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“You’re going,” Sam said, pointing a finger at his brother. “You need this. About damn time, too.”
Dean grunted from his spot on the couch, his hand bringing his bottle of beer up to his lips. He’d been like this for about a month or so now, drowning his sorrows in beer and reruns on T.V. It was difficult going through a break up. Especially when the one who’d been broken up with was an emotionally constipated twenty-seven year old who liked to bottle his emotions up and cork them with copious amounts of alcohol, greasy food and random bursts of violence.
“What if I don’t want to?” he asked, scrubbing a hand over his face.
He was tired. Both emotionally and physically. His younger brother Sam wasn’t helping either, pushing him to go on this stupid vacation. Dean would much rather spend his time in his apartment, watching Dr. Sexy M.D and drinking his locally brewed beer until the ache in his chest passed. Sam, had other ideas though.
While Dean was at his job one day, training for his next MMA match, trying not to think about his recent break up, Sam was off looking at vacation packages and thinking of ways to get his brother out of his apartment and onto a plane to Hawaii. He knew the oldest Winchester was terrified of planes, but that wasn’t going to stop him from doing something to get his brother out of his funk.
“I don’t care, it will do you some good. Put some color back in your skin and give you a break from… this…” Sam said, almost a groan as he saw how trashed his brother’s apartment was. Dean was never a very tidy person, but this was just over kill. There was empty bottles of beer littering the coffee table, empty pizza boxes on the dining room table, and a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. “Are you even showering?”
Dean chuckled and finished his beer off. “Of course I am, Sammy! I’m not that bent out of shape. It’s not even that bad!” he said, then scanned his apartment, taking in the state of it. He grimaced, then stood up, beginning to clear the mess away. “I’m fine.”
Sam hummed sarcastically, lending a hand in tidying up. “Sure you are. Go pack your bags, I’ll take care of everything out here. Just… please?”
And there it was. The look Dean could never, ever say no to. The fucking puppy dog eyes. Dean groaned and rolled his eyes, then bent down to pick a crushed can of beer up off the floor. He chucked it at Sam, smirking when it hit him in the middle of his caveman brow, bounced off and hit the floor with a hollow, metallic thud.
“Fine, but I’m not going to enjoy it. Bitch.” He said, then walked down the hall towards his room.
He shut his door behind him just as Sam called out ‘Jerk!’, then fell backwards onto his bed, a whooshing sigh escaping him.
He wasn’t that broken up about his break up. Sure, he wasn’t the happiest he’d ever been, but he wasn’t torn down because of it, either. Dean had known that everything was crumbling around him before it even happened, so the blow wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It sucked, but he knew. He wasn’t even sure if he loved her or or not, but he knew he cared about her. Deeply. Enough to feel like he’d lost something good in his life when she was gone.
It was his fault anyway, as it always was. He wasn’t the most emotional person there was. Or the most committed. But he’d been monogamous, never letting himself stray, no matter what opportunities arose. He traveled a lot for his job, going to different tournaments, different states, different time zones. He was in the public eye quite a bit too, nothing as big or well known as actors and singers, but being a highly trained and skilled UFC/MMA fighter, he got some attention when he went out. Girls and guys aplenty, vying for his attention, wanting to take him to bed.
He’d been tempted plenty of times, wanting to say ‘fuck it’ and jump into bed with a few of them, but then he’d think of Lisa; her long dark hair, her beautiful brown eyes, her crooked smile, and he’d stop himself.
She, on the other hand, couldn’t keep to herself when Dean was out of state. He’d come home early one night, going straight to her place to see her, using the spare key she’d given him to let himself in, when he heard it. Moans. Loud, feminine moans coming from her bedroom. He found her with some scruffy looking guy, mid-orgasm, her legs wrapped around him and his dick buried to the hilt. He’d seen red, tore the guy off of her, punched him in the face, ignoring Lisa’s screams for him to stop.
He did a number on the guy with just one punch, breaking his nose, possibly knocking a tooth loose. Dean was barely satisfied with the crunch of cartilage and bone, but he refrained from doing much more to the guy, leaving the room instead.
After he calmed down, he asked her why. With Lisa being Lisa, she gave it to him straight. Told him she knew he wouldn’t be able to give her what she needed; a committed, loving relationship, filled with cuddling and romance. Dean just… wasn’t that type. It wasn’t his thing.
It was his thing back in high school, with one person in particular. Benny Lafitte. Dean’s first… everything. Back then, he’d given his heart over willingly, thinking it would work out, they’d run away and be happy together. But alas, Benny got into some trouble with the law, big time, and was sent to a Juvenile Detention Center. He’d gotten out and tried to drag Dean into a life of crime.
Dean went spiraling down a bad road, led by the love of his life, when suddenly, things went from bad, to worse. Dean often wondered if he’d been with Benny that night, instead of with his dad who was in the hospital at the time, maybe he would have been able to save him, to keep him from getting mudered…
Dean didn’t like to think about it.
When he asked Lisa why she didn’t just leave him, instead of cheating on him, she told him that she hadn’t been ready to let go of him yet, of what they had, despite it not being what she needed. Mighty selfish of her, she admitted, and it came back to bite her--and her lover--in the ass, but she was going to tell him when he got back. Just… under different circumstances.
Dean left her that night, and went on a bender. A bender that hadn’t ended yet.
It wasn’t even leaving her that put him into this depressed haze he’d been in for the last month or so. It was more the realization that everything Dean ever had, everything he’d wanted or tried to hold on to, despite his best efforts, crumbled away. His mother, Benny, his father, and now Lisa. While Lisa wasn’t dead, she was still stripped from his life, without warning. And he’d tried so fucking hard to let her into his life, to let her into the deepest parts of him like he had with Benny, but she just didn’t fit, she wasn’t it for him. He’d ruined it by not being able to open up to her, by not giving her what she ultimately deserved.
Maybe if he hadn’t caught her cheating, he could have had a talk with her, tried harder, opened up more, give into her love and reciprocate it the way he should have, without question. He just… couldn’t, which led him to finally seeing the main point in his life.
Everything Dean touches rots before his eyes.
Now he had this ticket to a two week vacation in some five star hotel in Hawaii, paid in full by his brother (despite Dean having his own money), and no other choice but to go. He kind of wanted to, if he was honest with himself. To just… get away, do what he wanted to do for fourteen days straight, then come back and focus on his career. Fresh start, free mind, and the pain in his chest could go back to being the dull ache he was used to.
He was lost in his thoughts when he heard Sam knock on his door, pulling him out of his reverie. He ran a hand through his hair as he sat up on his bed, looking at his younger brother.
