Love in Every Stitch - help_japan fic Part 2

[gedry]

Title: Love in Every Stitch
Author: Gedry
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Rating: Nc-17
Word Count: 11,121
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
Beta: wolfrider89 
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Summary: Written for nicole_sill who won me in the help-japan auction. She asked for a Dean/Cas high school AU involving them being friends for a long time and Castiel falling in love with Dean and knitting him a sweater.

Love in Every Stitch

*****

“It’s looking good,” Dean says in a tone that indicates he’s more proud than shocked.

Castiel glows with pride. “Thank you.”

The sweater is almost finished, he has another week of work on it, maybe, and that’s just the finishing touches. It’s nothing too intricate or spectacular but he thinks it actually looks like something you could buy in a store somewhere; and he’s proud of that. Between school and work it’s been hard to find the time to work on it.

“So when’s the big event?” Dean asks as he nudges Castiel’s foot with his on the coffee table. They’ve been watching a movie while Castiel knits.

“Saturday,” Castiel lies even as he hates himself a little bit for it. There is no big event but he needs Dean to think there is so he has time to lie about getting turned down too close to worry about finding another date. Prom’s in two weeks now.

“Cool,” Dean nods. “I want all the details after this guy say yes.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Castiel questions. “You’re so sure about this.”

“Who would say no to you?” Dean shrugs. “You’re my best friend, Cas. I can’t think of a reason someone wouldn’t want to be your boyfriend. They’d have to be stupid.”

“Or straight,” Castiel points out. But Dean makes a grunting noise and scrunches up his face like Castiel’s making the dumbest argument he’s ever heard.

“So look,” Dean says suddenly. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Should I duck and cover?” Castiel asks, and then laughs when Dean shoves him harder.

“Dick,” Dean grumbles. “I’m serious. I think you need to be ready to kiss this guy.”

“And what am I supposed to do, Dean? Go over and practice on my hand?” Cas huffs.

“Kiss me,” Dean offers like he’s thought it through carefully and found the best option. “I’m your friend, I’m not going to laugh at you and that way you get to practice.”

Castiel doesn’t know if he wants to run or throw himself at his friend. Both urges are so strong he shakes with it. “I can’t kiss you.”

“Sure you can,” Dean shifts so they’re facing each other and comments, “It’s easy. I’m pretty sure you’re over-thinking it. Once you do it one time you’ll see it’s all build up. Kissing isn’t really a big deal.”

“Dean,” Castiel says with a warning tone in his voice. “I am not going to kiss you.”

Normally, that would be the end of the discussion. Dean has never not responded to that tone in Castiel’s voice. He’s always backed off, but not tonight.

“Look,” Dean sighs. “I get that you’re scared about this. But, look at it this way; it’s my first time kissing a guy too! That almost makes us even.”

Dean has no idea how wrong he is on that point. Castiel opens his mouth to tell him he’s lost his mind, they are not doing this, and Castiel cannot kiss him and still just think of him as a friend. The line between epic crush and falling in love is already too blurry for Castiel at this point.

But Dean’s warm hand is cupping his cheek suddenly, his friend deciding to bypass Castiel’s argument for the panic stricken mumbling that it really is as Dean presses their lips together with confidence, a warm, dry press of their mouths that makes Castiel squeak in surprise and tense up all over.

But Dean doesn’t back off, he hovers there, with his mouth just barely touching Castiel’s. “I’ve got you, Cas,” Dean murmurs against his lips, nuzzling his face with his nose. “I’m right here. Let me do this, let me take care of you tonight.”

It’s so close to what Dean says in his fantasies, so painfully close to what Castiel is dying inside to hear that his lips part on a gasp as his arms come up to hover around Dean’s shoulders before cupping at the side and back of his neck. Castiel shifts closer, pulls Dean closer, and slips his tongue out to slide along the seam of his friend’s mouth.

Dean stiffens for just an instant, long enough for Castiel’s nerves to flare up and fan out all over his body, before he groans and opens his mouth. Their tongues tangle and slip together as Dean leans forward, pushing Castiel back until they topple over onto the sofa with Dean on top. The welcome weight of Dean’s body presses Castiel into the material of the couch, while he tangles their legs together and loses himself in the touch of the only person he has ever really wanted to touch him.

