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"I’m sorry.”
Jack raised a shaky hand. His eyes glowed gold as he produced a pulse of energy, sending Sam, Dean, and Castiel flying through the bunker’s war room.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Jack,” Castiel cried as he scrambled up. “No. JACK!”
Sam pulled himself up and stumbled towards the library entrance before returning to face the angel. “He’s gone.”
Castiel’s face crumpled. He turned to where Dean landed, his eyes falling on Dean’s unconscious form.
“DEAN!”
Angel and brother alike raced to his body, each kneeling on either side of him. Castiel grasped Dean’s face with both hands, tilting his head up gently as he let his wavering grace flow through the hunter's unconscious body.
Sam placed a hand over Dean’s chest, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt it ever so slightly rise and fall. “He’s alive!”
Castiel screwed up his eyes tight as he concentrated. “He’s physically fine. I don’t understand why he isn’t awake though, and I can’t seem to. Fix. It,” he gritted, the strain of trying to diagnose and mend Dean’s mystery ailment wearing him down. When he realized the futility of his actions, he carefully laid Dean’s head on the floor and slumped back, resting on his heels. The angel threaded his fingers frustratedly through his hair before clasping his hands together and pressing them against his lips, his eyes staring off to the side in obvious distress.
“It’s okay Cas,” Sam said gently, moving his hand from his brother’s chest to his friend’s knee. “Go. Find Jack. I’ll take care of Dean.”
Castiel flicked his eyes to Sam and then down to Dean’s still face. The angel’s features were awash with a look of longing.
“I’ve got this. Seriously, go, Jack needs you,” Sam soothed, giving Cas’ knee a soft smack to encourage him to move.
Cas’ face morphed into a mask of determination as he nodded and pulled himself off the ground.
“You’ll keep me informed?” Cas asked, holding up his cell phone.
Sam smiled. “Of course. You too, if you find Jack.”
Cas offered one more nod, as well as one more concerned look towards Dean, before striding towards the stairs.
Sam waited until he heard the bunker door slam shut before he let the reassuring look he had plastered on his face drop, revealing the worry he truly felt. He glanced around, looking for a comfortable surface to drag his brother to before resigning himself to the fact that the most suitable option was probably carrying him to his bed. Gritting his teeth, Sam shoved one arm under Dean’s shoulder blades, the other under his knees, and hoisted him up, letting his brother’s head loll back against his upper arm. He walked hurriedly to Dean’s room, thanking whatever deity still gave a fuck about the world that the door was slightly ajar. After he shouldered his way in, he placed his sizable brother as gently as he could on the bed. He then dashed to the library to grab his laptop before returning to Dean’s room and pulling a chair up to the bedside. With one last feel of his brother’s chest to reassure himself, he sunk back in the chair, opened his laptop to search for Jack however he could, and waited.
*
Sam had slumped down in the chair and was blinking sleepily when Dean sat bolt upright with a gasp, glancing frantically around the room.
“Dean! It’s okay! You’re okay,” Sam sighed with relief, reaching a hand out to clamp on Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his panicked brother.
Dean’s wide eyes snapped to Sam, but instead of the grounding presence Sam thought he’d be, his brother only appeared more alarmed.
“Sam!? Wha- what the fuck!?”
“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam tried again. “You passed out when Jack threw us all across the room but Cas said you’re gonna be just fine.”
“Who the fuck is Jack!?”
Sam narrowed his eyes, thinking maybe Dean had hit his head harder than Cas had suspected.
“And who the fuck is Cas!?”
Oh shit. This is bad.
“And why the fuck are you, like, ancient!?”
Sam glared at him.
“Dean,” Sam said cautiously. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Jesus, I don’t fucking know,” Dean grunted, scratching his fingers frustratedly through his hair. “Going to bed in a shitty Ohio motel room after killing the trickster… which, this is not it,” he finished, glancing around his bedroom.