“I’m gonna head out now,” Sam muttered, taking a step into the room before stopping. He knew Dean wouldn’t want to talk about it, would only push him further away, so he simply smiled sympathetically, tilting his head to the side a bit. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning at ten to pick you up, bring you to the airport. Be ready, or I’ll kick your ass. Got me?”
Dean chuckled, the stood up, going to his drawers and opening them up. “You wish, lil’ bro. You couldn’t take me.”
Sam let out his own chuckle, then backed out of the room. “Maybe not, but it wouldn’t stop me from trying. Be ready. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “And Dean? I love you, you know that right?”
Dean stopped pulling his clothes out of his dresser, and smiled at the youngest Winchester, nodding his head. “You to, Sammy. See you tomorrow. And uh… thanks.”
Sam nodded his head in return, then left Dean to his packing, a bit of hope in his chest that maybe, just maybe, his brother would be okay.
----------------------------------------------
Dean hates planes. Vehemently. It’s unnatural, to be suspended in the air, only a metal tube protecting him from plunging to the ground and ultimately, to his horrible and bloody death. He didn’t want to die like that, now or ever, but he was actually looking forward to this time to himself. A bit of fun in the sun, maybe a fling or two, and Dean would be right as rain and back to his flirty, cocky self in no time.
As the plane begins to take off though, Dean can’t help but let his eyes clench closed, his fingers grip the arm rests until his knuckles turn white, and the humming of Metallica to leave his pursed lips. The woman beside him was scowling at him, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass. He was too busy trying not to have a heart attack to care about her needs.
He usually drove himself to different states, opting out of taking flights to matches, liking the safety of driving his Impala over the shaky death traps that are airplanes. However, when they were (not so) safely gliding through the air and the stewardesses started up and down the aisles with their carts of food and alcohol, Dean couldn’t help but stop her, asking for some whiskey, tequila, scotch, anything to keep his nerves down.
She took care of him all right, keeping his drinks coming, making sure his glass only ever reached critical levels, never completely empty, before bringing him more. The bottles were tiny, but she slipped him a few extra when she saw how shaken up he was. he didn’t even care enough to be embarrassed of his fear, either. He knew he should have been, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
Between drinks, humming Metallica over and over, and ignoring the complementary, in-flight movie (Red Eye with Rachel McAdams, go figure), Dean was nicely buzzed and lax by the time they touched down in Hawaii.
As soon as he got off the plane and entered the airport, he was greeted with pretty Hawaiian women with leis, which he ducked down to accept around his neck despite how tense, tipsy and tired he was, then was whisked off to the hotel. He didn’t even have to stop to get his bags, the tour guide with him told them that would all be taken care of. Sam had went the extra mile it seemed, hooking him up with an all inclusive, all expenses paid trip. He was with some tour group thing, in a limo with a bunch of other tourists, colorful leis around their necks as they made their trip to the resort.
He scanned the rest of the group, noticing a small, four people family beside him, the children looking out the window, pointing at different things while the mother and the father looked about ready to tear their hair out. Dean had to suppress a chuckle, not even wanting to think about what it would be like to travel with children.
Then his eyes landed on an elderly couple, looking adorable in their matching Hawaiian print button up shirts and khaki shorts. It was such a stereotypical thing for tourists to be wearing, but Dean didn’t mind. He smiled warmly at them when they looked at him in return, excitement swimming in their eyes.
He scanned the rest of the mismatched group, not letting his gaze linger on anyone for too long, before he finally connected looks with the man sitting directly in front of him. He was… gorgeous, to say the least. A dark, messy mop of hair, in a sort of tidy disarray on the top of his head, looking completely disheveled, but artfully so. His eyes almost as blue as the ocean beneath the plane had been, maybe a little bit darker. Perfect cupid’s bow lips that looked a little chapped, but definitely kissable. His jaw was perfectly chiseled, a definite layer of stubble growing in, making Dean want to feel the coarse hair against his chin as they locked lips.
The man pursed his lips a little, a tight lipped smile forming as he flicked two fingers up at Dean in a casual wave, probably feeling uncomfortable under Dean’s stare. He cleared his throat and waved back, nodding at him, then finally tearing his eyes away to look out the window. He wished he could keep looking at him, maybe ask him his name, see what room he was in, where he came from, anything to start up a conversation with him, but at the same time, he was terrified. Dean hadn’t felt this sexually attracted to anyone since Benny, and it threw him for a loop. Dean wasn’t exactly one to back down from something, simply out of fear, but it was his first day in Honolulu, he didn’t have to make any passes on anyone just yet.
He just wanted to sleep first.
Casting a series of furtive glances at the beautiful stranger during the ride, Dean tried to keep his attention divided between the tour guide pointing out different attractions and the scenery passing them by. While it was difficult, he thought he managed all right, despite catching the stranger’s gaze on him a couple of times. It was… definitely intriguing, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Maybe he’d get a chance to chat this guy up later, but for right now, Dean just wanted to forget the horror that was his flight.
As soon as they stopped outside of their resort, Dean looked up at it, seeing how incredible it looked. It was beautiful, a building he would have admired from afar, never imagining he’d step foot inside. Sure, he’d seen his share of nice hotels, but this… this passed everything he’d ever seen. It was just so tropical and warm, but at the same time it looked so serene and relaxing, inviting.
He couldn’t wait to see what his room looked like.
He didn’t have to wait long, because before he knew it, he was in his suite, eyeing the plush bed longingly. Before he had a chance to walk much further in though, he heard a knock on his door. He turned to open it, revealing a surfer looking guy in a staff uniform, carrying his luggage into the room.
“Where would you like these, sir?” he asked, his arms heavy with two weeks works of clothing and some toiletries.
“Anywhere, I don’t mind,” he shrugged, then watched as the guy placed his bags at the foot of the extremely inviting bed, then turned to Dean expectantly.
Dean smirked and handed the guy a five dollar bill, followed by a tight lipped smile and a slight nod of his head.
The bell boy smiled at him gratefully, bowed a little—which made Dean grimace—then left the room.
Dean tossed his wallet on the rich, mahogany table beside the flat screen television, then stepped further into the room. It was so warm, vibrant, yet relaxing with it's colors, soft burnt oranges and yellows on the walls, striking and yet beautiful in contrast to the white bed and deep reddish brown of the wooden furniture. There were white, billowing curtains in front of his balcony window, which was open, letting the surprisingly cool breeze in, carrying the faint smell of the ocean coupled with a light floral scent that Dean couldn’t quite place. He stepped closer to said balcony and pushed the curtains open, stunning him with an amazing view of the ocean, dotted with palm trees and a beautiful array of colors in the sky just before the sunset.
