Archive of Our Own

When Dean got zapped from 2014 to that dimly-lit roadside, he was too relieved at leaving Zachariah behind to even care about where—let alone when —he had landed. A glance at the trench-coated angel behind him, however, let him know he was back home.

“Pretty nice timing, Cas,” he admitted.

“We had an appointment.”

At Cas’ straight-faced attempt at a joke, Dean felt his own expression falter. There may have been times when he’d wished Cas would take the stick out of his ass, but after meeting the angel’s future self, Dean realized how much he appreciated having his Cas back. His trip to 2014 had taught him several lessons—one of which was to make sure that version of Cas never came true.

Hesitantly, he placed his hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Don’t ever change,” he demanded.

If Cas felt any confusion over Dean’s command, he didn’t show it. If anything, his answering smile spoke of agreement. As much as Dean tried to cover up his fear with bravado and bad jokes, Cas could probably tell that Zachariah’s ‘field trip’ had done a number on him. Between the Croatoan virus, a drugged-out Cas, and Sam deciding to become Lucifer’s meatsuit, Dean almost missed his time in Hell. Almost.

Suddenly back in the dingy motel they’d rented, the hunter fought the rush of vertigo that affronted him.

"Dammit, Cas, I hate when you zap me places.” Dean turned to find the angel staring at him intensely.

“What did you see there? Tell me what Zacariah showed you.”

“What’s it matter? The douche-canoe is wrong.”

“It obviously terrified you and could be important. Just tell me.”

“Important? How could it be? Sam’s not gonna say yes to Satan, and you’re sure as hell not losing your grace to become some fucking stoned-out, free-love hippie!” Silence greeted his outburst.

“That…doesn’t sound like me,” the angel agreed tentatively. Bolstered by Cas’ disbelief, Dean went on.  

“And that wasn’t even the craziest part! Me and you, we were—we were—” Here he faltered. He didn’t want to make a joke about this, not really, not after his experience with hippie-Cas. But looking at the uptight man in front of him, all his doubts rushed back. It was ridiculous, really. An angel of the Lord—a freaking celestial being—didn’t hook up with, let alone ‘have feelings’ for, the kind of utter fuck-up that was Dean Winchester. He rubbed the back of his neck. Cas was still staring at him, but the confusion had faded into another unreadable look.

“We were...intimate, weren’t we?”

Dean nodded. “You fell for me.”

He would never figure out who moved first, but the next thing he knew, he was pressed against six feet of solid angel. This go-around at a first kiss was nothing like the last. Where human-Cas had been soft and open, this Cas—his Cas—was hard lines and immovable force. Dean found himself backing into the wall with a thump. He pulled away for air, only to notice Cas’ eyes were open. Dean spent a half second wondering if this was creepy before diving back in for another kiss.

This time he opened Cas’ mouth with his own. Another difference registered: whiskey and smoke had no place in this Cas’ taste. Instead, he was the air before a storm. It felt like kissing lightning. Memories of their last encounter flooded his brain, merging with the current sensations. Overwhelmed, Dean pulled back from him.

“Is everything alright?” Cas raised his hand to brush against Dean’s cheek.

“I’m fine. It’s just...a lot to take in.” Dean flushed and looked away, embarrassed that a simple kiss could make him feel so much. He shook his head, unable to express the fear tainting this kiss.

“Dean.” The angel pressed his hand more firmly against his cheek, forcing him to make eye contact. “If this happens between us, that doesn’t mean the rest of what you saw will come true. That doesn’t have to happen.” This time it was Cas that lowered his eyes. “This doesn’t have to happen either, if you don’t want it to.”

“Shit, Cas, of course I want this.” Dean moved in to kiss him briefly, pulling away just enough to speak against his waiting lips. “You and I were the only part of that godforsaken mind-fuck that I could handle.” Cas hummed in reassurance, and they resumed kissing.

Before long, arousal replaced any lingering doubts in Dean’s brain. Until now, his hands had remained chastely on Cas’ hips over his trenchcoat; now they began wandering. Sliding under Cas’ suit jacket, he relished the heat that radiated from his skin through the thin fabric of the dress shirt. Cas followed his lead, resting his palms against Dean’s hips, his thumbs brushing bare skin beneath the hunter’s shirts. The touch burned against him.

“Damn it, Cas, you wear too many clothes.”

The other man chuckled. “You’re one to talk. You wear so many layers, undressing must be like unwrapping a present.”

Dean blushed at the comparison. “Yeah, well, I’m sure you would’ve been the kid to peel off each piece of tape. I was more the ‘tear the paper to shreds’ kinda kid.”

“Maybe you overestimate my patience.” Cas’ hands moved from Dean’s waist to the neck of his Henley, and with a loud ripping sound, he tore open the cotton shirt.

“Jesus, Cas! I don’t own that many clothes.” Dean shucked off his flannel and ruined Henley and pulled his T-shirt over his head before Cas could get his angelic hands on it.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Suddenly, the torn shirt in Dean’s hands was whole again.

