Move Over, Meg Ryan
Title: Move Over, Meg Ryan
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Word count: 5,771
Spoilers: This is based sometime after 6.07
Warnings: Masturbation (brief), a lapdance (not of the Dean/Cas variety, I'm afraid), and Cliches (it deserves the capitalization). Don't judge me.
Summary: After a night at the stripclub, Castiel gives Dean a look that's too revealing. After something akin to a confession, Dean is forced to think about what exactly he feels for the angel.
"Oh, I-"
Dean freezes at Castiel's voice, the pleasurable sensations and thoughts of oh, yes immediately replaced with something that feels too much like terror. Dean blinks, and the instant it takes him to tuck his quickly deflating cock back into his boxers feels like 15 minutes. He doesn't look up right away, he doesn't want to, and with his face growing hot, he can only say, "Jesus, Cas." And as he says it he realizes he feels like a damn teenager being caught by a parent. "You couldn't have just teleported, or whatever it is you do, outside of the door?"
"My apologies," Castiel says, and Dean knows he's turned around by the change in his voice.
Dean looks up at the back of Cas's trenchcoat and adjusts his position on the bed, swinging his legs around to the side. "I mean, if you want a show, you're gonna have to pay admissions, cause I kind of need gas money."
"I don't-want a show."
"You sure you don't need a subject for your human interest paper?"
Castiel looks up toward the ceiling, tilting his head in Dean's direction as if to hear, "Should I step out?"
Dean gets up, "Nah, the mood is gone, trust me," he says, wiping his hand on his boxers. He goes toward the bathroom, and for some reason he chances a look at Castiel, who is looking at him, curious as ever.
"Why are you not accompanied by a woman?"
Dean shrugs and walks into the bathroom, "I'm not good company," Dean says, turning on the water. As he says it, he chances a glance at himself in the mirror, only to look away. "Besides, one night stands don't really do it for me anymore. And taking matters into your own hands on occasion is not a bad thing."
When he comes out, he wiggles his fingers. "In case you might want to shake my hand," he says in explanation.
"You're saying that your hand is a good alternative to a woman's touch?" Castiel asks, ignoring the comment. "You are usually quite promiscuous."
"Are you calling me a slut, Cas?"
"I wasn't- Sorry, I suppose I could have stated that differently."
Dean smirks at him, and goes over to his jeans on the back of the chair, pulling them on as he watches Cas. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you here?"
"Things have come to a standstill, I thought it was a good time to see how you were doing."
"Got more than you bargained for on that one, huh?"
"I am also bored."
"Angels get bored during a war?"
"You can only count the blades of grass so many times without wanting to pick up where Lucifer left off," he says. Castiel walks over to the TV, picking up the Pay-Per-View catalog. "It was either come here or give up and join Raphael."
Dean smiles. "Did you just make a joke?"
For a moment Castiel looks unsure. "Yes."
"A little dark. I like it."
Dean sits down on his bed, and Castiel fidgets, looking around the room. "Where is Sam?"
"He had to go to The White House for a meeting with the president. Something about foreign policy."
Castiel frowns.
"He's at the Library."
"Do you suppose we can we go out?"
"You mean you're finally asking me out on a date? It's about time, Cas."
"I wasn't aware that we were courting."
"We aren't," Dean stands up and starts to put on his coat, glancing at Cas, who looks a little amused, "What did you have in mind?"
"I'm not sure, but maybe it involves large quantities of alcohol."
Dean smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know me so well."
~~~
"I find it a bit troubling that you keep deciding to bring me to places like this, Dean. A bar would have sufficed."
Dean ignores him, and just smiles like he's in heaven, and he thinks that maybe he is. He grins at Cas, who at the moment, stares at a stripper mid slide on a pole. She's adorned in an angel costume, complete with wings, and Dean is only a little amused by it.
"You should go tell her you're in the same line of work," Dean says.
"I'm not... a stripper."
"And thank your absent father for that one."
Castiel looks at him, momentarily hurt by the comment. He speaks slowly, discretely, "I don't think I would disappoint, this vessel isn't bad looking," Castiel says.
"You're not exactly the preferred entertainer here," Dean says as he looks around, he sees five guys that look like members of a biker gang, "Plus, worse might happen than a little disappointment. And I doubt you even know how to strip."
"All human bodies are made to move seductively."
Dean looks at him skeptically, he can't imagine Castiel moving in anyway other way than his usual angel-trapped-in-a-human-body way, which is probably a good thing. "You keep telling yourself that, Chuckles."
Dean turns, and walks toward the seating at the front of the stage, "Let's watch and learn how to not move like a robot."
Sitting down, Castiel looks offended, Dean's comment just hitting him, his voice comes out more gruff than usual. "I move like a robot?"
Dean doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
Castiel looks at his arms. "I thought I was growing used to this vessel."
Dean smirks, watching the stripper work her audience. "I can see you're going to take the fun out of this little mission."
Castiel sits back, "What exactly is the mission?"
"Escape," Dean says, before pulling out his best grin as the stripper comes near them. "Fun."
"Hey, blue eyes," she says crawling to them. Dean grins at Castiel, who isn't saying anything, he just watches her as she rolls onto her back like a very sexy cat, and runs her hands down her body, before she arches up. It's something that makes the actual angel gulp, and Dean smiles more and gives her a 5, gas be damned. When she gets up again, her wings are slightly crooked, and if that isn't an analogy for her lack of 'angelic' qualities, he doesn't know what is.
Castiel looks over to Dean, his expression a little unsure, and for a second it takes him back to their quest to lose his virginity.
"He's a newcomer." Dean tells her, and Dean gives her some credit for finally looking in his direction in the midst of a move that is beyond hot.
"A virgin." She coos. "I'm gonna give you a lapdance in 5. On me."
"A lapdance?" Castiel asks.
Dean and her both grin.
~~~
Twenty - not five - minutes later, Dean laughs obnoxiously around his tenth shot of the cheapest whiskey, when Angel - he decides that's her name - straddles Castiel in a corner. And for a brief moment he's left wondering if hell is where he's headed... again, cause corrupting an angel - especially one with renewed faith - seems slightly wrong. But he supposes Castiel can use a little gratification, the guy is way too serious.
Dean watches as Castiel goes from unsure to mildly interested, and he wishes he can give him a pat on the back. Instead he just watches Castiel watch the stripper's hips move rhythmically to the music, and Dean wishes he were in his spot. But he wasn't joking about his need for gas, and frankly, much to his disappointment, it wins out over debauchery for the time being. So he's stuck drinking cheap whiskey and living vicariously through Castiel, who is positively fascinated by the faux-angel. She grins at him, and throws her head back in mock ecstasy, exposing her neck in the process, her hair streaming down her back, and Castiel just stares at her chest, before he throws a quick glance toward Dean.
Dean grins and gives him a thumbs up, only to suddenly be unsure why he's watching, shot glass in hand. It makes him feel like a peeping tom. But it's like a train wreck. How can you not watch a virginal angel in a strip club?
Dean looks away for a moment, and smiles at the bartender, who asks if he wants another, "Just one more, I think I might be starting to feel something."