It was… everything was breathtaking.
Deciding to text Sammy to thank him for everything, he flopped down onto the bed, groaning at how incredibly comfortable it was, then reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He knew he was going to get roaming charges up the ass for this, but he didn’t care. Scrolling through his contacts, he picked out the one that said Jerk-Face, then selected ‘create message’.
[Sent to Jerk-Face] You should see the view, it’s incredible.
[Received from Jerk-Face] Guess you landed safely then? lol Take pictures. -SW
[Sent to Jerk-Face] lol Shut up. You should have came.
[Received from Jerk-Face] Nah, this is all for you, man. Maybe next time. Good thing going to law school paid off, huh? -SW
[Sent to Jerk-Face] I could have afforded this too, you know.
[Received from Jerk-Face] I know. But I wanted to treat you. You deserve it. Now stop texting and go have some fun. Love you and be safe. -SW
[Sent to Jerk-Face] Sleep first, then fun. You too. Night, Sammy.
Just as Dean pushed send, he heard a knock on his door. Again. Ugh.
He dragged himself off the bed and went to the door, wondering who it could be. He knew he hadn’t ordered room service, but then it could be a complimentary bottle of tequila or something, so he didn’t want to pass that opportunity up.
Opening up the door, he was shocked to find Beautiful Stranger on the other side, his blue eyes looking up at Dean with a mix of insecurity and something else Dean couldn’t name. It was interesting, and it left Dean wanting to find out what it was. Maybe if he got to know him better…
“Uh… hi,” he said, his voice deep and rough, sending a shiver up Dean’s spine. “Sorry, this is weird… I uh… sorry,” he murmured, then made an attempt to leave.
“It’s okay!” Dean said a little too loudly, but it made Beautiful Stranger stop in his tracks, turning back to face Dean once again. “I mean, it’s kind of weird, but I don’t mind,” he smirked, then leaned against the door jamb, his foot holding the door open as he went to cross his arms over his chest, then thought better of it. He held a hand out to him, instead. “I’m Dean.”
“Castiel,” the man said, then took Dean’s hand, giving it a firm shake, his cheeks tinting a slight shade of red. “I didn’t mean to come over unannounced, but I saw that you were my neighbor, and we’re in the same tour group and I…”
Dean chuckled and crossed his arms comfortably over his chest. “It’s fine, really. Nice to meet you, Castiel.”
He gave Dean a polite smile in return, then raised a hand to run it through his dark hair. “Nice to meet you too.”
Dean couldn’t help the smirk that played on his lips as he watched Castiel flounder a bit, trying (and failing, it seemed) to not feel embarrassed. He was quiet, trying to look anywhere except at Dean, which left him looking down at his shoes. It was completely adorable, and Dean knew he couldn’t resist getting to know this man a little more. “Is there something you wanted?” he asked, deciding to simultaneously put him out of his misery by continuing the conversation and embarrass him further, in case he’d come over to ask Dean out for drinks, or something.
Not that he was assuming but…
“Yes, actually,” Castiel said and lifted his azure gaze to Dean’s. It was like something in Castiel shifted, a bout of confidence—whether feigned or real—washed over the other man, making him square his shoulders and lift his chin up a little. It made Dean smile wider. “I wanted to know if maybe you’d like to go get a drink with me.”
Dean smiled, looked over his shoulder at the bed, then let out a put-upon sigh. “I was actually going to catch a nap, but…”
“Oh, right. I should have… Right. Uhm, I apologize for coming over unannounced, I’ll uh…” Castiel said, fidgeting a little bit, his confidence gone, then attempted to flee the situation.
“Castiel, it’s fine,” Dean said and reached out to take the the other man’s wrist, stopping him from going any where for the second time in less than an hour. “I’d like to go for a few drinks, actually. Sounds fun. Just give me a moment, gotta grab my wallet, maybe change my shirt. Want to come in?”
Castiel let out a relieved breath, then nodded his head. He followed Dean into his room, where Dean stripped his shirt off, smiling as he saw Castiel tense, then let his eyes slide appreciatively over Dean’s back. Thank god for mirrors in opportunistic places, he thought to himself, then bent over to root though his suitcase, pulling out a dark gray t-shirt.
Seems Dean isn’t the only on who’s hot for a stranger.
He turned to face the man, giving him an unabashed view of his chest, before he pulled his picked out shirt over his head, then smoothed his hand down his stomach, coaxing the material to lay flat. He saw Castiel lick his lips, and Dean simply smirked, then reached for his wallet, sliding it into his back pocket, already knowing his key-card was in there. He knew he didn’t exactly need the money within the leather slots, but better safe then sorry.
“Alright… I’m ready. You?” he asked, then turned to face the mirror, fixing his hair a bit, then winked at Castiel, who blushed and looked away, nodding his head. Dean smirked again, then turned towards Castiel, gesturing towards the door.
“Perfect, let’s go.”
-----------------------------------------------
“So, what made you knock on my door?” Dean asked as they walked to the outdoor, poolside bar, finding two seats beside each other at the counter.
Dean was surprised they’d found seats at the bar, it seemed pretty hopping, but everyone was in groups, hanging out by poolside lounge chairs or in the pool itself, utilizing the swim up bar to their advantage. The only other people at the bar were lonely drunkards, out on their last binge before they left for home. Didn’t matter to Dean though, he was right where he wanted to be.
Or, one of the places he wanted to be, anyway. The other place being in his bed. This was a close second, though. He could settle.
“I’m kind of doing this new thing where I do whatever I want to do, right when I want to do it,” he said with a shrug, then sat down beside Dean, resting his hands in his lap. “I was told I wasn’t very impulsive.”
Dean cringed. “Damn. That had to suck. So now you’re what? Like Jim Carrey in ‘Yes Man’?”
“I… don’t understand that reference…”
Dean chuckled, then watched as the bartender came over to them, asking them for their orders. “I’ll have a beer, Budweiser,” he said, then pointed to Castiel, who muttered the same. “Yes Man is a movie about this guy who leads a very boring, very controlled life. He joins this self help thing where they tell him to say yes to every opportunity, no matter what it is. It’s pretty funny, actually.”
“Are you saying I’m boring?” Castiel asked, arching an eyebrow.
“No!” Dean said, immediately wishing he hadn’t brought the movie up. He hadn’t meant to offend the other male. “I didn’t mean to say… not at all, I don’t think you’re boring, I was just…”
“Making a joke?” Castiel supplied, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smirk, his eyes shining with mirth.
