Chapter Text
Three weeks since there was a serious shift in Dean’s relationship with Cas, not that anything had happened outside of hand holding and exchanges of shy glances. The reality of it was Dean didn’t know how to take the next step, and clearly neither did Cas. And knowing their luck, that step would be had at the precipice of a life or death situation. So Dean decided to focus his attention on looking for cases.
The problem with that being they now had several hunters in the bunker, and Sammy was suddenly the guru of deciding hunts, which meant Cas ended up on several hunts with less experienced hunters. And Dean begrudgingly accepted that made sense, but still…
The opportunity never seemed to present itself. An opportunity for alone time. To maybe have a more in depth discussion over what it was they wanted out of this shift. Was romance part of the equation? Sex? Dean Winchester hated not knowing, and when it came to what was happening between him and Cas, he was in the total fucking dark.
It was a Thursday when Cas came stumbling into the bunker, white shirt muddied with the deep maroon of old, dry blood between patterns of fresher, bright red blood. Face pale and almost gaunt, from clearly having his ass handed to him. Maggie was behind him, helping Lydia down the stairs. While Sam, Jack, and Bobby immediately went to aid the girls, Dean was instantly at Cas’s side.
“The hell happened?” he demanded, more than asked, as he guided Cas to a chair in the map room.
Cas groaned and tried to wave Dean off. “Despite Michael’s departure, his creations still exist. We encountered a group of the werewolves he changed.”
In that moment, Garth practically fell down the spiral staircase. Without thinking, Dean whipped out his gun and pointed it at his friend’s heart.
Cas immediately braced his hand over Dean’s to lower the weapon. “Don’t be stupid, Dean. Garth helped us.”
The werewolf held his hands up in surrender still, eyes widened with terror. That alone should have put Dean at ease. Despite being an archangeled up werewolf, the guy was still a friggin’ kitten.
Dean sighed and placed his gun back in its holster. “You’re fine, Garth. But next time, you might wanna knock.”
Garth gave him a lopsided smile as he approached. “Thanks, Dean.”
There was a bustle of noise as a couple of the hunters Dean still hadn’t learned the name of started whipping out first aid kits and talking over one another as they tried to patch up the girls, getting to the bottom of the situation.
Where are the wolves now? Garth and Cas killed half of them, the other half apparently scampered away with their proverbial tails tucked between their legs. Do they still pose a threat? Of fucking course they did. Do we have a plan to find the other half? Dean rolled his eyes and decided then to tune them out.
He did so by grabbing his own first aid kit and helping Cas to his feet.
That was met with the damnably adorable head tilt, but he allowed Dean to loop his arm under his and guide him towards the bedrooms. “Where are we going?”
“I need quiet,” Dean clipped as he automatically went to Cas’s room. They were less likely to be interrupted in Cas’s room, mostly because every hunter knew which rooms were Dean’s and Sam’s, but only a handful knew everyone else’s.
Dean pushed the door to Cas’s room open with his boot and helped the angel to his bed. He unceremoniously dropped the kit next to the angel and started rolling up the sleeves of his favorite flannel shirt.
Suddenly it hit him. They were alone. Shit. Had it always been that easy? Ignoring the voice in his head – that suspiciously sounded like Crowley – giving him shit for his own idiocy, Dean then flashed an almost insecure smile at his… angel.
“Shall I remove my shirt?” Cas asked as he started pulling off the tie.
Considering the guy was covered in blood, Dean figured it was highly inappropriate that he found the action incredibly sexy. Bad brain!
On the plus side, Dean was apparently having less and less issue with the fact Cas was a dude. Dean nodded as he opened the kit and pulled out the rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and needle and thread. When he looked up again, he swallowed dryly at the image before him.
Cas sitting on a bed, shirtless. Never mind the gashes and wounds on his abdomen.
Dean cleared his throat and focused on the task at hand as he moved to kneel in front of Cas, carefully cleaning the wounds first. “Does it hurt?”
The bitchface he received in response rivaled his brother’s. Dean was pretty impressed. He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Dumb question.”
Cas hissed when the cotton ball came in direct contact with the biggest gash just under his tattoo. “Shit,” he breathed out.
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “It must hurt if you’re swearing.”
Cas merely nodded.
After cleaning each wound, Dean sank back against his heels as he threaded the needle. “Don’t have enough juice to heal yourself?”
That was met with a shrug. “I’m trying to reserve my powers for more dire circumstances.”
Dean scoffed. “This…” he waved to all of the wounds on his torso, “doesn’t count as dire?”
“These wounds are superficial and will heal naturally.”
Stupid, self-sacrificing angel. But instead of calling him out on it, Dean simply returned to the task at hand. Something he could do without much thought, considering how many times over the years he had played field doctor for his brother, himself, hell, even their father. Which ultimately turned out to be a bad thing, considering Dean’s thoughts were suddenly on the muscles beneath his fingers as he pulled Cas’s skin taut for the procedure.
