Chapter Text
Dean knew this hadn’t been Bobby’s intention when he had thrust Heart’s Dreamboat Annie album into his hands the other day, but hey—here they were.
Ann Wilson’s rich and passionate voice filled the cramped room as Cas kneeled before him, fingers dancing lightly over Dean’s leg. Cas’s eyelids were heavy as he traced his fingers over the dark thigh-highs Dean was wearing, reaching the delicate lace decorating the top. Cas shot him a lust-filled gaze from under his eyelashes as his fingers found the clasp on the black garter belt, and Dean had to wet his lips as Cas undid it. Embracing Dean’s leg with both hands, Cas pulled the stocking down, down, down, letting his lips meet Dean’s skin as it was exposed. Dean shuddered at the feeling of Cas’s soft lips and raspy chin, the warmth of his hands contrasting with the cool air hitting his naked leg.
But try to understand, try to understand
Oh, oh, try, try, try to understand,
He's a magic man, oh, he's got the magic hands
“You’ll like it,” Bobby had said, snorting at Dean’s disbelieving face. The two women on the cover and the name of the album didn’t really do it for him. But Bobby had done a good job so far with his recommendations, and Dean wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover. Rufus had warned him, nagging Bobby for trying to trick Dean into buying the whole store, and Dean had again been the sole audience to their bickering. He still didn’t know if they were a couple or not, but either way, they lived like they had been married for years, so it hardly mattered.
Cas nipped the inside of his thigh, and a zap of pleasured pain seared through Dean. Dean hissed and let his head fall back, feeling his cock jump and try to escape the tight lace panties. Cas kissed the spot in a feigned apology before sucking the skin between his teeth. Shit, that felt good. Another hard suck with a flicker of tongue made Dean fall back a little farther on the counter he was leaning on, Castiel’s pile of letters falling to the floor next to them.
The room at the back wasn’t really meant for two, but for the last two months it had worked unbelievably well. It helped that Cas had to go to work earlier than Dean, leaving Dean in bed listening to Cas getting ready every morning. He would stretch his head for the goodbye kiss Cas left him, sneaking his arms around his neck before Cas reluctantly pried Dean off him. Dean would lay in bed a while longer, lingering in the domestic feeling. Some mornings he was thinking about an extension to the motel. Perhaps he could take a bit from the backyard, build a real bedroom where they could retreat at night. In Dean’s mind, he layered the bricks and painted the walls.
But there was time for that later. For now, the small room was enough because it wasn’t as if they weren’t on each other all the time anyway. Dean didn’t mind that he liked it neat and Cas wasn’t, and Cas didn’t mind that Dean tucked away his briefcase and shoes in a corner, making him stumble in his search for them on the more tired mornings. Dean actually enjoyed coming into the room with a layer of smoke and the smell of burning oil, because knowing that Cas was cooking for him was just awesome. And with the way Cas tucked his nose into Dean’s neck, inhaling the smell of motor oil Dean knew he had all over from tinkering with Baby, well, it seemed that Cas didn’t mind that either.
Cas lifted Dean’s leg over his shoulder, and Dean pulled him even closer with a push with his heel. Cas looked up at him again, and if Dean hadn’t known Cas was clean as a whistle, he would’ve thought the man was high by the blissful look on his face. Dean let a groan escape his lips as he watched Cas’s mouth open over the bulge pushing against the panties, and he felt a drop of precum escaping. Eyes still locked on his, Cas licked from the bottom all the way up to the top of Dean’s cock, which was peeking out against his stomach.
“Fucking hell, Cas, your mouth…”
Castiel closed his eyes as he wrapped his lips over Dean’s cock, and Dean had to grab Cas’s hair so as not to fall back completely.
For a man who had lived as a virtuous Christian almost his whole life, Cas was fucking filthy in bed.
Most of the divorce was taken care of, due to Cas not wanting anything other than his books, records, and clothes. Amalia hadn’t put up much of a fight, other than being highly dissatisfied with Cas moving in with his motel-owner lover in the same town. Had she had her way, Cas would have moved far away, while Amalia would’ve been able to come up with another story for the separation. Now, word had gotten around quickly, much to Amalia’s dismay, as she worried more about what their—her—church would say, rather than Cas’s happiness.
“I told her I would move too if she continued to make a big deal out of it,” Claire had told Dean when she came over. She didn’t just come over to help with the garden anymore but also to hang out. It had felt a little weird at first, just having Claire around and not really knowing what their relationship was. But Claire had continued as always, and after a while, Dean had gone with it. She didn’t really treat him any differently, even if Cas had made some half-attempts to make her stop insulting Dean. Dean liked it best when she entertained Jack, and he caught glimpses of the softer side of her at those times.