Dean relaxed slightly, shaking his head as he realized what had just happened. Castiel made a funny. “Yes,” he chuckled. “Making a joke.”
The bartender placed their bottles of beer in front of them, and Dean picked his up, sliding Castiel’s over to him. “To meeting new people and trying new things,” he said, then waited for the other man to lift his bottle up.
Once he did, they clinked their bottles together in a toast, then they both took a sip. “Gonna be an interesting trip, that’s for damn sure,” Dean muttered, then took another gulp of the foamy liquid.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Castiel said, smiling warmly at Dean. “So… tell me.. why Hawaii?”
Dean sighed a bit, contemplating on how to answer. He didn’t exactly want to tell the beautiful man beside him how fucked up he was, how his brother felt like Dean needed an escape so badly that he’d squandered some of his wealth on a trip for him. That meant opening up, telling someone else about the feelings he held inside, and that was something Dean definitely wasn’t good at.
Instead, he shrugged, tilting the bottle of beer to his lips nonchalantly to take a swig. “Needed a change of pace, I guess,” he replied. He knew he was taking his brother’s credit for basically shipping him here, but he didn’t exactly feel like telling Castiel how low he’d gotten, over a woman he didn’t even really love. “Figured I should get out of my apartment, do something new for a change. How about yourself?”
Castiel nodded his head, looking at Dean contemplatively. “I suppose I could say the same. I decided I needed a change of scenery, so I booked the earliest flight. Can’t say I regret it, so far.”
Dean smiled. “Me either.”
——————————
A few drinks and some casual conversation later, Dean found himself peeling the label of his beer, as the conversation flowed between them, light words and laughter, keeping them both talking and listening to each other. He could feel something between them, something boiling and bubbling beneath the surface, begging to be opened up and explored. They were both holding back though, both wary of going further than the few drinks and words shared between him.
It was odd how intense and yet comfortable it was sitting there, his hands itching to reach out and touch the man beside him, but not wanting to spook him in case Dean was the only one feeling it. It had been such a long time since Dean actually craved the touch of someone else, so badly his whole body thrummed with need, and it both scared and intrigued him.
With Benny, Dean had felt an instant attraction, a need to be near him, to get to know him, to learn everything about him, inside and out. It ended up biting him in the ass in the long run; throwing his heart, body and soul at someone without hesitation was the stupidest thing he’d ever done, but he’d been young and completely infatuated. That was his first scar, and something that set the mood for his entire love life since. Everything and everyone Dean had touched after that seemed to wilt and wither right before his eyes, leaving Dean feeling like the worthless sack of crap that he knew he was. He failed everyone, left everyone to rot in his wake, and he didn’t want to tear another person down.
Castiel seemed so pure, so… innocent compared to him. His adorable shyness and social awkwardness called to Dean, turned him on more than he’d felt in such a long time, but God… Dean didn’t want to spoil that for him, to leave Castiel as bitter and broken as he was himself. Dean didn’t want to extinguish his light, but he wanted him so fucking bad, he almost ached with pure lust.
Maybe if Dean… detached himself from it. Maybe if they were both detached, distant from whatever their bodies wanted, they could make something work? Live for two weeks in pure physical bliss, reveling in each other’s skin. Sins of the flesh, and nothing more. Dean knew he could do it, that was basically what he did with everyone since Benny; love them with his body, but never with his heart.
He’d tried with Lisa, to open up to her, let her into his heart, but it never happened. Maybe at first, he let himself believe what he felt for her was love, but looking back now, he knew it was only infatuation. The longing for the pure passion he felt with Benny trying to transfer to Lisa, but it was never there. It just wasn’t. He tried, he pretended, but it never worked.
And that, right there, was why he was so torn up when he found her with another man, taking from him what he could never give her himself. He’d lost something that could have been great, all because he couldn’t feel.
Maybe he could fix himself. If he gave in to what he felt here, with Castiel, let himself feel the heat, come close to letting himself get scorched, he could try to feel again. He knew it wouldn’t be fair to the other man, to use him to mend himself, but that--no matter how horrible it sounded--didn’t matter to Dean. He didn’t know this person, he didn’t know where he came from, who he wanted to be, who he was. All Dean knew what that his name is Castiel and he’s downright sexy.
“Where are you from again? I don’t think I asked you…” Castiel questioned, then tipped his bottle of beer to his lips.
Dean looked up from peeling his label, locking his gaze with Castiel’s, wondering if he could do it. If he could lose himself in this man, then leave him behind, leave it all in Hawaii. Only one way to find out, he guessed.
“Does it really matter?” he asked, though his tone was light, not sounding like the dick he knew he was being. “I mean, we both came here to lose ourselves, didn’t we?”
Castiel was quiet for a moment, a mask of sorrow flickering over his face before going back to neutral, then nodded his head.
“Then lets lose ourselves. Forget what is waiting for us back home, and take what we want, here and now. How long are you here for?”
“Ten days. Well, nine now, arriving counts as the first,” he shrugged. “I was going to stay for the full two weeks, but my schedule back home doesn’t permit it.”
Dean found himself about to ask what he did for a living, but refrained. That would mean more information on the stranger, and Dean wanted him to remain just that. A stranger, nothing more. “Well, lets make the most of those ten days then, huh? What’s one thing you want to do right now?”
“I’m… not sure,” Castiel replied slowly, seemingly unsure how to answer Dean’s question. "There’s plenty of things I want to do right now.”
“Well, what’s one of them?” Dean asked, then shifted in his seat so he was facing the other man. “We’ll do it. Right here, right now. What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked, then raised his arms out at his sides, shrugging a little, the beer in the bottle sloshing from side to side with his movements, threatening to, but not actually spilling over the mouth of the bottle. “What do we have to lose? From now ‘till the end of our trip, our past doesn’t matter. Everything and everyone is at home, we’re here, and I’m up for anything. So tell me, Cas,” he said, then lowered his arms, resting the heel of the hand that held his beer on his knee, his other hand stretched out to rest on the other man’s shoulder. “What do you want to do?”
Dean watched as Castiel took a couple of breaths, mulling over Dean’s proposition, watching Dean with a sort of intensity he hadn’t felt in a along time. It made Dean’s lips quirk up into a smirk, an eyebrow arching perfectly.
“Last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid.” He said, the implication hanging over them, teasing them with a promise of skin on skin.
And there it was, the look that told Dean right there and then, that Castiel was game. A slow, blossoming smile spread over the other man’s lips, and Dean knew.
“Right now, I want to get out of here. You up for that?” Castiel countered, throwing Dean’s words back at him, then finished off the last mouthful of his beer, his eyes never leaving Dean’s.