Oh, Dean tastes so good. He’s nipping along Castiel’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth and swallowing up Castiel’s moan of need with his mouth while he rocks his hips down into Castiel’s. They’re grinding together, Castiel’s clinging to Dean’s lower back and shoulders while his legs part and slide up to Dean’s hips. Dean’s got one hand tangled in his hair and the other gripping his hip through his pants. They’re both hard; it’s messy, wet, and the best damned thing Castiel’s ever felt in his life.

It’s painful for him to pull his mouth away from Dean’s and to shove at his friend’s shoulders until Dean pushes himself up off of Castiel’s chest. They stare at each other for a long, frozen moment. Dean’s lips are swollen, red, beautiful. Castiel is certain his look the same.

“I should go home,” Castiel says, and he’s shocked at how deep his voice sounds.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers, clearly stunned as he rolls off of Castiel’s smaller frame. “Maybe you should.”

Castiel grabs his things as quickly as he can and runs for the steps. He runs all the way home and locks himself into the private darkness of his bedroom. Collapsing against his door he pulls his knees up to his chest and presses his face into the knitted material of the stupid sweater that Castiel is starting to irrationally believe is causing this whole mess. He takes deep breaths until his phone buzzes, telling him he has a text.

It’s from Dean.

Forgot your book bag. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.

Cas barks out what might be slightly hysterical laughter before he types back:

Okay.

A few moments later his phone buzzes again. This time Dean asks:

Are we okay?

Cas takes a deep breath before he texts back:

Yes.

Even though he’s pretty sure that he’s lying. How could they be okay after that?

He gets one last text from his friend that night:

Good. Dean writes. Thanks Cas.

He sits on his floor for half the night wondering what Dean could possibly be thanking him for.

*****

“So it’s done?” Dean asks, as he spins himself around in the mirror over his dresser.

“I believe so,” Castiel comments as he smoothes the sweater over Dean’s shoulders and down his arms. It was surprisingly easy to convince Dean to put it on. All Castiel had to do was tell him that his mystery man was similar to Dean’s build and the rest was easy.

It was almost too easy, honestly. Castiel is a little bit suspicious. He watches Dean stare at himself for a long time. It’s unusual for his friend to take so much interest in an article of clothing. Castiel ponders if maybe it’s just that he made it and Dean is trying to think of something complimentary to say to him in order to make him feel accomplished.

But there’s something about the way Dean’s clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes that makes Castiel think there might be more to it that that. “What do you think?” he asks from where he’s now kneeling at Dean’s feet adjusting the hem along the bottom of the sweater.

“Tonight’s the night, right?” Dean asks instead of answering, his hand worrying at the end of the sleeve, almost stroking the knit created by the yarn he picked out all those weeks ago.

“I suppose so,” Castiel murmurs, and shame colors his face red while he rubs a hand over his forehead. He’s so close to being done with this charade and every second it continues it pains him a little more. Castiel fully intends to come clean about the whole thing…the day after prom.

Telling Dean the truth will at least ease his conscience. It won’t have made the lie never happen but perhaps it will end up being something they laugh about later. Castiel’s still conflicted about telling Dean he’s fallen in love with him. He seriously doubts they will ever laugh about anything again after that confession. But after that heated kiss they shared earlier this week he’s been able to think about little else. If Castiel concentrates he can still feel the pressure of Dean’s lips against his.

It’s unhealthy and his fantasies of having more than that one embrace are equally unwise. Dean is unobtainable.

“You sure you want to go through with this, Cas?” Dean questions as Castiel gets to his feet.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Castiel asks as he cocks his head to the side.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Dean squirms before crossing his arms. “I mean, you don’t know this guy at all. Maybe he’s some kind of dick or something.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean,” Castiel sighs. “You’ve been pushing this for months and now you want me to reconsider?”

“I just don’t want you to embarrass yourself,” Dean says slowly as his face scrunches up like he smelled something bad.

“And how would I do that?” Castiel counters, for some reason feeling anger coiling in his gut. Dean has no right to start this now. Not when this whole stupid lie started because he was insistent that Castiel needed a love life.

“You knitted a sweater, Cas,” Dean points to the garment he’s currently wearing as though it’s offensive. “That’s a little weird.”