Cas’s fingers found the hem of the panties, and he pulled them down, still underneath the garter belt holding one of Dean’s stockings up, freeing Dean’s dick completely. With the panties tucked away underneath Dean’s balls—and fucking hell, that felt good—Cas let Dean’s whole length slide into his mouth in one go.
“Fuck!” Dean gasped, pulling slightly at Cas’s hair, making him look up at him again. He felt his cock kick against the roof of Cas’s mouth, teasing a moan out of the dark-haired man.
Fucking filthy.
It was as if the man didn’t possess a gag reflex. Dean didn’t know how he did it, because they were roughly the same size, but Dean couldn’t take nearly as much as Cas. He wasn’t complaining though, because the wet mouth surrounding him was fucking divine.
As Cas continued to suck his cock, Dean missed the short version of ”Dreamboat Annie,” but he felt his heart speed up as Nancy Wilson’s nimble fingers filled the room, playing the intricate flamenco-like intro to “Crazy On You”. It filled Dean with a sense of urgency, and he knew Cas felt it too as his big hands grabbed Dean’s ass, lifting him up on the counter. Dean helped him along, lifting his other leg around Cas’s neck, hugging him between his thighs. Cas moaned as Dean squeezed his legs around him, and soon he was making small thrusts into Cas’s throat to the beat of the song, legs pulling Cas closer to him.
He could do this forever.
Wanted to do this forever, this and everything else, with Cas.
He knew he had thrown himself headfirst into the relationship. Moving in with Cas, even though they hardly knew each other, diving so deep into the first and only relationship he’d had after being released—hell, in years, since what he had with Benny was something entirely different. He knew it was risky and was aware enough to bring it up with Garth.
Garth had, of course, provided advice, but not what Dean had expected.
“Dean, my man, relationships aren’t battles. You don’t have to be on guard all the time. I know you’ve spent years in survival mode, but you’re not there anymore—not everything’s a threat. You’ve done the hardest part by letting Cas in. Now, it’s about staying open, not shutting down.”
Dean wasn’t sure if the advice came from Garth Fitzgerald IV the therapist, or Garth the dorky friend.
Either way, Dean took the advice because, damn, Garth had been giving solid advice before, even if Dean didn’t really want to admit it. Perhaps a small part of Dean had hoped Garth would tell him the opposite, giving Dean a reason to fight against what he felt for Cas, but instead, he came out of counseling with some newfound confidence in his feelings. Enough confidence that Sam’s unhappy huff at the news turned into a fight, which ended with Dean slamming the phone down before he rage-rode Cas because, fuck you, Sam, for not wanting that for Dean.
At the moment, he and Sam weren’t really talking about it, but that would end soon.
Dean pulled harder on the dark strands between his fingers, urging Cas backward. “Shit, stop—stop, Cas, I’m so fucking close…” He watched his glistening length fall out of Cas’s red, swollen lips, and he had just enough time to take a mental picture–because fucking hell–before Cas pulled him down from the counter and turned him around. Dean felt his stomach swoop in anticipation as he leaned forward and arched his back. With his apparel, he felt like a damn pin-up, and damn if it didn’t feel good.
By the sound of Cas’s moan behind him, he looked as good as he felt.
Dean felt his skin prickle at the sound of the cap on the lube bottle opening, and soon enough he felt cold fingers fumble over the crack of his ass before venturing deeper. One finger quickly turned into three because Dean was almost always ready because of how often he was penetrated. Dean knew he was panting, hell, moaning loudly, and he met Cas’s fingers with unrestrained delight.
Warm wind caress her
Her lover it seems
Oh, Annie, dreamboat Annie
Ship of dreams
Oh, Annie, dreamboat Annie
Little ship of dreams
Fucking sappy and not his favorite so far on the album, but “dream” was damn accurate.
“Dreamy,” Charlie had called Cas. Dean had known Charlie would love Cas because Cas was fucking awesome, but after Sam’s shitty reaction it had been nice to actually see it. Unlike Dean, Castiel didn’t really share any of Charlie’s interests, but that didn’t matter with Charlie being as awesome as she was. Dean didn’t recall most of the topics they had gone through, but Charlie had managed to tear down most of the walls between the three of them by the very first evening. Before night had taken over completely, Dean had been curled up at the end of the couch, listening to Charlie and Cas discuss their different experiences with being queer, and, through Charlie, Dean had gotten to know Cas even more.
He had decided then that he would be there for Cas as much as Cas had been there for Dean.
