Archive of Our Own

After saying goodbyes he wished he didn’t have to give voice to, Dean found himself standing in a garden with Amara talking to her more as her therapist than as a…. Whatever he was to her.  

He didn’t really consider himself her friend, but if it needed a label, a friend would do.  Sure, he was drawn to her for some reason, but he never felt a bond between them. He just couldn’t make himself feel anything romantic toward God’s sister, so friend it would remain.  Or maybe acquaintance was a better term.  A hot acquaintance.  Anyone with eyes could see Amara was gorgeous (that dress… damn…), but there wasn’t much past that as far as Dean was concerned.

While Dean was in the middle of trying to convince Amara revenge was never a good idea, and that maybe she just didn’t want to be alone, Chuck appeared in front of him.

“Dude, where’d you come from?” Dean sputtered out, stumbling backward.

“Uh….” Chuck says slowly, “a bar.  Watching the world end with some friends.  Hey, sis,” Chuck said impishly.  

Dean got himself out of the way and let the two celestial siblings hash it out.  He did not want to be in the middle of this, but he was still hoping for the best.  The best being the world not ending.  He’d also really like to not explode, but one thing at a time.

Dean had wandered over to a bench in the park, letting the two of them enjoy some privacy when Chuck and Amara approached him sometime later.

“So I think we're going to have some family bonding time, you know, take off for a little bit.  Oh, before I forget,” Chuck said as he placed a hand on Dean’s chest, “Better?”

“Oh shit!” Dean weakly got out as he gasped in pain, “but yeah… better.  Thanks. Good to know I’m not gonna blow up anymore.”

“Happy to help.  We’re going to hit the road now.  Or the universe.  But you guys’ll be fine.  Don’t worry, Earth will be fine, it has you, Sam, and Castiel.  Heaven’s in order too,” Chuck assured.

Huh, so far so good.

“Dean, I would like to thank you for what you’ve done for me today.  You gave me what I needed the most, so I’d like to return the favor,” Amara told Dean.

“Lucifer back in the cage?”

Amara glanced thoughtfully toward the sky, looking like she had simply forgotten to turn off a stove burner at home.  “Yes,” she said slowly, “I suppose we should do something about that.”

“Piece of cake.  Hey, Dean, can you just wait here for maybe, fifteen minutes?  Or twenty?  I don’t know, it’ll be quick.  We’ll be back, but yeah, we should probably handle Lucifer.”

“I don’t even know where here is!”

“Doesn’t matter, look around, it’s pretty.  Good place to chill,” Chuck replied happily.

And with that, Chuck and Amara vanished.  

What in the actual hell had Dean just been witness to?  Technically, he’d just seen God and The Darkness have a family meeting, but the more he’d watched them, they really were just brother and sister.  Hell, he’d even talked with Sam that earnestly sometimes.  Not often, but it had happened.  He should probably call Sam, let him know he wasn’t a bomb and that Chuck and Amara were dealing with Lucifer.  He should definitely call Castiel, and let him know he wasn’t dead.  Thank him for offering to go with him, like he always did.  

He did need to get back after he thanked Chuck and Amara for what he needed the most.  Lucifer back in the cage?  Yeah, he needed that one.  Bad.

Dean let his mind wander a little as he paced, going over to the bench Amara was sitting on earlier and making himself comfortable.  Chuck was right, this was a nice place to wait.  Dean had no idea what all the flowers were, but they came together in a heady perfume scent that wasn’t unappealing.  Knowing the world wasn’t going to end and knowing that Lucifer was going to be trapped again made a smile spread across his face.  Shit, once he got back to the bunker, he figured everyone was due for some serious rest and relaxation.

“Done!”  Chuck said with a giggle as he and Amara reappeared in front of Dean.  “It truly is amazing what you can accomplish when you work together and aren’t trying to kill each other.”

“Whoa, so Lucifer’s all locked up again?”

“Yes, Dean, I promise,” Amara said warmly.

“Thank you, holy shit thank you both, and you were right, I needed that.   I needed that a lot.  Going back home without that hanging over my head, hell, that’s everything.”  And it was.  For once in entirely too many years, there wasn’t a looming threat on the rise.

“You’re very welcome, but that’s not what I was talking about, what you truly need the most.”  Amara gave him a curious smile as she bent down slightly and laid her hand against his forearm.

“I’m… pretty sure that it’s Lucifer being locked up.  That’s number one of the things I need right now.”

“Well,” Amara said, chuckling, “I’m pretty sure it’s not.  First, we’ve already handled Lucifer for you, and second, that wasn’t what I was giving to you when this began.”

“So, what……”

“You already know, somewhere in your heart, you know,” she said sweetly giving his arm a parting squeeze as she stood back up, taking her brother’s hand.

“We’re gonna get now, but don’t worry, as I said earlier, Earth’s gonna be just fine.  It’s time for you to write your own story now.  Also, you deserve it, what you need the most, that is.  ” Chuck said sincerely.

“Appreciate it, but uh…. Where am I?  And how do I get home?”  Dean asked meekly in front of the two cosmic beings.  

“I’ll get you to where you’re supposed to be, not to worry,” Amara said assuredly as she made a wave of her hand.”

“Tha–”  Dean began, expressing his gratitude, but was unable to finish as he found himself back at the bunker.

In an unused bedroom of the bunker.

Dean scoffed.  “So the thing I needed the most was an empty bedroom, great,” Dean mused to no one, wiping a hand over his face.  “What in the hell was Amara even trying to–” Dean stopped speaking to the unoccupied room when his gaze fell to the nightstand.  

“Oh, son of a bitch….” Dean breathed out, his legs going weak.  Luckily the bed was behind him as he plopped gracelessly on it.  

The only thing on the nightstand was a well-used copy of Cat’s Cradle .  It hadn’t been that well used when he’d loaned it to Castiel, but it certainly was now.  

“C’mon man, you can’t just read million-year-old tomes all day, kick back, live a little,” Dean encouraged, handing the angel a Vonnegut classic.

“Thank you, Dean.  If this is something you enjoy, then I feel certain I will enjoy it as well.”

God, that brief interaction had been months ago, and it looked as if Castiel had read the book a hundred times if he’d read it once.  

Amara had sent Dean to Castiel’s room.  He collapsed fully onto the mattress, knowing he should call somebody and tell them the world wasn’t ending and that he wasn’t dead, but he couldn’t make his hand go to his pocket.  So instead, he lay with his thoughts.

Well, if he could find them.  Currently, any jumbled, repressed feelings Dean had toward Castiel had been sealed in a curse box, but not before pouring Epoxy on them.  Said box had then been further warded, placed into another box, and welded shut.  That box had been placed into another box, had concrete poured on top of it, was wrapped in iron chains, blessed by various people of no less than thirty-six different religions, and then hurled into the Mariana Trench.

Goddamnit the bed smelled like Castiel because of course it fucking did.  Like sunshine, or charged air before a thunderstorm, so fresh it could clear your sinuses better than Vick’s VapoRub.  Heavenly…. That’s what it was.

Dean rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  “I really shouldn’t know what Cas smells like…..”

He went mentally swimming into the deepest and darkest parts of himself and took his time envisioning the miles of the Mariana Trench - however deep it was.  Wait, how deep was it?  Had anyone ever reached the bottom?  Dean thought about Googleing it but knew he had more pressing matters at hand.  

He clapped his hands together and thought about sitting up.  Clapping his hands together was good enough for now as far as motivation went.  How long had he been laying on Castiel’s pristinely made bed anyway?  Didn’t matter, he still hadn’t made it to the feelings box anyway.

But before he even began opening that damn thing up, he allowed himself to dwell on what was probably the most important thing: Did Castiel even reciprocate his feelings?

He… didn’t know.  The angel was weird, but in a good way Dean had come to find endearing.  Even with his complete disregard for personal space, but he only ever did that with Dean.  Over the years, he had come to realize that Castiel only ever stayed excruciatingly close to him.   Would follow him wherever he went.  Sure, he’d help Sam out if his little brother asked, but Dean didn’t even have to say anything, Castiel was just always… there.  The more he thought about it, the more he suspected Castiel might return some of his feelings.  They’d been through a lot over the years.  All the good, all the bad, yeah Dean hoped the guy–

“Ah fuck,” Dean sighed, covering his face with his hands.

The guy.

Yeah, Castiel was a man.  Jimmy was long gone and that was definitely Castiel’s body, and it was male.

“Uggggghhhhhhhhh,” Dean lamented.

“I have some form of feelings for Cas.”  He was able to say this out loud since he was alone and held up a finger on his left hand.  Dean had deemed his left hand the “pros” column.  

“Cas is a dude.”  He held up a finger on his right hand, which he had elected to be the “cons” column.  As soon as he did it, he felt a wave of guilt in his stomach, which almost instantly soured, but he ignored it best he could.  The finger remained.  Having overwhelming masculinity beat into you for years didn’t go away in five minutes.  

“Cas is fucking hot.”  Saying this to an empty room was a surprisingly easy admission, so he raised another finger on his left hand.  Not the first time Dean had thought another man was good-looking, but no one needed to know that.  Dean had thought Castiel was stunning since he first saw him in the barn.  He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do with those feelings, but over the years, it was easier to admit them to himself.  It was effortless to admit when he was in the shower rubbing one out to thoughts of Castiel.  Dean knew he should feel at least partially bad getting himself off fantasizing about an actual Angel of the Lord - but he didn’t.

“Who would actually care……” 

Dean pondered this for a while.  His dad would murder him, but his dad was dead.  His dad was also a bigot and a homophobe.

His dad didn’t count.  Not on this one.

Bobby counted though.  Bobby counted a lot.  Dean thought about this for a moment.  Bobby never knew Castiel past the Leviathan incident, but if he had, he would have forgiven Castiel just as Dean had, and probably grown fond of the dorky little guy too.  Yeah, chances were good Bobby wouldn’t mind.

Sammy wouldn’t give a fuck.  Eileen wouldn’t care.  He laughed to himself for including her, but Sam wouldn’t stop texting her or stop talking about her, so he counted her too.

Garth absolutely wouldn’t give a single damn.  Garth loved everyone and everything.

Shit, he’d already met two men - husbands -  who hunted together, Jesse and Cesar.  

God, Jody and Donna would probably die of happiness.  He was glad he’d kept in touch with those two.

Charlie.  His sweet queen.  God, Dean missed her so much.  She would be over the moon, back and around it a dozen times, absolutely exploding with rainbows.  She was so brave in her… gayness?  Lesbianness?  Queerness?  Dean didn’t know the correct term, but he didn’t think it mattered, because Charlie didn’t care what anyone thought about her liking girls.  

But society.  Fuck.  He wasn’t ready for that one.

He held up a finger on his left hand and his right hand.

Now wait just a damn minute, Chuck and Amara had known this was what he needed the most, so if GOD AND HIS SISTER had no issue with the relationship, then fuck society.  Dean lowered the finger on his right hand.

It was currently 3-1 pros.  

The only remaining con was that Castiel was a man.  

“Fuck it, he’s sexy, and I probably feel something for him.  Screw everything else.”  

3-0 pros.

Not for the first time in his life, Dean pondered his sexuality.  His preference was women, probably because he’d only been with women, or because he’d only let himself be with women, but damn, there were some beautiful men out there.  And if he’d allowed and not fought so vehemently against what he wanted, he would have been with them too.  He definitely thought a crisis was about to happen so he waited for it.  

“Okaaaaay, where’s the gay panic....”

He thrummed his fingers on the bed.  

Nothing happened.  

“Existential crisis later then.”

Dean was proud of himself and decided he would definitely-possibly-maybe act on his form of feelings for Castiel in the next eight to fourteen years when he heard the bunker door open, and two sets of footsteps began descending the stairs.

He had no idea how long he’d lay there, but he was certain the two people making their way into the bunker were Sam and Castiel, so he high-tailed it to the common room.  

It would seem that the sound of his boots slamming down onto the floor as he ran awarded him with a gun being pointed at him courtesy of his own brother, and Castiel wielding his angel blade.

Jesus, those two looked wrecked.  Ashen faces and red-rimmed eyes.  

Dean held his hands up in surrender.  “It’s me! It’s me!  It’s me!  I’m not dead I didn’t blow up, world’s fine, please don’t kill me, it’s me!!!”

God, it would legitimately suck to die now.

Sam didn’t move, but Castiel stowed the blade and strode surely towards Dean, placing a hand on his cheek.  

Dean closed his eyes and leaned into it, not giving a single fuck what that must have looked like, and just enjoyed the feeling of Castiel’s grace flowing through him.

“It’s him,” Castiel affirmed in a steady voice and then yanked Dean in for a bone-crushing hug.

“Eeee!”

Dean squeaked.  Dean had actually squeaked.  He was fully aware he’d made the noise and now he could feel his cheeks damn near burning as his face most certainly turned crimson out of embarrassment.  

Also out of the constrictor-like embrace courtesy of an angel.

He caught sight of Sam smiling, slowly lowering his gun.  “Yeah Cas, that’s probably him,” he said fondly as he made his way over to Castiel and a mostly-breathing Dean.

The angel had barely released him when his brother had finally made his way down the remaining stairs.  

“Is it really him, Cas?”  Sam asked hesitantly.

“I rebuilt this man from nothing, I assure you, this is your brother,” Castiel responded, unwavering in his answer and never taking his eyes off Dean.

“Why won’t you die, jerk,” Sam got out tentatively, holding back tears as he wrapped Dean in a hug that had the older man wondering how many of his ribs would be broken today.  

Dean laughed – well, as much as he could.  “I played therapist to God and his sister, they’re happy - bitch.”

Finally managing to extricate himself from his gargantuan younger brother, Dean stood up straight and slapped him on the shoulder.  He then looked at Castiel like this was the first time he’d ever seen him.  Hell, he should have been dead hours ago, so yeah, he just let himself look at the angel.  For a few seconds.

“Alright - to the kitchen, c’mon let’s go, I’ll tell you guys all about it.”

***

Time passed and so did a couple of beers as Sam, Dean, and Castiel melded their respective narratives into a complete story.

“Now wait a minute,” Sam said once their tales were seemingly finished.  “Amara just… sent you back here?  That’s it?  Done?”  He ran his hands through his hair to clear it from his face.

All Dean needed was five minutes and some clippers.  Alas, now was not the time for an ambush haircut.  

“Yep, that’s it.  They assured me Lucifer was in the cage, heaven was good to go, Earth was cool, and they split.  The end.”  He finished the single beer he’d been nursing this whole time and attempted not to look like he was lying through his teeth.