“He’ll like my eccentricities,” Castiel argues.

“You don’t know that,” Dean comments.

“He will,” Castiel snaps, never mind the fact that the person they are on the verge of arguing about doesn’t even exist. “He’ll love me for them, actually. He’ll appreciate my artistic nature and quiet countenance, he’ll admire my loyalty and dedication, and he’ll return them with his own. My lack of experience won’t bother him. He’ll teach me everything or we’ll figure it out together. He’ll love me.”

Dean blinks at him, clearly shocked. Castiel opens his mouth to say something else and then holds himself back because he’s already sounding just a little insane, and he’s not sure adding more to it will make it any better. Clearly, his feelings for Dean have run a little deeper than even he recognized. Now that he’s voiced it all aloud, even under the veil of it being about another person, Castiel realizes just how bothered he has always been by his friend’s romantic escapades. He’s never been enough for Dean. His friend could never see what was right beside him.

He could never see Castiel.

“The sweater is a stupid idea,” Dean blurts suddenly. “He’s going to hate it. It’s ugly anyway. Don’t use it. Go with another idea.”

Rage suddenly colors what’s left of Castiel’s rational thinking. “If you think it’s so ugly then take it off,” he orders.

“No,” Dean refuses as he takes a step backwards. “This is for your own good. If you leave with it then you’re going to take it to your stupid guy and he’s going to laugh at you. I’m holding onto it for your own good. Trust me.”

“Take it off, Dean,” Castiel barks as he advances on his friend. “Take it off now!”

“I will not,” Dean says with a shake of his head. “It’s ugly and crappy and you’re not getting it off me tonight so deal with it.”

It hurts, so badly, to hear him say that. Castiel had just wanted one opportunity to see Dean in the sweater he had created for him before he had to box it up or throw it away. He’d been so proud of the stupid thing and worked so hard at it that having Dean say it’s worthless makes his heart ache as though it’s breaking.

“I hate you,” he hisses, shoving his friend hard and sending Dean staggering backwards.

“Don’t say that, Cas,” Dean says softly. “It’s for your own good.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Castiel growls before turning on his heel and stalking away from his used-to-be best friend. Dean doesn’t follow him home or text him later that night.

The next morning, Castiel gets up and walks to work. His manager tells him Dean called in sick.

Castiel’s too angry just then to really care.

*****

They don’t speak when they see each other over the next week. The other kids at school make a wide path around them whenever possible as if they can sense the discord that has packed the silence between them full.

Dean never gives him back the sweater and asking for it would require Castiel to speak to him so he assumes it’s in the garbage somewhere.

Prom is at the end of the week and Castiel is relieved he isn’t going. He doesn’t know how he could possibly sit through watching Dean and his date swirl along the dance floor before they retire to their hotel for the evening to do who-knows-what to each other.

He’s going to be at home, alone. Anna will be out with Balthazar. He spends his week walking to and from work; one night in the pouring rain while Dean sits in his car in the parking lot watching him trudge off into the night as though he wants to ask Cas to ride with him but isn’t brave enough to do so.

Everything hurts.

Falling in love is horrible; Castiel wouldn’t wish it on anyone. He just wants the feelings to all go away.

The week drags on horribly until finally it’s Saturday night, prom night.

Castiel hides out in his room to avoid his father asking him any questions. He’s sketching, trying to take his mind off of everything. All the forms and faces he draws end up looking like Dean.

He throws the pad on the floor of his room in disgust and curls into a ball under a quilt Mary Winchester had made for him one Christmas before she died. He touches it gently, reverently, and whispers, “I would have loved him best. I hope you know that.”

And finally, the tears come. Castiel is still snuffling, rubbing at his eyes, and shivering in his empty bed a long while later, when there’s a tap at his window. He ignores it for what has to be five minutes. The only person who has ever climbed the trellis on the side of the house to get to his window is Dean, and Dean is busy tonight.

But the tapping gets louder until it turns into banging and Castiel finally rolls over to see what’s going on.

Dean’s glaring at him through the window.

When he opens it the first thing Dean says is, “I’ve been banging for like ten minutes, are you drunk or something?”

“No,” Castiel comments. “What do you want?”

“Come with me,” Dean offers. “I need to talk to you and I don’t want to do it here.”