Sam swallowed. “Dean, that was, like, more than ten years ago, man,” he said softly.
Dean gaped at him and sat frozen on his bed for a few moments, before he started slowly shaking his head. “No. No no no, that’s. I mean. Tha- that’s nuts. You tellin’ me I have amnesia or some shit?” Dean babbled.
“I’m saying I don’t know what happened, Dean,” Sam replied, putting his hand out. “Just take a breath, and we’ll figure this out.”
Dean took a shaky breath in through his nose, then slowly blew out of his mouth.
“Good,” Sam placated.
Dean drew his legs up to rest his forearms against his knees and tilted his head to assess the room he found himself in. “So. Uh, where are we?”
Sam smiled. “Well, this is our home.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “We have a home?”
Sam let out a small chuckle. “Dude, a lot has happened in the last ten years. Just, gimme a minute, I gotta make a call, then I’ll give you the tour and fill you in on, uh, everything.”
*
After informing Cas of Dean’s memory loss, and the angel assuring him he would return home as soon as possible despite not having found Jack yet, Sam showed his brother around the bunker. He had an almost childlike wonder about the place they called their own, and Sam couldn’t help smiling at this version of Dean. The one who, while still had seen his own share of horrors, had a degree of naivety to him—the Dean who hadn’t been to hell yet. After passing the mirrors in the bathroom, with Dean gleefully telling Sam he had aged much better than him, to which Sam responded with an eye roll, the brothers found themselves in the kitchen.
Sam cracked open a couple of beers for the two of them before they sat down at the table. Sam started to talk, telling Dean about Azazel’s plan and ultimate demise. He told him about Jake killing him and the deal Dean made to bring Sam back. He told him about getting dragged to the pit by hellhounds and then being saved by an angel.
“An angel? Saved me from hell?” Dean clarified skeptically. “Why would an angel even give a damn about me?”
Sam started to tell Dean about heaven’s plan for them. Michael. Lucifer. Adam. The apocalypse. They were three beers deep when Sam reached their mother’s resurrection, and Dean valiantly tried but ultimately failed to hide the few tears escaping from the corner of his eye. By the time they reached the moment Jack sent them all flying, Dean looked like his head was spinning.
“I just. I- it’s insane. It’s all fuckin’ insane,” Dean sputtered.
Sam huffed a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”
The brothers fell silent for a few moments, the quiet in the room only broken by the sound of Dean picking at his beer label.
“So… this, uh, Castiel. You said he has a vessel?”
“Yeah. Although, Jimmy has been dead a long time, so it’s not really a vessel anymore. He’s pretty much just Cas now,” Sam explained.
“Huh. Does he have, like, a halo or wings or some shit?” Dean asked, still fiddling with his beer bottle as he looked at his brother curiously.
Sam shook his head. “No. Well, I mean, he’s got wings but you can’t see them unless he’s all powered up and wants you to. Like, some form of angelic posturing. No halo though. Wait,” Sam said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling. “Here, this is him.”
Sam handed Dean the phone with a picture his brother had sent him only a couple of days ago, of the angel in Dodge City. The caption said ‘Cowboy Cas’.
Dean’s eyes went wide and he swallowed nervously. He fumbled the beer bottle but just managed to right it before it tipped over. “This is him, huh? He looks, uh…” Dean trailed off as Sam tried extremely hard to suppress an eye roll.
Jesus fucking Christ, he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.
Sam’s not really sure why he did it. Maybe it was the years of being the middle man in their tiffs, or suffering through their eye-fucking. Maybe it was because this might be just the thing to nudge them in the right direction. Maybe he was just really tired.
“There’s probably something else I should tell you about Cas. You and him. You’re in a relationship.”
Dean’s eyes darted away from the phone as his head snapped towards Sam.
“Wh- what?” Dean sputtered.
“Cas. He’s your boyfriend, Dean,” Sam clarified calmly.