“Alright then, so…. Wait.  Are we done?  I mean, not with hunting, but like, shit - what’s the current thing trying to end the world?”  Sam asked incredulously.  

“For the first time since I’ve known you two, I do not believe there is one,” Castiel said calmly.

***

Once a lazy dinner of sandwiches had been made and eaten, everyone had retired to their own rooms, exhausted after the stress of the day’s events.  

After he’d had a shower that he was shocked had stayed hot for as long as he was in there, Dean felt no guilt laying on his bed listening to music, his activity level on par with a turnip.  Currently, he was pretending he hadn’t had an earth-shattering revelation only hours earlier as he tried his best to focus on The Eagles telling him to take it easy - he wasn’t.   

That’s when there was a soft knock at his door.  

“Dean?  If you’re awake, may I come in?”  Castiel said gently through the barrier.  

“Yeah, ‘course,” Dean answered, scooting up on the bed some as he resituated himself back against the headboard and took his headphones off.  

“Hey, Cas, what’s up?”  Dean asked as the angel walked in, shutting the door behind him.  

“I just wanted to make sure you were still actually here,” Castiel said sheepishly, sitting down on the bed next to Dean.  “I’m very glad you’re back, and alive - that being the most important part.”

“Ya know what?  I’m feeling pretty good about the whole alive part too,” Dean said, smiling warmly at his guest.  “Past all that, you doing okay?”

“I am now, yes.  Other than just wanting to see you again, I wanted to tell you that I wasn’t completely honest with you and Sam when we recounted the events of our day.  I left something out….”  Castiel said as he fiddled with a button on his trench coat.

Dread immediately filled Dean’s stomach.  “On a scale from one to ten - ten being another apocalypse - how bad is it?”  

“Zero,” Castiel said, smiling up at the worried man.  “When the sun returned, I knew that Earth had won, and I had lost you.  I excused myself and walked behind the bar.  I…..”

Castiel looked up to the ceiling, a pained expression on his face.  

Dean was patient as he waited for him to continue.  

“I didn’t even know what I wanted to do, why I left Sam when I told you I would watch over him, I just couldn’t be there, so I left.  The bricks weren’t masoned well.  I did stare at the wall for a while.”  

Dean huffed a weak laugh, wondering where this was going.   

“And then I felt Chuck.  I certainly didn’t see him, but I felt him.  It wasn’t a hostile, or angry presence, it was kind and sincere.  And then I imagine I looked like an exploding blue ball of celestial intent for a second or two.”  He shrugged.

“You WHAT?!”  Dean gasped as he sat fully upright.  

“I’m back.  All of me is back.  Even my wings.  They aren’t broken anymore,” Castiel said, ducking his head as he grinned a little.  “Chuck wanted to make me whole again, so he did.  During our time at the table earlier, it seemed like a small, inconsequential detail compared to your story, so I didn’t bother mentioning it, but I didn’t want to keep it from you,” he said sincerely.

For a moment, Dean just stared at Castiel, swallowing dryly a few times.

“So, you’re a fully powered badass again, wings, flight, the whole thing?”  

“I am,” Castiel responded, a hint of pride in his voice.  

Please don’t go please don’t leave me, I just got you back when I thought I was going to die.

“Well, that’s… cool, that’s really cool Cas,” Dean somehow got out, trying his best to sound happy.  “So what’s next for you then?  Where you off to now?”

“This is still my home, is it not?”  The angel asked, head tilt and all.  

Floundering only for a second at the absurdity of the question, Dean finally got himself together.  

“What the hell kind of question is that?  Of course this is your home!”

“Then I’m staying here.  I want to be here.  Granted, I’ll be going flying when you’re asleep, I’ve missed that, but I’ll return to you, I promise,” Castiel assured, squeezing Dean’s knee.

Dean didn’t attempt to hide the volume level of his exhale.  

“I’m glad you’ll be around, Cas.  Pretty sure Sam is hitting the road in the morning to go see Eileen since nothing is hanging over our heads.  Shit, that still sounds weird to say out loud,” Dean mused, shaking his head slightly.

“You both deserve a break.  Now,” Castiel began as he got to his feet, “it’s not terribly late, but I know you’re tired.  Rest for me, will you?”

“Yeah, don’t think that’ll be a problem, not after everything that’s happened today.”

“Good.  Then tomorrow, we can do whatever you want.  I know you’ve often wanted time to ourselves here in the bunker, and now we can have it,” Castiel said, an air of smugness in his tone.  “Good night, Dean.”

“Night… Cas….” he said back to the angel as he left, shutting the door on his way out.

For some time, a very confused Dean stared at the door.  

“When the hell did I tell him that?  Was I drunk?”  Dean pondered once he’d finally gotten out of bed to change into sleep clothes.  

“I haven’t been black-out drunk in… ages,” Dean said to himself as he turned out the light and got comfortable.  “Must’ve been smashed.”

***

Dean refused to run away from his problems anymore.  This time, he was running with them.  

Since Sam was on his way to meet up with Eileen, no one was around to make fun of him for using the gym in the bunker.  After sleeping for fourteen hours (a new personal record), Dean had gotten up, made a quick breakfast, then went even further into the bowels of their home, and hopped on a treadmill.  

It was driving him insane trying to remember when he’d said that he wanted alone time with the angel.  He knew he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else, but apparently, he had to Castiel.  

“God, what else did I say to him…”  Dean cursed himself as he continued running to nowhere.  “Oh dear lord did I hit on him?”

Dean stumbled slightly but righted himself quickly.  

He knew there was a chance he may have hit on Castiel, but he seriously doubted it.  No matter how drunk he got, he was almost positive he hadn’t made a move on the angel.  He’d never told a soul he was attracted to men before and typically kept those feelings buried so deep you’d need a herd of archaeologists to find them in the first place.  

Still… Castiel wasn’t wrong - somehow.  Dean did want to be alone with him, wanted any time to keep the angel all to himself.  And now that he had it, he was scared to death.  

Castiel choosing that moment to walk through the door in jeans and a soft grey v-neck t-shirt didn’t help matters any, and Dean almost fell off the treadmill again as he neared mile four.

“Are you okay?”  Castiel asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Where did you get…” Dean took a moment to appreciate just how well they fit as he gestured awkwardly at the man.  “Clothes?”

Castiel smiled.  “At a clothing store.  It occurred to me last night that I’ve basically been in the same outfit for seven years, so I went shopping.”

“Huh, good for you,” Dean said, his breath heavy, and not just from running either.  

“I was thinking,” Castiel began as he made his way to the treadmill, “we should go somewhere today.”

The angel leaned against the safety railing on the right side of the treadmill, patiently looking to Dean for an answer as he continued to get closer, finally settling when he felt he was close enough.   

I’m actually going to fall off the treadmill this time, my god this man is close.

“You know, Cas,” Dean said, becoming even sweatier than he was five minutes ago, “I think I’ve mentioned this a few dozen times over the years… personal space?”

Get closer.

“Yes, you have Dean,” Castiel said, a wry smile on his face, “and I know you haven’t meant it a single time you’ve said it, either.  Well, possibly the first time you informed me I was too close, but none of the later times.”

Dean slowed his pace on the treadmill to a light jog as he attempted to get his breathing under control.  

“Did I….” Dean started shakily, running a hand through his damp hair, “did I say something to you when I was shit-housed drunk or something?”  

There was no reason to beat around the bush, so ripping off a band-aid would be the way Dean approached this very awkward subject.

“No,” Castiel said softly, “nothing of the sort.  I just know you don’t mean it when you tell me to move away or go away.  So, think about where you would like to go, or what you would like to do.  I’ll be in the library.”

I’d go anywhere with you.

Dean swallowed.

“Let me, uh… let me take a shower, I’ll find you later, kay Cas?”

“Of course,” the Seraph said with a wink as he exited the small gym.

Dean watched the mileage counter in stark confusion until he saw he’d finally hit his five miles.  Not bad, especially considering the fact he’d nearly fallen a few times.  Running was a big part of his job, so he did try to keep in shape, even if it was in secret from Sam.  Castiel, it seemed, didn’t count in that regard and could easily find him anywhere.  

He slowed his pace to a leisurely walk as he squirted water into his mouth.

“I know the guy isn’t reading my damn mind, he promised me years ago he wouldn’t,” Dean grumbled to himself as he cooled down.  

He fully believed the angel wouldn’t breach his trust like that, so it wasn’t mind-reading.

“I was probably smashed,” Dean said as he turned the treadmill off.  He knew that was the only thing that it could be, and Castiel was just too nice to tell him how wasted he’d been.  

***

Once Dean got clean and dressed, he walked slowly down the bunker’s gently illuminated hallways, still a little confused as to what Castiel was up to.  When he found the man sitting at the library table flipping through a Better Homes & Gardens, he huffed out a laugh before sitting across from him.  

“Gonna redecorate the place?”

“No,” Castiel said, closing the magazine and sitting it down on the table, “but I was considering a garden.”  He shrugged.  “So, where do you want to go today?”

Dean stared at Castiel for a few beats, before chuckling a little.  “Well, I mean we’re in Lebanon, and nothing’s here.  Nothing’s around here either except for some cemeteries.  Not exactly the most exciting spot in the country, ya know?”

The angel glared kindly at Dean.  “I didn’t ask where you could go today, I asked where you wanted to go today.  There’s a difference.”

“Cas, man look.  As much as I love driving Baby, I don’t think I want to spend my first day of freedom on the road for ten hours oh wait,” Dean said, a bit shocked that he’d completely forgotten.  

“Yes, there’s no need to drive.  I’ll take us wherever you want to go in an instant.  So, I’ll ask again, where do you want to go today?”  Castiel asked, grinning at the flummoxed man across from him.  

“Vegas,” Dean said.  It was the first thing that popped into his head, so he went with it.  “Let’s go to Vegas, play poker, shoot Craps, have good food - well, I can have good food.  Since you’re all super-charged again, is it just molecules to you?”

“It’s molecules, although I’ve never actually tried to taste past them.  Maybe this time I will,” Castiel said wistfully as he got to his feet, walking around the table to stand by Dean.  “May I please borrow Charlie’s magical never-ending credit card, as you call it?”

Dean would have happily traded the unlimited credit card forty-seven times over if it meant he got to have Charlie back.  Since that wasn’t an option, Dean allowed himself a smile at her memory as he fished the card out of his wallet.  

“So, you just gonna pick a place for us to stay?”  He asked as he handed the card over.

God please just get one bed - no, two.  I need you to get two beds.  Get one bed.  Fuck!  No damnit, no - get two beds.  Christ I still don’t even know how you feel about any of this, get one bed.  Two!  Please don’t get two separate rooms I’ll die.  Get one two beds.  Two.  One.  A sleeping bag.  I’d sleep on the floor with you.  Get two beds.  I’d sleep in a bathtub with you.  Also a hammock.  

Castiel raised an eyebrow at the human below him.  “Yes, I will get us accommodations,” he said calmly as he took the credit card, purposely brushing his fingers over Dean’s as he did.  “I’ll be back in roughly twenty minutes, go pack a bag.”

“Oh my holy fuck,” Dean said in an exhaled rush while simultaneously experiencing a full-body shiver.  “Is he actively trying to kill me?”  Dean breathed out unsteadily as he made his way to his room to pack.  

He was fully aware they weren’t going to be anywhere that required him to dress up, so jeans, t-shirts, and flannels it was.  Just like every other time he packed a bag.  After hurling in a few toiletries, he figured that was good enough, not like they were going to stay there for a week, although he had no idea how long Sam was going to be gone, so maybe they could.  

Or maybe they could go to Australia.  Or wherever on earth they wanted to, so long as Castiel didn’t get sick of him first.  But the angel had brought up their getaway, so Dean imagined that Castiel had no plans of flying the coop just yet. 

Giving one more quick look through his bag, Dean heard soft footfalls coming down the hallway and turned around to see Castiel standing in his doorway with his own bag in hand.   

“You look ready to go, got your bag and everything,” Dean said, making his way to the angel and giving the bag a few pats.

“When it comes to you, I’m always ready to go.  Now, do you have everything you need?”  Castiel asked with an air of playfulness to his voice.

Dean knew his inhalation of air was entirely too audible, but it wasn’t like he could help it.

“If I don’t, I’ll just buy it there,” he responded, attempting to keep his voice calm.

“Wonderful,” Castiel said, stepping close and placing his right hand on Dean’s left shoulder.  “And we’re off.”

Before he knew it, Dean was standing in a hotel room, Castiel still holding onto his shoulder.  

“Welcome to the Flamingo Hotel,” the angel said as he made his way to the bed closest to the door, setting his travel bag down.  

That was what Dean noticed first, two queen beds.  He was both incredibly relieved and deeply depressed that there wasn’t just one king-sized bed.  The room itself was clean, modern and sleek, everything was done in deep, steely greys and sharp whites.  Just about every item in the room, however, was accented somewhere with bright pink - not all that shocking seeing as how the pair was staying at The Flamingo.

“Dude!”  Dean said, rushing over to the window, “there’s a damn ferris wheel here!”  He said as he took a portion of Vegas.  

“It offers a wonderful view of the strip and has a bar in each cab.  Would you like to do that first?”  Castiel asked warmly.

“Sure man, let’s go!”

Once they got to the lobby of the hotel, Dean noticed that the pink didn’t go away, but began to flourish instead.  Everything was loud and tropical, which was par for the course in Vegas.  

“Wow,” Dean breathed once they were out on the street.  He took in all of the people wandering around.  Some dressed in your typical tourist attire, much like he and Castiel.  Some people were dressed in three-piece suits whereas others were clad in extremely small sequined mini dressed - both men and women.  Match the clothing with the gaudy, yet inviting atmosphere of the buildings and shops, and it was a lot to take in.  

“Lovely, isn’t it?”  Castiel asked.  “No one cares here, not a single soul,” he mused as he gently placed his hand on the small of Dean’s back, making their way to the High Roller Wheel.  “You picked a wonderful location to visit.”

Dean had a lot of options: (a) panic, (b) run away, (c) yell, (d) moan, (e) melt, (f) reciprocate, (g) double panic, (h) tackle the angel in public for either reason of want or anger… the list went on.

In the end, Dean simply remained silent as they walked closer to the large, moving observation ride and thought about it for a moment instead.  Ancient, cosmic beings had known what he wanted and needed the most, and they didn’t exactly give it to him, they merely presented him with an opportunity.  What he did with the information was up to him.  He could quash it and throw it in the sea, or he could acknowledge feelings that once seemed forbidden but now appeared… less prohibited.  