Castiel hesitates. Going with Dean means leaving the safety of his home and exposing himself to more emotional hurt. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he settles on saying.

“Then don’t talk,” Dean spits back. “Just come with me and listen. I have a lot of things I need to say to you. Stuff I should have said a long time ago. Please, Cas.”

Castiel nods, slowly, though he’s uncertain if this is the right thing to do. But he grabs his jacket and follows Dean down the trellis and across the neighbor’s yard to the street where Dean’s car is parked. “Where are we going?” Castiel asks as he slides into the passenger seat.

“Someplace private,” Dean murmurs as he starts the engine and drives off. Castiel looks at him more closely and notices he’s wearing a tuxedo.

“How was prom?” he hisses angrily.

“What?” Dean seems startled by the question. He looks down at his clothing and then rolls his eyes. “I didn’t go. I mean I did but I only went to see if you were going to be there. When you weren’t I left again.”

“I bet your date was unhappy about that,” Castiel snorts. It’s halfway said under his breath but Dean hears it.

“I didn’t have a date, Cas,” Dean explains.

“Why not?” Castiel’s shocked by the admission. That was what this whole thing was about.

“The person I wanted to ask was interested in someone else,” Dean shrugs. “I never got around to asking anyone else. It just didn’t feel right.”

They're silent for a long time before Castiel says softly, “I can’t imagine anyone not being interested in you.”

Dean’s laugh is rough, hollow, “Story of my life, Cas. I can have whatever I want unless it really means something to me.”

Castiel understands completely how that feels.

They drive for a long time on a dark highway before Castiel realizes they’re actually headed for the city. “Where are we going?” He asks as Dean gets off the highway and onto the downtown expressway.

“It’s a surprise,” Dean mumbles as they take the second exit and make some quick turns out of the business district into the popular, more artistic area of downtown. Castiel loves this place but he comes here rarely. Without transportation of his own it’s always been a chore.

There are galleries and interesting thrift shops lining the street on either side, a coffee shop on his left and gourmet cupcake place to the right. He’s trying not to press himself to the glass while he takes everything in. Then Dean pulls over into a tiny strip of parking and turns off the car.

“Dean?” he questions.

“I had to make reservations here like six months ago,” Dean comments as he leads the way around the front of the building. “It’s a popular place; pricy too. So when the date didn’t work out I was kind of stuck with it.”

Castiel follows him into the lobby of a classy hotel and stops dead with his mouth hanging open. “You have a reservation here?”

“Yeah,” Dean nods as he holds up his key. “Checked in this afternoon. Mine until tomorrow at noon.”

“Oh,” Castiel whispers as he follows Dean to the elevator. “Well, their loss is my gain, I suppose.”

Dean snorts, “Something like that.”

The room is beautiful, ornately decorated with expensive linen and rich, dark wood furniture. There’s cider chilling on a tray on the desk, next to a plate of chocolate covered strawberries and some cookies, still warm when Castiel passes his hands over them.

“You went all out,” Castiel says sadly.

“It cost me three months of my pay,” Dean nods. “I thought it was worth it at the time. I was hopeful.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Castiel says automatically, even though he’s really not sorry at all. This room is set for seduction and Castiel doesn’t want to even think about Dean bringing some girl here to have sex with her.

It makes him a little sick, and reminds him that they aren’t here under exactly friendly circumstances. “What did you want to tell me, Dean?”

Dean flushes and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his rented pants. “I should start with telling you how sorry I am about what I said to you.”

Castiel nods. It would seem to be an appropriate place to begin.

“But I’m not going to do that,” Dean takes a deep breath. “Because I’m not sorry.”

Castiel flinches as though he was physically struck. “What?” he manages weakly.

“I’m not sorry,” Dean repeats. “I’m not sorry and I’m not going to lie to you anymore.”

“About what?” Castiel squeezes out as his chest tightens. Horrible thoughts flood his head. Dean is going reject him. He’s going to lose the best friend he's ever had.

“Everything,” Dean sighs as he slumps down onto a chair by the door. “There was no girl I wanted to ask to prom. There never was. I’ve dated a little bit but it hasn’t been serious the way you seem to think it was. I’ve only ever really been interested in one person, and they’ve never paid any attention to me that way.”