Dean’s cheeks reddened and he went silent for a few moments. He cleared his throat, released the bottle to pull his hands into his lap, and started fidgeting with his fingers.
“So, uh,” he started, avoiding Sam’s gaze by staring down at his hands. “You know about me and, uh… men, then.”
“Yeah. And Dean, it’s totally cool,” Sam said reassuringly. “I just want you to be happy.”
Dean slowly drew his head up to make eye contact with his brother, and his worried expression softened when he locked onto Sam’s puppy dog eyes.
“Thanks Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Dunno why I haven’t told you yet. I guess… Dad… maybe.”
“Yeah, yeah I know,” Sam replied.
The brothers lapsed into another brief silence as Dean drained the rest of his beer. “So,” he started, wiping his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “When did I tell you?”
“Uh, well,” Sam started, stalling for time. He’d already lied to his brother, and didn’t want to compound that with another one. Although, with the way Dean had acted when Cas had been gone, as well as the way they were together now that Cas was back, he wasn’t so sure he had really lied. It was certainly within the realm of possibility that Dean and Cas were, in fact, together, and just hadn’t told him yet. With that in mind, he decided to go with honesty.
“You didn’t exactly tell me,” Sam admitted. “But when you saw Dr Sexy in person and were fawning all over him, it was pretty obvious,” he said with a chuckle.
Dean blinked. “I met Dr Sexy?”
“Kind of. You know how I said the trickster was actually the archangel Gabriel?” Sam checked, to which Dean nodded. “He trapped us in ‘TV land’ once and the first place he dropped us was Seattle Mercy Hospital.”
“That. Is so freakin’ cool,” Dean gushed.
Sam shook his head but smiled fondly at his dork of a brother.
Dean leaned forward in his chair and frowned down at Sam’s phone. He stabbed his finger against the blank screen.
“Oh, the screen has probably gone to sleep, man,” Sam explained. “Give it here.”
Dean slid the phone to Sam, who tapped the home button and swiped the screen to reveal the picture of Cas again, before sliding it back to his brother.
“Thanks dude,” Dean muttered, picking up the phone and cradling it in both hands as he rested his forearms on the table.
“Still can’t believe we even know an angel, let alone that I’ve shacked up with one,” Dean said, his eyes not leaving the screen.
“Yeah, pretty crazy,” Sam agreed, before taking a swig of his beer.
“Are we, um,” Dean hesitated, placing the phone carefully back on the table and sliding it back to Sam. He started rubbing the back of his neck nervously as Sam caught and pocketed his phone. “Does he… ah, hell… am I in love, Sammy?”
Sam stared down at his beer bottle before glancing up to meet his brother’s hopeful eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” he answered honestly. “You don’t exactly say it, but the way you two are with each other, no way that isn’t love.”
Dean nodded and bit his lip. The room fell silent for another few moments before Dean cleared his throat and smacked his hands on the table.
“Well, enough of the chick flick moments,” Dean started, pushing his hands against the table and standing up. “My, uh, boyfriend is gonna be back soon, so I’d better go freshen up.” He pointed his thumb in the direction of the door before waltzing out of the room.
Sam barely had a minute to contemplate the potential consequences of his actions before he heard the bunker door creak open. He shoved his chair back so violently it toppled to the ground when he darted up and dashed towards the door. He was skidding to a stop in the war room by the time Castiel had descended down the final step.
“Sam! Where is he!?” Castiel asked, glancing around frantically.
Before Sam could respond, footsteps sounded behind him.
“Heya sweetheart.”
Sam turned to find Dean leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed, his eyes locked on Castiel and a flirtatious grin on his face.
“Dean!” Castiel cried out, racing towards the other man. He offered no sign he had even registered the term of endearment, let alone been averse to it.
Oh, they are so a couple!
“Are you alright?” Castiel asked when he reached Dean. The angel used one hand to cup Dean’s cheek and the other to grasp his shoulder as he ran his eyes up and down his body to check for any sign of distress.