Being honest with himself wasn’t going to come immediately, but he certainly didn’t have to fight anymore.  Hell, Dean didn’t have to fight anything right now!  Not The Darkness, not Lucifer, nothing.  Not even himself.  

Nope. That was a total lie. He only had to fight himself.  

He still hadn’t said anything once they reached the line for the massive wheel, and Castiel’s hand hadn’t left him either.  The structure was incredibly impressive.  Dean had read over some of the informational signs as they stood in line.  Damn thing was 550 feet high, and each observation cab was 220 square feet, could hold up to 40 people, had eight flat-screen televisions and a bar.  

Apparently to Castiel, silence meant acceptance.  As they moved towards the front of the line, Dean felt the angel’s hand slide around to his waist, pulling him in closer.  

Fuck I want this.  I’m gonna freak out since we’re in public, but god I really want this.

Dean sighed audibly, which meant over the roar of all the people, the noise from casinos, the traffic, the High Roller Wheel, and music coming from seemingly everywhere, it was utterly silent.  

Just not to Castiel, who gave Dean’s hip a small squeeze and left that as his only acknowledgment it had ever occurred.  

I wish I knew what the fuck was happening.  What he was thinking.

Castiel paid for two tickets since he still had the card, and the pair made their way onto a spacious observation cab.  

“Jesus this thing is massive,” Dean said, shocked at just how large it was.  

“It’s far from small,” Castiel said as he glanced around.

When the doors were securely closed behind them, there were only about a dozen other people in there.  Apparently, 11:00 a.m. was not prime time for ferris wheel rides in Las Vegas.  Half the population probably hadn’t even gone to sleep yet.  

However, 11:00 in the morning was the perfect time for a drink.  No one looked at you twice if you ordered Whiskey for breakfast in Vegas - and neither did this particular bartender, Dean learned.

Once all the passengers had boarded and the wheel began to slowly turn, Dean and Castiel made their way to one of the many available places to look out over Sin City.  

“I can’t believe you just… flew us here,” Dean said softly, gazing over the strip.

He wasn’t concerned about someone overhearing him, he could easily be talking about a plane rather than Angel of the Lord Airlines.

“Of course I did.  Dean,” Castiel stated, stepping closer and lowering his voice.  “When was the last time either of us had a break?  When was the last time the world wasn’t intent on ending?  When was the last time you had a day off or even watched a movie? When was the last time,” the angel began, wrapping his hand around Dean’s hand that held the tumbler, “you had a drink that wasn’t to cope, or came from sadness or defeat?  When was the last time we could just… be?”

Dean stared into the amber liquid in the glass, then into the haunting blue eyes of his best friend - who was now incredibly close to him.  

“Don’t think we’ve ever had that, Cas,” he breathed as he looked toward The Venitian.  He wanted to keep staring at the angel, but his intensity got to be too much, so an ornate golden hotel would have to do.  

“No, we haven’t,” Castiel agreed, removing his hand from Dean’s to once again wrap his arm around the other man’s waist, gently tugging him in snugly to his side.  

Oh. This is when the existential sexuality crisis happens. Good to know. Got it.  

Dean drank. 

He’s a man he’s a man he’s a man he’s a man he’s a man, this should really be freaking me out more than it is, which isn’t a lot, but I’m still freaking out Cas is a dude, full on dude with dude parts, fuck my stupid brain this shouldn’t be so hard goddamnit don’t think about hard things - fuck we’re in public but it’s Vegas so it’s not like it counts.

Dean had a sizeable gulp of whiskey and let himself relax into Castiel’s right side, which was surprisingly muscular, something he hadn’t been able to feel under the layers upon layers of clothing the angel usually wore.  Not that he touched him all that much to begin with.  

“How’s it feel to be out of your work clothes for a change?”  Dean asked in an attempt to get his brain out of full-on meltdown mode.  

“Much better, thank you,” Castiel answered, tightening his arm around Dean slightly.

Dean knew that if he wanted to, he could lean his head against Castiel’s cheek.  At least one of his previous questions had been answered: the man holding him definitely reciprocated his form of feelings.  He had his answer.  Some of the stress should have gone away, but in its place came even more anxiety: what did he do now?  What should he do?

His relaxing has allowed his body to be just a bit more pliable than a cardboard cutout, but he still took the win for what it was.  A win.  He hadn’t pulled away once, so at least Castiel knew his advances were wanted.  Didn’t he?  Well, it’s not like he’d stopped touching Dean, so there was that.  

The fountains at The Bellagio gave him nothing - Dean was on his own on what to do next as the pair continued to watch more and more of Vegas come into view.  

Wait - Dean knew - he knew that Castiel felt something towards him, and he’d done… 

Nothing.

Shit shit shit shit do something you man-child… fuck!   Doesn’t have to be huge, just do something.  Do it for Cas.  Just let him know.  Deep breath asshat… deep breath.  Thank Chuck for whiskey.

Casually as he could, even with his right hand shaking, he laid it on top of Castiel’s and interlaced his fingers with the hand the angel had wrapped around his waist.  Then he had an inordinately large sip of his dwindling drink.  

Dean’s reward was a contented sigh from the man to his immediate left.  It was more than good enough for him.  

“I was wondering,” Castiel almost whispered in a low, conspiratorial voice right next to Dean’s ear, “how much do you think you could make if you were to go play poker?  I know you’re quite adept at hustling cards on the road, but what do you imagine you could send us home with from the poor, drunken souls here in the gambling capital of the world?”

If Dean turned his head to answer the man, he’d run directly into his lips, which as inviting a prospect as it was, he wasn’t there yet.  Instead, he leaned his head back some, Castiel mirroring his movements, which put a smidge of space between them.  

“Why does that sound like a challenge?”

“Because it is Dean,” Castiel answered with a wicked grin.  

***

$14,839.

Dean had played on and off throughout their day of buffets and sightseeing, and now he was in their hotel room with an official voucher from the Flamingo for $14,839 to cash in whenever they decided to leave.  

“Can you believe this shit?”  Dean asked, now clean from the smell of smoke and buffets as he sat down on the bed.  “I can just… give this to somebody and they give me money!”

“That’s how it works,” Castiel said proudly.  

The Soldier or Heaven had already changed into a t-shirt and sweat pants while Dean was in the shower, even though he didn’t sleep he looked like he was ready to, and was comfortably propped up on his own bed as the human in the room was lamenting his life choices.  

Dean had started drinking around 11:00 in the morning, and while he wasn’t drunk, he had a decent buzz going on now that it was around 10:00 at night.  He’d paced himself mindfully throughout the day and had some water and a lot of buffet food, but the whiskey hadn’t stopped.  All in all, he didn’t feel that bad, but he was a little tired.  

“We should definitely do something stupid with this,” he said as he got himself settled in his cold bed. 

“How about I look for foolish ways for us to spend the money while you sleep, would you like that?”

They hadn’t bothered to even turn the television on once they’d eventually gotten back to the room, so Dean had nothing to focus on but Castiel.  

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean said eventually as he got himself under the covers, “I’d like that.  You, uh… you have a good… rest?  Or a good time looking for stuff for us to do, okay?”  Dean felt like an idiot.  At least it wasn’t a foreign concept for him.

“Thank you, Dean, I believe I will rest for a while,” Castiel answered, leaning over to turn out the light.  “Good night.”

“Night, Cas.”

In the cover of darkness, Dean felt comfortable enough to roll over and smash his face into a pillow as he silently berated himself.  

God this bed is stupid.   Why are there like… six pillows?

Dean yanked one of the pillows down and clutched it to his chest.  He lay like that for a while, trying to calm his racing mind, focusing on his breathing in the hopes that his roommate would think he was asleep.  After far too much time pretending, he flopped over to his other side, facing away from Castiel.  

This is the dumbest bed on earth.  I hate this bed.  I hate myself more.  I kind of held his hand today, that was huge .

Dean tugged down another pillow, clinging onto it as well.  

Get in the bed Cas, please get in the bed.  I’m too much of a chicken shit to ask you to - or beg you - but god, Cas if you only had one shred of an idea how bad I want you here.  Fucking thing is like a black hole and I’m barely hanging on.  Forty-eight hours ago I should’ve been dead, but here my dumbass is torturing myself in a bed in Las Vegas.  Should be celebrating.  Finally got you alone and I’m goddamn miserable because I’m too afraid to speak.  If I could just somehow get you to hold me for five fucking minutes… Never felt so lonely in my life and you’re less than ten feet away from me, what the fuck, this is–

“Dean!”  Castiel growled.  “You are physically hurting me.”

Dean shot up like a piece of toast if the toaster had been made by Formula 1.

“I didn’t do anything!”  He exclaimed to the almost darkness of the room and Castiel’s silhouette.  Not for the first time, he became panicked as his breaths quickened.  For once, Dean decided to use his words.  “Cas, too many weird coincidences have been going on, so I gotta ask man, you been reading my mind?  I know you said you’d stopped that shit years ago, but it’s just too weird now.  Also,” he continued, his whole body shaking at this point, “I didn’t hurt you.  I’d never hurt you!”

“Two things, Dean.  One, I have not read your mind in years.  I give you my word.  The last time was weeks after I had only first met you and I’ve never done it again.  And two, yes - you are physically hurting me right now, whether you realize it or not,” he explained softly in the darkness.  “If you’re honest with me, and tell me what you are so desperately craving, while denying yourself of same, I will do my best to explain how I know that you want… something.”

Dean’s breaths were ragged after hearing that.  It was almost painful as he sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air.  Castiel was hurting because of Dean.  Dean was hurting too, the ache in his chest threatened to rip him in half all because he couldn’t use his damn words.  But if he was also causing the angel pain…

“Get in bed with me, please Cas,” Dean managed to get out in a pitiful whine.  

In the reflection of probably two million lights, even through the mostly closed curtains, Dean saw Castiel rise effortlessly from his bed and confidently make his way over, not hesitating at all as he sat down on the bed to face Dean as he remained sitting, mirroring his human companion as he crisscrossed his legs.  

The man was so fucking close, he was right there.  Dean let himself stare at Castiel in the kaleidoscope of colors that slipped through the gap in the curtains.  He tried to normalize his breathing while doing his best to keep himself in check.  

“You aren’t finished,” Castiel said kindly.  “I don’t know what it is, but what else aren’t you taking?”

“Cas, I can’t just go around taking whatever I want,” Dean replied in a small voice as his eyes dropped to the pillow.  

“When you have my consent you can, and you have it.”

Dean let his eyes slowly trail up Castiel’s torso until they were finally looking at each other again.  The angel’s expression was calm, filled with an understanding that was eons beyond Dean’s comprehension.  

Slowly, he raised his hand towards Castiel’s face but stopped short, his fingers clinching into a fist as he closed his eyes angrily.  Much too ingrained, outdated notions of what a man should be still haunted Dean to this day, and they were a little hard to shake when you were finally presented with what you’d wanted for years.  

Fucking existential crisis. 

He opened his eyes when he felt Castiel’s fingers gently rub across his chin, tilting his head upwards so he could look at him.  

The patience and kindness radiating off the angel nearly knocked Dean off the bed, but all Castiel did was nod a few times, then lowered his hand back down to his lap.  

Dean eased his hand open again, his knuckles thankful for no longer being stretched thin, and took the right side of Castiel’s face in his hand, gently rubbing the man’s cheekbone with his thumb.  The angel smiled and leaned into Dean’s touch, and a minuscule fraction of Dean’s hesitation fell to the wayside.  He let his left hand slide down to Castiels shoulder while his right stretched out to gently stroke the dark hair that seemed to be a perpetual mess.  

Dean closed his eyes and sighed.  He’d always wanted to do that.  

When he opened his eyes again, Castiel looked utterly sedated, completely at peace.  Dean traced the outline of the man’s jaw with his fingertips, thrilled at the texture of his stubble.  He wondered if the angel ever shaved, or if he just used his Grace to keep a perpetual five o’clock shadow going on.  

Feeling three and a half percent bolder, Dean traced the outline of Castiel’s collar bones through the man’s flimsy shirt, then let his fingers ease down to his pecs, which were incredibly well defined, but still trim from what he could tell in the poor light the room afforded.  

Even in the crap illumination, Dean would have had to have been blind to miss the other man’s biceps.  Not huge by any means, but just one look had Dean wondering if the guy’s body fat was less than two percent.  He gave a reluctant squeeze to Castiel’s upper arms, then ran his hands slowly upwards, underneath the sleeves of his top as he rubbed his shoulders, relishing in how foreign all of this was.  The hard angles, the muscle, the stubble, Dean could get lost in it if he wasn’t careful.  

He was grateful to the angel for being so patient with him, letting him explore his body at his own pace.  

Since Castiel noticed every single microexpression Dean had, the man was certain to notice his hands shaking just a touch as he let his palms slide down Castiel’s ribs, coming to rest at the top of his hips.  He let his hands tighten just a little, running his thumbs along the sharp tips of Castiel’s hip bones.  Dean didn’t miss the quick intake of air from the man he was caressing.  

It would be so easy just to slide my hands underneath his shirt holy fuck…. And he’d let me.

Dean regretfully pulled his hands back and placed them in his lap as he stared at them.  

“Cas, I…”  He took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.  “I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’m scared.  Can’t believe I just said that out loud, but I am.  I can’t…” 

Castiel placed a tentative hand over one of Dean’s.  “I can go back to my own bed if you wish, it won’t offend me at all.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean said as he whipped his head up to look Castiel in the eyes.

From the sound of it, Dean thought Castiel tried to hold back a snort of laughter.  

“Very well, I’ll stay here then, but will you at least tell me why you’re scared?”

“Because you’re a man!”  Dean said like it was obvious.  “I know we’ve hit on the subject throughout the years, how my father raised us, what a man was supposed to be, all that bullshit, but fuck, Cas, I… shit,” Dean bit out, running a hand through his hair, but still not letting go of Castiel’s with his other.  

“I’ll get a female vessel,” Castiel said later, solemnly.

That one sentence lit a fire in Dean, something he hadn’t even known burned so brightly until this very moment.

“Seems I’m gonna sound like a broken record tonight, hope you don’t mind.”

“No… but why?”

“As far as you going out to get a female vessel, let me just repeat myself: don’t you fucking dare .  These are my issues, okay?  Mine.  But that one offer, just hearing you say it, god, it… Jesus Cas, it damn near made me sick!  I am actively considering throwing up.  I can’t even imagine.  I don’t want to imagine!  No way, fuck that.  You are Cas, Cas is a man, you’re the one I’ve –  all of you, the whole thing.  You, okay?  It’s you.  Don’t you change one goddamn thing,” Dean said, grabbing both sides of Castiel’s face.  “All of you, do you get that?  I - all of you.  Because all of you is good.  Did any of that even make sense?  Fuck…”

Castiel grabbed both of Dean’s hands and brought them to his lap.  