Dean mimicked Castiel’s smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
-------------------------------------------
When Castiel came to Hawaii, the last thing he expected was to find another fellow tourist, a gorgeous one at that, that was here for basically the same reasons. Well, from what he’d gathered, anyway. They’d both spontaneously showed up in Honolulu, looking for a place to just… exist. To be away from their lives and be in a place that they could mold and shape to be their own, if only for a week and a half.
While Castiel had deeper reasons on why he’d come here, as he was sure Dean did too, he was glad he’d found someone who shared the same desire he did. To lose himself and his inhibitions for a week, do whatever the hell he wanted, just for the sake of doing it.
Balthazar, Castiel’s ex, told him he was too comfortable. Said that Castiel lived in this sheltered bubble, with a schedule he never deviated from, a head on his shoulders that made him make calculated and well-planned choices, never letting him live life the way life was supposed to be lived.
Castiel was never one to live life by the seat of his pants though, to be so outgoing, to live a life of spontaneity. He preferred to be in control, to think before he spoke, look before he leaped, to think things all the way through before he did anything stupid. That was just how he was. However, after Balthazar pointed it out, Castiel realized just how true it was. Suddenly things were boring, too comfortable, he didn’t feel alive. He felt like a useless automaton, a robot going through the motions.
That was how he found himself in Hawaii, in a gorgeous stranger’s—Dean’s—resort room, his back against the inside of the door as Dean’s talented tongue brushed against his in a fit of heat and desire.
At first, Castiel was hesitant when Dean proposed they lose themselves for the next ten days, to let go of everything and just do whatever the hell they wanted. Reckless abandon was never Castiel’s forte, but he wanted Dean so thoroughly, so intensely that it was all he could think about on the ride to the hotel, as he unpacked his suitcase, as he walked over to Dean’s room, as they drank side by side and talked about random things. So much so, that when Dean made his offer, Castiel decided not to think, but only to act.
Now there’s hands sliding under and up his shirt, lips moving against his, tongues battling for dominance, and hips thrusting against each other. It was heady, hot and insistent, their want for each other laid bare, grasping for each other, seeking purchase on each other’s bodies.
There was no turning back now, and Castiel didn’t think he could if he wanted to.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Dean growled when he pulled away from the kiss, his hips still undulating against Castiel’s thigh, making them both inhale sharply, almost a gasp. “Wanted you the second I saw you in that limo. Fuck…”
Castiel listened to Dean’s words, but said nothing in return, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he’d say something stupid, make Dean have second thoughts about choosing him. Instead, he lowered his hands to the hem of Dean’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head, revealing that toned and incredible chest he’d gotten a glimpse of earlier.
Castiel lowered his mouth to Dean’s shoulder, placing nips and licks down to his collar bone, then down to a peaked nipple. He ran his hands down Dean’s sides, feeling his flesh erupt in goosebumps under the attention, then looped his fingers into the belt loops of the other man’s pants, pulling their pelvises flush together, his ass clenching as he began to grind their hips together, craving every bit of friction he could take.
He could hear Dean moan, his fingers digging into Castiel’s hips as he threw his head back, reveling in Castiel’s touches, and it sent a shiver down his spine. This man wanted him, chose him to have this moment with, and Castiel felt like rewarding him, as well as himself.
Dropping to his knees, Castiel smirked at the needy whimper that left Dean’s lips at the loss of contact. Castiel didn’t let it last too long before his hands went to the belt around Dean’s hips, undoing it quickly, then sliding it through the belt loops. He looked up at Dean as he threw the leather strap to the side, watching his lust-filled eyes as he went to undo the button and zipper.
The room was silent, save for their heavy breathing and the metallic slip of the teeth of Dean’s zipper opening up. It was so fucking erotic, feeling Dean’s hand slip into his hair near the base of his neck, seeing his eyes slide close and his chest expand and contract with his breathing, smelling the scent of clean laundry, mixed with Dean’s cologne and the faint brine of the ocean coming in through the open window. It was intoxicating, and it made Castiel crave more. Need more. Right now.
He pulled Dean’s trousers and boxers down his hips, letting them slip to his knees, letting his erection free from it’s denim confines. It was rather impressive; long, thick and leaking pre-come, desperate for release. Release Castiel was readily willing to give.
He leaned forward, a hand coming up to grip the base of Dean’s shaft, giving it a few experimental strokes as his tongue darted out, collecting the pearl of pre-come on his tongue, savoring the taste of it for only a second, then took the sensitive head into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
“Fuck,” Dean groaned, dragging the vowel of the word out as his fingers flexed in Castiel’s hair, fisting the dark strands tight.
A sense of pride washed over Castiel, knowing he was the one giving this gorgeous stranger so much pleasure, making him hiss and groan, his hips moving so subtly, his hand following Castiel’s movements as he moved back and forth, taking Dean in as far as he could and swallowing around him. He let his throat muscles contract around him, almost making him gag. He pulled back just in time, letting his hand move over his slicked flesh as he caught his breath, then dove in for more, repeating everything over and over.
Dean was all but growling now, mumbling profanities as Castiel worked his mouth, redoubling his efforts until Dean was gasping for more.
“Cas… Cas, fuck, gonna… Jesus Christ, I’m so close…” Dean murmured, a litany of words spilling from his lips, telling Castiel how close he was, how much he needed this.
Ready to oblige, Castiel worked quicker, brought one hand around to grip a firm ass cheek, the other hand cupping Dean’s balls, gently massaging them as he hollowed out his cheeks, sucking Dean deeper, his teeth softly scraping along his shaft every time he pulled away.
“God, C-Cas,” Dean whimpered, then spilled himself in Castiel’s mouth.
Castiel swallowed everything down, taking a moment to savor it, to let the salty, creamy liquid settle on his tongue. Everything he was feeling was hypersensitive, turned on beyond belief, his body trembling with aching need as Dean trembled with satisfying release.
He pulled away from Dean’s softening cock, about to say something, when suddenly he was hauled to his feet, his lips covered by Dean’s. That only served to turn Castiel on even more, knowing that Dean could taste himself on his tongue, not letting that hold him back from kissing him. It was so fucking hot and he needed… God, he just…
“Please,” he whimpered, pushing his hips forward, seeking any kind of friction he could. “I need… Please, Dean….”
“I got you,” he replied, then pulled Castiel’s shirt off as he shucked himself of the jeans around his knees, kicking them away with his feet, his hands too busy lifting Castiel up and guiding his legs to wrap around Dean's waist. It was a miracle--or simply just a fighter's balance and agility--that he hadn't fallen flat on his face.
