling a little ridiculous. He sees a shock of red hair and hears a gasp and then Anna is right in the room, closing the door softly behind her. Dean stares at her open-mouthed. What the fuck?
“Anna, what... “Cas looks like he doesn't even know how to finish that sentence, brow furrowed in astonishment.
“What are you doing!” Anna is staring at them both in horror, hand covering her mouth as her voice raises on the last word. She looks back towards the door, distressed.
Cas is up on his elbows now, starting to look worried as well. And a little irritated. “I thought it would be fairly apparent. Anna, what is going on?”
She's glaring at them now; well, mostly at Cas. “I can't believe you'd do this, you know better! And you!” She turns to Dean, pointing a finger at him. He sinks back against the headboard, wondering how scared he should be of the crazy newlywed. “Shame on you!”
He'd be insulted if he knew what the fuck he was catching hell for. She doesn't even look embarrassed to be in the same room as her naked brother and the naked guy her naked brother fucked last night. It's really weirding Dean out.
“Anna, please. Can you just explain-”
“His boyfriend's right downstairs! Looking for him!”
Wait, what?
Dean's mouth hangs open for a moment, processing. “My what? I don't-” He turns to Cas, suddenly serious. “I don't have a boyfriend, I swear. Or a girlfriend.”
Cas nods and turns back to his sister, raising his eyebrows and waiting for an answer.
“He... yes you do, he was your partner at the reception!”
Oh for Christ's sake, again? Dean winces, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, that's my brother.”
“But you...” She tilts her head to the side, bewildered, and Dean is acutely reminded of her brother. He wishes he'd caught that bit of family resemblance back at the bachelor party. “Sarah saw you kissing!”
“Uh. Yeah, but...” That's technically true, yes. “I was just messing with him. Really. Brother.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cas bury himself back under the blankets. Dean doesn't blame him a bit; he wishes he could hide too.
“Oh.” Anna's voice is small and embarrassed. “Oh! Oh God, I'm so sorry! I'll go. And tell him you'll be down... um, soon?” With another distressed wince, she's out the door like a shot, face nearly as red as her hair.
Dean slumps back on the bed with a sigh. He feels for her, he really does. He's been in her shoes fairly recently, but it's hard to be empathetic at stupid o'clock on the morning. And what the hell is Sam doing here any way? It can't be past eight. Or, oh wow, ten thirty according to the alarm clock. Oops.
He turns to say that they really should get up, and that's when he notices the sound coming from the lump of blankets that is Cas' side of the bed. It's kind of a snorty whimper, accompanied by a strange wriggling of the blankets. Dean grabs a handful of the cover and pulls it away.
And yeah, the little bastard is laughing, breathy giggles that he's trying to hind behind his hands. As soon as he sees Dean's face, he looses it completely, coughing up loud bursts of laughter, the kind that makes tears spring up in your eyes. He clamps both hands to his mouth again in an effort to stop it, but that only makes it worse. His eyes are shining with it.
“Oh, you think this is amusing?” Dean glowers at him.
Cas shakes his head but he's laughing even harder at that, curling towards Dean and burying his face in his chest while he gasps for air.
Dean wraps an arm around him. “It's not that funny!” He breaks up on the last word though, laughing into his pillow. He can't help it, he's not sure anyone could with Cas, who he's never seen more than snicker, laughing like a loon in their arms.
Cas pulls away soon, wiping at his eyes and laying back against the bed. “Oh, oh, I'm sorry, Dean.” Another chuckle takes him. “I am. I just... I think I've seen this movie, and it was quite bad.”
Dean doesn't have an answer right away, because Cas is smiling up at him and he remembers that smile. It's the same one he saw that first night, the one Cas gave Anna that had him convinced they were the love of each other's lives. Except it's even better this time, gums and all. It's his.
Dean smiles back. “I'm still prettier than Ben Stiller, though, right?”
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NOTE (August 2011): Okay so I've missed replying to a lot of feedback here while I've been mostly out of fandom and figured I should make a decision on what to do about that. I'm going to start answering the newer comments but I'll be leaving the older ones as they are. Even so, I have read it all and love it all and each bit of support makes me glow even more than the last one. That people are still even leaving feedback so long after the fact is also amazing and deeply appreciated. Thank you!