“Cas!” Dean gasped as Castiel slid his cock inside, and it felt like there was no end to it. Cas grabbed his ass and spread his cheeks, pushing even deeper, and Dean clenched around him. By now, Cas had bottomed for Dean a couple of times, but damn if this wasn’t the best part of sex for Dean. Feeling Cas’s cock deep inside him, so deep he almost felt too full, in the best possible way because Cas reached longer than anything else Dean had ever had. “Fuck,” he ground out as Cas swirled his hips against Dean—he fucking knew what Dean liked by now.
If possible, he would’ve had Cas live inside him.
It was hard and fast after that, music completely forgotten beneath Dean’s moans–fuck, screams. His mind was jumbled, but he knew he panted out instructions as Cas’s movements became more deliberate, punching into his prostate. His panties were still around his hips, just moved to the side, and he felt the damp fabric sticking to him.
Dirty, filthy, and fucking awesome.
Dean came first, semen erupting over the counter in white ropes, and his constricting asshole pulled an orgasm out of Cas. He felt Cas’s dick jump inside him, eliciting another long moan from him, and after he stood panting for a long while, Cas’s hands caressing his sides as they both came down from the high.
“You’re absolutely wonderful.”
Only Cas could make raw, animalistic fucking romantic, and Dean blushed but indulged Cas by leaning back against his chest. Too soon, Cas softened, and his cock slipped out. Dean wasn’t disappointed, even in the always slightly awkward clean-up part that came after sex. Cas disappeared into the bathroom as Dean slipped out of his undergarments, and he was holding the soiled panties when Cas came out, a damp towel for Dean in his hand.
Cas’s eyes fell on the lace fabric in Dean’s hand. “You would make me very happy if you wore those tonight.”
Dean barked out a laugh. “Fucking hell, Cas, I will not sit in wet panties with Sam here!”
Cas walked up to him, nosing his cheek. “But think how sexy it would be, knowing that underneath your clothes are these wonderful, sexy panties…”
Dean chuckled and playfully pushed Cas away but was rewarded with a satisfied smile as he pulled on new—and clean—panties before getting dressed.
Fucking ridiculous that he had been nervous about telling Cas about his kink.
The domestic aftermath was interrupted by a knock on the door, and that in itself was so unusual that Dean jumped at the sound. Cas stopped the record as Dean opened the door to find a blushing Alfie looking back at him. Dean liked Alfie, an awkward teenager who had picked up extra hours from Kelly as she got more shifts at the reception desk. Alfie was almost always blushing, so his appearance now didn’t really surprise Dean.
“I’m—I’m sorry, Dean, but your brother is here.”
Dean frowned. “Already? They shouldn’t be here for hours.”
Alfie shrugged and backed away. “Uh, I, I told them to wait in the backyard while—well, while you finished.” The last word was emphasized, and it wasn’t until he heard Cas cough uncomfortably behind him that he realized what Alfie was insinuating.
Shit.
“Oh, fuck. Shit. Yeah, uh, that’s, that’s great, Alfie—” He felt himself blushing too and tried to look anywhere but at Alfie. “Why—why don’t you take the rest of the day off? For a job well done and all.”
Alfie didn’t seem to need convincing and hurried away. Dean looked back at Cas and made a face before they both walked out back.
It wasn’t that he thought Alfie was lying, but it was still weird seeing Sam, Eileen, and Mary sitting in chairs by the pool. Well, Eileen was sitting down with Mary—who had gotten so big!—in her lap, but Sam was pacing next to them, arms crossed over his chest.
Sam didn’t look too happy.
His head snapped around at the sound of Dean opening the glass door. Dean mimicked his tense shoulders and slowly made his way over to his brother.
“Sam, Eileen! You’re early!” His eyes drifted to Mary, and he wanted nothing more than to pick her up, but he knew it was better to introduce Cas to Sam first.
As if the introduction could get any worse, given the way Sam was looking at them.
“This is Cas! Uh, Castiel Novak. Cas, this is my brother Sam, his wife Eileen,” he pointed at her, and she smiled and waved, “and of course Mary.” Dean couldn’t resist smiling again as he looked at the girl.
Like a tiny, squishy potato wrapped in the softest of blankets.
“Sam, Eileen,” Cas said, then with a pointed look at the baby, “Mary. It’s nice to finally meet you. Dean’s been really excited.” Dean felt a smile tug at his lips but now looked warily at Sam, who looked like he wanted to jump into the water. Cas was right—he had been excited but also nervous, and it seemed he had been rightfully so.
Well, it would probably have been better if they hadn’t just heard him and Cas having loud, dirty sex.
And fuck, Dean knew he had been loud.
Like really, really fucking—
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said, interrupting Dean’s spiral. He held out his hand, and Cas shook it. When neither of them let go but stared intently at each other, Dean’s eyes drifted to Eileen.