“Things I understand with complete clarity are as follows: one, you do not wish for me to go back to my bed, and two, you seem to be just fine with me being a man, now that I’ve offered to be a female, yes?”

“Very yes,” Dean growled out.

“I consider this progress,” Castiel said as he worked his legs under the covers.  “Would you like to lay down with me?  I still have some things to tell you as to why it seems I’m reading your mind when I promise you I’m not.”

Dean looked at Castiel, now on his back and relaxed on a couple of pillows and froze.  He remembered the other thing he wanted so badly close to an hour ago, but that was before he allowed himself to explore the extreme top portion of Castiel’s body.  

“I can happily stay far on this side of the bed if you wish.”

Oh my god you fucking coward just nut up.

Dean scooted away from Castiel, all the way to his side of the bed, then patted the middle of the bed as he looked at the angel, hoping he’d get what Dean was trying to convey.  

Castiel gave a slight head tilt, then shrugged as he repositioned himself in the middle of the bed, bringing some pillows along with him.  

“Better?”

Dean nodded in the affirmative, inching closer to the man in the center.  

He already knew how warm the angel’s skin was, his fingers had done their best at memorizing the man’s chest earlier.  It certainly wouldn’t have the soft mounds Dean had laid his head on so many times in the past, and he couldn’t have cared less.  Part of him already knew he preferred the form he was looking at.  

Castiel, I am scared to death but I’ve never wanted anything more.  Just wrap me up.

“Now that one,” Castiel began, reaching up with his left hand as he grasped Dean’s shoulder, “that one was loud and clear.  Here,” he continued, gently pulling the reluctant human towards him, “let me hold you and I will explain all that I’m able.”

Dean looked at him for only a moment before answering simply.  “Okay.”

He felt as though he was falling through a dream made of silk as he lowered his head down, a million fantasies and a hundred missed opportunities, but he was here now so he certainly wasn’t going to waste it.  As soon as the side of his face made contact with Castiel’s chest, he knew instantly it wasn’t enough - at least for that moment.  

Dean turned his face nose-down and pressed into the angel’s sternum, breathing in his fresh scent.  Since he was, unfortunately, squishing his right arm, he allowed his left one to squeeze Castiel’s ribs, trying to pull him closer to he could take more of him in.  The moment Dean felt the arms of the man below him wrap around him, he allowed himself to surface, nearly sobbing out the breath he’d been holding as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Castiel’s shoulder, right near his neck.  

Castiel held him fiercely, rubbing his cheek against the crown of Dean’s head a few times.  Briefly, Dean wondered why he hadn’t kissed him, but then realized he hadn’t done any kissing of his own due to fear.  He imagined Castiel’s restraint was born out of respect.  

“I believe that I know you well, Dean.  I have known you for…. Around seven years.  Time in other dimensions, time apart, I’m not sure how that factors in.  But what I am well aware of, is that you greatly dislike people beating around the bush,” he explained as a hand rubbed confidently up and down Dean’s back.  “That being said, to begin with, when you said, ‘Castiel, I am scared to death but I’ve never wanted anything more.  Just wrap me up,’ I heard every single word, because whether you realized it or not, you prayed that to me.”

The span of seven-ish years prior flashed like a horror movie in Dean’s brain.

“Oh.  Fuck.”  

Dean once again buried his face in Castiel’s chest, wishing he was somewhere in Guam and nowhere near Las Vegas.

The angel laughed, raking his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“That doesn’t happen all that often, I can assure you.  Every time you have meant to pray to me, I hear it, word for word.  There are times when you don’t mean to pray, and I don’t even get words, just a feeling,” he explained, laying his head against Dean’s.

“For the longest time,” Castiel went on, “I felt the most intense longing emanating off of you.  This was when we first met.  For years, I had no idea what it was you wanted so badly.  Freedom?  Escape?  A long lost love?  I didn’t know, but your emotions were so strong it was impossible not to feel them.  Then, little by little, words would make their way to me through unintentional prayer.  ‘Cas,’ ‘please,’... ‘I need you’ was also there a lot.  Just a few years ago was when it occurred to me that the longing that was crushing you was directed to me. I would get other words or phrases as well, but without context, they made little sense.”

This was usually when Dean would start punching things, or deflecting, denying, and letting anger take over rational thought… but he couldn’t.  Wasn’t like Castiel was making it up.

“Well… you’re not wrong,” was all that Dean could manage weakly.  

“I didn’t know what to do,” Castiel said meekly, tightening his arms around Dean.  “What could I have done!  Had I confronted you that you had been unintentionally praying to me, wanting me… I felt I would have only been met with a fist, or anger, or you would have sent me away forever.”

Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Castiel, no matter the regret that was tearing its way through his heart.  Instead, he blindly reached out his left hand and began stroking the man’s face.  

“Still not wrong,” he said, disgusted with himself.  

“But tonight, Dean, it was like a knife ripping through me.  The want coursing through you was truly painful to me, your want, your need was so strong that I had to say something. I hadn’t felt such desire from you since we were in purgatory, or when I returned to you.  You were in so much pain, mentally at least.  I’ve said before we have a profound bond, and we do.  That’s how I knew, I knew it was directed at me, and I could help.  Dean, I have kept silent for so long, but I couldn’t do it anymore, not with how much you were aching.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all of this years ago, but I certainly hope you understand why.”

Dean’s chest tightened and his throat nearly constricted on itself twice.  

“Guess it’s my turn to hurt now,” he somehow managed to get out audibly, cramming his face into Castiel’s neck and holding onto the man for all he was worth.  “I’m sorry,” he said barely above a whisper.  

Castiel was right.  Dean knew he would have flown into a fit of blind rage had the angel ever brought this up before now, and he hated himself for it.  Truth hurts.  Sometimes it hurt physically.  

“I’m so sorry Cas.”

“No,’ Castiel said sternly.  “None of that,” he soothed as he brushed his fingers down the part of Dean’s face he could reach.  “The truth is out now, and this is no time to live in the past.  The only thing in the past is a rotten tangle of regret and what-ifs.  This is when we live in the present and move forward, as slowly as you want, but rest assured, I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean wiggled his way out of Castiel’s tight hold to prop himself up on an elbow, looking down on the man.  

“But you’re supercharged now, you’re back to your original badass self?  What about heaven?  What if they need something?”

Castiel smiled adoringly up at Dean as he ran his fingers along the man’s arm.  

“In all of our conversations this evening, I fear I have still left you unanswered on some issues, so I will give you more than one answer if that is alright, although I imagine the first is hopefully obvious at this point.”

“You do like breaking things up for clarity, so be my guest,” Dean said as he bopped his nose on Castiel’s chest.  

“You have told me so much, confided and affirmed so many things, yet I haven’t done the same for you,” Castiel said earnestly, gripping Dean’s shoulder.  “Even if you can’t give voice to it now, I know how you feel about me, and I swear to you on my life, it’s mutual.  It’s leagues beyond mutual.  I probably should have said that earlier to make you more comfortable, but decided to just begin with small touches instead.”

Dean thought Castiel looked adorably sheepish as he stared up at him.  He wanted to kiss him, but he was still overwhelmingly scared of everything, including his own shadow at this point, so that could come later.  

“Good to know, man,” Dean said, his voice shaking as the smile on his face refused to disappear.  

“As far as heaven is concerned, might I impart some of the great linguistics of Dean Winchester to make my point?”

Dean’s eyes widened to the point of bulging as his mouth gaped.

“If I thought I was scared before, I’m goddamn terrified now, but go ahead.”

“If heaven wants something from me, they can fuck off and suck twelve dicks.  If they ever attempt to contact me again, they’ll have to go through me, two Winchesters, and one Ms. Eileen Leahy.  I will even include the King of Hell and Rowena MacLeod - they owe me.  Unfortunately, I wouldn’t feel sorry for heaven at all should they choose that course of action.  I have never been happier than where I am right now, and if anyone tries to take this away from me, Chuck and Amara help them, which I don’t even think they would do,” Castiel proclaimed with the most stoic face Dean had ever seen.

“They can… fuck off… and…” Dean couldn’t even finish the sentence.  A raucous laughter overtook all his words as he collapsed onto Castiel’s chest, wheezing with hilarity.  

“I think I made my point,” Castiel said resolutely.  

“Yeah man, you did.  No doubt there,” Dean said as he leaned back up on his elbow to look at Castiel, patting his chest a few times.   

“So, uh…” Despite the much-needed moment of levity, Dean hadn’t stopped thinking about the information Castiel had just told him.  He was fully aware he’d had some… private moments thinking about the angel and wondered if he had inadvertently prayed anything… untoward.  “Just how often do you think I pray to you without knowing it?  I mean, times when maybe more than your name came out?  Or, I don’t know… like just how detailed were my prayers when I didn’t know I was doing… them…?”

Castiel answered Dean first with a mischievous grin, then spoke.  “As I told you before, it’s not all that often I get actual words during an unknowing prayer.  Sometimes, I’ll get a full sentence.  It’s mostly comprised of whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment.  It’s usually longing or need, something in that vicinity,” he finished with a wink.

Oh god he totally knows I’ve jerked off fantasizing about him somebody kill me.

“Okay, so they’re basically… cryptic.  Got it,” Dean said, his face flaming with embarrassment.  

“Sure, Dean,” Castiel said patronizingly, patting his arm a few times, “we’ll go with that.”

“Fucking hell just shoot me,” Dean lamented as he face planted onto Castiel’s chest.  

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Castiel said, chuckling.  “But to make you feel better about your current situation, I can’t hear your thoughts, I don’t read your mind, and I’m quite thankful you can do neither of those actions towards me when I too am behind closed doors.”

For about two seconds, Dean thought about demanding Castiel go back to his bed because he was about to be helpless to control his actions.  He didn’t, but he was grateful for the feeling anyway.  At least some of the fear was dissipating as it turned slowly to desire.  

“Good to know the feeling’s mutual,” Dean said, voice muffled in Castiel’s shirt.

“It is, I promise,” he assured, massaging his fingers into Dean’s back.  “Come here, scoot up on me, and get yourself comfortable.  This night has been… a lot to take in and process.”

“No shit,” Dean agreed, nestling himself closely against Castiel as he rested his head on his shoulder.  

“Rest now, let me hold you.  At some point during the night, I promise, I will do my best to find something utterly absurd for us to do with your poker winnings, sound good?”

“Sounds great.  Thanks, Cas.  Thanks for - everything,” Dean said as he hugged the man who was currently his pillow.

“It has been my pleasure.  Sleep well, Dean.”

***

Dean awoke to sunlight gently filtering in through the sheer curtains, noticing that the thick ones had been pulled back sometime earlier.  Scents of strong coffee and warm foods made their way to his senses, and that was what finally got him to open his eyes, finding Castiel sitting at the table reading something on his phone.  

Yesterday, during their trips to the buffets, Dean had offered to let Castiel try many different foods, which the angel did.  He said he found the texture of steak to be unappealing.  Dean had laughed at that.  Yeah, Jimmy was gone.  He’d enjoyed some of the green beans and a lot of the heartier breads, but that had been about it.  Dean vowed to try harder to find foods Castiel would delight in.  

At least Dean knew that Castiel relished his coffee, not that he had any effect on him, which was all the man had in front of him, occasionally sipping as he scrolled through his phone.  Dean watched him peacefully for a while, almost adoringly, even though he was dressed in a white shirt with a neon pink Flamingo plastered on the front of it.  Eh, at least it fit him well.  So did the dark jeans, from what he could tell.  Eventually, the smell of bacon spurred him into action.

“Mornin’ Cas,” Dean said as he sat up, relishing the feel of the full stretch his body took.

“Good morning, Dean.  I got you breakfast,” he said, squinting thoughtfully at the plate before he waved a hand over it.  “It’s hot again,” he said proudly.

Dean snickered as he made his way over to the table. “You’re pretty cool, you know that?”  He said, the last remnants of sleep still seeping through his voice as he sat down and reached out for the blessed mug of helpful black liquid.

“I have my moments,” he said, then let his gaze go back to his phone.  

“So what kind of trouble have you found for us to get into today?”  Dean asked, once most of his coffee and over half of his breakfast had been consumed.  It was only at that point he felt confident in his ability to form coherent sentences.  

Castiel looked up at him with mirth in his eyes.  “Well, I did find something.  I’m not sure how to explain it, or how you’ll receive it, but I have basically found $5000 worth of therapy for you.  Last night was incredibly intense - for both of us - and I think it would be in our best mental well-being if we were to blow off a little steam.”

Dean’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his mouth.  “You want me to spend $5000 on therapy?  Actually, that’s probably a deal.  Any doc worth his salt would start me off at the million mark.  Still - you what?”

“Yes.  Kind of.  I’d like to begin by saying this may seem overly masculine, and I’m not trying to compensate for anything or make you think you need to feel like more of a man based on what you admitted to me last night.  I give you my word, it’s nothing of the sort because it’s therapy.  Also, I know you Dean, and I’m confident you will enjoy this.”

“Ooookay,” he said after a beat, finally managing to sip his coffee.  “What is it?”

“Before I ask, I do remember your fear of flying, but I’m hoping that just applies to airplanes.  Does it?”

Being given only a small and extremely confusing amount of information should have left Dean irritated.  Instead, he couldn’t help the smile that was worming its way onto his face.  “Cas… what in the actual hell are you talking about?”

The angel took a deep breath.  “How would you feel about going into the desert, getting into an open-air A-Star helicopter, and shooting multiple automatic weapons out of it as we flew above the sand dunes?”

Dean couldn’t answer the question because he couldn’t speak.  For too long, he stared at the angel, probably grinning like a moronic child until he found his voice.

“Are you lying to me right now?  That’s your idea of $5000 therapy?”

“I’m not lying at all.  In fact, I’d like to get us the Ultimate Battle Buddy package so that we can do all of this together.  Included in that, we are allowed to shoot military-grade smoke grenades and they will take a picture of both of us in the Mojave Desert as smoke billows behind us while one of their A-Star helicopters flies above.” Castiel said happily.

Dean stood up carefully because if he didn’t, he was certain he’d fall over.  Slowly, he made his way to Castiel and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you telling me that you found a place that will take us up in a helicopter and let us shoot a shitload of automatic weapons into the mountains?”  Dean asked as he attempted not to hyperventilate.  

