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Will You Wait Until Tomorrow

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--- Dean ---

Dean reached out and pulled Castiel in closer by his shirt, as the other man bent over to be in kissing distance. The kiss was slow, and deep, but there was a passion and an understated impatience behind it as well. They had done a lot of dancing around the past few weeks — fighting between attraction, or not. Patient, or not. It was good to finally just be.

He let one of his hands slide down to palm the growing bulge in his jeans. “We are both definitely wearing too many clothes.”

Castiel raised his arms and began pulling his shirt up and over his head, in between kisses. When the shirt was tossed aside, Cas stepped back to work at his belt. “I agree,” he managed, a bit breathless.

Dean mirrored the actions, losing his shirt, and laying back on the bed to undo his jeans and then push them and his underwear down and off his legs. He pulled an equally naked Castiel on top of him, relishing the hot feel of skin on skin. He gasped as their cocks, both hard, brushed against each other, and he grinned into Castiel’s mouth as he kissed him again.

For once, Castiel moved without any hesitation. The therapist voice in the back of Dean’s head said that he was definitely hitting a high note in his recovery.

That voice, however, was silenced by pure, unleashed need. Dean rocked his hips up against Cas and groaned. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, Cas.”

Castiel drew back, a look of shock coloring his face. “You have?”

Yes. You’re all I can think about.” He bit his bottom lip and let his eyes roam over every inch of Castiel’s bare skin that he could see. “Every time I touched you, it was like fire under my fingertips. I wanted but didn’t think I could have.”

Castiel closed his eyes, and drew in a deep breath. When he opened them again, his eyes focused in on Dean’s like a beacon. “Tell me, just once, but promise me you’re telling the truth.”

“I promise, Castiel, that I am completely smitten with you.”

A punched-out noise escaped from Castiel’s throat. “I think,” he said, smoothing a hand over the side of Dean’s face, still examining his every feature, “that I feel exactly the same.”

Another kiss and Dean was rolling their bodies, pressing Castiel back into the cool sheets of the bed. The plastic of the bottle of lubricant was pressing against Dean’s leg, but instead of reaching for it, he focused on the expanse of skin beneath him. Cas had always responded well to touch therapy, so Dean figured nothing would relax the older man more than some light caresses and gentle kisses.

Because despite their harried movements up until that point, Dean knew that he wanted to make everything last. Wanted to draw out the pleasure for both of them.

He kissed a slow trail down Castiel’s chest, fingers slowly guiding the way — soothing over tanned skin. A soft whimper escaped Cas’ lips, and Dean flicked his gaze up to check on the other man.

Intense blue eyes were watching him, waiting patiently.

Dean’s hands moved down to run along taut muscle and strong calves, as his tongue slowly circled Castiel’s belly button before his lips continued south. The first touch of a kiss to the tip of Castiel’s cock, and he was surging up against Dean with a strangled cry, bead of precome leaking out of the tip of his dick.

Dean wasn’t sure he had ever enjoyed giving head as much as he did in that moment. Something about knowing the struggle that the man below him had gone through, made it all the better. He sucked down the length of Castiel’s cock, as his hands brushed gently up and down the man’s bare thighs.

“Dean,” a deep voice grumbled from above, “I need more.”

He was obliged to grant that wish. But he moved slow, knowing not to push Cas too fast too soon. He used a soft touch to open the man up and memorized every sound that he could hear as Castiel fell apart on his fingers.

A few minutes later, at the first push of his condom-covered dick into that tight heat, Dean growled beneath his breath and leaned forward to suck a bruise into Castiel’s neck. “You feel so fucking amazing.

Even in his ecstasy laced mind he knew what Castiel needed to hear. The other man needed to know that he was worth something during sex. As good as it was — Dean was prepared to spend every moment telling Castiel that very thing.

--- Dean ---

When Dean woke up the next morning, it was with the gentle snore of Castiel breathing against his chest. He smiled, reaching down to lightly brush his hand over the short salt and pepper hairs that were growing back atop Cas’ head.

It was hard to believe that he could be happy laying there. After all of the previous relationships that had ended in misery because ’it’s like you don’t even fucking care, Dean!’... how could he possibly be okay with a new relationship with a patient of all people.

But there was the kicker. He was okay with it. More than okay.

He was happy.

“You’re a very loud thinker,” a gruff voice mumbled.

Dean smiled, raising his head to brush a kiss over Castiel’s hair. “Sorry.”