The bartender smiles, and Dean catches a glimmer of white, before she pours it. "Should've gotten the good stuff."
When she walks off with a wink, Dean downs another before he turns around to find an open mouthed Castiel under Angel's cascading hair, now fully - as much as you could expect from him - enjoying himself. He's following her movement with his eyes, his arms in a position that shows that he wants to touch her, or maybe that he doesn't know what to do with his hands.
Castiel then moves on to staring at her face as she grinds against him, he looks transfixed by the Angel's teasing stare, and Dean finds it oddly endearing. He can almost imagine the bright wide orbs in front of him.
Dean grins, wishing once again he were in his position, but something about it, about Cas losing his innocence makes him crave his own. He smiles though, cause seeing Castiel give in to his vessel's impulses, reminds him once again, that Cas, he isn't so bad. And the fact that he came to Dean in his down time, proves it even more.
And just as he thinks that, Castiel's body language changes completely. He's tense, no longer happy with his little treat, he says something to Angel then looks to Dean. Dean wonders what's up, and if it's bad, like Raphael just winning the war or something. But Angel pats his cheek affectionately, saying something in his ear as she gets up. Castiel looks away shyly as she walks away, his expression full of something way too similar to dread.
Angel walks up toward Dean. "Is he an actual virgin or what?" Dean just shrugs. But he hears, "Freaking out over a boner," as she walks off.
Dean wants to laugh, he does, and as soon he's walking over to Castiel, he's sputtering with laughter. "Nice, huh?" Dean says. He thinks back to his virgin years for a moment, and realizes he probably would've been a little scared to... if he were sexually stunted.
Castiel stands up, and Dean's eyes can't help but drift downward. Seeing Cas's tented pants makes him laugh even harder.
"This isn't funny."
Dean just laughs more. "Yes, it is."
Castiel closes his coat and glares.
~~~
"I'd appreciate it, if you kept this to yourself," Castiel says when they're walking to the car.
"Oh, I'm telling everyone who will listen," Dean laughs. But as soon as he says it, he's stopping right in front of his car. He grimaces as he thinks of the drinks he had. He's no where near shitfaced, but he is buzzed and a little woozy. He doesn't want to risk being pulled over. "Can you drive?"
"No."
"Can you teleport cars?"
"I don't think it would be wise. We can leave it here."
Dean thinks about it. If Cas would be so kind to bring him back in the morning, it shouldn't be towed. But what if he suddenly needed some rock salt or something? He's pretty sure just the guns are in the room.
"Well, I don't think the motel is haunted," Dean says more to himself than to Castiel.
"There are no angry spirits there."
"OK," Dean says, putting his hand on Castiel's shoulder, "To the motel, Scotty."
~~~~
When they arrive, there's no sign of Sam returning. Dean sighs. "He must have his nose stuck in an old book," Dean mutters. He can't help but feel a little mournful when he says it. He almost feels the whiskey drain out of him. "Or eating children for all I know."
"Sam?"
"If that's what you want to call him."
Castiel sits down on a chair near the window, the whole thing at the strip club forgotten. He looks way too sympathetic for Dean's taste. "How are you, Dean?"
Dean glances at him. "I'm fine," he says. But it isn't as convincing as he'd like it to be.
Dean sits on the edge of the bed and really looks at Castiel. "Gonna head back to your blades of grass?"
"No."
"What about heaven?"
"I'm not currently needed."
"Surely they can use your presence to boost morale or something?"
"It isn't necessary, not now, anyway... Heaven isn't the same. My brethren are not the same."
Dean nods. And like that, his thoughts go running back to his soulless brother, basically an empty vessel. He isn't the same, and that's what bothers him most. "What was it like before... for the angels, I mean?"
Castiel's eyes fill with something Dean can only call love. "It's hard to explain, 'heavenly' doesn't seem to cut it. But it wasn't what it is now. The negativity that's there is, at times, overwhelming," Castiel says, looking at him. "All we feel is pain, confusion, guilt, hate... over fighting our brothers, over decisions we've made in a war no one wants to fight."
Dean scoots back a little, but he doesn't say anything. He's kind of pissed that Castiel lost his bliss, even if it was as ignorant as it tends to be. He clears his throat, "I'm sorry, Cas."
"I feel better here," Castiel says looking into his lap. The way Castiel looks up after he says it, tells Dean that he really means 'I feel better with you.'
Dean blinks. "Well, glad being here helps."
Castiel's face changes into a small smile, and Dean briefly wishes he'd see it more often.
Dean starts taking off his boots, then moves to his jacket. Lifting his gaze to Cas who is still watching him, his eyes seem softer. "What?"
"I hope you know I would go into hell to get to Sam's soul if I could."
Dean nods, "I know."
"I care about you, Dean. Your happiness is important to me. Sam's wellbeing as well."
Any other time he'd point out the awkwardness of the moment, but it seems too fragile to dismiss. "I know. I care about you too." If only his voice didn't just get embarrassingly soft.
Castiel nods. They don't say anything after that, there's just a silence, awkward as hell for Dean, but probably nothing to Cas. Dean looks at him again, meeting his eyes. It unnerves him, so he clears his throat and looks away, emptying his pockets onto the nightstand, just to have a task.
Dean thinks of Sam, the real Sam. Then of Lisa and Ben, his surrogate family, and the things that almost took place. The events of that hunt fresh in his mind.
After Dean's rendition of Twilight he couldn't bring himself to call them up and explain and apologize more than he already has. And as much as he'd like to do that now, he figures that maybe since he is back in the life that is hunting, it's better to keep them at arms length. They're safe, and it should stay that way.
But right now, Dean misses Lisa, the smell of her hair, her warmth, the softness of her skin. The comfort only a woman could provide. He misses the sex, the sex that was passionate one day, and slow and tender the next. The quickies. The angry sex after an argument, that always managed to occur while Ben was at school or with friends.
Dean suddenly considers getting in the shower, maybe finishing what he started when Cas so rudely interrupted hours before. He needs a release, he wants to feel the endorphins doing their work. He wants to finally rest. Even if the orgasm is brought on by his own hand, which contrary to what he told Cas, is never as good as someone else's.
Dean licks his lips in want, and realizes that Castiel is still sitting there. He looks over, and of course Cas is Cas, so he's looking at him, always studying him. Dean clears his throat, and smirks.
"You're not reading my thoughts, are you?"
"In your case, it's best to remain in the dark," Castiel says. And if Dean didn't know better, he'd say he was being sly.
Dean taps his head, "Too hot in here, huh?"
"You're very lustful."
"You're one to talk, Boner Boy." Dean gets up and walks to the kitchenette. "Besides, I need something to keep me going."
"Food, sleep and water keep you going. Sex distracts you."
"Sometimes distraction is the only thing stopping you from eating a gun, Cas."
Cas's eyes go soft again. "I understand."
Dean downs a glass of water. "So, I know you don't need sleep, but do you ever?"
"Not since I woke up in the hospital."
"Did I ever thank you for that?"
"I've come to terms with being taken for granted."
"I never say it, do I? I do think it. I think it a lot. I know I owe you my life." Maybe he is more than buzzed.