“Yes.  I believe they also have a tank.” Castiel responded calmly, a small smirk on his lips.

“Jesus fucking Christ you are PERFECT Castiel, do you hear me?  You are goddamn perfect!”  Dean boomed as he leaned down and wrapped up the angel in a bear hug.  “Holy shit I don’t even know if I’ll be able to handle this!”  He exclaimed as he started pacing around the room.  “Where the hell even is this place?”

It’s in Sandy Valley, roughly an hour south of here.  We will need to rent a car.  There are still spots for the Ultimate Battle Buddy package available at 1:00 this afternoon.  It’s not even 9:00 now, would you like for me to secure this time for us and place a deposit on Charlie’s card?”

“Hell yes, do it!”  Dean said, quickly dragging fresh clothes out of his duffle bag.  “Rent the craziest car you can find, too.  You’re driving, I know you got a good fake ID, yeah?”

“Oh, I do, not to worry.  Charlie’s legacy of forgery and amassing large sums of money that wasn’t hers will live on forever,” he reminisced.  

“Damn right it will.  I’m gonna take a quick shower and we can hit the road, get there a little early, sound good?”  Dean asked, nearly bouncing up and down.

“Sounds wonderful.  Enjoy your shower, I will find equally absurd transportation for us.”

***

There were a lot of things Dean couldn’t believe about this day as the pair cruised north up 191 on their return trip to Vegas.  Specifically, the things he couldn’t believe were all of them.  

To begin with, he hadn’t even been in the shower for sixty seconds when Castiel opened the door without even knocking to inform Dean that he should meet him outside the main lobby doors in an hour, then wished him a pleasant clean.

Much to his surprise, Dean didn’t mind the interruption.  He found it kind of sweet that Castiel felt so comfortable around him.  It wasn’t like the guy had stripped and gotten in the shower with him, it was a bit too soon for that.  

He’d taken his time getting ready, then grabbed his duffle bag and headed down to the gift shop.  Dean had no idea how long a day filled with gunship helicopters, automatic weapons, and possibly a tank would last, so he filled up on bottled water and protein bars, also grabbing a pair of sunglasses and a black baseball cap with a flamingo on it - because why the fuck not. 

Before he went to look for his travel companion, Dean swung by the cash exchange place and asked for $6000 after presenting his voucher.  He’d googled Gunship Helicopters before he’d left.  He knew Castiel had put down a deposit, and the place did take cash after that.  Besides, all he’d done to earn it was drink whiskey and beat other people at poker.   So he stuffed that in the duffle bag too.  

When he made his way outside the main entrance of their hotel, he leaned up against the wall and people-watched.  It was around 10:00, but that didn’t matter to Vegas.  He saw huge groups of people stumbling down the sidewalks, each one with a drink in their hand.  A few men wearing bedazzled Daisy Duke shorts passed him a while later.  He saw a lot of people in uniforms making their way to work mixed with entirely too many couples dressed up for their wedding day.  Vegas really didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of it, and Dean loved it more and more each moment he was there.  

A blond guy with artfully tousled hair who looked like he’d just stepped off a boat casually walked by, and Dean hadn’t even noticed he’d been checking him out until the man winked at him as he passed.

“Ah shit…” Dean muttered under his breath as he laughed to himself.  

A short while after Dean’s snafu, a low rumble caught Dean’s ear, so he turned his head to the right to see if he could find the car the beautiful sound came from.  Next thing he knew, a 1965 bright red Ford Mustang convertible pulled up right in front of him, driven by Castiel, who was now also wearing a pair of his own sunglasses.  

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said as he put the car in park.  “I thought about renting a brand new exotic car but imagined you would most likely kick me out of our hotel room.  This seemed like a much safer option, although I do apologize since it’s not a Chevrolet,” he said with a handsome grin playing on his lips.

Dean wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring at Castiel behind the wheel of the classic car but was brought back to the present when he noticed his mouth was starting to water.  He swallowed.

“Dean?”  Castiel purred, a particularly fiendish smile painted on his face.  “Is everything alright?”

“Rice-A-Roni,” Dean said quickly as he made his way to the passenger seat.  “Lawn care equipment,” he stated blandly, buckling himself into the beauty of a car.  “Penguins.”

Castiel’s brows pinched as he touched two fingers to Dean’s forehead.  “Well, you haven’t had a stroke, so what are you talking about?”

“Anything besides how goddamn hot you look in this car.  Something else to think about so I don’t pray something absolutely inappropriate to you mother of god you look good, fucking Christ, Cas…” he praised while readjusting himself slightly.

“So,” Castiel began as he put the car in drive and started their journey south, “my evil plan to weaken your defenses and crumble your resolve is working.  Wonderful.”

Dean smiled at the recent memory, looking over to the driver.  His hair was a disaster and he was still half covered in fine sand particles, but Dean only thought it made him even better looking.  

“How much extra you think the rental place is gonna charge you to get all the sand out of the car?”

Castiel waved his hand dismissively.  “What sand?”  He asked innocently, completely free of grit or grime.  So was Dean for that matter.  

“Way to save money,” Dean praised.

Saving money was not what they had done for the past four hours though - at all.  

Dean was equal parts excited and scared shitless when he saw the helicopters.  His fear of flying was alive and well, and only intensified during the safety briefing.  

“If you think for one second,” Castiel whispered, so close Dean could feel the slight brushes of his soft lips against his ear, “that I would ever let any harm come to you during a day of idiotic fun, then you would be wrong.  I will not let a single thing happen to you,” he finished, squeezing Dean’s knee.

“I know you won’t Cas,” Dean whispered back, not so subtly breathing the man in as he did, “doesn’t mean I’m not still scared.  I mean, I’m insanely excited, just a little - a lot - nervous.”

“Take a deep breath for me dear,” Castiel instructed.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the pet name but did as the angel had told him.  As he was slowly inhaling, he noticed Castiel move away from him to sit up straight as his hand landed casually on the back of Dean’s neck.  Next thing he knew, he felt a powerful surge of Grace flow through his body.  He was nearly flooded with it, which meant he didn’t have room for fear, which was now all but gone.

He exhaled slowly.  “Thanks, Cas.”

“Always.”

The next hour had been an absolute thrill ride of a blur, with over a thousand rounds of ammunition between him and Castiel.  The company had placed exploding targets throughout the mountains, and each time either man hit one they could feel the shock wave from their well-placed shot.  Dean was in absolute desert heaven with the M249 SAW - mostly because he got 500 rounds with it.  He wondered briefly if he could affix one to the top of Baby, but ultimately decided against it.  

When it was Castiel’s turn to man the machine gun, Dean was his biggest cheerleader, screaming and yelling his head off each time the angel hit his target - which was every single time.  There were a few moments Dean lost himself, looking at Castiel harnessed in tightly to the chopper, his hair a disaster as it blew in every single direction, some not controlled by the laws of gravity.  It was like time slowed down, the air got thicker, and even the blades of the craft they were on rotated slower when Dean just stopped to look at the man causing portions of a mountain to explode.  Yeah, he was a goner.

Back when they were on land, Dean and Castiel each got 90 rounds with an MP5 and two rounds a piece with a .50 caliber rifle, which almost caused an immediate onset orgasm.  

“Can he fire a shot from the tank?”  Castiel asked once they were headed to take their souvenir pictures.

Howie, their guide, and a man who looked like the Navy SEAL from a terrorist's worst nightmare, glanced down at his tablet, “sorry man,” he said honestly,  “that wasn’t part of your package.”

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars,” Dean said resolutely.

“Johnny I’m gonna need you to load a shell in the tank,” Howie yelled towards base camp.  

For obvious reasons, you weren’t allowed to fire the tank from inside, but you were allowed to fire it remotely by climbing on top of the M60A1 Battle Tank.  Before Dean made his way up there, Castiel leaned in close and lifted the right side of Dean’s protective ear covering.  

“I’ll heal any damage to your hearing after, but I’m going to give you just a bit of extra protection before you go up there.”  

Dean answered with a nod and by squeezing Castiel’s waist as he felt another round of Grace run through him.  

When Dean fired the shell from on top of the tank, he thought he’d triggered armageddon - again.  He’d thought every bone in his entire body had broken.  He briefly wondered if he was even still alive as he saw a portion of the mountain in front of him disintegrate.  He was scared to move for moments after he’d hit the button.

Castiel please bring me back if I just died, I’m not done with you yet.

Muffled whoops and hollers slowly made their way through Dean’s artillery-riddled brain, and when he turned around from his prone position atop the tank, he saw staff members and guests jumping up and down in victory.  

Cool, he was still alive.

He let himself cheer and yell as he climbed down from the tank and found Castiel, who gently removed his protective ear covering.  

“I haven’t even started with you, but it’s good to know we’re on the same page.  Shall we get our pictures taken now?”  Castiel asked smugly.  

The angel’s words were more shocking to Dean than a tank - which wasn’t all that surprising.  

Once the smoke had cleared from the pair firing grenade launchers, and the helicopter had landed, Howie encouraged the duo to pose for a few more shots.  He was truly a kind, knowledgable man, but Dean figured the thousand-dollar tip didn’t hurt either.  

Dean leaned himself against the chopper a few feet from Castiel for the picture.

“Oh come the fuck on,” Howie said, laughing as he lowered the camera, making his way to the customers.  

Dean didn’t know shit about cameras, but this one looked professional and was huge.  However, when it was held by their instructor, it may as well have been made by Mattel because it looked like a damn toy in Howie’s massive hands.  

“What?”  Dean said, honestly confused as he exchanged an equally baffled look with Castiel.  

“Listen, I’ve been with you two all day,  You ain’t gotta hide out here.  Our address may say Sandy Valley but this is Vegas baby.  Nobody gives a shit.  While dudes may not be my thing, if one person says anything to you, tell me about it.  I got a lot of guns and even more ammo. We don’t stand for that here.  Now, just pose like you fucking mean it, okay?” Howie asked sincerely.

“C’mere Cas,” Dean said, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck and pulling him close.  

One person.  Just one kind person was apparently all it took for Dean to lower his guard some while he was in public.  

“Happily,” he replied, wrapping a strong arm around Dean’s waist.  

“That’s the shit I wanna see!”  Howie said gleefully as he snapped picture after picture of the couple covered head to toe in gunshot residue and sand.  

Dean so desperately wanted to reach into the cardboard folder that was tucked securely underneath the passenger seat, but he was afraid all of the photographed memories would be whisked away into the desert if he did.  He’d wait until he and Castiel were safely back at the hotel, which wasn’t far.  The Vegas skyline was growing by the second as they got closer to their resting place for the evening.  

“Hey,” Dean began as Castiel continued to chew the road up, “why don’t you pick where I eat for dinner tonight?  I know you love coffee, and were okay with some vegetables, but you were able to put aside the molecules and taste food again, and you didn’t even have to be human!  I want you to find more things you like.”

Castiel turned his head for a moment to smile fondly at Dean, then placed his attention back on the road.  

“That sounds like fun.  I have this car for twenty-four hours, so I won’t need to return it this evening.  How about we valet this beautiful classic, then we wander about while I find somewhere for us to eat.  I will do my best to make it an adventure.”

“I should probably be scared right now.”

“Pfft,” Castiel snorted, taking Dean’s hand.  “Dean Winchester isn’t afraid of food.”

Dean cocked his head contemplatively, blissfully losing himself in the small touch he was afforded.  

“Good point.  Do your worst.”

***

“I cannot believe you got me to eat sushi,” Dean groaned as he stretched out lazily in the bed he shared again with Castiel.  

The angel had taken them to Ohjah Steakhouse, where he had his fill of sushi - most of which he enjoyed.  Dean, however, was much more fascinated with the Hibachi portion of the restaurant.  

“I can’t believe you liked some of it,” Castiel said jokingly as he absently stroked Dean’s arm.

“If you ever tell Sam…”

“Yes, yes… none of this ever happened,” the angel deadpanned.  

Dean thought about asking permission, but the more he ran the idea through his brain, the dumber it sounded.  Wasn’t like he was asking for a kidney or anything.  So after a brief internal struggle with himself, he rolled over and let himself get comfortable on Castiel’s right shoulder, wrapping a tentative arm around him as well.  

Castiel reciprocated with a warm embrace.  

“What would you like to do tomorrow, Dean?”

“Ugh,” Dean moaned, smashing his face into the side of Castiel’s neck.  “So I’ve been checking in on Sammy, he’s fine - trust me, he’s more than fine - so is Eileen,” he said in a mumbled tone, then pulled back a bit to be more understandable.  “But they’re like, long gone off the reservation good night right now.  Cas, man, I’ve had a blast with you, but I can’t help but think we got off too easy, that make sense?  I mean it just… ended.  Lucifer locked up, Chuck and Amara all happy, it’s over, and I’m just freaking the fuck out because nothing’s ever been that easy for me, you get that?”

“Unfortunately I do, yes,” he answered glumly as he ran his fingers through Dean’s short hair.

“We can come back here, or go anywhere we want to anytime, yeah?”

“Of course we can,” Castiel answered, a bit more happiness in his voice.

“Good.  We left so damn fast.  And I can’t ask Sam to turn around from wherever the hell he is, seeing how I’ve got the Cas Express to anywhere in the world.  Would it be okay if we went home tomorrow?  I know it sounds stupid, but can we go back for a little bit?  I don’t know… check the warding?  Check the news?  Fuck I don’t even know if we locked the doors - not that it matters, but you get it, yeah?”

“I get it,” he assured.

“I knew you would,” Dean said with a sigh, running his lips against the rough stubble of Castiel’s jaw, breathing him in to levels of near intoxication.  He enjoyed the prickly sensation of the man’s unshaven face mixed with the silky feeling of the soft hairs that tickled his nose just above Castiel’s ear.  He allowed himself to nuzzle in further, finding it difficult not to notice the angel’s hand tightening on his arm as he did.  

Dean decided he could either have a war with himself for the next five years or the next five seconds.  Choosing the path of expediency, the next time his lips touched Castiel’s temple, he didn’t simply give a light brush of them against the man’s skin, he kissed him, soft and nervously as he framed the right side of Castiel’s face with his hand.  Shockingly, it wasn’t shaking.  

He kissed him again, feather-light on his cheek, and once again at the corner of his lips.  He rubbed his nose against the angel’s as he centered himself, and before he lost his nerve, kissed him on the lips.  

Castiel’s pliant mouth responded instantly to Dean’s touch, kissing him back as he placed a confident hand on the back of Dean’s neck, causing the human to shudder in a very good way.  His breath hitched as he leaned down for another kiss, loving the supple feel of Castiel’s lips.  

