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Dean might be freakin out a little. No, actually, he isn't. Because denial has always been the best cure for his ills. He remembers waking up one day sneezing and coughing up a storm at 15 years old, the morning he was supposed to go on a shtriga hunt with John. He pulled himself out of bed, still dragging the thin blanket with him into the kitchen of the rental house, and whined, Dad, I think I’m sick. John had simply replied, No you’re not. He pushed a sawed-off shotgun into his son’s hands, and that was that. Dean went on the hunt, did his best to forget he had a cold, and they ended up saving two little girls with only seconds to spare.
That little stroll down memory lane did a fair enough job at distracting Dean, but the panic rises up again like a thermometer thrust into the sun. Speaking of, was it getting hot in here?
No, the bunker is never hot. It is temperature controlled. In the crow’s nest where he, Sam, Cas, Jack, Eileen, and Miracle are, the temperature surely is 70° fahrenheit exactly. He could probably grab one of the two celestial beings within ten feet of him to confirm it.
But that is part of the problem now, isn’t it? Dean is sitting in his stupid chair in his human clothes and his dumb shoes that pinch his idiot toes, and because he has a primordial brain it is driving him nuts. He lifts the coffee mug to his lips, because dumb human brain needs the caffeine from the dumb bean juice in order to produce a cogent thought.
“I’ll call the sheriff and let him know everything has been taken care of. There’s no reason he should even have to return to the campsite, so after that we should be all squared away.” There’s Sam, blessed, rational Sam, wrapping up the loose ends of the case they just worked. They are technically retired now, but retired from the big stuff. They couldn’t see what was clearly a vampire nest in the papers and just flip to the funnies. A regular stream of milk-run monsters saved Dean the cost of a gym membership.
“Thank you, Sam. I’m sure we’d all be glad of a shower before retiring.” Cas is sitting relaxed in one of the swivel chairs, fingers knitted together and sitting atop his ribs. Damn bastard probably doesn’t even need to shower, could probably sanitize himself like a dishwasher.
“Sounds like a success! I’m glad to see you all alive and well.” Jack hadn’t joined them on the hunt; he is simply popping in for a visit. He's their son on winter break from college, if their son is God and college is a heaven that defies earthly dimensions of time and space.
“Yeah,” Sam replies, continuing a conversation with Eileen using his hands. He looks tired, and Eileen slips her hand into his back pocket as the couple leaves the room. Dean would blanch dramatically if he weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.
It was the stupidest of stupid. They were in a cabin in Nebraska. It would have been lovely, if not for the nine or so vamps that were crammed in there with them. The cabin was real wood, bright pine that stood out from the verdant background of the Nebraska National Forest. A nice quiet place for the young nest of overzealous vampires to keep their victims until the dinner bell rang. Dean had even grabbed a pamphlet from the ranger station; this might be a nice getaway for him and Cas one weekend.
All nine (ten?) of them had dropped from the friggin’ ceiling in one surprise attack, and they would’ve been toast if Cas hadn’t gone all macho. “Cover your eyes!” He yelled, and Sam and Eileen were quick to obey. Dean, for whatever reason, hesitated. With years of experience, Dean felt he could sus out the moment that angelic power took over to leave nothing but ash and bodies in it’s wake. Now, from his spot on the floor where his left elbow dug into the floorboards and his right rose to shield his eyes, he let himself look a little longer.
Castiel was actually rising, hovering, which he didn’t always do. The blue tie whipped around in the artificial wind. Blank noise pressed into Dean’s ears, not enough to hurt but enough to disorient. Light began to spill from Cas’ eyes, ears, mouth- every pore was starting to flood with the pure whiteness. Vampires to his left and his right shrieked an awful cry, falling to their knees and clutching at their ears. The noise got louder and the light started to burn Dean’s eyes, like he had stayed up far later than he should have watching tv. But he couldn’t stop now- beneath the light there was something of substance, a swirling mass of glittering white fire that he had never seen before threading out from the sleeves of a beige trenchcoat. It swelled rapidly, and any moment now it would fill the entirety of the cabin, and then keep bursting out- just one more second, and surely Dean would really see it. See Castiel.
But then, the angle of Jimmy’s jaw turned deliberately towards Dean. If any of it had been discernable, blue eyes would surely have looked into his. Whether it was Dean’s common sense kicking in or Castiel’s awesome power he didn’t know, but Dean’s eyelids snapped shut and he heard ten bodies slump over.