Castiel looks at him, his eyes boring into him like they always do. "I know things are left unsaid. It's why I've come to terms."
Dean nods. "Well, I'm gonna say it now. Thank you."
Castiel nods as well. "You're welcome. Do you wish to sleep?"
"Yeah."
Castiel starts to get up from the chair. "I will leave then, and come back tomorrow to retrieve your car."
"No, I'm not going to kick you out, you can watch TV or something. But I'm gonna jump in the shower."
~~~
Getting out of the shower, Dean feels better, he's less tense, relaxed and ready to sleep. Despite not getting off. Castiel glances at him when he comes out, then glues his eyes to what appears to be The Jetsons. Dean doesn't say anything, just looks at the TV.
"That Jane is a babe," Dean says walking closer. "Actually, so is Judy, but I think she's like 16. And I'm not going down that road even with a cartoon."
"They aren't real."
"So?"
"What sensory pleasures would they provide?"
Dean looks over, "Well, I know I can't really sleep with them."
Castiel looks back at the TV. "Rosie, she is a robot..."
Dean smirks. "Got the hots for her then, huh?"
"No, but I am judging her movements. She rolls."
Dean laughs, "I was just being a dick, man," Dean says as he looks over, he's smiling, but he feels it break when he sees Castiel's eyes sweep over his basically nude body. When Castiel meets his eyes, he doesn't say anything, he just looks away. Dean chooses to ignore it.
When Dean pulls a shirt over his head, Castiel points out how The Jetsons isn't at all realistic.
Dean sits on his bed, and stretches his arms as he does so. "It's a cartoon, that's the defining characteristic of a cartoon."
"There is a talking dog," Castiel tells him, his eyes on Dean's exposed skin.
Dean looks at him, watches him as he looks away. "Yeah, well. Who doesn't want a talking dog?"
"Maybe you have a point," Castiel says. Then looks again as Dean stretches his back.
Dean stills and snaps his fingers. "You all right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"You're checking me out." Dean's surprised how even his voice is.
"Checking you out?" Cas asks, and Dean can hear an edge in his voice. Something tells him Cas knows exactly what the phrase means.
He explains anyway. "Looking at me... like how you just were. Like how I imagine I look in front of a set of nice boobs that I really can't wait to put my face between. Like how you looked at the stripper."
"Oh," is all he says.
When Castiel doesn't look at him, he sighs. "Cas?"
Castiel looks down. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Screw that... In case you've missed the memo, you do that a lot. I just-why?"
"I'm not certain. I have always found you aesthetically appealing."
Dean doesn't say anything. He just stares at the TV. "Oh."
"It bothers you?"
"No. No, I guess not. But I'm pretty sure you just called me beautiful."
"That word works as well."
Dean closes his eyes for a moment. "Does this mean, you're attracted-" Dean starts. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to bed." Dean stacks the crappy motel pillows and gets under the covers. "Watch something educational or something."
~~~
Dean dreams of his family, of Sam, his mother, his father. In the dream he's a child and they're all how he remembers them, how he sees them despite all their faults and disappointments. Sam is just as he picked him up from college, content and safe with the same brotherly bond they worked so hard to regain. His Mom and Dad are the parents they were before the fire. He's sitting with them, basking in the normalcy, their safety. Their love. Then he starts talking to them about his first baseball game, and for a moment they're listening, intent on hearing what he has to say but then they start to get up and walk away. Dean asks them where they're going and tries to catch up with them, but his small legs can't catch up, and his voice doesn't even grab their attention when they start to move away, faster, floating, as if they're made of nickel and being pulled by a high power magnet. He runs with all he can and cries for them to slow down or just stop, but they don't hear him. Soon they're going through a door, and Dean runs to it, and gets there just as it shuts. He can't open it. He kicks it, pounds it, works the knob, and it doesn't open. He's miserable, crying, and afraid.
He feels a hand on his shoulder then, turning him around, and Castiel's familiar blue eyes are looking down at him. "You don't want to go in there," he says.
Castiel moves aside and points at the Impala, "You should go for a drive instead."
Dean smiles, and Castiel smiles back.
"Take her for a spin," he says.
Then Dean, teenager Dean, is happily speeding down a lonesome highway with 'Ramble On' playing in his ears.
Dean wakes up to a sky that's still dark. He looks at the ceiling, thinking of the dream he was just having, and wondering how exactly Castiel had the power to change a nightmare into a dream.
He sits up, scooting to the headboard, and looks at Castiel, his face glowing from the light on the TV, making him look as unworldly as he is.
"I had to interfere." he says.
"Thanks."
Dean looks at the TV. "So, angels prefer the mindless entertainment."
"I haven't found out which is Tom and which is Jerry."
"Jerry is the mouse."
"Either he is quite cunning, or the cat is quite slow."
Dean sits back against the headboard, looking at the other bed. Once again, he's back to thinking about his absent brother. "Yeah."
"Sam is still at the library."
"Yeah? How do you know that?"
"He sent you a text message, he's still researching. Afterward, he is going to go make some cash. It's on your phone."
"The joys of a soulless brother," Dean says. He's quite aware of the weariness in his voice. And he is weary. There's literally nothing he can do to get his soul back, and there's nothing Cas can do, and Crowley... well, the limey bastard is quite the bastard, holding Sam's soul- no, dangling Sam's soul over their heads, to keep them at his beck and call.
Dean is thrown out of his thoughts as soon as Castiel stands. Castiel adjusts his trenchcoat, and Dean stares at him, reminded of the moments before he went to bed, Cas' sudden interest in his body. His nonchalant confession of finding him beautiful. Dean wondering what exactly that meant.
"Dean," he says.
And for a second Dean's expectant. Expectant in a way that he shouldn't be. "Yeah?"
"I'm needed. I will be back."
Dean starts to say okay but before he can, Cas is gone. He shakes his head, realizing he didn't even get to discuss the reading of his texts, which was just not cool.
Dean tilts his head back against the headboard. "Aesthetically appealing," he mutters.
Is Castiel, Nerd Angel of the Lord, hot for him? If so, is it new? And how exactly does he feel about it?
Okay, so he's an angel, he's an exception to all things human. The looks he gave him could mean anything, from curiosity to lust.
And maybe he was just stating a fact. Afterall, he's said in the past that humans are works of art. And knowing Cas he probably finds beauty in paper blowing in the wind, or trash being swept into the gutter by the rain. His approval of Dean's looks doesn't necessarily mean 'oh, I want you so badly'. For one, Castiel had the decency to turn around when he was jacking off. And Dean might be mixing up porn with reality on how someone responds to their friend jacking off, but still. Finding someone beautiful doesn't always relate to sex. And Dean finds plenty of people beautiful.
Including Castiel. And yeah, he's man enough to admit it. Plus, Jimmy Novak is/was a handsome man, and Castiel inside of him is a whole other entity, that is indeed beautiful.
Like his eyes, that seem to reflect that there is a powerful creature inside, and that's something that hasn't changed. And not only that, he's watched them go from cold, almost emotionless pools of blue to something warmer, darker and brighter all at once. And that alone definitely has its appeal.
And yeah, it might be the most obvious when he looks at Dean.