He raises his eyes and levels Castiel with his gaze. “You’ve never paid attention to me that way.”

“Oh, God,” Castiel gasps as he stumbles backward to sit on the foot of the bed.

“I couldn’t figure it out, and I talked to my dad,” Dean explains. “He told me to ask you if you were gay and so I did. And you admitted it and I thought it would be so easy then. We’d always been good together, good for each other. But on the way home you told me you weren’t interested in me.” Dean pauses and clenches his hands together. “It hurt.”

Castiel is aware he’s breathing too fast, panting almost, as he digs his fingers into the quilt covering the bed. Dean shakes his head slowly. “I had already rented this place then. I thought maybe you would change your mind. But then you told me you had your eye on someone else, and I thought I could do this, you know? I could be the bigger person and support you. So I told you to ask the asshole out and picked out the yarn for that sweater. For a while, I even thought I could give you this place as a gift for the night so long as I knew he would take care of you. I thought I was strong enough to do that.”

Dean breaks off in a hollow laugh. “And then you kissed me. I know it was all my fault. I should have never asked you to do that, but I just had to know what it would feel like if you were mine. Just for a second, I didn’t think it could hurt anything. But it ate me up inside. All I’ve been able to think about is you.”

“Dean…” Castiel squeaks.

“Just let me finish,” Dean interrupts with a wave of his hand. “I want you to hear all of it before you tell me to get out.” There’s another moment of silence where Dean seems to gather himself before adding, “I love that sweater. When I put it on I never wanted to take it off. I just wanted to pretend for a little bit that you had made it for me and not some idiot that doesn’t deserve you. I’m sorry I said it was crap. It’s not. It’s the coolest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do, and it reminded me of my mom and how she made things for everyone. I just couldn’t give it back and let you give it to someone else. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“It’s yours,” Castiel blurts.

“What?” Dean questions with his brows scrunched together. “What?”

“There is no guy,” Castiel explains. “I lied to you. You misunderstood me when I said I wasn’t pining for you. I meant I wasn’t pining for anyone. I was still trying to get used to the idea of being gay. I wasn’t ready to start thinking about being gay with someone.”

“Oh,” Dean whispers before swiping at his face with his hand. “The sweater?”

“I made up the guy when you started asking me about prom,” Castiel shakes his head. “It’s so stupid. I figured I could knit the stupid sweater and tell you he turned me down so you could go to prom with your date and I could go alone and you wouldn’t feel bad about it. I made it all up. You picked out the yarn for that sweater. I made it based on your body type and finished it off thinking about whether or not you might like it. It’s yours, it’s always been yours. There’s never been anyone else.”

“I like your eccentricities,” Dean blurts after a moment of silence.

Castiel looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“I do,” Dean rushes to add as he gets up out of the chair and kneels down at Castiel’s feet. “I love you for them, actually. I appreciate your artistic nature and quiet countenance, I admire your loyalty and dedication, and I hope like hell you know I return them with my own. Your lack of experience doesn’t bother me. But I can’t teach you anything because I don’t know shit so we’ll have to figure it out together. I love you, Cas.”

His words, given back to him in a way he never even dared to dream about.

“Tell me we can make this work,” Dean pleads. “I’m an idiot, and I messed this all up, but I love you and I’ll always be right beside you if you just give me a chance. Give us a chance, Cas.”

“You’re my idiot,” Castiel huffs as he reaches forward to mess up Dean’s slicked back hair with his hands before tugging his friend closer. “Mine. I love you.”

Later, Castiel will think of this as their first kiss. Dean leaning up toward him and wrapping his arms around Castiel’s hips before nuzzling their faces so close together, and then dipping in and brushing their lips together tentatively, gently, asking for permission. Castiel smiles against Dean’s mouth and then yelps as Dean jerks him off the bed, quilt and all into a pile on the floor in Dean’s lap where he kisses Castiel again and again while they laugh.

Being in love is wonderful, Castiel recommends it to everyone.

He’s halfway through tugging Dean’s vest off when it occurs to him to ask, “You really went looking for me at prom?”

Dean blushes. “I don’t know, man. I thought maybe it would end up like Pretty in Pink or something.”

“I can’t believe you even watched that movie,” Castiel chuckles. “Which one of us is Ducky?”