Startled, Dean threw the offending article to the floor. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mr. Angel of the Lord. Rule number one: no mojo in the bedroom. My love-life is becoming weird enough already.”

Cas’ brow furrowed. “I hadn’t realized my angelic nature upset you. I thought the whole point was you wanted me to stay an angel. Or was it just the drugs that bothered you? Because I can assure you, I have little interest in such—” Dean pulled him back in, effectively shutting him up with another kiss.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he murmured against his lips. “That’s not what I meant, you know. It’s just…”

“A lot, I know,” Cas finished for him, repeating Dean’s earlier concerns. “Too much?” He wondered.

Dean shook his head quickly, his hands gripping wrinkles into the tan fabric of his coat. “Jesus, you’re still wearing, well, everything.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. His eyes crinkled in a bemused smile. “Want me to do something to fix that?”

“Let me.” With quick movements, Dean began divesting the angel of his many layers. First the trenchcoat, tossed heavily to one side. The suit jacket followed. Dean allowed himself to slow down when he reached Cas’ shirt. This time, as he unbuttoned buttons and pulled apart fabric, his actions revealed skin. Warm skin, unmarked by the numerous battles Castiel had taken part in. This body was human, but the being Dean was undressing was not. He spread a palm over the bare chest before him, letting the contradictions wash over him in time with Cas’—no, Jimmy’s—no, Cas’ —heartbeat.

“Dean, is everything okay?”

Dean shook his head, more to settle his thoughts than to answer in the negative.“It’s just all so crazy. I mean, last time we did this—in the future , I might add—you were human, and now you’re not.”

“Dean—”

“Which is okay,” he rushed to reassure Cas before he grumped again, “except this isn’t your real body, so do you even really feel this? Shit, and I thought the Big Gay Crisis part of this was gonna be bad enough.”

“Dean,” Cas said again, more firmly. “Calm down. I will gladly help you deal with these ‘crises,’ as you put it, but let me make something clear to you. I am here, and I feel all of this.” Cas rolled his hips, still trouser-clad, against Dean’s. Both men gasped at the contact. Even through the layers of their clothing, Dean could feel the hard heat of Castiel’s length. “Believe me now?”

Dean leaned in to kiss the smirk from the angel’s face, all the while moving his hands to the fly of Cas’ pants. The other man had the same idea, and the next few moments were a rustle of hands against fabric. Chuckling belied their impatience, but the two quickly rid each other of their pants.

Dean took the lead now, walking Cas backwards towards the motel bed. The angel allowed himself to be pushed down onto the mattress. He remained far from passive, though. Dean groaned as Cas raked blunt nails down his back. Pressing himself against the hot body beneath him, Dean began to rut. Kisses turned to wet panting. Dean felt pressure building, but he wanted more. Human-Cas had stopped him last time, asking Dean to save his first time for the ‘real’ Castiel. Well, Cas was here now, and Dean needed to touch him.

He placed his hands on Cas’ hips, stilling his thrusts. The keen that broke from the angel’s lips almost shattered his resolve, but he steeled himself to wait and began kissing down Cas’ chest.

Until now, Dean had been too astounded at the fact that this was Cas to concern himself that he was currently getting it on with a man. Now, however , the differences made themselves known. Missing were the soft curves of Dean’s previous partners; Cas was all hard lines and lean, taut muscles. Nevertheless, he felt confident in his skills. At least I know what to do with nipples, he chuckled to himself. He lowered his mouth to the pert buds, already hardened with arousal. Cas moaned brokenly as the hunter laved his nipples with his tongue. This pushed Dean further, and he used his teeth, tugging at the sensitive skin. He didn’t want to hurt Cas, but he didn’t have to worry about playing nice either. He knew the angel could take whatever he gave him.

After a few minutes, Dean worked up the courage to move lower. Sucking and biting his way down Cas’ stomach, Dean took a certain pride in the marks developing on the angel’s skin. He knew they wouldn’t last long, but for now, they were proof that Cas was allowing himself to experience this in full.

Next, Dean’s exploring mouth reached the waistband of Cas’ boxers. He nuzzled at the trail of dark hair that led from Cas’ navel to disappear beneath white elastic. The angel’s muscles twitched; Dean mused at the idea of a celestial warrior being ticklish. Eager to test this notion, Dean gently blew on the receptive area, alternating with soft brushes of his lips. The reaction was instantaneous.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, his stomach jumping under Dean’s administration. Dean chuckled and continued teasing the angel. “Stop it, Dean.”

“I thought you liked when I touched you. Do you want me to stop touching you, Cas?”

This time, Dean’s name came out breathier, flavored with both arousal and annoyance. “Please, just…I want…”

“What do you want? Tell me, babe.” The pet name slipped out. Dean blushed, but the hitch in Cas’ breath encouraged him. “Come on, baby, tell me what you want.”

“Touch me. Put your…put your mouth on me. Please, Dean.”