“I am now,” Dean whispered, nuzzling against Castiel’s hand.
Castiel met Dean’s eyeline with this trademark squint and tilted head. “You’re not in any pain?” Cas pressed, moving his hands to Dean’s hair, then down his sides, giving his body another assessment.
Definitely boyfriends.
Dean giggled. (He was so getting shit for that when he got his memories back.) “I’m fine, sweetheart.”
The angel might as well have been a labradoodle with the way his head tilted to the other side.
“It’s okay, Sam told me everything,” Dean said softly. “About us.”
Castiel turned his head slowly to look at Sam, his features awash with confusion. Sam froze.
“I know I don’t remember you,” Dean continued as Castiel turned back to face him. “But, fuck, with everything Sam told me about you, plus, you looking, well, like that,” Dean chuckled. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
“Dean,” Castiel said uncertainly, his gravelly voice reaching new depths.
“It’s all going to be okay, baby,” Dean crooned, right before he closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss Castiel softly on the lips.
Sam held his breath as he watched his brother raise his hand to brush his fingers through Castiel’s hair. The angel’s eyes went wide in shock. A moment later, a bang sounded and every light in the room shut off, plunging them into darkness.
*
Shit.
“What just happened!?” Dean asked frantically. “Are we under attack!?”
Shit shit shit shit shit.
“No! Just, hold on,” Sam replied, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out his phone. His shaky hands fumbled against the screen as he navigated to the torch app. When the dim light appeared, he lifted the device so he could see his brother and the angel.
Dean squinted against the sudden brightness, one hand shielding his eyes as the other grasped Castiel’s sleeve tightly. Cas just looked still and terrified.
“Must be a fault in the bunker’s wiring. It’s old, happens all the time,” Sam lied. “Cas! Can you help me fix it?”
Castiel stood frozen for a moment before nodding hesitantly. He shuffled towards Sam, forcing Dean to release the hold he had on Castiel’s trench coat. Dean threw his arms out.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” Dean grumbled.
Sam slid his illuminated phone towards his brother. “Here, go nuts. C’mon, Cas,” he said hurriedly, dragging Castiel by his forearm towards the stairs. He prayed the angel wouldn’t query why they were heading outside rather than to the bunker’s control panel in the room they already occupied. Thankfully, Cas didn’t.
When they were safely outside and away from Dean’s earshot, Sam leaned back against the bunker’s closed door and took a calming breath. Cas was a few feet away from him, sporting a withering glare.
“Cas, I-”
“Why did Dean kiss me, Sam!?”
Sam flinched at the angel’s accusatory tone.
“So, I guess that’s not something you guys normally do,” Sam said, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck.
Cas narrowed his eyes. “No, Sam. No, it’s not,” he deadpanned. “So, why?”
Sam swallowed. “I, uh, I may have told Dean that you and he were, like, together.”
“Together?”
“Boyfriends.”
Wow. Sam didn’t think it was possible for Cas’ eyes to narrow any further, but somehow he managed.
“Why!? What on earth possessed you to do that!?”
“I don’t know!” Sam ran his hands frustratedly through his hair. “Look, Cas, I’m sorry. It just came out. And, fuck man, it sorta spiraled and he just seemed so damn happy about it, I-”
“And what did you think was going to happen when his memories are restored!?” Castiel interrupted.
That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it. Would Dean be embarrassed? Angry? What are Sam’s chances he’d be relieved? He looked down and kicked the ground with the toe of his boot. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
The silence that followed was stifling as Sam’s mind whirled, desperate to find a remedy for the situation he’d created.
“W-what do you mean, he was happy about it?”
Sam snapped his head up to see Castiel’s righteous indignation had dimmed slightly, a glimmer of vulnerability peeping through.
“The idea of being with you… Cas, I haven’t seen him that happy in years,” Sam said softly.
