Fic: Loving the Fall (2/?)
See the masterpost for disclaimer, summary, and previous parts.
The Winchesters didn’t have any Christmas traditions to contribute to the holiday, so they found themselves adopting Harrison traditions. One of those traditions was to eat meals at the coffee table in the living room, basking in the glow of the tree. The coffee table was low to the ground, so they all sat on the floor. It wasn’t very big, so they had to sit close together, Dean and Cas on one side, Sam and Zoë on the other. Dean could take or leave several Christmas traditions, but this one he could take.
They were lounging around after dinner, Dean leaning with his back to the couch with Cas tucked between his legs and lying against his chest. Ever since Castiel fell (like, literally, hit the pavement as a human), he’d been drawn to physical contact with Dean. At night, it could mean the difference between a good night’s sleep and horrific nightmares. When their friendship became… this… Castiel sought more and more of Dean’s touch. Dean kind of thought Cas might be testing the waters with every touch, wondering how much the hunter would let him get away with. Because to hell with denying himself anymore, and because fuck if Cas didn’t deserved it, Dean draped his arm over Castiel’s shoulder. The former angel sank back into him contently, making Dean smile.
That is, until Sam brought up Bobby.
“Bobby called earlier,” he told Zoë sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with him.
“When is he getting here?”
“About three on Wednesday. I figured I’d pick him up. I’ve got that evening shift I traded Wes for so I could take the Friday before the Christmas weekend off, but I should have time before that.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Zoë said. “You guys really make him sound like quite the character.”
“Bobby is definitely that,” Sam agreed with a laugh.
“Bobby Singer is what many would call irascible,” Castiel quipped.
“No, he’s what you would call irascible, because no one else talks like that,” Dean countered.
“I can’t be held responsible for your limited vocabulary,” Cas replied.
“Limited? I’ll have you know I know lots of words. Big words.”
“Why is their size significant?”
“Oh god,” Sam groaned, “they’re flirting again.”
“We are not,” Dean and Cas said in unison.
Sam shook his head while Zoë burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, that’s adorable, Sam!”
While Dean took exception to being deemed ‘adorable’, anything that made his little brother uncomfortable was a win.
“Man, I can’t wait until Bobby’s here to take my side,” Sam groaned.
That’s when Dean went rigid.
Sam and Zoë kept on talking, but Cas felt Dean lock up behind him. He sat up and turned to level Dean with an inquisitive look. Dean was on the cusp of a genuine freak-out.
Retreat.
“Here, I’ll get the dishes,” Dean volunteered, jumping up and gathering up his and Castiel’s plates. Sam and Zoë barely took note of his leaving to go into the kitchen.
Once there, Dean put the plates on the counter, braced his hands on the formica, and took several deep breaths. Fuck… how had this not occurred to him until now? He’d gotten so comfortable, he just stopped thinking like that.
Until he took one freaking second to actually imagine Bobby Singer in their living room at dinnertime.
“Dean?”
Dean turned to find Castiel entering the kitchen, Sam and Zoë’s plates in hand.
Dean swallowed. “Hey.”
Cas cocked his head and frowned at him, puzzled. He could see there was something wrong.
Dean turned to the sink so he wouldn’t have to see that face. “You can leave those… I’ll take care of them.”
Castiel placed the two plates beside Dean. Then he paused. Dean tensed. He didn’t want to do this now. Not now. He needed time to grapple with it first.
Castiel, bless him, got that. Just when he seemed about to reach out and touch Dean, he sighed and gave up… for the moment. “I’m going to bed.”
“Yeah, sure… be up in a bit,” Dean replied tightly.
Castiel turned to leave. Once he was gone, Dean planted his elbows on the edge of the sink and buried his face in his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell was he going to do?
He stayed downstairs until it was late and he was the last one up. He walked past the living room with its twinkling tree and trudged up the stairs. He slipped into the bedroom he and Castiel shared to find Cas already in bed, facing the window and its open curtains.
Dean skinned out of his pants and slipped under the covers.
He only had to lie there a few seconds listening to his bedmate’s breathing to know that Castiel wasn’t asleep.
But thing was… Dean still wasn’t ready to talk. Not even close. But he knew his habit of shutting down could make Castiel think he’d done something wrong to trigger it. Dean sucked at talking, but he could let Cas know how he felt in other ways. Without a word, he shuffled over on the mattress to spoon around Castiel’s back.
To find the ex-angel completely naked.
Castiel turned abruptly in his arms, pushed him onto his back, and smothered him in a kiss. Dean’s hands went to Castiel’s hair and fisted. He had no idea there was such urgent hunger in him until Castiel’s mouth was on his, and suddenly it was imperative that Castiel feel it, everything Dean felt.
The fact that Castiel had been lying in wait, nude, meant Castiel knew Dean so fucking well.
Amid lips and tongue and teeth, Castiel drew back and found Dean’s eyes in the sparse moonlight coming through the window. “Dean… are you all right?”
“I want you.” Which didn’t answer the question, not by a long shot, but it was what Dean could confess. He just needed Cas to not ask, needed Cas to get him to stop thinking.
The look in Castiel’s night-dark eyes was briefly disappointed, sad, then Castiel was sliding a leg over Dean to straddle him. His slender hands were pushing up inside Dean’s shirt while Dean’s hips bucked. Castiel’s thighs gripped him tighter, a soft-strong vice of human flesh and bone, and Dean’s hands were traveling, mapping Cas in the dark. Not that Dean needed to. He knew this body, this soul, this man.
Castiel shucked Dean out of his shirt. He folded at the waist to bring his face to Dean’s, panting hot in his ear while his hand slipped into Dean’s boxers, and Dean let Castiel know him.