“My love?” Dean snaps to attention. He hadn’t realized Cas had traveled to the other side of the table they had been debriefing around. He was sitting at the northern part of the Laptev Sea, as shown on the map, but joins Dean deep in the Indian Ocean. It would have taken Cas just as long to travel that real distance as the five steps he did take. Faster, even.
Cas frowns, and a gentle hand runs along Dean’s shoulder down to his chest. Dean’s mortal heart gives him away by pumping at the rate of a hummingbird. Cas calmly but urgently kneels before Dean’s chair and gathers the shaking hands within his own. “Dean, please,” Cas looks up at him with pleading round eyes, and wasn’t that something?
“Why are you doing this?” Dean blurts outs, the words clumsy as they spill from his mouth. Cas says nothing, just frantically searches Dean’s eyes with his own. “Why do you- what-” And how to say this without scaring Cas off? How to say this at all?
The soft hands give his a firm squeeze, and those brows scrunch even further together. “Please, my love-”
Dean laughs out loud at that, and the noise is sick. “How can you care? And I mean that- how- you’ve seen pyramids built, you’ve seen David beat freaking Goliath, you’ve made stars and planets and you’re here- asking a fly why it’s uncomfortable on the glass of your rearview window. Sometimes I just feel like- it’s hard to be a 40 year blip on the radar of a millenia old being the size of a skyscraper.” Dean has been avoiding those cow-soft eyes, but he catches Cas’ gaze and he’s looking at Dean like his heart has shattered into a thousand pieces. But Cas doesn’t need a heart, he can just get a new one if he likes it so much.
Dean is on a roll now, and he’s working himself into a frenzy. “It’s just too much, Cas. Now that we’re not fighting God or corking up hell, you’re gonna look around and realize I’m a broken doll and there are new, shiny toys to play with. Or maybe you’ll realize that all of this is beneath you and go splash around in the cosmos some more. And- and I know how much you care, and I just love you so much- what happens when you realize that I’m just a guy? What happens when my love isn’t enough?”
And that’s it for Dean. His heart is pounding so hard he’s sure Cas can hear it, and then the pace doubles when Dean remembers that Cas has heard his breathing from a mile away. Because his boyfriend is a divine mass of light that has seen more than Dean’s puny mind can comprehend. “Dean,” says Cas, and his voice is so vulnerable it could be human. “My love, my light, my Dean, I am sorry you could think that for one moment.” Dean can’t force himself to look up and face the angel. He clutches the hands back as hard as possible, suddenly gripped with the fear they could slip away at any moment.
In response, those hands rub circles into the meat between Dean’s thumbs and knuckles. Dean wants to reply, he really does, but between the frog in his throat and the relentless pull of his lungs gasping for air, he simply can’t. Just another wonderful perk of this mortal life.
Is it okay if we talk like this? It’s alright if you don’t want to say anything at all right now. Cas is speaking to Dean in his mind. He’s gone prayer mode to fix the problem, and every thoughtful act makes Dean feel even worse.
Hey, Cas. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to do this.
There’s no need to apologize Dean. For now, let’s work on catching your breath. Cas sends an energy through his fingertips that courses through Dean like the tide gently lapping at the coast. In, and out. In, and out again. That’s it. Tell me Dean, what do you smell?
Hmmm. Well, I can still smell the pine, from the cabin. It’s nice. And I smell my coffee.
I can smell that too. I like the aroma of coffee. You brew it very strong. And how does your shirt feel? It looks soft.
It is soft. Dean moves his arms back and forth a little, the friction pushing the sensation to the front of his mind. Sammy got me this, I don’t think I would have picked a blue velvet button-up. It’s one of my favorites now. It really is. The deep blue is much richer than the washed out hues of clothing that they were used to nabbing off the clearance rack at Target.
It suits you. Dean regains a steady breath. “Do you want to go to the bedroom?” The sound of Cas’ human voice tempts Dean into looking up into the angel's eyes. They are soft and understanding. That look strikes Dean every time.
“Yeah. I do.” Dean nods. Even though the crow's nest is empty, he feels exposed out here in the high ceilings of the bunker. Cas grabs one hand and gently pulls. He leads them to their shared bedroom.