“Can do.” Dean pulled down Cas’ boxers, taking a moment to remove his own as well. Finally, they were both naked, and Dean took in the sight of the angel spread out beneath him. The other man’s dick was slightly longer than his, although not quite as thick. Dean expected to feel more apprehension at the thought of this, his real first Big Gay Encounter; to his endless surprise, he found his mouth practically watering at the prospect. To be sure, he wasn’t quite certain what to do, but he knew what he liked, and he’d watched more than his fair share of porn. With a last look into Cas’ lust-blown eyes, Dean moved down the bed until he was level with his waist.

His first tentative lick across the tip of Cas’ cock brought an explosion of sound to the angel’s lips. Dean’s confidence grew. He licked and kissed his way down his shaft, relishing the heat of Cas’ flesh. His dick was velvet against his tongue and lips. Next, he nuzzled the curls at the base. Some part in the back of his mind had worried the masculine scents would turn him off; on the contrary, Cas’ musk was similar to his own, but sweeter somehow. Dean couldn’t get enough. He buried his nose between Cas’ legs, inhaling the smell of aroused angel.

After getting his fill of the scent, he was ready to get a real taste. By now, pre-cum glistened at the tip of Cas’ dick. Dean suckled at the hot flesh, savoring the salty tang that coated his tongue. Even more so, however, he enjoyed the noises his ministrations wrung from the man beneath him. Castiel was an angel of the Lord, a celestial warrior, yet Dean’s gentle touch was reducing him to a whimpering mess. Dean watched his hands grip the motel bed’s sheets. Encouraged by his reactions, Dean began sucking in earnest.

The first time he tried to swallow him down, he gagged as Cas’ hips jolted upwards. He pulled back, coughing.

“Sorry, Dean,” the angel muttered, sounding more overwhelmed than contrite.

Dean chuckled and patted Cas’ thigh. “Easy, tiger.” He lowered his head again, this time using one hand to hold down the other man’s hips. He wrapped his other hand around the base of Cas’ cock, working what length he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Sucking and swallowing, Dean sought to pleasure Castiel; the smells and sounds of sex filled the room.

Before long, Dean noticed the scent of ozone and a prickling along the back of his neck.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was hoarse. “Dean, close your eyes.”

The hunter acquiesced but kept sucking. Moments later, the angel came with a strangled cry and the rustle of feathers. Blue light burned against Dean’s tightly-clenched eyelids; a similar, not-entirely-unpleasant burn spread over the handprint-shaped sear on his arm. The rush of sensations almost distracted him from the more human aspects of Castiel’s orgasm. A warm splash of liquid filled his mouth; he swallowed instinctively. The taste was much stronger than that of Cas’ pre-cum, but Dean found himself not minding it, if not exactly loving the flavor. It was part of Castiel, and besides, he quipped to himself, spitters are quitters.

Gradually, the glow emanating from Castiel faded, so Dean sat up and took in the sight of a thoroughly-sexed angel of the Lord. Cas’ hair was the messiest he’d ever seen it, and Dean realized if he had never before equated Cas’ rumpled look to ‘sex hair’, he always would now. Far from his usual stoicism, the man was red-faced and panting.

With a chuckle, Dean noticed Cas was still white-knuckling the sheets. He loosened his lover’s grip, taking hold and moving their clasped hands to either side of Cas’ head. Dean lowered himself down for a kiss. Dean knew some guys weren’t into the ‘post BJ kissing’ thing, but Cas didn’t act like he had any compulsions against it. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy tasting himself on Dean, licking deeply into his mouth and groaning in apparent pleasure.

Cas’ reaction reminded Dean of his own arousal. He settled himself more fully against the angel beneath him and set a steady rhythm with his hips.

“Do you…do you want some help with that?” Cas’ voice was still hoarse, his eyes bright. Dean shook his head, aware he wasn’t going to last much longer. He was no quick-on-the-draw teenager, but something about Castiel drove him wild; experiencing his first orgasm had riled him up in ways he couldn’t explain. He worked himself harder against Cas’ hip, leaning in to kiss away the sweat leaving salty trails down his neck.

His orgasm hit him like a punch, driving the air out of his chest with a sharp sound. With a sigh, he collapsed onto Cas’ chest. The angel responded with an “oomph”, but wrapped his arms around Dean to keep him there.

“Dude, for the record, this is totally not cuddling.” The angel’s brow furrowed momentarily, then he shrugged. “Dean Winchester does not cuddle,” the hunter repeated, emphasizing his point by muzzling into the hollow of Cas’ neck.

“Of course not.” They lay still for awhile, until Cas shifted. Dean felt a tentative brush against his hair. He butted his head against his fingers encouragingly, and Cas began to speak. “I’m not…I won’t become what you saw of me.”

“I know you won’t. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“But,” Cas cleared his throat. “But if what you saw led to this, then I guess I must be grateful.”

Dean stared across the dimly-lit motel room. “Yeah, I guess so. But promise me one thing, Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Don’t ever change.”