This time, Cas was the one to tilt his head down. “But how? He doesn’t even remember me right now,” the angel asked the ground.
Sam stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Castiel’s shoulder, which caused the angel to look up and face him again. “Because I told him all about you. All that you’ve been through. And I, uh, showed him a picture of you. He thought you were pretty easy on the eyes,” he chuckled.
Sam never thought he’d see the day, but Castiel actually blushed.
“Cas, I know how you feel about him,” Sam continued. “I mean, you caused a blackout in the bunker just by him kissing you.”
“Lebanon.”
Sam blinked. “What?”
“A surge of my grace like that, I am certain all of Lebanon lost power in that moment,” Castiel paused. “And quite possibly the entirety of Smith County.”
Sam stared at him for a few moments. “Right. So. Strong feelings then?”
“You could say that,” Castiel muttered.
“He feels it too, man. It’s written all over his face whenever he looks at you,” Sam said reassuringly. “I shouldn’t have lied to him, I know that. But, I really do think something good can come of this mess.”
Castiel bit his lip. “What if you’re wrong?”
Sam shook his head. “No chance.”
The angel took a step back, causing Sam’s hand to drop from his shoulder, and scrubbed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “Look, none of this matters if Dean doesn’t get his memories back. Let’s just focus on finding Jack-”
“Hello.”
Sam and Castiel jumped when Jack appeared beside them, his hand lifted in a wave and a happy smile on his face.
“Jack! Thank god!” Castiel cried, throwing his arms around the nephilim. “We’ve been so worried.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” Jack replied, the sound muffled against Castiel’s trench coat.
“I just wanted to do something good,” Jack continued, pulling back from their embrace. “To prove that I can be good.”
“Jack, what are you talking about?” Sam asked curiously.
“I’ve been trying to find a way to rescue Mary from the other world. And, I think I’ve found one. Have you ever heard of dreamwalking?”
*
After Jack explained that he might be able to open a portal to another world with the help of a dreamwalker, Castiel informed him of Dean’s situation.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! I’ll fix it, I swear,” Jack cried.
“It’s okay, Jack,” Sam soothed. “We know you will.”
Castiel pulled open the front door and the trio carefully padded down the stairs into the dark bunker. As they passed the control panel, Castiel laid a hand on the surface and, after a few moments, the bunker was bathed in light. Sam squinted against the sudden onslaught of brightness.
“Where’s Dean?” Jack asked.
A moment later, footsteps sounded from the hallway and Dean rounded the door.
“Jesus fucking Christ, took you long enough,” Dean grumbled as he stormed towards them. He stopped abruptly a few feet away from them and pointed to Jack. “Lemme guess. Spawn of Satan.”
“Hi, I’m Jack,” the nephilim replied with a smile and a wave.
“Huh,” Dean said, tossing Sam his phone before striding towards Castiel. “Can you fix me?” he asked Jack as he slipped an arm around Castiel’s waist and tugged him against his side.
Castiel’s eyes widened slightly, but he allowed Dean to maneuver him.
“Um,” Jack started, glancing curiously between the two men. “Yes. I think so.”
Jack stepped in front of Dean and raised his hand slowly. Dean flinched back as Jack’s two fingers closed in on his forehead.
“It’s okay, Dean,” Castiel whispered.
Dean responded with a soft smile and a nod, then closed his eyes. Jack continued his motion and rested two fingers against Dean’s temple. Jack’s eyes glowed gold for a moment before he pulled his hand back, and Dean’s eyes snapped open.
“Jack!” Dean gasped. He stumbled back, shoving himself away from Castiel as he flushed red. “Fuck, Cas,” he mumbled, dragging a hand over his mouth and letting it fall to his side.
Dean turned his head to face his brother, and the embarrassed look on his face morphed quickly into pure rage.
“SAM!”
Sam held his hands up and started backing away from his brother slowly. “Dean, I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.