It’s a short walk, but Dean’s shame compounds tenfold. If anything, his little tantrum proved his own point. With the great wisdom of being thirty seconds older than he once was, Dean mentally chides the child that just moments ago occupied his body and caused this mess.
Dean sighs and walks into the room, Cas behind his back shutting the door. He must know that Dean is already repairing the wall inside him, brick by brick. “Don’t.” Dean stops. “Sit. Listen to me.” He goes without a fight, taking a seat at the edge of his bed. Cas approaches, and Dean can’t read his face.
“You’re right. I am older than you can imagine. I saw the first man to walk on foot, and I saw the last brick of the Roman Empire fade to dust. I didn’t know what it meant. I couldn’t understand the purpose of it all. Until,” Cas leans down, presses a soft kiss into Dean’s left hand. “I laid my hand on you.” A kiss on the sensitive inside of Dean’s forearm, where Cas has pushed up the sleeve. “The righteous man. The Garrison told me how to find you.” A kiss on the fabric of the black undershirt above Dean’s left pec. “They told me how bright your soul would shine, but even still I was unprepared.” There’s a feather-light kiss at his neck. “I could hardly stand to look. I’d never experienced anything so bright, and so good.”
Dean blushes. “When I saw you goin’ ghost today, I just realized how powerful you are. And you spend all your time with a roman candle such as myself.”
Cas raises an eyebrow in question. “Relatively small and easily combustible.” They both crack a smile.
Cas is eye level with him now and caresses his cheeks with both hands. “May I kiss you?”
Dean smiles, eyes shining, and nods. Cas smiles too, and puts his lips to Deans. They’re pillow soft and Dean sighs into the sensation. It’s so sweet and gentle, Dean could cry just from this. “I don’t think you’re weak, or less-than. In fact, that possibility hasn’t ever occurred to me.” Dean has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Oh Dean, how peculiar our minds. My time as an angel colors my world, yours informs yours, and it never occurs to any of us to compare.” Sometimes Dean grumbles at Cas’ philosophizing, sometimes he finds it funny and charming, and sometimes he is struck with wonder. “From our perch in heaven, we look unto the earth and see a being so dynamic and complex it questions its own purpose. Questions orders. It took me centuries to figure out how to do that.”
Cas pushes Dean back into the bed, and his form follows. Dean can’t take his eyes off him, a snake charmer and his cobra. “And you, my Dean. From the moment I pulled you out of hell, I couldn’t keep away. Some in the Garrison called me… obsessed.” Cas smiles at that, half-hearted embarrassment.
Dean chuckles too. “Uriel, I bet.”
Cas smiles even wider and strokes a hand through the soft spikes of the sandy hair behind the right ear. “He was chief among my critics at the time, yes.”
From where he’s trapped underneath Cas, Dean pushes up to claim Cas’ lips with his. He grabs at that blue tie and pulls his angel back down with him as he slips him a little tongue. Cas’ breath hitches. His thumb travels the length of the eyebrow below him, down to circle his cheek. Dean’s other hands grabs at the material covering Cas’ shoulder, but Cas uses his to pin Dean down by the wrist. Cas shuts his eyes and struggles to stop himself from grinding back from Dean’s rocking form. “I didn’t intend for this to turn sexual.”
Dean grins an evil grin, “Sugar, if you’re tryna stop sex by pinning me down, you’re fighting a losing battle.” Cas does his best to stifle a smile, and returns to his meditative self-control practice. “Seriously, Cas. I don’t know if you… sex with you isn’t just to get off. I’ll be the first to admit I’ve not been the most, uh, celibate man, but I’m not coming onto to you just cause I’m always horny. I- I really love you Cas. And I want you to know that, feel that. As best I can express it.”
Cas is melting above him. “I love you too. So very much.” A moment of careful consideration. “It is important to me, Dean, that you feel you can always say no.” Before Dean can protest in righteous indignation, “I have seen humans use sex as a means to fill empty parts of themselves. I have also seen people pressured into sex, whether by their partners, or societal expectations, or the way they have internalized the desires of either.” Dean is quiet then. He has fallen victim to each of those, and knows it. “Sex with you is wonderful. The most incredible ecstasy I’ve felt in this life.” It would be so easy for Dean to make a joke about that, but they both know he won’t. “But above all, I want- you deserve, to feel safe.”