"God, who am I, Meg Ryan?"
Flasher coat aside, he imagines there's a lithe and sculpted body underneath, that if Castiel ever figured out, how to carry it and himself as a sexual thing, it would be temptation at its finest, and Dean would have some serious competition.
And possibly someone he wouldn't mind switching teams for, and god... isn't that a revelation?
Though, is it really?
~~~
Castiel comes back in less than 30 minutes, when the sky is just starting to lighten.
Dean didn't go back to sleep, cause he was too busy comparing himself to Meg Ryan, and Castiel to Nick Cage, which made him think of Face/Off, and that was an awesome movie. But then John Travolta entered the equation and Dean remembered him playing Michael.
It was a weird circle of thoughts regarding movies and a douchebag angel who at one point wanted to wear him to the big premiere. And of course, thoughts went to Lucifer. And then to Sam. They always went to Sam.
Which means he's sitting there thinking of Sam and Not-Sam when Castiel returns. And he's sort of back to being miserable.
Castiel appears and sits in front of the TV. "Heaven is... still in disarray," he says almost conversationally.
Dean nods, and he's too aware of his thoughts immediately going back to the Meg Ryan-Nick Cage comparison. And to make it worse, Cas gives him one of those studying looks, like he knows Dean enough to just look at him and tell what's wrong. And maybe that's true.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah. I just-"
"Is it about Sam?"
Dean lets out a bitter laugh. "It was a moment ago. Now it's just-" Dean exhales. "Nevermind, it's not important."
"Tell me."
"About earlier..."
"I made you uncomfortable."
"No. Well, yeah and no. But it's fine, really."
"What is bothering you then?"
"It isn't. That might be the problem," Dean says avoiding Cas' general direction. Dean sighs, "What exactly do you feel, Cas?"
"There are far too many, contradicting things. I rather not list them."
"Okay. Well, how do you feel about me... physically?"
"I don't know," he says.
"I think you do."
"Nothing will be accomplished by talking about it."
"Why not?"
Castiel avoids his eyes, and for a long moment, Dean does nothing. But before he can stop himself, he's standing and walking to Castiel as he removes his shirt.
Dean stops directly in front of him, close enough to touch, and watches him for a long moment. Castiel is still intent on avoiding his gaze, so Dean reaches out and turns his head toward him, Castiel goes with it, but he's still avoiding eye contact. An alien notion, if Dean's ever seen one.
Castiel sighs, and Dean watches his gaze slip lower and lower until he knows Castiel is eying the trail of hair that leads into his boxers.
Dean lets go, and Castiel's eyes dart worriedly to Dean's. "Are you trying to entice me?" he asks, his voice is low and hoarse.
"I want to know how you feel, with me like this, in front of you," Dean tells him, and the sudden intimacy of it almost makes him want to back up. But he has to know. "What do you want, Cas?"
Castiel looks away. "Dean..."
"What do you want?"
Castiel swallows. "To touch you."
"And if I let you?"
"I'm not sure I would."
Dean steps closer, hovering over him and Castiel doesn't move, he just looks up at him, and Dean can feel the heat of him against his chest.
Castiel looks away shyly, and that alone makes Dean feel really fucking pushy. He shakes his head at himself, silently chastising his behavior, and starts to back up.
"Never mind. There are more important-" Castiel reaches for his hand, his fingers brushing his, and Dean stills, "-things going on," he finishes.
Dean doesn't pull back, he lets Castiel take hold of it and gently pull him back into his space. Dean's both unsure and transfixed as he looks down at him. Castiel studies his hand, one hand holding it as another brushes over his knuckles and the back of his hand, before moving onto his wrist to grasp. Castiel smooths a hand up his forearm and over his bicep, stopping at his shoulder, fingers tracing the fading scar he came out of hell with. It sends an unexpected shiver down Dean's spine.
Castiel stands then, and Dean suddenly can't breathe when he feels the warmth emanating from Cas's body. Close, but not close enough. Dean has the urge to lean in and capture his mouth, strip him of his coat, and do things to his body that'll make him think he is a god. But it isn't about what Dean will do.
When Cas moves his hand away from his shoulder and onto his chest, Dean's certain Castiel can hear the pounding, feel it against his palm. Dean watches him, feeling just as spellbound as Castiel looks by his own exploration. Dean figures he's going over what he's doing in his mind, relishing that for the first time in his existence, he's touching another just for the sake of feeling.
Cas's eyes are full of more than lust, and for a moment Dean thinks maybe he could die right there of a heart attack and Cas would bring him back, just cause he couldn't live without him. And isn't that just fucking perfect?
Castiel touches his jaw, fingers tracing it cautiously, before his knuckles do the same. He stops at his chin, hand still in one hand as the other just holds his face. Their eyes connect, but when Cas cups his cheek, he shuts his eyes, breath hitching as he savors the touch.
"Cas..." his voice is a whisper, but it feels louder than it is, intrusive, like a wrecking ball smashing the ruins of something sacred. Castiel touches his lips then, and it jars him more than he'd like to admit. But the shock wears off and is replaced with pleasure as Castiel smooths his thumb over his bottom lip, and Dean resists the temptation to mouth at it, to turn it into a lewd thing as he tongues the pad of it. Dean opens his eyes instead to see Cas' blue ones; softer than he's ever seen them, right in front of him, always peering.
It scares him, not only because of what he sees but because of how he responds. Dean swallows, both doubtful and glad of bringing this on. "I, uh..."
And like Castiel knows his unease, he pulls back and takes Dean's hand into both of his. He squeezes it gently as it trembles. "I expect nothing from you, Dean."
"I know."
"To answer your question, you make me feel..." he says. "You make me want."
Dean swallows, and Castiel watches the movement, "And the thing I want the most is your happiness. Your lack of it doesn't go unnoticed."
"Cas," Dean starts, but he doesn't know where he's going, so he stops.
"I realize now that I've been selfish in that respect," he continues. "Knowing that if I win this war, you'd go on to live longer, and Dean, you will be happy. I have faith in that."
Dean steps forward and finally touches back, he grips his shoulders, somewhat awkwardly, and Cas looks up at him with wonder.
"I love you, Dean."
Dean nods and moves even closer. Their bodies are touching, and Castiel goes a little cross-eyed as he looks at him. Dean speaks softly in his ear, "You can't say that to me, and not expect me to give you something back."
Dean rubs his tan covered arms in one slow sweeping motion and in an instant he's making the decision to kiss him. When Castiel gasps in his mouth, he decides he likes it very much, being able to make him lose whatever control he had.
Once over the shock, Castiel turns his head away, as if to gather his thoughts, and in an instant he's kissing Dean back, his mouth tenderly mouthing his before he's moving down to his jaw and neck. Dean sighs and holds on, fighting a smile, before he's pulling back, stopping to marvel at the fullness of Cas's lips, and Castiel lets him take control as he brings his thumb to his lip, watching it catch as he drags it down, momentarily revealing teeth. Dean smiles, understanding Castiel's earlier drive. "Like this," he says breathlessly, going in slow. He teases his lips with his own, and stops a moment to share a breath, "There's no rush."