Dean took one angry step forward but was halted from moving any further when a strong hand pressed firmly against his chest.
“Dean. I think we should talk,” Castiel interjected. “Sam, Jack, would you excuse us?”
*
“Dean. Look at me.”
Dean couldn’t look at him. Even after Sam and Jack had made a quick exit, he still couldn’t bring himself to lift his head to meet that sea of blue. He couldn’t face the rejection he knew would be staring back at him.
“You don’t have to say it, Cas,” he gritted, his eye line firmly focused on a brick in the wall that had marginally discolored. “I know I made you uncomfortable, what with the whole, uh, kissing thing. Can we just forget this whole thing ever happened?”
“No, Dean, I don’t think I can. Please, will you just look at me?”
Dean swallowed and looked at his feet. He’d ruined it. Sam had ruined it. The careful facade he’d built up that Castiel was a brother in arms and nothing more. Now it was weird, and Castiel wouldn’t be able to stand to be around him. He would leave. He always left.
Dean scrunched his eyes tightly closed. “I get it. If you can’t get past this. Just, if you’re gonna take off, please at least keep in touch with Sam. Let him know you’re keepin’ saf-”
“For fuck’s sake Dean, would you just look at me!?”
Hearing Castiel curse was so jarring that Dean snapped his eyes open. Instead of the pitying gaze of someone hoping to let their friend down gently, like he expected, he was met with tear-filled eyes and a hopeful smile. Cas stepped towards Dean and reached his hand up to carefully cup the hunter’s cheek.
“There you are,” Cas whispered.
Dean’s heart thudded against his chest. He opened his mouth with no clue what he was going to say, and all he could choke out was a raspy, “Cas.”
“Dean. I know every word in every language to ever exist, and I still don’t think I can string together a combination of words to convey the depths of what I feel for you.”
Now Dean knew why people said that someone took their breath away, because he himself had completely stopped breathing in that moment.
“I know I love you,” Cas said softly, like he wasn’t revealing something monumental that was turning Dean’s entire world on its head. “And I was content to love you from a distance. Be your friend. I never thought it was within the realm of possibility that you would return my feelings. Then you kissed me, and the one thing I wanted but thought I could never have was suddenly being dangled in front of me by a version of you who hadn’t met me. I was-” Cas choked out a sob, a tear escaping from the corner of one eye before he continued. “I was terrified that once you remembered me, you would regret that kiss. But… God, Dean. That kiss changed me. Because I couldn’t bear the thought that our first kiss was also going to be our last. I couldn’t go any longer without you knowing. And, now, I n-need to know…”
Castiel reached his other hand up to Dean’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Dean hadn’t even been aware were falling.
“Cas. P-please,” Dean whispered.
“Dean, I need to know. Was it our last?”
Instead of answering, Dean surged forward to press his lips against Cas’. It was chaste, a brief meeting of pursed lips. When they separated, it was only by a few inches, just so they could meet each other’s eyes. Cas’ hands were still on his face, and Dean brought his own up to run his fingers through both sides of the angel’s dark, messy hair.
“Second,” Dean said softly, before leaning in with parted lips to make kiss number three one to remember.
*
“Tenth,” Dean grunted, his back slamming on the inside of his closed bedroom door.
“Dean, you don’t have to count every single kiss we have,” Cas said fondly, running his hands down Dean’s sides.
“Well that’s good, sweetheart, because I plan on losing count,” Dean retorted, grabbing the back of Cas’ head to pull him into a hard kiss. He used his other hand to nudge Cas’ chest until he took the hint and they stumbled further into the room together without disconnecting their lips.
When Cas abruptly stopped, Dean realized they’d reached the bed. Although it pained him to do so, Dean broke their kiss. He pressed against Cas’ arms to spin him around, taking a moment to appreciate how this badass angel, with more physical strength than he would ever be able to comprehend, was allowing himself to be moved by a mere human.