Dean chokes back tears, happy this time. Not constantly fighting for his life has made him a big softie. “You make me feel safe.” It’s all too easy to slide Cas’ tie off, and his blazer quickly falls by the wayside. Cas gives in to earthly temptations of the flesh, and lips meet lips again. The blue velvet shirt is gently removed, and Dean crosses his arms to pull the black undershirt off in one fluid motion. Cas’ eyes on him make it feel sinful. Nothing is rushed. The world isn’t ending.
Once, Dean would have bristled at the fingers of a lover along the places that make him feel seen. The softness of his inner thigh, the dip of his collarbone, the lobe of his ear. Cas tastes all of those now. The fact that Cas could pitch an iron anvil across Wrigley Field but caresses Dean’s waist with a touch that could hold a butterfly- it means more to Dean than he can express.
Cas opens Dean up so, so slowly. Those fingers scissor deep inside Dean and blue eyes are trained on him the whole time. Dean couldn’t hide anything from Cas if he tried, but Cas remains a careful study. Dean breaks down to his base elements under the ever steady work of Cas’ fingers and eyes and lips and tongue.
Too soon and not soon enough, Cas enters his lover's body with his own. The tip of Cas’ thick cock presses achingly into Dean’s grace-slick hole. It’s unbearably sweet. Cas pauses, gets choked up by the enveloping warmth of Dean’s body allowing him in. Just him. He moves with purpose, rocking in and out with all the careful consideration Dean deserves. There’s little gasps, murmurs of reassurances. He’s got both of Dean’s legs spread wide, and Cas has both of his knees splayed under Dean. The position lets Cas’ hips roll into Dean while allowing each man access to the other’s mouth. Crucially, each hand finds a home in another hand. Whether they guide one another to a pillow, down by their joined hips, or up to a mouth to press lips into the knuckles, their hands remain in union.
“How lucky I feel, to call myself your boyfriend.” Cas beams at the novelty of the term.
Dean doesn’t mind the relationship talk during sex anymore, especially with something as low and slow as this. “Don’t you feel demeaned, using that term? Isn’t being my boyfriend a little beneath your divinity?” There’s a bite of sarcasm there, but Cas knows the question is heartbreakingly genuine.
“Oh darling, can’t you see that this is divine? The cold marble walls of heaven hold no beauty in comparison to your skin on mine. Our bond, our bodies and souls entwined here on Earth- my hips rocking in you, this act is holy.”
Dean moans loudly. It’s not dirty. It’s a hymn. It's a song of worship, a congregation of two keeping their religion to themselves.
“This is what my grace is for, I think. So I can give you satisfaction. Will you accept it, Dean? Will you let me use my power to grant you the pleasure you so deserve?” They haven’t stopped or sped up but breaths get heavier, their movements as constant and in-sync as the tide lapping at the shore.
“Yes.” Dean breathes.
“Yes.” Castiel confirms. “Good.”
“Uh,” And oh wow, Dean didn’t intend to release that noise in reaction to Cas'praise. Cas falters for a moment, absolutely delighted and transfixed.
“How you could ever think you are anything less than remarkable to me- it’s unfathomable. That’s my mistake, and I’m going to fix it. A 'blip' on my radar-” Cas shakes his head, “you are my everything. Everything.” The last word is said like a cold, dead fact and Cas fucks deep into Dean's yielding body. “You are beautiful. Simply stunning. Every time you walk into a room, every time you smile, I feel overwhelmed. I can hardly stand to be in the same room as you without touching you, hearing your breath or your heartbeat. And when we’re apart- it’s torture. All I can think about is returning to you. There never has been, nor will there ever be, anyone like you. You are for me, Dean Winchester, and I am for you.”
They come together. Sometimes, it’s so hot that it's obscene. Sometimes they fuck hard and dirty. Cas will have Dean splayed out on the library table beneath him, the hunter moaning like a whore for Cas to give it to him harder. Or maybe Dean swallows Cas down, trying and succeeding to get Cas to make inappropriate noises in the bathroom of a dive bar.
Not today. Today it’s all tender touches and whispered I love you’s and Cas uses his preternatural grace so they can climax as one. Every time, Cas’ soul reaches its tendrils around Deans and hugs it close, tight. Their love is too holy for the bible. They’ll make their own gospel, written as a handprint burned into skin.
They come down as slowly as they started, gentle and whole. Cas, of course, doesn’t sleep, but the bone-deep comfort of holding his human in his arms is even more restorative. “For the record, you are far more handsome than David. Taller, too.”