~~~
Rating: R
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Word count: 5,771
Spoilers: This is based sometime after 6.07
Warnings: Masturbation (brief), a lapdance (not of the Dean/Cas variety, I'm afraid), and Cliches (it deserves the capitalization). Don't judge me.
Summary: After a night at the stripclub, Castiel gives Dean a look that's too revealing. After something akin to a confession, Dean is forced to think about what exactly he feels for the angel.
"Oh, I-"
Dean freezes at Castiel's voice, the pleasurable sensations and thoughts of oh, yes immediately replaced with something that feels too much like terror. Dean blinks, and the instant it takes him to tuck his quickly deflating cock back into his boxers feels like 15 minutes. He doesn't look up right away, he doesn't want to, and with his face growing hot, he can only say, "Jesus, Cas." And as he says it he realizes he feels like a damn teenager being caught by a parent. "You couldn't have just teleported, or whatever it is you do, outside of the door?"
"My apologies," Castiel says, and Dean knows he's turned around by the change in his voice.
Dean looks up at the back of Cas's trenchcoat and adjusts his position on the bed, swinging his legs around to the side. "I mean, if you want a show, you're gonna have to pay admissions, cause I kind of need gas money."
"I don't-want a show."
"You sure you don't need a subject for your human interest paper?"
Castiel looks up toward the ceiling, tilting his head in Dean's direction as if to hear, "Should I step out?"
Dean gets up, "Nah, the mood is gone, trust me," he says, wiping his hand on his boxers. He goes toward the bathroom, and for some reason he chances a look at Castiel, who is looking at him, curious as ever.
"Why are you not accompanied by a woman?"
Dean shrugs and walks into the bathroom, "I'm not good company," Dean says, turning on the water. As he says it, he chances a glance at himself in the mirror, only to look away. "Besides, one night stands don't really do it for me anymore. And taking matters into your own hands on occasion is not a bad thing."
When he comes out, he wiggles his fingers. "In case you might want to shake my hand," he says in explanation.
"You're saying that your hand is a good alternative to a woman's touch?" Castiel asks, ignoring the comment. "You are usually quite promiscuous."
"Are you calling me a slut, Cas?"
"I wasn't- Sorry, I suppose I could have stated that differently."
Dean smirks at him, and goes over to his jeans on the back of the chair, pulling them on as he watches Cas. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you here?"
"Things have come to a standstill, I thought it was a good time to see how you were doing."
"Got more than you bargained for on that one, huh?"
"I am also bored."
"Angels get bored during a war?"
"You can only count the blades of grass so many times without wanting to pick up where Lucifer left off," he says. Castiel walks over to the TV, picking up the Pay-Per-View catalog. "It was either come here or give up and join Raphael."
Dean smiles. "Did you just make a joke?"
For a moment Castiel looks unsure. "Yes."
"A little dark. I like it."
Dean sits down on his bed, and Castiel fidgets, looking around the room. "Where is Sam?"
"He had to go to The White House for a meeting with the president. Something about foreign policy."
Castiel frowns.
"He's at the Library."
"Do you suppose we can we go out?"
"You mean you're finally asking me out on a date? It's about time, Cas."
"I wasn't aware that we were courting."
"We aren't," Dean stands up and starts to put on his coat, glancing at Cas, who looks a little amused, "What did you have in mind?"
"I'm not sure, but maybe it involves large quantities of alcohol."
Dean smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You know me so well."
~~~
"I find it a bit troubling that you keep deciding to bring me to places like this, Dean. A bar would have sufficed."
Dean ignores him, and just smiles like he's in heaven, and he thinks that maybe he is. He grins at Cas, who at the moment, stares at a stripper mid slide on a pole. She's adorned in an angel costume, complete with wings, and Dean is only a little amused by it.
"You should go tell her you're in the same line of work," Dean says.
"I'm not... a stripper."
"And thank your absent father for that one."
Castiel looks at him, momentarily hurt by the comment. He speaks slowly, discretely, "I don't think I would disappoint, this vessel isn't bad looking," Castiel says.
"You're not exactly the preferred entertainer here," Dean says as he looks around, he sees five guys that look like members of a biker gang, "Plus, worse might happen than a little disappointment. And I doubt you even know how to strip."
"All human bodies are made to move seductively."
Dean looks at him skeptically, he can't imagine Castiel moving in anyway other way than his usual angel-trapped-in-a-human-body way, which is probably a good thing. "You keep telling yourself that, Chuckles."
Dean turns, and walks toward the seating at the front of the stage, "Let's watch and learn how to not move like a robot."
Sitting down, Castiel looks offended, Dean's comment just hitting him, his voice comes out more gruff than usual. "I move like a robot?"
Dean doesn't hesitate. "Yes."
Castiel looks at his arms. "I thought I was growing used to this vessel."
Dean smirks, watching the stripper work her audience. "I can see you're going to take the fun out of this little mission."
Castiel sits back, "What exactly is the mission?"
"Escape," Dean says, before pulling out his best grin as the stripper comes near them. "Fun."
"Hey, blue eyes," she says crawling to them. Dean grins at Castiel, who isn't saying anything, he just watches her as she rolls onto her back like a very sexy cat, and runs her hands down her body, before she arches up. It's something that makes the actual angel gulp, and Dean smiles more and gives her a 5, gas be damned. When she gets up again, her wings are slightly crooked, and if that isn't an analogy for her lack of 'angelic' qualities, he doesn't know what is.
Castiel looks over to Dean, his expression a little unsure, and for a second it takes him back to their quest to lose his virginity.
"He's a newcomer." Dean tells her, and Dean gives her some credit for finally looking in his direction in the midst of a move that is beyond hot.
"A virgin." She coos. "I'm gonna give you a lapdance in 5. On me."
"A lapdance?" Castiel asks.
Dean and her both grin.
~~~
Twenty - not five - minutes later, Dean laughs obnoxiously around his tenth shot of the cheapest whiskey, when Angel - he decides that's her name - straddles Castiel in a corner. And for a brief moment he's left wondering if hell is where he's headed... again, cause corrupting an angel - especially one with renewed faith - seems slightly wrong. But he supposes Castiel can use a little gratification, the guy is way too serious.
Dean watches as Castiel goes from unsure to mildly interested, and he wishes he can give him a pat on the back. Instead he just watches Castiel watch the stripper's hips move rhythmically to the music, and Dean wishes he were in his spot. But he wasn't joking about his need for gas, and frankly, much to his disappointment, it wins out over debauchery for the time being. So he's stuck drinking cheap whiskey and living vicariously through Castiel, who is positively fascinated by the faux-angel. She grins at him, and throws her head back in mock ecstasy, exposing her neck in the process, her hair streaming down her back, and Castiel just stares at her chest, before he throws a quick glance toward Dean.
Dean grins and gives him a thumbs up, only to suddenly be unsure why he's watching, shot glass in hand. It makes him feel like a peeping tom. But it's like a train wreck. How can you not watch a virginal angel in a strip club?
Dean looks away for a moment, and smiles at the bartender, who asks if he wants another, "Just one more, I think I might be starting to feel something."
The bartender smiles, and Dean catches a glimmer of white, before she pours it. "Should've gotten the good stuff."