His back now pressed firmly against Dean’s front, the hunter wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist to rub his hands against his chest as he started mouthing wet kisses up his neck. When he reached Cas’ earlobe, Dean sucked it into his mouth, causing the angel to gasp.
“What do you want, Cas?” Dean whispered against his ear.
Cas’ head fell back against his shoulder as Dean trailed his hands down Cas’ front.
“You. Just you. In any way I can have you,” Cas rasped.
After walking his fingers over Cas’ belt buckle, Dean flattened his hand and glided it over the bulge in Cas’ pants.
“What do we have here? You hard for me, baby?” Dean crooned, to which Cas simply rubbed his head against Dean’s shoulder in a rough nod.
“Fuck, I had no idea. That you could feel like this, want this,” Dean said in an awestruck tone, before he was hit with a sudden wave of anguish. “When you slept with that reaper. God, I wanted it to be me so bad.”
At that, Cas spun around in Dean's hold, grasped each side of his face, and gazed intensely into his eyes like he was staring into Dean’s soul—he probably was.
“I wanted it to be you too,” the angel whispered, leaning in to kiss him soft and slow. “It’s always been you.”
Fuck, Dean was crying again. Cas didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, Cas started placing soft kisses under his eyes and along his cheeks where the tears were falling, not allowing a single one to drip lower than his jawline. It was agonizingly sweet, making Dean feel cherished in a way that he’d never felt before and should probably make him squirm away uncomfortably. He didn’t, though. He stood stock still with his eyes closed and let Cas kiss away the wetness until there were no more tears. Then, Cas’ lips parted and the kisses transformed from comforting touches to sparks that ignited Dean all over. One turn of his head as Cas leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth connected their lips fully.
As their tongues started to tangle, Dean grasped the lapels of Cas’ trench coat and pushed back, to which Cas dropped his arms back, allowing the garment to fall on the bed. Then, Dean did the same with his flannel, dropping it on the floor before ripping his shirt over his head and tossing it over his shoulder. Without another thought, Dean slid to his knees. When he hit the ground, he gazed up at the angel, whose eyes had blown wide. Cas started fiddling with his tie with shaky fingers as Dean dropped his gaze to the clothed, hard cock in front of him. He leaned in to nuzzle it, causing Cas to gasp “Dean!” above him in a way that sounded so wrecked and gravelly, his own dick jumped in his jeans.
Dean slid his hands up Cas’ thighs. When they settled on his belt buckle, he glanced up for permission.
“Please,” Cas begged.
Dean’s hands were trembling as he fumbled to undo Cas’ belt, then his button, then his zipper. The loose, plain white boxers he was faced with should be dorky as fuck, but all Dean could focus on was the plump cock in view beneath the partially transparent material. With another glance up, Dean’s brain had nearly stopped functioning. In the time it took to get to Cas’ underwear, the angel’s shirt and tie had disappeared, gracing Dean’s view with miles of tanned skin.
“God, you’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” Dean breathed out.
Cas reached down to card gentle fingers through his hair, causing Dean to flutter his eyes shut. “Dean, you are the definition of beauty. Inside and out.”
Dean tilted his head down to hide his blushing face against Cas’ crotch as the angel continued tenderly stroking his hair. He rubbed his cheek along the outline of Cas’ cock before reaching up to grasp the waistband of his pants and underwear. He kept his eyeline directly in front of him as he slowly pulled down Cas’ clothes, wiggling them around the curve of his ass. When Cas' cock sprang free, Dean’s face was so close that the tip knocked against his nose, pulling a small giggle from him. However, once he registered that he had a hard cock—Cas’ cock—in front of him, the levity seeped out of him. He licked his lips as he watched Cas' dick jerk up. All it took was one throaty “Dean” from above for him to open his mouth and close it around the flushed head.
“Fuck,” Cas gasped.