He found himself carried over to the bed, falling backwards onto it, Dean’s body pinning him to the plush surface. The only thing he could think about was Dean, his throbbing erection, and his need to come. He needed it so desperately, so badly he was barely hanging onto a thread, barely able to keep himself from rubbing against Dean with wanton abandon.
Dean chuckled and slid down his body, trailing kiss and nips along Castiel’s skin, teasing him with lips and teeth. Castiel could barely hold back the growl that erupted from him as he grabbed Dean by the back of his head, lifting his gaze up, locking blue with green. “I swear, if you don’t touch me, I’m going to finish myself off,” he said, his voice deeper than usual, rougher, filled with lust and need.
Dean smirked, then dipped down further, biting at the sharp angle of Castiel’s hipbone. “Don’t rush me,” he replied, then quickly undid his jeans with deft fingers. “Or I’ll go even slower.”
Castiel let out a low groan, his hands falling to the sheets of the bed, fisting them between fingers and palms, tugging on them. It happened all too quickly, Dean’s mouth on his aching cock, sucking him off, lips, tongue, teeth, hands working him into a frenzy, reciprocating and giving Castiel everything he needed. It was fucking glorious, and as he got closer, his head thrashing from side to side, his hips pushing up off the bed, seeking more, Dean gave it to him.
Castiel came with a rough groan, his toes curling, his back arching up off the bed, his eyes clenching closed with the intensity. He’d never felt like this before, it was like he was alive for the first time in his life, his whole body filled with sparking electricity, and he only had the man currently tonguing his softening cock to thank.
It wasn’t just the sex, it was the build up (although short), the want for him, the desperate need to take this man and possess him for everything he had, it was incredible and this moment was all Castiel’s to remember.
He was no longer an automaton. He was Castiel; a man who took what he wanted, and gave no shits.
It was incredibly freeing, and he wasn’t so sure he ever wanted to give it up. This was everything he’d been needing in his life; passion, raw need, an all encompassing sense of satisfaction. Dean had given him that, and God, he’d needed it so badly.
Dean began to kiss up Castiel’s chest, then rolled to the side, laying there as he caught his breath, his chest rising and falling along with Castiel’s. “Son of a bitch, that was… I don’t think I know a word that could even do that justice.”
Castiel let out a deep chuckle, his head nodding positively. “Perhaps the word hasn’t been invented yet,” he grinned, then pushed himself up on his elbows, surveying the mess they’d made.
Clothes strewn across the floor, along with shoes and belts. On the way to the bed, they’d knocked over one of Dean’s suitcases, sending the contents spilling onto the floor. The bed sheets were rumpled and crooked, and it left Castiel wondering what state the bed would be in if there had been more… thrusting involved.
That thought made his cock twitch in anticipation, thought he definitely wasn’t ready for round two just yet.
“Maybe. Need to do more research before we come up with a word though,” Dean smiled and rolled onto his side, resting his hand on Castiel’s hip. “For scientific purposes. Can’t find the perfect word unless we thoroughly check out what we’re describing.”
Castiel laughed again, loving how easy his smiles were, how easy it was to laugh around this man, despite how little he knew about him. “Are you trying to say you want more of me?”
“What if I am?”
Castiel hummed softly, turning onto his side so he was facing the other man, tucking his arm beneath his head. “I think I’d like that. If I’m going to ‘lose myself’, I need someone to lose myself with, do I not?”
In that moment, Castiel decided that he loved it when he made Dean smile, too.
-----------------------------------------------
Dean discovered two things during the night before. One; Castiel has a mouth like a fucking hoover. Despite how innocent he seemed, how shy and intimidated, that man could get down like no tomorrow, and Dean could definitely get used to it. Secondly; Dean actually liked Castiel.
After the initial passion, they settled down, both tired and strung out from the flight. They simply laid there, casual touches and lazy kisses, simple conversation about silly things. they never spoke about their past or about deep and meaningful things. They just hung out there, in each other's arms, and it was incredible. The best Dean had felt in a long, long time.
He hadn't even felt that way with Benny. It was different, raw need and pure lust, nothing to do with love or deeper connections. Just two bodies seeking pleasure, that was it. Dean fucking loved it.
They fell asleep soon after, a tangle of limbs and sheets, breathing each other in as they rested up for the next day. Dean didn't even have time to notice how much he was enjoying the cuddling until he woke up next to Castiel, still in the circle of his arms, something he hardly ever did, even with Benny.
But there he was, in Castiel's arms, soaking up the warmth and relaxation of fucked-out, morning-after bliss.
He let his eyes roam the other's face, taking in the sharp, chiseled features, the rough stubble and the complete look of peace on his features that was no doubt mirrored on his own face. He found himself wondering who Castiel was back home, wherever home was for a fleeting moment, before he squashed that thought down. He wasn't here to make a connection that went beyond the physical. No, he was here, they were both here, to take what they wanted physically and go their separate ways, that was it. Castiel was keeping to that, and so was Dean.
Pulled from his thoughts by the rumble of his cell phone on the bedside table, Dean reached for it, seeing that the time was quite late to be waking up. 12:22 PM, to be exact. They probably missed the morning breakfast buffet thing he couldn't remember the name of, which sucked, but he knew he could just order room service for them.
Flipping the phone open, he saw he had a few new messages from Sammy.
[Received from Jerk-Face] Did you have a good first night? -SW
[Received from Jerk-Face] Guess you actually did go out last night, either that or you were more tired than you let on... -SW
[Received from Jerk-Face] Jeez, Dean. I didn't send you to your death, did I? -SW
Dean chuckled as he looked at the times they were sent, all about two hours apart. Los Angeles was two hours ahead of Hawaii, so Dean knew Sam must be freaking out by now.
[Sent to Jerk-Face] Good morning, mother. I'm still alive. I did end up going out last night, since you're so curious.
[Sent to Jerk-Face] Don't worry so much, you'll give yourself a nosebleed.
Dean chuckled as he pushed send, then turned to look at Castiel as he began to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. God, he was so beautiful, and Dean planned to do many, many things to that delectable body.
"Good morning," Castiel said, sounding more like a grumble as he stretched himself out, working out any morning kinks. Dean could hear his vertebrae stretching out, soft popping as he elongated his body. "I trust you slept as good as I did?"
This guy made early morning stretching look incredibly sexy, and he didn't even know it.
Cell phone dropped on the bed and forgotten, Dean pushed himself so he was laying on top of the other man, half of his weight supported on one elbow, his other hand sliding up Castiel's side, feeling his soft, taut skin under his calloused fingers. He wondered if maybe his hands were too rough for a moment, so much working out and fighting rendering his hands too leathered. Castiel didn't say anything though, so Dean ignored it.