“You don’t sound very sorry.” Castiel shuffled and turned so that he was looking up at Dean with a lazy smile. “G’morning.”

“Morning.”

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

Ten minutes later, Dean sat at the kitchen bar as Castiel rustled through the kitchen cupboards. He could tell by the older man’s gait that he was still a little sore from the night before. Dean would have to make it up to him later.

A steaming cup of coffee slid across the granite before Castiel moved back to the fridge to grab out a carton of creamer. “You a breakfast person?”

Dean blew lightly on his coffee and gratefully accepted the creamer. “I usually just grab toast or cereal. I’m not a big morning person.”

Castiel grabbed a jug of milk before moving to pull down a box of Cheerios and a couple bowls. “Cereal it is.”

Dean waited until they both had breakfast in front of them and Castiel was gently easing onto the barstool next to him, before asking, “Sore?”

“A bit.” Cas glanced his way with a small smirk. “Worth it, though.” They were silent for a few moments before Castiel spoke up again. “What... now?”

Staring at his half eaten bowl of cereal, Dean tried to find the right thing to say in the ooo’s of the Cheerios. “I have to warn you, Cas — I’m rubbish at relationships. I’ve never had a need to commit myself fully to another person. I’ve never…” He shrugged and dropped his gaze once more. “I don’t know how to be in love.”

“Okay.” Castiel nodded, pushing his empty bowl away. “Well the good news is… I don’t know how to be gay. So I guess we’re both going into this a bit out of our element.”

“Oh!” Dean pulled his cellphone from his pocket and searched for something on Google before laying the phone down and sliding it towards Castiel. “I promise not to go into therapist mode on you, but I think you need to read this.”

On the phone was a definition of the word ‘demisexual’ — and Dean watched understanding flash in Castiel’s eyes as he read the words.

“That’s… that’s me. I never wanted sex unless I had emotionally developed a relationship with the person.” He glanced back up to Dean. “Even with you.”

“I know. So I’m showing you this so you can stop panicking about whether or not you’re gay or straight or even bisexual.” Dean reached over and brushed his fingers gently along Castiel’s shoulder. “The answer is, you’re Castiel. And you’ll fuck whoever you want.

“Literally.”

Dean winked. “I think you’ve come a long way, Cas. And if working with a sexual surrogate from this point forward isn’t going to help, you might still benefit from seeing a regular counselor on occasion.” He shrugged, “Everyone does good to have someone to talk to. A third-party.”

“Yeah.” The older man was quiet for a long moment, before he looked up at Dean with a smile. “It’s Sunday. Can you stay?”

“Maybe…”

“Maybe we could do something cheesy like go to the movies?”

“Castiel! Are you asking me out on a date?” Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but Dean quickly cut him off. “You know, I’m not a cheap date…”

--- One Year Later ---

Castiel stepped into the condo carrying a bottle of champagne and wearing an excited smile. It was their one year anniversary. But not only that — he had just got back from his yearly follow-up appointment with his oncologist.

“Dean?”

“In here!” his boyfriend replied.

He left the champagne on the kitchen counter and followed the voice down the hall to the bedroom. The walls in the hallway were covered in pictures of both of their families — Sam and Charlie’s wedding up beside a holiday card from Hannah’s family. It had taken six months of dating before Dean officially ‘moved in’. He still kept the office, of course, but Castiel didn’t like to dwell on what happened at Dean’s work, beyond the knowledge that his boyfriend was helping people.

In their bedroom, Dean sat in the middle of the bed, folding and sorting a large pile of laundry. Castiel let out a triumphant holler. “I won!”

“You asshole. I was this close to buying a new package of underwear. I’ve gone commando all week!” Dean stuck his tongue out like a petulant three-year-old, and continued folding socks.

Castiel always won at the ‘who will cave and do laundry’ game. Mainly because he secretly had a stash of extra underwear. “So — it’s official.”

Dean’s face lit up. “Yeah?”

“I continue to be cancer free!”

In a rush, Dean stood up and moved across the floor, quickly wrapping his arms around Castiel and kissing him. “That’s amazing, Cas.”

“I bought champagne, to celebrate.”

“Mmm. It’ll go great with the pie I made—” One more quick kiss and Dean was pulling back. “I gotta finish folding these clothes first, though. I don’t want to look like a wrinkly college student at work tomorrow.”

Castiel laughed, turning back to leave the bedroom. “I love you. I can’t wait to cash in on my prize for winning this round.”

“I love you too, asshole! You and your stinky socks!”