When she walks off with a wink, Dean downs another before he turns around to find an open mouthed Castiel under Angel's cascading hair, now fully - as much as you could expect from him - enjoying himself. He's following her movement with his eyes, his arms in a position that shows that he wants to touch her, or maybe that he doesn't know what to do with his hands.
Castiel then moves on to staring at her face as she grinds against him, he looks transfixed by the Angel's teasing stare, and Dean finds it oddly endearing. He can almost imagine the bright wide orbs in front of him.
Dean grins, wishing once again he were in his position, but something about it, about Cas losing his innocence makes him crave his own. He smiles though, cause seeing Castiel give in to his vessel's impulses, reminds him once again, that Cas, he isn't so bad. And the fact that he came to Dean in his down time, proves it even more.
And just as he thinks that, Castiel's body language changes completely. He's tense, no longer happy with his little treat, he says something to Angel then looks to Dean. Dean wonders what's up, and if it's bad, like Raphael just winning the war or something. But Angel pats his cheek affectionately, saying something in his ear as she gets up. Castiel looks away shyly as she walks away, his expression full of something way too similar to dread.
Angel walks up toward Dean. "Is he an actual virgin or what?" Dean just shrugs. But he hears, "Freaking out over a boner," as she walks off.
Dean wants to laugh, he does, and as soon he's walking over to Castiel, he's sputtering with laughter. "Nice, huh?" Dean says. He thinks back to his virgin years for a moment, and realizes he probably would've been a little scared to... if he were sexually stunted.
Castiel stands up, and Dean's eyes can't help but drift downward. Seeing Cas's tented pants makes him laugh even harder.
"This isn't funny."
Dean just laughs more. "Yes, it is."
Castiel closes his coat and glares.
~~~
"I'd appreciate it, if you kept this to yourself," Castiel says when they're walking to the car.
"Oh, I'm telling everyone who will listen," Dean laughs. But as soon as he says it, he's stopping right in front of his car. He grimaces as he thinks of the drinks he had. He's no where near shitfaced, but he is buzzed and a little woozy. He doesn't want to risk being pulled over. "Can you drive?"
"No."
"Can you teleport cars?"
"I don't think it would be wise. We can leave it here."
Dean thinks about it. If Cas would be so kind to bring him back in the morning, it shouldn't be towed. But what if he suddenly needed some rock salt or something? He's pretty sure just the guns are in the room.
"Well, I don't think the motel is haunted," Dean says more to himself than to Castiel.
"There are no angry spirits there."
"OK," Dean says, putting his hand on Castiel's shoulder, "To the motel, Scotty."
~~~~
When they arrive, there's no sign of Sam returning. Dean sighs. "He must have his nose stuck in an old book," Dean mutters. He can't help but feel a little mournful when he says it. He almost feels the whiskey drain out of him. "Or eating children for all I know."
"Sam?"
"If that's what you want to call him."
Castiel sits down on a chair near the window, the whole thing at the strip club forgotten. He looks way too sympathetic for Dean's taste. "How are you, Dean?"
Dean glances at him. "I'm fine," he says. But it isn't as convincing as he'd like it to be.
Dean sits on the edge of the bed and really looks at Castiel. "Gonna head back to your blades of grass?"
"No."
"What about heaven?"
"I'm not currently needed."
"Surely they can use your presence to boost morale or something?"
"It isn't necessary, not now, anyway... Heaven isn't the same. My brethren are not the same."
Dean nods. And like that, his thoughts go running back to his soulless brother, basically an empty vessel. He isn't the same, and that's what bothers him most. "What was it like before... for the angels, I mean?"
Castiel's eyes fill with something Dean can only call love. "It's hard to explain, 'heavenly' doesn't seem to cut it. But it wasn't what it is now. The negativity that's there is, at times, overwhelming," Castiel says, looking at him. "All we feel is pain, confusion, guilt, hate... over fighting our brothers, over decisions we've made in a war no one wants to fight."
Dean scoots back a little, but he doesn't say anything. He's kind of pissed that Castiel lost his bliss, even if it was as ignorant as it tends to be. He clears his throat, "I'm sorry, Cas."
"I feel better here," Castiel says looking into his lap. The way Castiel looks up after he says it, tells Dean that he really means 'I feel better with you.'
Dean blinks. "Well, glad being here helps."
Castiel's face changes into a small smile, and Dean briefly wishes he'd see it more often.
Dean starts taking off his boots, then moves to his jacket. Lifting his gaze to Cas who is still watching him, his eyes seem softer. "What?"
"I hope you know I would go into hell to get to Sam's soul if I could."
Dean nods, "I know."
"I care about you, Dean. Your happiness is important to me. Sam's wellbeing as well."
Any other time he'd point out the awkwardness of the moment, but it seems too fragile to dismiss. "I know. I care about you too." If only his voice didn't just get embarrassingly soft.
Castiel nods. They don't say anything after that, there's just a silence, awkward as hell for Dean, but probably nothing to Cas. Dean looks at him again, meeting his eyes. It unnerves him, so he clears his throat and looks away, emptying his pockets onto the nightstand, just to have a task.
Dean thinks of Sam, the real Sam. Then of Lisa and Ben, his surrogate family, and the things that almost took place. The events of that hunt fresh in his mind.
After Dean's rendition of Twilight he couldn't bring himself to call them up and explain and apologize more than he already has. And as much as he'd like to do that now, he figures that maybe since he is back in the life that is hunting, it's better to keep them at arms length. They're safe, and it should stay that way.
But right now, Dean misses Lisa, the smell of her hair, her warmth, the softness of her skin. The comfort only a woman could provide. He misses the sex, the sex that was passionate one day, and slow and tender the next. The quickies. The angry sex after an argument, that always managed to occur while Ben was at school or with friends.
Dean suddenly considers getting in the shower, maybe finishing what he started when Cas so rudely interrupted hours before. He needs a release, he wants to feel the endorphins doing their work. He wants to finally rest. Even if the orgasm is brought on by his own hand, which contrary to what he told Cas, is never as good as someone else's.
Dean licks his lips in want, and realizes that Castiel is still sitting there. He looks over, and of course Cas is Cas, so he's looking at him, always studying him. Dean clears his throat, and smirks.
"You're not reading my thoughts, are you?"
"In your case, it's best to remain in the dark," Castiel says. And if Dean didn't know better, he'd say he was being sly.
Dean taps his head, "Too hot in here, huh?"
"You're very lustful."
"You're one to talk, Boner Boy." Dean gets up and walks to the kitchenette. "Besides, I need something to keep me going."
"Food, sleep and water keep you going. Sex distracts you."
"Sometimes distraction is the only thing stopping you from eating a gun, Cas."
Cas's eyes go soft again. "I understand."
Dean downs a glass of water. "So, I know you don't need sleep, but do you ever?"
"Not since I woke up in the hospital."
"Did I ever thank you for that?"
"I've come to terms with being taken for granted."
"I never say it, do I? I do think it. I think it a lot. I know I owe you my life." Maybe he is more than buzzed.
Castiel looks at him, his eyes boring into him like they always do. "I know things are left unsaid. It's why I've come to terms."