Cas was… fitter than the baggy, unflattering clothes gave him credit. While he didn’t have a six-pack, his abdomen was well defined and toned. A subtle strength that you wouldn’t – and Dean didn’t – give the guy credit for. Very little body hair too, other than the treasure trail, as dark as the hair on his head, disappearing down the hem of Cas’s pants.
Dean drew back for a moment, realizing he was, yet again, skeeving on a guy he was supposed to be patching up.
Cas looked down at him in bemusement. “Is everything alright, Dean?”
The urge to wave him off, lie, all of the hits of the Dean Winchester Repression album, was overwhelming. Instead, he sighed as he braced his free hand on Cas’s knee and looked up at him. “I was thinking about how hot you are.”
“I am not capable of having a fever, Dean.”
Dean barked out a laugh and shook his head. “Hot as in sexy, Cas.”
“Oh,” Cas breathed out, cheeks darkening, and damn it if that didn’t make him sexier. “That’s… that’s quite flattering.”
Dean gave him a small smile, and finished stitching his friend up. When he was done, he put the needle and thread down to gently take Cas’s hand in his own. “Hey, Cas.”
Cas returned the smile, an almost shy expression on his face, and damn it if that wasn’t endearing. “Hello, Dean.”
Before he could say anything else, there was a rapping at Cas’s door. Dean rolled his eyes and moved to stand up. So much for thinking going to Cas’s room would give them the privacy he wanted. As he pulled the door open, Sam’s eyes widened to see Dean answer.
“What?” Dean barked.
Sam was visibly taken aback, but he quickly recovered as he looked to Cas. “Uh, we’re having a debriefing of the hunt in the library.”
Without missing a beat, Cas moved to stand, putting his bloody shirt back on.
Dean rolled his eyes and told Sammy they’d be right there. At his brother’s departure, Dean approached Cas and halted his movement. “Don’t put a bloody shirt back on.”
Cas tilted his head again. “My only other shirt is in the laundry.”
At that, Dean couldn’t help but chuckle. He nodded for Cas to follow him as he headed to his own room. “Come on.”
When they reached his room, he had no idea what possessed him to hold the door open for Cas, like a friggin’ gentleman, but thankfully Cas didn’t mention it. Dean darted right for his chest of drawers, digging through the top drawer. He pulled out an old AC/DC t-shirt and tossed it to the angel.
Cas smiled and immediately shrugged it on. “Thank you, Dean.”
Dean nodded and, as he turned to shut the drawer, his eyes caught the ridiculous shirt Cas picked out for him a few weeks back. The day that caused the unmoving shift in their relationship.
He sighed and shut the drawer before turning to Cas, who appeared just as conflicted as he felt in that moment. Dean wanted to ask so many questions. Try to move them forward, try to overcome this weird stalemate they found themselves in.
The problem with that being, Cas wasn’t in on his thought processes and said, “I’ll see you in the library.” Suddenly Cas was gone, almost as quickly as if his wings still worked.
There needed to be a catalyst. One of them needed to take a step, make a move, do something. Otherwise they were going to constantly find themselves at this fork until the engine idled and they ran out of gas. And Dean didn’t want that.
He looked back at the chest of drawers, and suddenly a ridiculous, impressive idea popped into his head. Dean grinned and opened the top drawer, pulling off his current shirts and grabbing the Disney shirt.
Dean shrugged it on and as he straightened it out, he realized in that moment that it might not have been a shirt. From the length of it, it was apparently a friggin’ babydoll dress. Dean shook his head, unable to hold back the laugh.
Well, if this didn’t move them in some sort of direction…
Dean took a steeling breath and made his way to the library. When he passed one of the guys – whose name he still didn’t know – his attire was met with a bemused eyebrow quirk, but thankfully no commentary.
When he reached the library, everyone clearly presently engaged in conversation, his appearance caused an immediate simultaneous silencing. Sam had been in the middle of asking a question and stopped mid-sentence to gape at his brother, causing everyone who had their back to Dean to turn around. Including Cas.
Dean cleared his throat, trying to play it off, ignoring the gaping mouths and wide eyes of every person sitting at the table. That was until Sam burst into laughter, instantly breaking the tension as everyone else joined him in his levity.
Everyone, that was, except Cas, who was just staring at Dean, expression unreadable and gaze hyper focused. Dean rolled his eyes at everyone else and moved to sit next to Cas, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of Dean. A heated stare that was suddenly making Dean question whether or not he should have pulled this move.
After everyone had calmed down, Sam started to finish what he was saying when Cas stood up, raising his hand to halt Sam. “Excuse me, Sam. I need to speak with Dean.” His tone was authoritative and insistent. There was no argument.
Dean hated that the tone went straight to his dick.