"I slept like a fucking baby," he murmured, then bent his head down, kissing along the other man's collar bone. "You don't happen to be hungry yet, right?" he asked, beginning to grind his hips down, his hardening cock slotting against Castiel's, the only thing between them was a thin, soft sheet.
"A little bit; but I could be persuaded to ignore it for a little longer... Do you have something else to do in mind?" Castiel asked, his eyes sliding closed as he enjoyed the slight friction Dean's grinding was giving him.
Dean chuckled and rolled back to his side of the bed, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. "I was gonna have a shower, actually," he teased, then got up to walk over to his bathroom, giving Castiel a full on view of his ass. Once he got to the door, he turned to look back at the other male, a hand sliding down his chest, stomach, then over his hip to take his erection into his hand, giving it a few strokes. He watched the man on the bed as he lazily jacked himself, the sheet tangled around his legs and hiding his groin from Dean's gaze. The rest of him was on full display though, and seeing Castiel's hair so unruly from the night before, the sheet riding low on his hips, slightly tented by his length made a pool of need stir low in Dean's stomach. "You can join, if you want."
Castiel nodded quickly, then tossed the sheet to the side, following Dean into the bathroom.
------------------
Nine Days Later....
------------------
Nine days of pure bliss. Barely speaking to each other, just relishing in the pure physical need of each other.
There were days when they didn't say anything to each other at all. They just co-existed, listening to body language rather than spoken word. Dean had never, ever felt so connected to someone in his entire life, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his plan backfired on him.
With Benny, it was adolescent love. The thrill of something new, something unexplored, the thrall of infatuation and lust pulling them under. It was beautiful, and Dean often wondered how they would have turned out if Benny were still alive.
With Lisa, it was physical. Not passionate, not needy, not love, just attraction and release. There was nothing there for Dean, and he knew that now even more than he did before.
With Castiel though... God, he couldn't even explain it. It was like his body was on fire, perpetually strung out like a live wire, waiting for him to play his body like a finely tuned instrument. He was everything Dean was looking for in a lover, and he knew, he fucking knew he could fall head over heels for this man, as if he wasn't falling in love with him already.
Dean barely knew him though, not in the strictest sense of the word. He knew his body real well, every single spot that made him gasp and quiver with pleasure. He knew what he was like drunk, or just waking up, or just getting out of the shower, or what he looked like when he was sleeping peacefully in Dean's arms. He knew Castiel only in the physical sense. He'd even gotten Castiel's features and expressions narrowed down to an art form, for Christ's sake.
Like when Castiel's neck flushed a slight pink color, Dean knew he was turned on. Or when Castiel's eyebrow flicked up, arching for a split second before going back to neutral, Dean knew he was teasing or making a joke. He knew that when Castiel was either lying or nervous, his Adam's apple bobbed, as if he swallowed when he really hadn't. He knew Castiel fidgeted with his hands when he was uncomfortable, tapped his foot or drummed his fingers against his thigh when he was impatient, refused to make eye contact when he was embarrassed.
But when Castiel is happy... Utterly, blissfully content, he was completely still. Nothing moved, not a single muscle, aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest, as if he is simply soaking up the moment, committing it to memory rather than ruining it with words or movement.
It was the things he didn't know that drove Dean crazy.
He didn't know the man's favorite color, or favorite food, where he grew up, where he lived now, if he had any siblings, pets or friends. If he got along with his parents, or if they were even alive.
He didn't even know his last fucking name, and it was all Dean's fault. Him and his stupid mouth, creating rules and stupid stipulations to their relationship. All before he got a taste of the blue eyed man, before he was addicted to him.
Now Dean had one day... Not even that, only a handful of hours to convince him to stay, to be with him. Or to at least tell him his last name. The thought of losing Castiel, of not having him in his life both terrified and relieved him. If he left, Dean would go back to being so fucking lonely, and the pain he'd feel, it would be similar to what he felt when Benny was killed. Like he had something special torn from him, slipping between his fingers.
However, if they did part ways, he could get the pain out the way quicker. Like ripping a Bandaid off; quick and painful for only a moment, before it tapers off to a sting, then nothing at all.
Did Dean want that, though? Quick pain, or trying, fighting for something he thought could work. there would always be a possibility that something would happen that would only leave Dean with even more heartbreak than he'd started off with.
He just didn't know.
"What are you thinking about?" Castiel asked, his lips barely moving against the column of Dean's neck.
They were just waking up on their final day together, tangled up in each other like they were every morning. Castiel's plane didn't leave till later that day, so Dean had time, though not a whole lot, to make up his mind.
It didn't take him long to figure it out.
"You," he answered simply, then shifted in the bed, turning so he was on his side, looking down at Castiel who was laying on his back. "What are you thinking about?"
"You," he smiled, blinking up at Dean, his face softened from sleep. "Why are you thinking about me?"
Dean smiled back at the other man, his face dipping down to place a soft kiss on his lips. "You're leaving today, Cas. I don't think I could think about anything else, even if I wanted to."
"Right," he sighed, a hand coming up to rub an eye, then cover his mouth as he yawned. "It snuck up on us, didn't it?"
Dean frowned. Did Castiel not... care? Did he not want this as desperately as Dean did? It would be like karmic punishment, wouldn't it? Finally seeing how Lisa felt, when she couldn't get what she wanted or needed from Dean. Maybe Dean had his mind made up for him, and this man, who'd infiltrated every wall Dean had erected to keep his heart safe, didn't want or need him in return.
He should have known. That's how it goes for Dean Winchester. He should be used to it by now, but all he could feel was the rejection, all he could hear was the snap of the walls coming back up. He let his guard down, and now he was fucked over, just like he was with Benny.
Only with Benny, he was taken by death, not by choice.
Dean rolled onto his back, his whole body tense, not even bothering to relax into the bed. "I guess I should let you go pack."
If Dean had been paying attention to the man beside him, rather than the intricate patterns on the ceiling, he would have seen the flash of hurt cross Castiel's features, then his solemn nod. "Of course. Do you... You want me to--"
"Just go, Cas," Dean snapped, then rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to fight the prickling of tears at the back of his eyes.
He wasn't going to fucking cry. He fucking wasn't. He was a grown ass man that spent an incredible nine and a half days with another man. He wasn't going to fucking cry. It was only nine days. Not even enough for someone to love another person. Right?
Right?
Of course it wasn't. He could let go. He could let Castiel walk out of his life, and never, ever pine for him, never think of him as more than a fling in Honolulu. He could. He would.
He should.