Dean nods. "Well, I'm gonna say it now. Thank you."
Castiel nods as well. "You're welcome. Do you wish to sleep?"
"Yeah."
Castiel starts to get up from the chair. "I will leave then, and come back tomorrow to retrieve your car."
"No, I'm not going to kick you out, you can watch TV or something. But I'm gonna jump in the shower."
~~~
Getting out of the shower, Dean feels better, he's less tense, relaxed and ready to sleep. Despite not getting off. Castiel glances at him when he comes out, then glues his eyes to what appears to be The Jetsons. Dean doesn't say anything, just looks at the TV.
"That Jane is a babe," Dean says walking closer. "Actually, so is Judy, but I think she's like 16. And I'm not going down that road even with a cartoon."
"They aren't real."
"So?"
"What sensory pleasures would they provide?"
Dean looks over, "Well, I know I can't really sleep with them."
Castiel looks back at the TV. "Rosie, she is a robot..."
Dean smirks. "Got the hots for her then, huh?"
"No, but I am judging her movements. She rolls."
Dean laughs, "I was just being a dick, man," Dean says as he looks over, he's smiling, but he feels it break when he sees Castiel's eyes sweep over his basically nude body. When Castiel meets his eyes, he doesn't say anything, he just looks away. Dean chooses to ignore it.
When Dean pulls a shirt over his head, Castiel points out how The Jetsons isn't at all realistic.
Dean sits on his bed, and stretches his arms as he does so. "It's a cartoon, that's the defining characteristic of a cartoon."
"There is a talking dog," Castiel tells him, his eyes on Dean's exposed skin.
Dean looks at him, watches him as he looks away. "Yeah, well. Who doesn't want a talking dog?"
"Maybe you have a point," Castiel says. Then looks again as Dean stretches his back.
Dean stills and snaps his fingers. "You all right?"
"Yes. Why?"
"You're checking me out." Dean's surprised how even his voice is.
"Checking you out?" Cas asks, and Dean can hear an edge in his voice. Something tells him Cas knows exactly what the phrase means.
He explains anyway. "Looking at me... like how you just were. Like how I imagine I look in front of a set of nice boobs that I really can't wait to put my face between. Like how you looked at the stripper."
"Oh," is all he says.
When Castiel doesn't look at him, he sighs. "Cas?"
Castiel looks down. "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Screw that... In case you've missed the memo, you do that a lot. I just-why?"
"I'm not certain. I have always found you aesthetically appealing."
Dean doesn't say anything. He just stares at the TV. "Oh."
"It bothers you?"
"No. No, I guess not. But I'm pretty sure you just called me beautiful."
"That word works as well."
Dean closes his eyes for a moment. "Does this mean, you're attracted-" Dean starts. "I can't deal with this right now. I'm going to bed." Dean stacks the crappy motel pillows and gets under the covers. "Watch something educational or something."
~~~
Dean dreams of his family, of Sam, his mother, his father. In the dream he's a child and they're all how he remembers them, how he sees them despite all their faults and disappointments. Sam is just as he picked him up from college, content and safe with the same brotherly bond they worked so hard to regain. His Mom and Dad are the parents they were before the fire. He's sitting with them, basking in the normalcy, their safety. Their love. Then he starts talking to them about his first baseball game, and for a moment they're listening, intent on hearing what he has to say but then they start to get up and walk away. Dean asks them where they're going and tries to catch up with them, but his small legs can't catch up, and his voice doesn't even grab their attention when they start to move away, faster, floating, as if they're made of nickel and being pulled by a high power magnet. He runs with all he can and cries for them to slow down or just stop, but they don't hear him. Soon they're going through a door, and Dean runs to it, and gets there just as it shuts. He can't open it. He kicks it, pounds it, works the knob, and it doesn't open. He's miserable, crying, and afraid.
He feels a hand on his shoulder then, turning him around, and Castiel's familiar blue eyes are looking down at him. "You don't want to go in there," he says.
Castiel moves aside and points at the Impala, "You should go for a drive instead."
Dean smiles, and Castiel smiles back.
"Take her for a spin," he says.
Then Dean, teenager Dean, is happily speeding down a lonesome highway with 'Ramble On' playing in his ears.
Dean wakes up to a sky that's still dark. He looks at the ceiling, thinking of the dream he was just having, and wondering how exactly Castiel had the power to change a nightmare into a dream.
He sits up, scooting to the headboard, and looks at Castiel, his face glowing from the light on the TV, making him look as unworldly as he is.
"I had to interfere." he says.
"Thanks."
Dean looks at the TV. "So, angels prefer the mindless entertainment."
"I haven't found out which is Tom and which is Jerry."
"Jerry is the mouse."
"Either he is quite cunning, or the cat is quite slow."
Dean sits back against the headboard, looking at the other bed. Once again, he's back to thinking about his absent brother. "Yeah."
"Sam is still at the library."
"Yeah? How do you know that?"
"He sent you a text message, he's still researching. Afterward, he is going to go make some cash. It's on your phone."
"The joys of a soulless brother," Dean says. He's quite aware of the weariness in his voice. And he is weary. There's literally nothing he can do to get his soul back, and there's nothing Cas can do, and Crowley... well, the limey bastard is quite the bastard, holding Sam's soul- no, dangling Sam's soul over their heads, to keep them at his beck and call.
Dean is thrown out of his thoughts as soon as Castiel stands. Castiel adjusts his trenchcoat, and Dean stares at him, reminded of the moments before he went to bed, Cas' sudden interest in his body. His nonchalant confession of finding him beautiful. Dean wondering what exactly that meant.
"Dean," he says.
And for a second Dean's expectant. Expectant in a way that he shouldn't be. "Yeah?"
"I'm needed. I will be back."
Dean starts to say okay but before he can, Cas is gone. He shakes his head, realizing he didn't even get to discuss the reading of his texts, which was just not cool.
Dean tilts his head back against the headboard. "Aesthetically appealing," he mutters.
Is Castiel, Nerd Angel of the Lord, hot for him? If so, is it new? And how exactly does he feel about it?
Okay, so he's an angel, he's an exception to all things human. The looks he gave him could mean anything, from curiosity to lust.
And maybe he was just stating a fact. Afterall, he's said in the past that humans are works of art. And knowing Cas he probably finds beauty in paper blowing in the wind, or trash being swept into the gutter by the rain. His approval of Dean's looks doesn't necessarily mean 'oh, I want you so badly'. For one, Castiel had the decency to turn around when he was jacking off. And Dean might be mixing up porn with reality on how someone responds to their friend jacking off, but still. Finding someone beautiful doesn't always relate to sex. And Dean finds plenty of people beautiful.
Including Castiel. And yeah, he's man enough to admit it. Plus, Jimmy Novak is/was a handsome man, and Castiel inside of him is a whole other entity, that is indeed beautiful.
Like his eyes, that seem to reflect that there is a powerful creature inside, and that's something that hasn't changed. And not only that, he's watched them go from cold, almost emotionless pools of blue to something warmer, darker and brighter all at once. And that alone definitely has its appeal.
And yeah, it might be the most obvious when he looks at Dean.