Just one taste, a small taste.  

Carefully, Dean let his tongue run along Castiel’s bottom lip, hinting at a hopeful chance of entry.  The angel’s hand tightened at the back of Dean’s neck as Castiel let his tongue tangle with the Dean’s, pulling him in slowly for a kiss so deep Dean felt it in his toes.  

Dean didn’t know if warm sunshine had a taste, but if it did, it’d be Castiel.  He relished the feel of their spit-slicked lips as they glided together, loving it when his stubble brushed against the angel’s.  A thought made him gasp for breath as he broke the kiss off, leaning his forehead against Castiel’s cheek.  

“Are you alright?”  The angel asked sincerely as he stroked his fingers up and down Dean’s neck.

“Yeah,” Dean answered honestly, chuckling a little, “I am, just had a funny thought, that’s all.”

“What was it?”

Dean laughed again.  “I am definitely not straight.”

Castiel sighed, pulling Dean down into the crook of his neck as he held him close.  “This is very good news for me.”

***

When the pair arrived back in Lebanon, they’d scoured every inch of the bunker, which remained very well intact, warding sound.  Dean had reached out to every hunter he knew, and by all accounts everything was quiet.  One woman mentioned she was going after a vampire in Pennsylvania, but that was about it.  

Throughout their due diligence, Castiel had listened to Angel Radio.  By no means had he wanted to, but he suffered through it.  Lucifer was back in the cage, and Heaven seemed to be as normal as it could be.  

Dean had checked in with Sam when he was busying himself on the roof of the bunker - wardings went everywhere.  His younger brother was either going to a museum with Eileen or was going to dig up a grave with Eileen.  He wasn’t sure which would be first.  

Around 3:00, Dean had gone out to the store for ingredients to make chili, which he’d left melding in a crock pot until he’d gotten hungry.  Before that, he’d checked all of the herbs and reagents the bunker housed and cleaned everything he could get his hands on, including himself, and his room, which was where he was now, at 11:03 at night, staring at the candles on his desk.

They were nothing to write home about, just some bland, dark grey pillar candles.  When he’d gotten back from Vegas to unpack, he’d noticed them sitting there.  They had cobwebs on them, which may have been what kick-started him into cleaning the majority of the bunker.  He truly had no idea the last time he’d been in his room for more than five minutes - well, when he was conscious at least.  He vaguely remembered needing the candles for something spell related to use against The Darkness, but he was glad that story had a different ending now.  

He put his phone down and got up to light them because they were there, then shut off the bedside lamp and laid down again, watching the four flames flicker and illuminate the room.  

He’d told Castiel that he was going to chill out around 9:30 and hadn’t heard a peep from the angel since then.  What he really wanted to hear when he made his departure were his favorite words… I’ll go with you .

But the angel had simply wished him good night and ventured further into the depths of their home, saying that he would continue checking on the safety of all things magical.

Dean huffed out a sigh and got back up - again - walking over to the desk and pulling out the pictures from the Gunship Helicopters souvenir folder.  He smiled looking down at the two of them, an A-Star helicopter as their background.  He couldn’t remember ever looking happier, probably because he never had been.  He’d go out and buy a frame for their memories tomorrow.  

Trudging back to the bed, he landed with a thump in the middle as he pushed the heel of his hands into his eyes, groaning.  He’d been waffling for the better part of ninety minutes, debating whether or not to just go find Castiel and drag him into bed.  This was his own fault.  He knew, knew , without a doubt that the angel would want to, but nerves kept getting the better of him piling layer after layer of inaction on top of him until he could barely breathe anymore.  

“This is fucking stupid,” he lamented, slamming his hands on top of the mattress and taking a deep breath.  

“I pray to Castiel, whose exact location is currently unknown.  If you’re out flying and enjoying your new wings, then don’t worry about it.  But if you aren’t… if you’re still here… I, uh, kind of liked sleeping in the same bed as you.  Wouldn’t mind doing that again,” he said in a small voice, picking at a loose string at the bottom of his old sleep shirt.  “But you don’t have to.”

A smile formed on Dean’s face when he noticed that the glow from the candles was suddenly obstructed.  He looked up to see Castiel, dressed in a simple white v-neck t-shirt and a maroon pair of sleep pants.  

“Hey Cas,” he breathed out, already scooting over to make room for the angel.  

“Hello, Dean.”  

“You weren’t busy were you?  Did I take you away from flying?”

“Not at all,” Castiel said, sliding into bed underneath the covers.  

Dean stared at him as he got comfortable on his side, facing him, only faintly illuminated by the glow of nearly forgotten candles, which didn’t make his eyes any less blue, his lips any less plush, or his features any less striking.  He ran a hand through Castiel’s dark silky hair, not worried about messing it up - that ship had sailed and had no plans to ever make port.  The familiar sour ache in his gut returned not long after, reminding him unfavorably that he was still full of denial.

God, he was sick of himself, the only comfort being the soft strands of Castiel’s hair as he repeatedly stroked his fingers through it while the angel sighed contentedly.  Dean was frustrated with how scared he was, but was also glad seeing as how anger may just be the path to overwriting fear.  

“What do you want, Dean?”  Castiel asked directly as he placed a hand on Dean’s waist, slowly pushing the shirt up so he could stroke skin instead of fabric.

“You,” he answered with a sigh.  “I want you to just… take over, take charge, take…” Dean stopped talking when a moan threatened to escape.  Castiel was barely touching him, just the tips of his fingers dancing around his waist, but that minuscule motion was all it took to get Dean going.  Apparently, when you’ve been repressing feelings for your best friend for years, once you stop doing that, the only logical course of action forward is to dive head first into a sea of unrelenting and immediate arousal - from a few finger pads.  

“Dean,” Castiel said in a voice lower than normal, inching closer to the man, “I want you to want this as well.  If the only way you can do this is for me to instigate every action, I - I’m not comfortable with that.  Mostly because you aren’t at ease enough to do-”

“That’s, aaahh,” Dean interrupted, chuckling softly, “that’s not how I meant it,” he said, looking up into blue eyes that were only a couple of inches away.

“Oh.  Would you explain it to me?”  He inquired, his hand now flat against Dean’s back, squeezing slightly.

“You see…” Dean began, his breaths coming quicker and quicker as lust was swiftly beginning to overtake and demolish any other emotion in him - well, maybe except for boldness - which who the fuck knew where that one came from.  

“It’s not that I can’t start something, it’s that I don’t want to.  Every time I’ve thought about us together, all the times I’ve let it play out in my head,” he breathed out, letting his hand run down Castiel’s chest as a finger traced feather-light circles over a quickly hardening nipple, “you’re the one in charge, in control.  You’re the one who leads us. You’re the one…”

Dean took a moment to listen to how audible Castiel’s breaths had become, and it made his head spin.  He was happily shocked that giving voice to something he’d fantasized about for so long made his reluctance and hesitation nearly disappear.  He gave a gentle pinch to the nub in his fingers while placing a chaste kiss on Castiel’s lips.  

“You’re the one who’s always on top of me,” Dean whispered.  

Castiel quickly removed his hand from underneath Dean’s shirt and brought it to the back of his head, where he less than gently fisted the man’s hair and tilted his head back, exposing his neck.  

“Is that so?”  The angel queried as he ran his tongue from the base of Dean’s neck to his ear, pausing to nip at the lobe.

“Oh god - fuck!” Dean cried as Castiel began sucking on his neck, the slightest hint of teeth making their presence known.  “It’s so!”  He assured, digging his fingers into the angel’s back, “It’s really so.”

“Good,” Castiel said calmly, once he’d detached himself from Dean’s skin.  “I need you to promise me something,” he stated, putting a bit of distance between them.  

Dean met Castiel’s gaze, finding only a steely resolve in his blue eyes.  He was briefly taken aback by the determination facing him but softened when Castiel cupped the side of his face in a warm hand.  

“Okay, I promise.”

The angel laughed.  “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask.”

Dean stared off into space for a moment, trying not to concentrate on how painfully stiff his dick was.  

“What did you want me to promise?”  Dean asked, looking again into a sea of azure.

“That you’ll tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable, or if we go too fast, or if anything happens that you don’t want to,” Castiel said earnestly, stroking his thumb along Dean’s bottom lip.  

He thought about making a joke for a minute but stopped himself.  Castiel was being so true, so pure with him.  He couldn’t muddy that level of kindness.  

“I promise Cas,” he assured, kissing the man’s thumb.  

“Good.  Now, will you finish your sentence from earlier for me?”  

As soon as he’d asked the question, Castiel traced his hand from Dean’s neck down to his hip, which he grabbed onto hard, sliding the man closer into his body as he pulled him in for a kiss.  

Dean let out a muffled groan into Castiel’s mouth, mind going in too many directions at once.  Castiel had asked him… something, he didn’t know what, because the angel’s curious tongue was doing wonderful things against his own.  

The fact that both men were clad in thin cotton sleep pants was something that Dean both loved and hated.  The insubstantial material more than allowed him to finally feel Castiel’s hard length pressed against his own, which he loved.  It was exhilarating, knowing that the man in his bed was just as turned on as he was.  Each slow, deliberate thrust of his hips was freeing and sublime.  He yearned to push Castiel’s pants down, wrap a hand around him and map out every vein and soft, velvety detail of flesh that he could, but he’d wait.  Because that’s what he’d been doing for years, waiting.  No point in rushing it now.  

The part that Dean hated about the pajama pants was that they existed.

Yep, existential crisis over.

“Cas,” Dean panted as he began to push the man’s shirt up his lean body, “I know you asked me to do something earlier, but I have no idea what it was,” he admitted, running his hand across the smooth expanse of Castiel’s back.  

“Well,” Castiel purred, gently nipping Dean’s lower lip and then soothing the bite with his tongue, “I asked you what you wanted, and you told me that you wished for me to just take over, take charge, take… And that’s where you drifted off.  I’d like for you to finish that thought.”

As Dean stared at Castiel’s alluring face, he saw a mixture of warm sincerity, blazing hunger, and far more patience than Dean thought he held earlier as the angel waited for him to answer.  

“Take me ,” Dean husked out, now becoming almost angry with the fact Castiel still had his shirt on regardless of how much he tugged on the damn thing.  

Castiel smiled sweetly at Dean as he reached for the man’s hand, unfurling his tight fingers from around his top, and bringing them to his lips to kiss.  He traced his fingers gingerly up Dean’s arm to his right shoulder and slowly pushed the man from his side to his back.  

Dean watched in fascination as Castiel propped himself up and removed his shirt in one fluid movement.  Unable to help himself, he immediately reached out and ran a hand up Castiel’s chest, tracing the lines of his upper body now that he was finally without a top.  He played with the light smattering of chest hair, then reached higher and palmed the back of Castiel’s neck, lightly pulling him downwards.

Castiel yielded, leaning into Dean’s soft tug, and kissed the man briefly.  “I will take you,” he whispered close to Dean’s ear.  “I will take everything you’re willing to give me, and then I’ll take more if I think I can get away with it,” he said in a teasing, seductive tone of voice.

“Oh hell,” Dean moaned, watching Castiel rise above him, the candlelight illuminating every curve and hard shape on his upper body in a sheen of reverence.  He blinked a couple of times, trying to get his brain to form complete sentences while it was entirely too busy being clouded by the haze of arousal.  “Okay.  Yes.”  

Castiel smirked as he made a soft noise of contemplation, then leaned over the human confidently as he began to spread Dean’s leg apart, wide enough to comfortably fit an angel, which he proved a moment later when he made himself at home between them on his knees, resting back against his heels.  

Dean voiced a combination of a strangled groan and a partial sob as his eyes rolled back when Castiel spread him open.  Most unfortunately, all of his clothing remained on, hardly anything had happened yet, and he was still about to lose his damn mind.  When he opened his eyes, he was pleased to find Castiel still on the bed, looking at him with a curious expression.  Dean was worried the waves of desire crashing off of him may have knocked the angel to the floor.  

“Are you alright?”  Castiel asked, gently stroking the inside of Dean’s thighs.

Dean huffed out a nearly maniacal laugh, running his hands through his hair.  “I want you so fucking much I think I’m gonna explode.”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully.  “Does that mean I shouldn’t tease you?”  He asked coyly, running a palm up and down Dean’s erection.  

The angel’s hand was not small, but was strong and sure as he stroked Dean’s cock through his pants.  Devouring sensations made Dean want to close his eyes, but he kept them open as he watched the man continue to rub him.  Castiel’s own erection was tenting his pants to an almost comical level, but Dean noticed he paid it no attention, focusing all of his angelic energy on him instead.  

“You can do whatever you want to,” Dean said earnestly as his hips jerked upwards.   And he’d meant it, too.  Castiel was more than welcome to have his way with him, that’s how he’d always seen it play out.

“I believe that should start with the removal of your shirt,” he said as he leaned down, placing a kiss on the top of Dean’s covered dick.  

“Christ, Cas,” Dean moaned, once again pushing his fingers into Castiel’s thick mop of hair.  

The angel just huffed out a noise of amusement, then began kissing and licking his way up Dean’s chest, pushing his shirt up as he went.  Dean squirmed happily underneath Castiel as he stopped his ascent to focus intently on Dean’s nipple, sucking it into his mouth and biting it, before sucking on it again.  

“You feel good,” Dean whispered, hands clawing into Castiel’s back, causing the angel to shiver.  

“As do you,” Castiel said as he sat up, finally removing Dean’s shirt.  “If they were visible, you would have been grasping at the base of my wings, which felt remarkable,” he finished, once again resting back on his heels as he stroked Dean’s thighs.

Dean looked up at the bewitching man between his legs, a curious grin forming on his face as he asked, “is that so?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied somewhat quizzically with a slight tilt of his head.

“So make ‘em visible, Cas.”

Throughout all of Dean’s many fantasies, Castiel had never had wings.  But the second the opportunity presented itself, Dean couldn’t resist.  Just the thought of this inhuman being draped in a pair of wings was now officially the sexiest thing Dean could imagine, if it was even possible - and he really fucking hoped it was possible.

Castiel appeared as though he tried to hide a gasp.  Dean watched as a myriad of expressions crossed the angel’s face: disbelief, shock, brief confusion, and then, a mix of curiosity and happiness.  

“Are you sure?”

“You’re hot.  You’re like, the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, no bullshit.  But if I get to have you with wings ?  Goddamn, Cas, I may just come from looking at you,” he said confidently.