“Well, this is fucking awkward,” she said, and it was so unexpected that Dean couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter. With that, it got slightly easier. Dean finally got Mary in his arms and couldn’t help but snuggle her as he watched Eileen and Castiel shake hands. And why wasn’t he surprised that Cas actually knew how to sign? Dean had picked up a couple of signs when he and Charlie had visited, but it looked like Cas knew enough to make conversation. Dean was just happy that Eileen’s hearing aid allowed her to pick up enough sounds to understand him, but he decided to make more of an effort.
After that, it was all preparation, and they didn’t have time for any further awkwardness, at least not much. Eileen was a self-proclaimed grillmaster, and she prepared the meat as Cas and Sam ran past each other, making all the other preparations for the night.
Dean was on baby duty, and that was fucking awesome.
The hours went by quickly, and the guests started dropping in. Mort and Billie were first, Mort making his way to Dean’s sad refrigerator, putting away the cherry pie for later while Billie warned Dean he wouldn’t get anything if she found a bite missing. After that, Charlie arrived with Yertle, as happy as Dean had been to see Mary again. Bobby and Rufus came in different cars, not even looking at each other as they walked into the backyard. When Charlie leaned forward and whispered, “Lovers’ spat?” in Dean’s ear, he could only shrug.
Kelly and Jack came in a little later because Jack had been adamant about picking out the perfect stuffed animal from his collection for Mary to play with. He had decided on a grumpy-looking frog, which seemed to be a hit by the way Mary’s face lit up. Garth also knew what the hell he was doing, as he had brought along a sock puppet, and Mr. Fizzles entertained both Jack and Mary until dinner was ready. Claire was the last to arrive, except for Jody and Donna, who had promised to pop by even though both were on duty. With Claire there, they got seated at the long table on the stone patio, and the lanterns started to illuminate the backyard in the early evening.
When everyone was well into dinner, Billie surprised Dean by standing up.
“I just wanted to thank Dean for having us over, if not for finally paying back all the free meals he’s flirted his way into over the last year.”
“Hey! You gave those willingly,” Dean protested.
“That we did,” Mort answered, dry as always.
“That we did,” Billie echoed. She turned to Dean again. “Dean, let’s get one thing straight—you’re not the type people expect to bring light into a place, but that’s exactly what you’ve done. You took a rundown motel, a place most folks wouldn’t even give a second glance, and turned it into something more than four walls. You gave it life. You gave it purpose.
But it’s not just the building, Dean. It’s the people. You didn’t just bring new faces through the door; you brought them together. You made this place a home for people who needed it, whether they realized it or not. That’s no small feat. You connected lives, gave them something to hold onto, and in doing that, you’ve done more than most people ever manage.”
“Hang on, I haven’t—”
But Billie didn’t let him interrupt. “Don’t downplay what you’ve built here. It’s real. It matters. And the people who’ve crossed your path? They’ll remember it. They’ll remember you. And with that, I want to thank you for bringing us together tonight. May this be the first of many nights.”
This was incredibly embarrassing, but before he could sink into the ground, Dean spoke up. “All credit for the backyard goes to Claire!”
“Hear, hear!” Charlie shouted, and Garth let out a whooping sound in agreement. Now it was Claire’s turn to blush. The conversation shifted to the motel and all the changes, with people sharing how it looked before Dean took over. Well, he was technically still a partner, but he had finally tracked down Chuck, and the preparations for Chuck to completely leave the business had finally begun.
“It could do with thicker walls, though.”
Sam didn’t say it loudly, but his low voice cut through the conversations around the table. Sam looked at him and smirked, making Dean flush. He was about to change the subject when Kelly chimed in.
“I’d say.” Dean looked over, and she winked at him over her glass of wine.
“What are you talking about?” Billie asked, eyeing the table with suspicion.
“Oh, nothing,” Charlie answered. “Just that I recommend wearing noise-canceling headphones if you’re staying the night.” Dean’s eyes snapped to her, and she gave him a shit-eating grin.
Fuck.
“You’re really in for it,” Kelly said, looking at Sam and Eileen. “You’re in room three.”
All eyes turned to Dean, who never knew his face could feel so warm.
“I’m—I’m not that loud,” he stuttered.
A moment of silence, then—
“Well,” Cas said next to him, leaving the rest of the sentence hanging, and the table burst into laughter (except for Jack and Mary, who didn’t really care about what the grown-ups were doing). Dean was mortified, but through the blood pounding in his ears, he felt his cheeks strain from grinning.
A hand landed on his thigh, squeezing it softly. Dean looked back at Cas and saw a matching blush and smile on him as well.
Perhaps he had to revise the living situation after all.
But for now, all was good.
Real fucking good.
Real The End