"God, who am I, Meg Ryan?"
Flasher coat aside, he imagines there's a lithe and sculpted body underneath, that if Castiel ever figured out, how to carry it and himself as a sexual thing, it would be temptation at its finest, and Dean would have some serious competition.
And possibly someone he wouldn't mind switching teams for, and god... isn't that a revelation?
Though, is it really?
~~~
Castiel comes back in less than 30 minutes, when the sky is just starting to lighten.
Dean didn't go back to sleep, cause he was too busy comparing himself to Meg Ryan, and Castiel to Nick Cage, which made him think of Face/Off, and that was an awesome movie. But then John Travolta entered the equation and Dean remembered him playing Michael.
It was a weird circle of thoughts regarding movies and a douchebag angel who at one point wanted to wear him to the big premiere. And of course, thoughts went to Lucifer. And then to Sam. They always went to Sam.
Which means he's sitting there thinking of Sam and Not-Sam when Castiel returns. And he's sort of back to being miserable.
Castiel appears and sits in front of the TV. "Heaven is... still in disarray," he says almost conversationally.
Dean nods, and he's too aware of his thoughts immediately going back to the Meg Ryan-Nick Cage comparison. And to make it worse, Cas gives him one of those studying looks, like he knows Dean enough to just look at him and tell what's wrong. And maybe that's true.
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah. I just-"
"Is it about Sam?"
Dean lets out a bitter laugh. "It was a moment ago. Now it's just-" Dean exhales. "Nevermind, it's not important."
"Tell me."
"About earlier..."
"I made you uncomfortable."
"No. Well, yeah and no. But it's fine, really."
"What is bothering you then?"
"It isn't. That might be the problem," Dean says avoiding Cas' general direction. Dean sighs, "What exactly do you feel, Cas?"
"There are far too many, contradicting things. I rather not list them."
"Okay. Well, how do you feel about me... physically?"
"I don't know," he says.
"I think you do."
"Nothing will be accomplished by talking about it."
"Why not?"
Castiel avoids his eyes, and for a long moment, Dean does nothing. But before he can stop himself, he's standing and walking to Castiel as he removes his shirt.
Dean stops directly in front of him, close enough to touch, and watches him for a long moment. Castiel is still intent on avoiding his gaze, so Dean reaches out and turns his head toward him, Castiel goes with it, but he's still avoiding eye contact. An alien notion, if Dean's ever seen one.
Castiel sighs, and Dean watches his gaze slip lower and lower until he knows Castiel is eying the trail of hair that leads into his boxers.
Dean lets go, and Castiel's eyes dart worriedly to Dean's. "Are you trying to entice me?" he asks, his voice is low and hoarse.
"I want to know how you feel, with me like this, in front of you," Dean tells him, and the sudden intimacy of it almost makes him want to back up. But he has to know. "What do you want, Cas?"
Castiel looks away. "Dean..."
"What do you want?"
Castiel swallows. "To touch you."
"And if I let you?"
"I'm not sure I would."
Dean steps closer, hovering over him and Castiel doesn't move, he just looks up at him, and Dean can feel the heat of him against his chest.
Castiel looks away shyly, and that alone makes Dean feel really fucking pushy. He shakes his head at himself, silently chastising his behavior, and starts to back up.
"Never mind. There are more important-" Castiel reaches for his hand, his fingers brushing his, and Dean stills, "-things going on," he finishes.
Dean doesn't pull back, he lets Castiel take hold of it and gently pull him back into his space. Dean's both unsure and transfixed as he looks down at him. Castiel studies his hand, one hand holding it as another brushes over his knuckles and the back of his hand, before moving onto his wrist to grasp. Castiel smooths a hand up his forearm and over his bicep, stopping at his shoulder, fingers tracing the fading scar he came out of hell with. It sends an unexpected shiver down Dean's spine.
Castiel stands then, and Dean suddenly can't breathe when he feels the warmth emanating from Cas's body. Close, but not close enough. Dean has the urge to lean in and capture his mouth, strip him of his coat, and do things to his body that'll make him think he is a god. But it isn't about what Dean will do.
When Cas moves his hand away from his shoulder and onto his chest, Dean's certain Castiel can hear the pounding, feel it against his palm. Dean watches him, feeling just as spellbound as Castiel looks by his own exploration. Dean figures he's going over what he's doing in his mind, relishing that for the first time in his existence, he's touching another just for the sake of feeling.
Cas's eyes are full of more than lust, and for a moment Dean thinks maybe he could die right there of a heart attack and Cas would bring him back, just cause he couldn't live without him. And isn't that just fucking perfect?
Castiel touches his jaw, fingers tracing it cautiously, before his knuckles do the same. He stops at his chin, hand still in one hand as the other just holds his face. Their eyes connect, but when Cas cups his cheek, he shuts his eyes, breath hitching as he savors the touch.
"Cas..." his voice is a whisper, but it feels louder than it is, intrusive, like a wrecking ball smashing the ruins of something sacred. Castiel touches his lips then, and it jars him more than he'd like to admit. But the shock wears off and is replaced with pleasure as Castiel smooths his thumb over his bottom lip, and Dean resists the temptation to mouth at it, to turn it into a lewd thing as he tongues the pad of it. Dean opens his eyes instead to see Cas' blue ones; softer than he's ever seen them, right in front of him, always peering.
It scares him, not only because of what he sees but because of how he responds. Dean swallows, both doubtful and glad of bringing this on. "I, uh..."
And like Castiel knows his unease, he pulls back and takes Dean's hand into both of his. He squeezes it gently as it trembles. "I expect nothing from you, Dean."
"I know."
"To answer your question, you make me feel..." he says. "You make me want."
Dean swallows, and Castiel watches the movement, "And the thing I want the most is your happiness. Your lack of it doesn't go unnoticed."
"Cas," Dean starts, but he doesn't know where he's going, so he stops.
"I realize now that I've been selfish in that respect," he continues. "Knowing that if I win this war, you'd go on to live longer, and Dean, you will be happy. I have faith in that."
Dean steps forward and finally touches back, he grips his shoulders, somewhat awkwardly, and Cas looks up at him with wonder.
"I love you, Dean."
Dean nods and moves even closer. Their bodies are touching, and Castiel goes a little cross-eyed as he looks at him. Dean speaks softly in his ear, "You can't say that to me, and not expect me to give you something back."
Dean rubs his tan covered arms in one slow sweeping motion and in an instant he's making the decision to kiss him. When Castiel gasps in his mouth, he decides he likes it very much, being able to make him lose whatever control he had.
Once over the shock, Castiel turns his head away, as if to gather his thoughts, and in an instant he's kissing Dean back, his mouth tenderly mouthing his before he's moving down to his jaw and neck. Dean sighs and holds on, fighting a smile, before he's pulling back, stopping to marvel at the fullness of Cas's lips, and Castiel lets him take control as he brings his thumb to his lip, watching it catch as he drags it down, momentarily revealing teeth. Dean smiles, understanding Castiel's earlier drive. "Like this," he says breathlessly, going in slow. He teases his lips with his own, and stops a moment to share a breath, "There's no rush."
~~~