Next
The Winchesters didn’t have any Christmas traditions to contribute to the holiday, so they found themselves adopting Harrison traditions. One of those traditions was to eat meals at the coffee table in the living room, basking in the glow of the tree. The coffee table was low to the ground, so they all sat on the floor. It wasn’t very big, so they had to sit close together, Dean and Cas on one side, Sam and Zoë on the other. Dean could take or leave several Christmas traditions, but this one he could take.
They were lounging around after dinner, Dean leaning with his back to the couch with Cas tucked between his legs and lying against his chest. Ever since Castiel fell (like, literally, hit the pavement as a human), he’d been drawn to physical contact with Dean. At night, it could mean the difference between a good night’s sleep and horrific nightmares. When their friendship became… this… Castiel sought more and more of Dean’s touch. Dean kind of thought Cas might be testing the waters with every touch, wondering how much the hunter would let him get away with. Because to hell with denying himself anymore, and because fuck if Cas didn’t deserved it, Dean draped his arm over Castiel’s shoulder. The former angel sank back into him contently, making Dean smile.
That is, until Sam brought up Bobby.
“Bobby called earlier,” he told Zoë sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with him.
“When is he getting here?”
“About three on Wednesday. I figured I’d pick him up. I’ve got that evening shift I traded Wes for so I could take the Friday before the Christmas weekend off, but I should have time before that.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Zoë said. “You guys really make him sound like quite the character.”
“Bobby is definitely that,” Sam agreed with a laugh.
“Bobby Singer is what many would call irascible,” Castiel quipped.
“No, he’s what you would call irascible, because no one else talks like that,” Dean countered.
“I can’t be held responsible for your limited vocabulary,” Cas replied.
“Limited? I’ll have you know I know lots of words. Big words.”
“Why is their size significant?”
“Oh god,” Sam groaned, “they’re flirting again.”
“We are not,” Dean and Cas said in unison.
Sam shook his head while Zoë burst out laughing. “Oh, come on, that’s adorable, Sam!”
While Dean took exception to being deemed ‘adorable’, anything that made his little brother uncomfortable was a win.
“Man, I can’t wait until Bobby’s here to take my side,” Sam groaned.
That’s when Dean went rigid.
Sam and Zoë kept on talking, but Cas felt Dean lock up behind him. He sat up and turned to level Dean with an inquisitive look. Dean was on the cusp of a genuine freak-out.
Retreat.
“Here, I’ll get the dishes,” Dean volunteered, jumping up and gathering up his and Castiel’s plates. Sam and Zoë barely took note of his leaving to go into the kitchen.
Once there, Dean put the plates on the counter, braced his hands on the formica, and took several deep breaths. Fuck… how had this not occurred to him until now? He’d gotten so comfortable, he just stopped thinking like that.
Until he took one freaking second to actually imagine Bobby Singer in their living room at dinnertime.
“Dean?”
Dean turned to find Castiel entering the kitchen, Sam and Zoë’s plates in hand.
Dean swallowed. “Hey.”
Cas cocked his head and frowned at him, puzzled. He could see there was something wrong.
Dean turned to the sink so he wouldn’t have to see that face. “You can leave those… I’ll take care of them.”
Castiel placed the two plates beside Dean. Then he paused. Dean tensed. He didn’t want to do this now. Not now. He needed time to grapple with it first.
Castiel, bless him, got that. Just when he seemed about to reach out and touch Dean, he sighed and gave up… for the moment. “I’m going to bed.”
“Yeah, sure… be up in a bit,” Dean replied tightly.
Castiel turned to leave. Once he was gone, Dean planted his elbows on the edge of the sink and buried his face in his hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell was he going to do?
He stayed downstairs until it was late and he was the last one up. He walked past the living room with its twinkling tree and trudged up the stairs. He slipped into the bedroom he and Castiel shared to find Cas already in bed, facing the window and its open curtains.
Dean skinned out of his pants and slipped under the covers.
He only had to lie there a few seconds listening to his bedmate’s breathing to know that Castiel wasn’t asleep.
But thing was… Dean still wasn’t ready to talk. Not even close. But he knew his habit of shutting down could make Castiel think he’d done something wrong to trigger it. Dean sucked at talking, but he could let Cas know how he felt in other ways. Without a word, he shuffled over on the mattress to spoon around Castiel’s back.
To find the ex-angel completely naked.
Castiel turned abruptly in his arms, pushed him onto his back, and smothered him in a kiss. Dean’s hands went to Castiel’s hair and fisted. He had no idea there was such urgent hunger in him until Castiel’s mouth was on his, and suddenly it was imperative that Castiel feel it, everything Dean felt.
The fact that Castiel had been lying in wait, nude, meant Castiel knew Dean so fucking well.
Amid lips and tongue and teeth, Castiel drew back and found Dean’s eyes in the sparse moonlight coming through the window. “Dean… are you all right?”
“I want you.” Which didn’t answer the question, not by a long shot, but it was what Dean could confess. He just needed Cas to not ask, needed Cas to get him to stop thinking.
The look in Castiel’s night-dark eyes was briefly disappointed, sad, then Castiel was sliding a leg over Dean to straddle him. His slender hands were pushing up inside Dean’s shirt while Dean’s hips bucked. Castiel’s thighs gripped him tighter, a soft-strong vice of human flesh and bone, and Dean’s hands were traveling, mapping Cas in the dark. Not that Dean needed to. He knew this body, this soul, this man.
Castiel shucked Dean out of his shirt. He folded at the waist to bring his face to Dean’s, panting hot in his ear while his hand slipped into Dean’s boxers, and Dean let Castiel know him.
Next