“Sam,” Dean says firmly before tickling him mercilessly. “And I watched that movie a hundred times at your house, with you and your stupid sister.”

Reality suddenly comes crashing down around his head. “Dean,” Castiel says regretfully. “I have to go home. I snuck out. My dad’s going to kill me.”

Dean smiles up at him from where he’s lounging on the quilt spread out on the floor. “My dad already called your dad and told him you were out partying with me tonight.”

Castiel blinks, “Wait, you’re not telling me your father is orchestrating our big gay love affair, are you?”

Dean tangles their fingers together while he answers. “When I went to my dad about it, before I asked you if you were gay, he said my mom had always hoped that one day you’d really be part of our family. He asked me if I was gay and I couldn’t answer him. I just told him the only person I ever really felt right around was you.” Dean shrugs. “He told me he’d do anything he could to help. My dad loves me, no matter what, I guess. He loves you too. He chewed my ass out last week when we weren’t talking. You know he followed you home from work every night just to make sure you were okay? God, he was pissed at me. He’s why we’re here right now. He told me to fix us or move out.”

“I wish my family was like that,” Castiel sighs as he lets Dean tug him down into a tight embrace.

“I know,” Dean murmurs into his hair. “Look, if it doesn’t work out Anna and Gabriel can always come to our house for holidays.”

Castiel doesn’t think he’s laughed so much in his life.

*****

It’s three in the morning by the time they’ve finished off the cookies and cider, Castiel’s bare chest still streaked with chocolate from the strawberries they shared. Dean’s always been playful with him when he would allow it, but now, with no barriers between them emotionally, he’s even more so.

Castiel’s pretty sure he’s going to have beard burn on both his nipples tomorrow but it had felt so good when Dean had rubbed them against his cheeks. “Want to take a shower?” He asks in a moment of bravery and is delighted when Dean rumbles his approval before tugging on his hand to drag him from the bed and into the bathroom.

He spends the time while the water heats up pressing Dean up against the counter and unbuttoning his pants. He should be more nervous than he is, maybe. But the night has a somewhat unreal quality to it for him and he’s riding high on the emotional intensity of it all.

It’s Dean that’s shaking, a quiver right underneath his skin that Castiel chases with his fingertips and then his tongue. “Are you alright?” He asks as he inhales Dean’s scent from where he has his face pressed into his friend’s neck.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes into his hair as he yanks at Castiel’s pants. “I’m just pretty new at this.”

“Showers?” Castiel teases as he pinches Dean’s butt when he bends over to check on the water temperature.

“No,” Dean snorts. “Jerk.”

“Boys then,” Castiel says with a nod. Somehow knowing Dean’s experience is centered entirely around females makes him feel a little less murderous rage.

“Nakedness in general,” Dean replies before quickly adding, “Water feels great, let’s get in.”

“Wait,” Castiel jerks to a halt and refuses to be moved as Dean tugs on his arm. “What do you mean?”

Dean shrugs like it’s nothing, “I told you, I’ve got no experience. We’re the blind leading the blind here.”

“You’ve never had sex before,” Castiel says, stunned.

“I never got past over the clothes making out,” Dean admits with a flush that Castiel is starting to find endearing. “It didn’t feel right.”

He tugs on Castiel’s arm again, and this time he allows himself to be dragged into the walk in shower and pushed under the blissfully warm spray. He presses himself up against Dean’s naked body and gasps as how good it feels to be this close, to have this much. They trade lazy kisses while they wash each other, learning the shape and feel of each other’s bodies as thoroughly as they can, without interruption from the rest of the world.

“Do you want to wait?” Castiel whispers as Dean strokes his hand up the inside of Castiel’s thigh.

“That’s why I love you, Cas,” Dean chuckles as he reaches out to wrap his hand around Castiel’s leaking erection. “If I said yes, you would stop right now, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Castiel grinds out even as his hips jerk to the movement of Dean’s hand.

“So good,” Dean rumbles into his shoulder as he strokes a little faster, the soap slicking the way. Castiel clings to him, rocking his hips and panting until Dean’s finger circles around the crown of his dick and the pleasure abruptly turns into a harsh burning sensation.

“Ow, SHIT!” Castiel exclaims as he jerks away and dives under the spray to try and get the soap off his dick.