Spurred on by his newfound ability to pull curses from a literal angel of the lord, Dean started twirling his tongue around, then up and down, Cas’ erection. When his mouth was sealed around the flesh, he slid down to see how much cock he could fit in his mouth without gagging. About half was his answer, so he brought his hand up and wrapped it around the base to work in tandem with his mouth.
“Yes! Oh shit, fuck, please,” Cas babbled.
Dean was painfully hard in his jeans but determined to devote all his attention to making Cas feel good. That is, until one particularly growly “Dean” had the hunter shooting his unoccupied hand to his own crotch. It was awkward, but he managed to fumble his jeans open enough to shove a hand down to his cock without breaking the momentum he had sucking and jerking Cas’.
“Dean, I-I’m close, do you need to…” Cas trailed off as his breathing quickened. With his hands continuing to jerk both their cocks, Dean pulled his mouth off Cas momentarily to breath out, “Come for me baby,” before sealing his mouth around the head once more.
“Oh Dean, yes!” Cas cried as his hips started to stutter slightly.
Dean bobbed up and down twice more before Cas grunted and come started spurting into Dean’s mouth. It was salty and filthy and so fucking hot that the hand that had been jerking Cas, slick with saliva, flew to Dean’s own dick to tug it rapidly to completion. With his mouth still full of come and Cas’ softening cock, Dean spilled his own load into his hand.
His chest was heaving when he finally let Cas’ cock slip from his mouth. He swallowed the remnants of come that hadn’t escaped out of the side of his lips, gasping when he was finally able to suck a giant breath of air in through his mouth. Cas’ knees collapsed and he eased down to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back so Dean could rest his head against Cas’ abdomen. He closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of Cas’ fingers gently scritching through his hair. When his breathing had slowed, he lazily peeled himself off Cas’ lap, smiling as the angel ran his hand through Dean’s hair and down his face. He went to rest his hand on Cas’ thigh, but grimaced when he remembered his hand was still tacky with come. He glanced around until his eyes fell on his flannel, reaching out so he could wipe his hands on the shirt. He looked down at his own legs, then at Cas’.
“Fuck, we were so hard up we didn’t even lose the pants,” he chuckled.
Cas smirked. “Not too late to lose them now?”
Dean laughed. “I like the way you think, angel.”
After toeing off their shoes and socks, which had also remained on throughout their session, and tugging off their pants and underwear, they curled up in bed together. Dean rested his head on Cas’ chest, threw his arm across and tucked it under the angel’s lower back, and tangled their legs together.
“I can’t believe I get to have this,” Cas whispered, pecking Dean’s forehead. “Remind me to thank Sam.”
Dean snorted. “Fuck, I was so angry. Between Sam's lie and my kiss, I really thought we’d scared you away.”
Cas hummed, stroking his hand along Dean’s hairline. “Never. You’re stuck with me, Dean Winchester.”
Dean tightened his hold of the angel and snuggled against his chest with a smile. “Good.”
*
Sam pushed open the door of the bunker with Jack patiently waiting behind him. They’d spent the day with a dreamwalker named Derek, both to investigate a way to rescue Mary and to give Dean and Cas the space to work through their issues—not to mention time for Dean’s anger to cool down. Sam was praying they’d reached enough of a resolution to at the very least prevent Dean from murdering him.
He cautiously peered down into the bunker. There was no sign of Dean and Cas. No yelling. That was good. Sam beckoned for Jack to follow him and the pair trudged down the stairs. With both the war room and the library empty, Sam left Jack his computer so he could try reaching out to a dreamwalker Derek had recommended—a girl called Kaia—and started down the hallway to find his brother. Whether Dean was still mad or not, Sam definitely owed him an apology.
When he walked up to Dean’s door, he brought his fist up ready to knock when a muffled noise on the other side made him pause.
“Dean, I-I’m close,” in Cas’ gravelly, out-of-breath voice was all he needed to hear before he stumbled back away from the door.
Oh dear God. What have I done!?