Innocent optimism morphed into a sensual leer on Castiel’s striking face, and then the next thing Dean knew, two massive, black wings sprouted from the angel’s back, each one at least five feet long.  Their appearance made the candle flames flicker, holding on to life for a brief second, but they all stayed lit.  

Dean was rendered speechless as he looked at the divine creature in front of him.  And he was, Castiel was an Angel of the Lord - who had wings.  From what he could see, the hundreds if not thousands of feathers ranged from no longer than his pinkie finger to over three feet, each one glistening like an oil spill in the candlelight.  He couldn’t even move, just lost in the celestial beauty still kneeling between his legs.  

“Dean?”  Castiel said, voice tinged with an air of reluctance.  

Dean smiled warmly up at Castiel, got himself into a sitting position as he placed a kiss on the man’s lips while stroking the side of his face, then slid off the bed, carefully avoiding the wings.  

“I need to know if I’m going to go back to hell if I touch your wings,” Dean said, his voice laced with levity.

Castiel laughed, which Dean was thankful for.  He knew he hadn’t said anything since Castiel had manifested his wings - and that was because he’d temporarily forgotten how to form words, not because he didn’t like the wings.

“I can assure you that you will not go back to hell,” Castiel said, smiling up at Dean.  

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he said as he looked at the shimmering wing in front of him.  Slowly, Dean raised a hand and let his fingers gently skim through a few feathers.

“Dear god Cas,” Dean blurted, quickly adding a second hand to his ministrations.  “It feels like I’m running my fingers through… through liquid almost.  I’ve never felt anything like this in my life,” he gushed, making his way to the tip of Castiel’s right wing as he moved to walk behind him.  

Dean felt like he was running his fingers through cold water charged with electricity, a feeling he wasn’t unfamiliar with.  It’s what he felt every time Castiel filled him with his Grace, only now, it had taken on a lush physical component, as if he were touching ethereal silk.  “You’re gorgeous,” Dean praised.

Castiel was still seated in the middle of the bed, his legs tucked underneath him as he sat on his feet, facing the headboard, and Dean was very clearly able to tell the angel was trembling slightly as he continued to run his fingers through the iridescent black feathers.  

“Cas,” Dean said in a hushed voice as he walked on his knees to come up behind the angel, running careful fingers down Castiel’s arms instead of his wings.  “Are you okay?  Is this okay?  Baby, you’re shaking,” Dean soothed, gently massaging the top of Castiel’s shoulders.

Dean watched Castiel’s head fall backward at his words, a noise of want and need clawing its way out of his throat.  “I’m fine, I am very fine,” he nearly growled.  “Please, keep touching me.”

That was an invitation you didn’t turn down.  Dean was fully aware that their dynamics had completely switched, but if the angel wanted something, he was damn well going to get it with a heavy dose of enthusiasm coming from the man behind him.  

“I never wanna stop,” Dean assured, leaning into the thin strip of visible flesh running down the middle of Castiel’s back between his wings, and began kissing up his spine while he raked his fingers through Castiel’s wings.

The noises Castiel was making coursed through every fiber of Dean as he dug his fingers in harder to feather and bone, kissing his way up the angel’s back.  His only regret was that he wanted to tell Castiel how much they were affecting him, but he was loath to remove his lips from the man’s hot skin so that he could speak.  

Or…

Castiel, do you have any idea how sexy you sound moaning my name?  Dean prayed as he licked a stripe from the top of Castiel’s spine to the nape of his neck.

“Oh fuck,” the angel bit out as he feverishly reached behind him to grab onto either side of Dean’s spread thighs, yanking him forward flush against his winged back.

Put me wherever you want me Cas.

The collision into the other man’s body caused Dean to shudder, his aching dick finally having something to rub against.  He wasted no time quickly repositioning his cock, then grinding against Castiel’s slippery back as he snaked an arm around his chest while his left hand still played among the feathers.  

Dean began to place sloppy kisses on top of Castiel’s shoulder as he kissed a path up his neck to the back of his ear while his right hand toyed with one of the angel’s nipples.  His smell was intoxicating on levels not of this planet, and Dean allowed himself to sink into it as he lapped and tasted Castiel, relishing as Castiel’s body moved gracefully against his own in pleased reciprocity.  

The more Dean allowed his cock to glide along Castiel’s slick flesh, the more he realized he had definitely missed a few things in the past five… ten minutes he’d been gorging himself on the taste and feel of the angel.  

“Hey, uh… Cas?”  Dean began, not fully stopping, but certainly slowing his actions.  “Can I ask a couple questions?”

“Of course,” the angel replied breathlessly, bringing Dean’s hand to his mouth as he kissed it.  

Dean knew they had both been wearing pants when this began and now they weren’t.  No complaints from him, but…

“Where’d you poof our pants to?”  He asked, lowering his head to rub against Castiel’s feathers.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said flippantly, still kissing Dean’s fingers.

“Fair enough,” Dean said, laughing.  “Second question, why is your back… lubed?  Not that I mind, fuck, not that I mind at all, but it seems like something I should know.”

“I have wings.  I also have oil glands.  They’re located at the base of each wing.  Since you’ve been grinding your lovely body against mine, more specifically the glands, they’ve become… stimulated and produce oil.  The oil keeps my feathers healthy.  It’s perfectly safe to touch, or taste…” he explained as he ran his tongue along Dean’s wrist.  

“Oh my fucking….” Dean panted out as he reclaimed his hand from Castiel.  All thought that wasn’t driven by pure carnal need fled from Dean’s brain like wildlife before a hurricane.  Dean leaned his head against Castiel’s back, his hands digging into the angel’s hips, and before he could think better of it, he ran curious and searching fingers up the angel’s muscled back until he found what he’d learned of earlier.  Two small mounds of flesh, that Dean began to slowly circle.  

“Dean!” The angel cried, clamping his hands around Dean’s knees as he threw his head back in ecstasy.

The pleasure Castiel was emitting coursed through every last one of Dean’s veins, crashing into him like a comet and making him an addict.    He wanted more, he wanted to drive Castiel to the brink of oblivion, to give him everything he craved.  For too long the angel had felt nothing but pain and loss after ever crippling loss.  So had Dean, for that matter.  It was time to stack the other side of the column.  Life was too short for unsaid words and actions that only remained thoughts.  Now was the time for Dean to lay all his cards on the table.  

“I want to make you feel good every day for the rest of my life, Angel,” Dean promised.  

With quick, measured, and gentle movements, Dean drug one oil-slicked hand through Castiel’s wing as he let his right arm maneuver around the front of Castiel’s body as he began effortlessly gliding his naturally lubed hand up and down the angel’s thick, heavy cock.  

“I’ll let you,” Castiel assured in a breathy whisper.

Currently, and for the first time in his life, Dean had a dick in his hand - well, a dick that wasn’t his own, but a dick that pulsed with every upstroke and throbbed as he tightened his downstroke.  His hand was so slick that he could barely tell the difference between the wing oil and Castiel’s precome, but it was there when he swirled his thumb around the angel’s fat cockhead, warm and leaking as he ran the tip of the digit through the slit at the top, squeezing gently.  He was enraptured in bliss, mentally and physically as he fisted Castiel’s cock over and over, only chastizing himself for not doing it sooner.  

Dean wanted to kiss Castiel’s lips when he heard him choke out a sob of pleasure, but given the fact he was still behind him, he settled for pressing his lips to anywhere he could reach.  Feathers, bone, the angel’s beautifully smooth skin, he wasn’t picky.  He wasn’t fast either.  Not when he ground his dick against Castiel’s back, nor when he stroked him.  He was in absolutely no way ready for this evening to be brought to a conclusion, no matter how fantastic he knew it would be.  

He was, however, slightly surprised he was still on the bed and not laying unconscious, crumpled in a corner.  Castiel’s wings were… powerful.  Ever since Dean had crawled behind him, they had shaken, trembled, flapped violently, stretched to the ceiling, and drooped bonelessly to the floor.  Yet Dean was still here.  He wouldn’t have even cared if a wing had hurled him off the bed, he was just glad their span didn’t reach the candles on the desk, that miraculously remained lit.  

Dean felt a gentle hand wrap around the one he was lovingly stroking his angel with.  He didn’t stop, mostly because he thought it was hot as hell, but he did notice Castiel was slowing them down, so he matched his own motions in kind.

“Do you remember the promise you made to me?”  Castiel purred out in a near unnaturally low tone of voice, bringing both of their hands to an eventual halt.  

“Yes,” Dean answered immediately, his voice partially caught in his throat.

“Good.  Please return before me,” he kindly instructed as he removed both of their hands from his painfully hard erection.  “Lie comfortably on your back.  I want to see you.  I want to touch you, preferably before I combust.”

Dean sucked in a shaky breath as he nodded into a delightfully fluffy group of feathers. Extricating himself from the mess of sweat and otherworldly oils, Dean did manage to get to his feet, actually walk, and somehow by miracle make his way back onto the bed as he lay back and presented himself for Castiel.  A part of him told him that he should be ashamed of the display he was making, but Dean mentally punched that weaker, lesser, insignificant part and only spread himself wider, nestling into the pillows behind him.   Years of fantasies and quick jerkoffs in the showers weren’t for nothing when he already knew what he wanted.  

Castiel rose from where he rested on his feet and got to his knees as his body and wings luxuriated in a full stretch.  Each bone within his skin and every bone housed within feathers lengthened and pulled, unfolding in harmony and preparation as the angel looked down at Dean, with so much more than lust in his deep blue eyes.  It was almost more than he could handle, but Dean didn’t dare pull his gaze away from the man looming above him.  

In a state of sober drunkenness, Dean watched as Castiel drew his arms behind him to the location Dean got quite familiar with earlier - his oil glands.  The angel bit back a groan as Dean saw him press into his back releasing the heavenly substance.

Dean bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the unflattering noises that were sure to come tumbling out of him, but released it moments later, letting the audible desire float across the room.  He had loved when Castiel had been vocal, and he certainly wouldn’t deny him the same.

When the angel lowered himself again, he wasted no time clutching to the back of Dean’s right knee, spreading his legs open further, as his free hand began a feather-light massage of his well-displayed balls.  

Dean allowed his head to drop languidly to the bed as he shut his eyes, relishing in the gentle pulls and tugs on his sack.  Castiel had gotten so much oil on his hands Dean could feel it dripping the way gravity intended and in the direction he craved, channeled perfectly through his crack and over his hole.  His hands were fisting the disheveled comforter on the bed until he realized the sensation of soft feathers stroking his arms and chest.  

When he opened his eyes, Castiel seemed washed away in pleasure as he concentrated fiercely on fondling the man while he allowed his wings to caress the parts of Dean’s body that his hands currently couldn’t.  

The ache clawing its way through Dean kept making its presence louder and more known, and he was on the verge of begging when he opened his legs even wider, unable to suppress the moan that escaped him.  

Castiel looked up at Dean and smirked, slotted his wings behind both of Dean’s knees and with their assistance, pushed Dean’s legs back, allowing the angel to lean down some as he began to circle Dean’s hole with still nearly dripping slick fingers.

“This is mine, Dean.  If you want to make me feel good for the rest of your life, then all of you belongs to me.  I get to touch every inch of you and leave you trembling with pleasure.  I get to show you how much you mean to me every single day I have you, which will be all of the days.  Does this arrangement work for you?”

“Yes,” Dean vocalized roughly as the nerve endings around his sensitive flesh exploded in sensation as Castiel continued rubbing his entrance firmly.  He wasn’t sure which feeling was stronger, the physical one, or the mental picture of forever Castiel just painted in his mind.  “Yes Cas, please.  I’m yours, you’re mine, I want us together, I want you so holy fucking what the hell?!”  Dean gasped, shocked that he could as he felt his entire breath being ripped out of him.  

Dean had been filled with Castiel’s Grace so many times he’d lost count, but never like that.  Never had he felt the cool intent languidly, searchingly run through his channel, pausing briefly to glide over his prostate as it went.  

He looked up at the angel in awe, utterly gobsmacked by bliss.  

“I come with perks,” he said devilishly as he effortlessly slid two fingers inside of Dean’s body.

“Fuck yes you do,” Dean replied, unable to help it as he ground his hips down on Castiel’s fingers, instantly wanting more of a feeling he’d never experienced.  It was a foreign sensation, but just about the furthest thing from unpleasant Dean could imagine.  He continued thrusting his hips as Castiel stretched him open, the other man sometimes changing his tactics to draw small circles with his fingers inside, making sure to get every inch of tender flesh on each pass.    

“How does this feel, Dean?”  Castiel asked as he wrapped his free hand around Dean’s dick and began languidly stroking him.  

“So fucking good,” Dean panted.  “So full, add another,” he said, still pleased he could form words with how dry his mouth was.  

When Castiel added a third finger, Dean thought he’d momentarily gone blind when the angel pushed against his prostate, white stars filled his vision as his body jerked, then stiffened with a feeling so intense, so vivid and sharply pleasurable that he almost didn’t notice he’d been screaming.  

Once he could see clearly again, Dean looked up at the angel who appeared transfixed with all the reactions Dean was giving him.  And he wanted to give him more, everything, including his body so Castiel would feel as good as he was.  

“Cas, please, c’mon,” he said, completely unable to keep the whine out of his voice as he pawed desperately at Castiel’s wings, urging him closer as he pulled himself up in a crunch, looking into the angel’s deep cerulean eyes.  “Want your cock, want you to fuck me.”

Actions he’d fantasized about hundreds of times but only given voice to once were incredibly liberating once they were out.  He couldn’t help but smile at the utterly pole-axed look on Castiel’s face, the angel staring at him blankly for a moment before Dean saw his eyes begin to glow an icy blue.  

Dean leaned back onto the pillows.  “Is that good?  Is that a good glow?  Or are you about to smite me?”

Castiel smiled as he gently removed his fingers from Dean, which the human hated.  He clenched around nothing and couldn’t stand how empty he felt.  

“It’s a good glow,” the angel assured, straightening up as he reached his right hand behind him to gather more oil.  “It’s a very good glow.”

Bringing his lubed hand around, Dean watched slack-jawed as Castiel coated his impressive shaft with slow pulls.  “If you wanted to do that a couple more times,” Dean said, licking his lips, “that’d be fine, that’d be more than fine.  That is so fucking hot oh my god,” he gushed, unable not to give his own dick a few leisurely strokes.  

“Hmmm…” Castiel hummed thoughtfully, giving Dean what he wanted as he pondered.  “You’re right, this is very arousing,” he began, hungrily watching the man below him.  “What would you think about the next time we’re together, we just watch each other jerk off.  I think that could be quite rewarding.”