So lost in his emotions, Dean didn't feel, see or hear Castiel move off the bed, get dressed and leave.
--------------------------
Castiel stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom, his bags all packed and ready to go. He'd tried to ask Dean if he wanted Castiel to come back to say goodbye, but before he could get the words out, Dean sent him away. He thought he'd spend his last day here in Honolulu a little bit differently. Somber, sure, that was a given. But he thought he'd at least get to spend his last hours wrapped up in Dean, just like he'd spent the last nine days. He sent Castiel away though, without so much as a parting kiss. That hurt.
He didn't want to leave this place, to go back to his old life. The one where he lived in a bubble, living his life by a thoroughly planned out schedule. No passion, no drive, no... Dean.
No Dean, that was the worst part. The part that tugged at Castiel's heart like an incessant child, begging to be acknowledged. It was too early to feel this way for someone, wasn't it? Nine days, and he already doesn't want to live without the other man. Life without him seemed so boring and dull, no light, no spark. Castiel didn't want that, but he didn't want to profess his budding love for the man, either.
What if Dean thought he was insane? What if his feelings for Castiel were strictly physical? What if he hadn't lost himself as totally and completely as Castiel had? He was sure they were supposed to lose their inhibitions, not a piece of their hearts.
Castiel was screwed.
--------------------------------------------------
Dean hadn't left his bedroom. He hadn't eaten anything all day either. How could he, when his stomach was a pit of twists and knots? Castiel hadn't even come over to say goodbye, and it was getting down to the wire. Only a couple more hours before he left, and Dean...
Fuck, he couldn't even bring himself to go see the other man. He just couldn't lay himself bare, only to get stomped on. Dean had never been one for random gestures of romance. He wouldn't even know where to begin.
So, instead, he sat out on his balcony, sipping his room service beer and staring off into the ocean. What was he going to do for the next four days without Castiel? Actually partake in the tour guide shit? Dean didn't really care about touring Honolulu, he didn't care about the resort activities, or hanging out with other tourists. He came here to get drunk and lose himself, and he'd done that already.
Maybe he could leave. Maybe he could buy a flight back to L.A., go home and surprise Sammy. Get drunk at his favorite bar, hang out with his little brother and sleep in his own bed. Dean didn't want to be here, if Castiel wasn't here. There would be nothing but the memory of his kiss, his laugh, his hands, his deep voice.
Nope, Dean didn't want to be here without Castiel.
Dean picked up his phone, his mind made up. He was going to buy himself a last minute ticket back to L.A., and try to forget about a certain dark haired, blue eyed man.
Just as he began to look up flights back to L.A., there was a knock on his door. It had to be Castiel. It had to be. He hadn't ordered room service, and he didn't know anyone else who'd knock on his door.
He couldn't move though. He was just sitting there, staring at the door, hearing someone shuffling on their feet outside. He knew right then that it definitely was Castiel, and Dean's heart clenched in his chest. Was he coming to say goodbye, now? Was he coming to get a last fuck in? Dean wasn't sure, but he knew he wouldn't be able to turn him away. That man had wormed his way into Dean's hart in a matter of days, with nothing but his body and casual conversation.
Quickly setting his beer down just as Castiel began to knock again, Dean walked to the door, then opened it, staring at the other man out in the hall way. He looked... tired. Worn down. Was he as messed up about this as Dean was? Part of Dean hoped he was, because then he wouldn't be the only one who'd developed feelings for a relative stranger.
Fucking feelings.
"Cas." He said, the name falling from his lips like a breathy whisper. He just stood there for a moment, looking at him, memorizing him, before he swung the door open wider and stepped to the side. "Do you... want to come in?"
Castiel nodded quickly, then walked inside, only a few steps passed Dean, then turned to face him. He looked like he had a million things to say, but didn't know where to begin. Dean knew that feeling, quite intimately, in fact.
"Are you okay?" He asked, watching as Castiel began to fidget, looking down at his shoes. Much like he had been the first day they met.
Dean couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corners of his mouth at the memory.
"No... Yes.... Maybe," the other man said, then lifted his gaze to Dean's. "I don't really know for sure."
Dean took a step forward, taking one of Castiel's hands in his own, rubbing his thumb of the backs of his knuckles. He was trying to comfort him, to soothe his unease, but Dean wasn't sure what this was all about. If he even had a right to be doing this, now that their perfect little bubble was bursting.
"What's wro--"
"My name is Castiel Novak," he said quickly, cutting off Dean's question. "I'm thirty-three years old, and I live in Los Angeles. I have three brothers--one is a twin--and one sister. I'm the youngest, born two hours after Jimmy. I've had two boyfriends before; one whom I used to work with, the other Jimmy set me up with. Blind date, I should have never went on it. My brother can be a troll sometimes. I used to be an accountant, but I didn't take to it very well, so I opened my own book store. I live in a third story walk up and I have two cats; Uriel and Ishmael. I was born in Pontiac, Illinois, but my father moved us around a lot."
Dean was quiet through Castiel's rambling, doing nothing but standing there, holding his hand and listening to every word he said. He couldn't help the smile that blossomed on his lips when Castiel said he lived in L.A., his heart hammering in his chest. He wanted to cut the other man off, to make him stop rambling, but he just couldn't. He wanted to take every morsel of information in, soak it up and store it in a neatly labelled box in the back of his mind
Castiel had his eyes closed as he spoke though, a sort of sour-lemon look on his face, as if he was afraid to look at Dean's reaction. He couldn't blame him, Dean would be freaking out right now too, if he was going out on a limb like Castiel was.
"I came to Honolulu because my ex recently broke up with me. He lived a very... impetuous lifestyle, one spent doing things on a whim, just because he could. It didn't work out between us. After he left, I wanted to start doing impulsive things, to take chances, to be more bold, to have a story to tell. I decided to start small, so I booked a last minute trip to Hawaii. Which I'm glad I did, because if I hadn't of, I wouldn't have met you. While our... relationship isn't the most traditional, it's still the best relationship I've ever had, and I don't want it to end. I just don't."
After he was done, they were quiet for a few minutes, Dean watching Castiel, Castiel still standing there with his heart on his sleeve, his eyes clenched closed, as if waiting for something, anything to happen.
Dean stepped forward, crowding the other man's personal space, then took his face in his hands. "Cas, look at me," he said, then smiled as the other man peeked his brilliant blue eyes open, looking up and into Dean's green.
"My name is Dean Winchester," he mumbled, then leaned down to place a kiss on Castiel's lips. "I'm Twenty-seven years old, and I live in L.A. I have a younger brother, Sammy, and he's the pushy son of a bitch that sent me here..."
The End