Cas arched his brow expectantly at Dean and started walking back towards the bedrooms hallway.
Shit. Maybe he was in trouble. And not the fun, dirty kind. At the bemused shrug from his brother, Dean got up and walked in the same direction the angel disappeared. When he closed the door leading to the hallway behind him, suddenly he was slammed against the door.
Dean’s eyes widened, a weird flashback to the night Cas stopped Dean from saying yes to Michael that first time. Before he could ask, or even brace himself for whatever violence were to follow, Cas dove forward, lips first.
Dean couldn’t repress the surprised gasp before he melted into a ferocity whirlwind of need. Cas clearly knew what he was doing as he suddenly lifted Dean up into his arms, pressed against the wood of the door, almost forced to wrap his legs around the angel’s waist as the kiss grew more demanding, surprisingly soft lips hard and determined as Cas took the reins.
It was the hottest damn kiss of Dean Winchester’s life. And that was saying something.
When they finally drew back, breathless and panting at the lack of oxygen their need had caused, Dean braced his forehead against Cas’s, letting out a soft laugh between pants. “Not that I’m complainin’, but what brought that on?”
Cas let out a chuckle, the sound deep and causing a pleasant reverberation down Dean’s spine. “Forgive me,” he breathed out, voice even deeper than usual. This time the sound went straight to Dean’s dick. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”
Dean tilted his head to draw Cas in for another kiss, yet again a movement that spurred a desperate need to get closer. When Cas’s skillful tongue fought for dominance, Dean relented, melting into an aggression that made his head spin.
Without breaking contact, Cas began to carry Dean to the nearest room, which just so happened to be Sam’s. And whatever happened, Sam brought it on himself for interrupting them that first time as far as Dean was concerned. When the door seemed to magically open, Dean suspected Cas had used his grace to open and close the door behind them, because not once did Cas’s hands shift from their firm grip on his ass.
Cas dropped Dean onto the bed and immediately ripped the borrowed shirt off before crawling between Dean’s legs, hands now free to roam his person.
Dean couldn’t repress the shuddered groan that escaped as Cas focused on his jeans, making quick work of the buttons as he effortlessly pulled them down. Dean was grateful he decided to go commando today, because the impressed eyebrow quirk was worth the price of admission.
With Dean’s jeans now an unceremonious puddle on the floor, Cas crawled up the length of him to grind his still clothed erection against Dean’s bare one, notably not even touching the dress as he drew Dean in for another kiss.
“Shit, Cas… If I’d known this shirt would cause this reaction, I would’ve wore it home that day,” Dean murmured in between their needy kisses.
The gravelly chuckle that was met with was the hottest damn thing Dean had ever heard. Cas dove in for another kiss as one of his hands skillfully ripped open his belt, not bothering to pull it from the loops before pulling his underwear and pants down. Said hand then roughly pushed up the dress before he dragged his cock along the length of Dean’s own.
Dean gasped, not only from the dizzying sensation of sensitive skin on skin, but from the unyielding confidence Cas emitted. Absolute, not a single ounce of hesitation, as the angel gripped their erections in unison, warm palm and fingers expertly wrapped around them both before he started a torturously slow stroking rhythm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean murmured incoherently as he bucked into Cas’s hand.
Cas kissed him again, as though able to read his mind as he started pumping faster.
Dean moaned outright, the familiar pleasant tightening in his balls as Cas pumped him closer and closer to orgasm. It was a little embarrassing, but it had been a minute since he’d gotten laid. He tried to distract himself. “Where’d you learn this?”
When Cas let out his own groan of pleasure, Dean knew he wouldn’t last, short of stopping Cas, and there was no way in hell that was going to happen. “You’re very bad at clearing your search history,” was Cas’s slightly broken response as his breathing grew more and more ragged.
That likely would have been enough to push Dean over the edge, but clearly just to make sure, Cas slipped his other hand between them to put a little pressure on his perineum, hitting that sweet spot Dean usually had to contort himself to reach.
Dean cried out Cas’s name as he came over Cas’s hand, his seed now slicking the persistent pumping as Cas stroked them together until he reached his own completion. Which followed shortly, their combined juices smeared between their exposed bodies as Cas leaned in for a less frantic kiss.
A languid, lazy merging of lips, content and sated in a way he hadn’t been in years. Dean cupped Cas’s cheek and when he drew back, he shook his head in amazement.
Cas smiled and let out a contented sigh. “Just so you are aware, I have changed my mind about something.”
Dean furrowed his brow, not liking the sound of that. “What?”
Cas smirked, a well-learned (and sexy as hell) expression that Dean hoped to see more of in the future. “You are not to wear this…” he said as he twisted the skirt part of the dress into his fist, “on your next case. In fact, no one else is allowed to see you in it but me.”
Well, that settled that. Dean nodded and right before he pulled Cas in for another kiss, he murmured, “Deal.”
Now: The End.