“What?” Dean blurts, clearly panicked.

“Soap burns,” Castiel grumbles as he breathes through the discomfort. Dean snorts with barely held back laughter. They dry off and head to the bedroom where Dean drops to his knees and lavishes Castiel’s slightly wilted erection with his lips and tongue until he’s achingly hard again and clinging to the sheets to keep from thrusting into Dean’s mouth.

It’s slow, a little awkward, Dean’s using more teeth than he probably needs but to Castiel it’s the best fucking sensation in the world. He buries his hands in short hair and unconsciously thrusts up as Dean slides down.

Dean gags on his dick.

He pulls away coughing and gasping while Castiel stays frozen in place. “I’m sorry,” he gasps while Dean shakes his head before curling up next to him on the bed and mutters, “Sex should be considered a contact sport.”

They laugh and curl closer, slipping under the sheets in the cool air of the room before Dean kisses him again, more passionately this time, and rolls them until Castiel is pinned under his weight, their dicks pressed between the hard weight of their bodies. Dean’s thrusts are slow, careful at first, until Castiel spreads his legs just enough for everything to line up perfectly between them. Then everything changes, and it’s perfect and Castiel is digging his fingers into Dean’s ass so hard he knows he’s going to leave bruises. Dean has his arms on either side of Castiel’s shoulders as he rocks back against Castiel’s thrusts while they both sweat and groan and lick at each other’s mouths.

There’s a rush of warmth against his dick and Dean tosses his back and groans out his name, so slowly. Castiel gets lost in it, watching Dean come and knowing he’s the cause of it. Dean trusted him enough to do this.

But then Dean’s moving again and a hand tugging roughly in Castiel’s hair snaps his attention back to the moment at hand. “Gonna come for me, Cas,” Dean growls down at him while Castiel whimpers and clings to him. “Look at me, Cas,” Dean says softly. “Look at me, I wanna see you give it up for me.”

“Dean,” Castiel gasps as his eyes snap to his friend’s face. “Dean,” he pleads without really knowing what he’s asking for. He just needs a little more.

“Love you, baby,” Dean whispers. “Going to be just us forever now.”

He sees stars behind his eyes and the world dims briefly.

Castiel is a lump of relaxation and contentment as Dean gets a warm washcloth from the bathroom and cleans them both up before sliding back into bed and tugging the covers up over them both.

“Does that count?” Dean asks as he snuggles down into Castiel’s arms with his head pillowed on Castiel’s chest. “Or are we still virgins?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Castiel answers with a lazy grin.

Dean makes a noise that sounds like pure happiness as they drift off to sleep.

*****

“Hello boys,” John says as they walk back into the Winchester home late Sunday afternoon. Castiel watches as Dean’s father looks pointedly down at their joined hands before raising his eyes back to his son's face, and smiles.

“Hello, Sir,” Castiel stammers even as Dean puffs up and answers “Hey, Dad.”

“You staying for dinner, Cas?” John asks from behind the Sunday paper as he sits back in his chair in the kitchen.

“If that would be alright with you,” Castiel answers.

“You’re family, kid,” John comments gruffly. “Of course you’re welcome to stay.”

Dean beams with pride; Castiel’s not sure if it’s for him or for his father’s acceptance. They turn as Dean tugs him toward the steps leading to the family room downstairs. But they stumble to a halt when John Winchester orders “Leave the door open to the basement, Dean.”

“My whole life you’ve been yelling at me to ‘shut the damned door,’ now you want it open?” Dean asks.

“When you’re down there with your boyfriend you leave the door open,” John orders. “And stay out of your bedroom.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something horrible, Castiel just knows it. Probably about unwanted pregnancy and the impossibility of it with two males involved; but this is all going so well, and Castiel doesn’t want to mess it up. He clamps a hand over his now boyfriend’s mouth and says “Yes, Sir,” before yanking Dean down the steps to snuggle on the couch and act like they’re watching a movie.

After dinner it takes them an hour to say goodnight, so unwilling to stop kissing that Sam makes a noise like he’s puking and stomps up the steps complaining about how gross they are. Castiel wanders home with his head in the clouds and a skip in his step. He doesn’t think his life can get any better.

But then, on Monday morning, Dean shows up at school with his sweater on.

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