Dean attempted to speak, made an unintelligible sputtering noise, bit his lip, and clamped his hand around the base of his cock.  Then he took a few calming breaths.  “Get down here right now before you kill me.”

Still using his wings to keep Dean’s legs spread wide, Castiel leaned down and circled the head of his cock around Dean’s entrance.

“Please,” Dean whispered, kissing the top of the angel’s forehead as he forced his excited body to relax some, but he was so amped up he could barely contain himself.  For years, he’d only known this as wrong, but now that he was finally here, it felt like where he always should have been.  Underneath his angel.  

Dean gasped when Castiel’s bulbous head breached him, his senses flooded with pressure, pleasure, and even a bit of pain as he was stretched beyond what three fingers had given him earlier.  “Oh fuck don’t stop,” he pleaded when he sensed Castiel tense, nails digging into whatever he could reach, Castiel’s back, his wings, part of a bedspread, anything.  

“I won’t.  You’ll have all of me soon.”  The angel slowly obliged, peppering Dean’s face with kisses as he inched himself in deeper.  

Dean was reeling with the sensation of being stretched so wide, the pressure was almost too much for him to handle that he nearly missed a small burst of Castiel’s grace easing the angel’s entry, but he still wanted more.  When Castiel’s thick cock brushed against his prostate, Dean cried out and threw his head back, unable to control the lower half of his body as it slammed down the rest of Castiel’s length, swallowing him whole.  

“Dean, are you okay?”  Castiel asked in a rough, gravelly tone.  

The angel caressed the side of his face so lovingly as he looked down, worry written all over him as his eyes still shimmered with Grace.  The only thing Dean could feel was a pleasure he’d never known in his entire life.  He shamelessly ground his ass on Castiel’s cock, relishing in each new sensation he felt as he pulled the man to his lips and kissed him senselessly.  

He happily let Castiel devour him, let his tongue dance forcefully in his mouth, let the angel pull his hair to angle his neck exactly as he wanted it while sucking bruises into his skin.  He’d let him do anything.  When Castiel pulled out some, then reentered his body with a tentative thrust, Dean was hooked.  

“Fuck do that again, but do it harder, and do it again,” he groaned, looking into the angel’s eyes like he was the most perfect being on earth.  And as far as Dean was concerned, he was.  

As Castiel pushed himself up, he leered down at Dean as he ran his hands over his chest.  His wings shivered, still supporting Dean’s legs while holding him wide.  Castiel roughly grabbed Dean’s ass to reposition his hips, pulled his cock out almost all the way, then slammed back into him.  

“Cas!”  Dean yelled, shocked he had breath left at all after the hit on his prostate sent aftershocks coursing through his entire body.  

“Is that what you wanted my beautiful man?”  Castiel asked teasingly as he trailed his hands down Dean’s inner thighs now that he had him where he wanted him.  

“Yes, yes!  God, you feel amazing.  Just fuck me into the mattress.  Fuck me into next week, just fuck–”

Dean’s sentence died on his tongue and was replaced by bellowing animalistic noises as Castiel gave him everything he wanted.  

“Take,” Dean breathed out sometime later as he ran his hands up and down Castiel’s chest.  The angel was consuming him entirely and Dean wanted nothing more than to let him.  To greedily allow this man pounding into his body to use him entirely for his own pleasure.  He yearned to make him feel so free, so good, that nothing else mattered except for the two of them.  

“Oh I am,” Castiel replied, still relentlessly driving into him.  “You feel divine,” he enthused.  

Dean smiled at the comment, thinking it should be the other way around when he felt a distant sensation low in his gut.  It began much like the familiar feeling of a faraway sneeze on the edge of his periphery, a gentle tug, the faintest of pulls was beginning to make itself known within his body.  His breath hitched, preparing for something deep within his body to be unleashed, but it wasn’t close enough to catch yet.  Right now it was a desperate match barely clinging to life, but soon it would be destructive, forcing itself from his body in a backdraft.  

“Cas… Cas… oh god Castiel,” Dean whined, unable to keep the words from spilling out of his mouth as he grabbed onto thick, dark wings.  “Cas, please baby, oh fuck…”

The small match had now turned into a roaring fire, blazing and churning inside him, and he chased the flames every time Castiel pistoned into his body.  

“Do you want me to touch you, or do you want to come on my cock?”  The angel asked, choking out the words hoarsely, sounding just as wrecked as Dean.

“Ah fuck I”m so close, wanna come on your cock, fuck me harder Angel, please… please, god I’m close, Castiel, please…”

With a movement too fast for Dean to process, the wings behind Dean’s legs were replaced with Castiel’s hands, allowing his wings to spread proudly across most of the room as they scraped across the ceiling.  Dean noticed the angel change the angle of his legs, pounding into him harder, and that was when a hundred gallons of gasoline got added to the fire inside him.  

Dean screamed as he came, voice ripping out of his throat as rope after thick white rope of come splashed across his stomach.  His world turned to blackness momentarily as he clawed at Castiel’s arms, lost in the pleasure that kept crashing into him, wave after wave of unrelenting climax.    

When he finally managed to blink himself to clarity, he looked up at the angel who appeared near immolation.  His wings were shaking uncontrollably and he looked like he was imparting the entire heavenly host to keep himself in check, still pushing his dick in and out of Dean’s body with force.  

“Let go, sweetheart,” Dean said weakly as he turned his vice-like fingers into a loving embrace, stroking them up to Castiel’s shoulders. 

“Dean,” Castiel said desperately as he looked at him like he was the most precious gift he’d ever received.  “I –”

Whatever he was about to say was stolen, brazenly taken away from him as Dean felt the angel’s orgasm pump hotly into his body as a primal noise tore from Castiel’s throat.  The force from Castiel’s wings knocked things off Dean’s dresser that was clear across the other side of the room, not even close to his wings, but the air current created in their wake should have probably knocked a damn wall down.  Dean didn’t even know how he was still alive, other than the sweet, tender knowledge that his angel would never let harm come to him.  

His bedside table was listing toward the door at an interesting angle, most of its contents probably in Nebraska.  Shockingly, the lamp remained intact and confusingly had stayed on top.  

Somehow, there was one candle still lit.  

Dean looked up at the angel and melted, smiling like an absolute fool.  

“Oh Dean,” Castiel breathed out as he lowered himself to the man below him, cradling his face in his hands before kissing him repeatedly.   

He kissed the angel back like he was losing him forever, but wanted to impart every single bit of emotion he could in the kiss.  Dean tried to wrap him up in an embrace but found it nearly impossible with his gigantic wings in his way.

“I don’t know what to do with my arms,” Dean said, laughing a little.

“This should make things easier,” Castiel said as he stroked a hand down Dean’s cheek while making his wings disappear in an instant.  “Don’t worry, I’ll bring them back whenever you want them.”

Not only were the wings gone, but so was the ethereal glow in his eyes.

“Good to know,” Dean said, happy he was able to pull Castiel into an embrace, stroking his hands down the man’s solid back.  

Dean couldn’t even remotely hold back the groan of wicked stimulation when Castiel eased his softening cock from his body, nor did he try to.  

“Did I hurt you?”  Castiel asked easily, rubbing his cheek against Dean’s before kissing him for the hundredth time.  

“No Cas, you were perfect,” Dean replied.  

Castiel hummed happily as he let himself relax against Dean’s body, his legs still spread for him.  

“But did I hurt you?”  Dean inquired.  He looked around the bed, barely able to see a damn thing since only one brave candle remained, but could still clearly see stunning black feathers strewn all over the place.  “There are a lot of feathers here.”

Castiel made a grunt of unimportance as he nuzzled into Dean’s neck.  “If they came out, they needed to anyway.  Just makes room for new growth.  If you’d like, you can help me groom my wings tomorrow, I feel like they will need it.” 

“Oh god,” Dean sighed pleasurably, raking his fingers through Castiel’s hair, “count me in.  Although I wish I could see a little better, gather up the feathers on the bed.  I’d kinda like to save them.  They’re a part of you.  Don’t want to let them go.”

Castiel raised his head lethargically, but the look on his face nearly broke Dean.  It was love, it was pure unadulterated love, and he didn’t know what to do faced with so much adoration.  

“My sweet man, if you want, you will have me forever.  You don’t have to let anything go, I’ll never leave you.”

Willing himself not to start bawling like a child, Dean took a deep breath and leaned forward to kiss the angel gently.  “Don’t go, never go.  This is your home, and I want you here.  I just want… you. You’re my Cas.”

That was about all Dean could get out without completely breaking down.

“Then here is where I will stay, remaining forever your Cas,” Castiel promised happily.  “Now…” Castiel began, rolling slightly to one side as he propped himself up on an elbow, “if you want to see how many feathers are on the bed, I can certainly help with that,” he said with a wink, smiling handsomely at Dean.  

The angel effortlessly waved his hand toward the lamp on the bedside table that was barely clinging to life.  Dean smiled, knowing that everything askew would right itself instantly.  

Instead, the lamp that held on in critical condition was flung violently across the room and slammed into the bedroom door, shattering into pieces as it flatlined.  

“Fuck,” Castiel grumped.

There were no words.  Dean simply jerked up, wheezing, and dissolved into a fit of laughter.  He wondered how much more his body could take as his stomach seized in hilarity, but he truly didn’t care that much.  Right now his body was wrecked due to pleasure, comfort, kindness, and one of the funniest things he’d witnessed in over a decade.  Nothing this good and needed would kill him.  

But the glowering look on Castiel’s face might.  

“Oh god you are the best,” Dean said between hard-fought breaths, placing kisses wherever he could.  Castiel’s lips, his eyelids, a shoulder, part of an ear, burying his lips on top of a mop of hair - he didn’t care.  “You are the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me in my life , Castiel.  I never want to be without you.  That being said… There is truly no other reaction I could have had, okay?  That was some of the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.  But since you, well… missed - are you feeling alright?  You’re good, right Cas?  Please be good,” he begged, moderate desperation seeping out of his voice.  

Dean immediately stopped laughing when he thought there may be something else going on with Castiel other than being in a sex hangover.  

“Dean, it’s nothing bad,” Castiel said, finally smiling instead of appearing murderous.  “I’m just…. Spent.  In the best possible way.  I will put your room back in order, but I should probably give it a few hours, else a chair may become permanently joined with the kitchen island.”

“Our room,” Dean said without hesitation as he pulled the angel into his arms.  “I know you have a room, but I don’t want you to stay there.  I mean, I know you don’t sleep, but if you want to ever rest, I’d like for it to be here.”

Castiel lifted his head from Dean’s chest to look at him purposefully.  “I’d like that very much.”

“Good,” Dean said, placing a kiss on the top of his head, “then it’s done.  Oh…” he began as he felt his cheeks begin to heat, “I should probably be honest with you about what happened when I was with Chuck and Amara a few days ago.”

“If I wasn’t so comfortable,” Castiel said, his head already nuzzling into Dean’s chest, “I’d lean back up to glower at you again, but I’m in a wonderful spot at the moment, so just imagine me looking displeased,” he finished, stroking his fingers along Dean’s arm.

“Okay, you’re looking at me all smite-a-bitch like, got it,” Dean said laughing as he absently played with Castiel’s hair.  “It’s not bad, promise.  So - once Chuck and Amara were all good, Amara said she wanted to give me the thing I needed the most.  Hell, even Chuck agreed with her when I had no idea what they were talking about.  I thought it was getting Lucifer back in the cage, which they did.  I thanked her and asked if they could send me back home.  She said she hadn’t given it to me yet, you know… the thing I needed, but that’s what she did when she sent me to the bunker….” 

“I don’t think I understand, Dean,” Castiel said softly.  

“When I returned here, I realized she’d sent me straight to your room.  You’re what I needed the most, even God and his sister knew it.  I knew it too, have for years,” he lamented, wiping a hand over his face, “was just too scared to do anything about it.”

At that, Castiel did raise to look at Dean.  “Well, now that you have me, what are you going to do with me?”

“Keep you,” Dean said earnestly as he leaned forward to kiss Castiel on the forehead.

“You know that both ways, right?”

“It damn well better.”

***

A week or so later…

Castiel had made his way to the kitchen when he heard Sam and Eileen begin to make breakfast.  The couple had returned home last night when he and Dean had been snuggled on the sofa watching a movie.

As was customary in the bunker, anytime the door opened, the arriving guests were greeted with weapons shoved in their faces.  This time was no different when Dean and Castiel bolted from the sofa to “greet” Sam and Eileen.

Excited welcomes and hugs were exchanged, then everyone went their separate ways, finally going to sleep together under the same exceedingly large roof.  

As Castiel leaned against the counter, still clad in his pajamas, he listened to Sam and Eileen tell him all about their travels and hunts.  He was polite and did his best to smile, making small talk here and there, but worry coursed through him as he sipped his coffee from the black mug with a flamingo on it.  

Much as he tried to quash all of his ill-at-ease thoughts, he knew Dean was still… well, Dean.  The newly arrived couple had been exhausted when they’d returned, so they’d barely talked for five minutes before crashing.  

Castiel’s mind went back over the past week and it filled him with warmth.  Dean had been insatiable, completely unable to keep his hands off of him.  He’d told Castiel the sweetest, most intimate, loving things he’d ever heard, and then five minutes later was begging the angel to fuck him against a bookshelf - which of course he did.  

They hadn’t even left the bunker.  Should they look for a hunt?

Hilarious.

No.  

Dean had blissfully overloaded the angel with affection and loving touches every chance he got. He’d dragged him into the shower after his workouts then dropped to his knees to pleasure him. They’d brought blankets and pillows to the roof to watch the stars and talk about everything and nothing at all.  

Dean had spent hours grooming Castiel’s wings as they shared an icy bucket filled with beer in the garage, praising his beauty through each feather stroke.  

But now they weren’t alone, and he had no idea what Dean would be like when he got up, which was now, he sensed.  

The angel poured a second cup of coffee into a white mug with two flamingos on it, their necks forming into the shape of a heart, for Dean.  

He cursed himself internally for using that particular one, but that was the same one Dean had insisted on using since they had returned from Vegas.  Blessedly, neither Sam nor Eileen commented on it.  Still, he sat it off to the side away from their line of sight now that it was filled with steaming, caffeinated goodness, and leaned back against the counter.  

Several minutes later, Castiel watched as a groggy Dean ambled into the lowly lit kitchen.  He sat his coffee mug next to Dean’s and attempted to be normal.  

“Good morning Dean, how did youppphhmmmm…”

Castiel melted as Dean threw his arms around his neck, kissing him soundly as he instinctively grabbed the man’s waist to pull him closer as their tongues tangled together.  

“Uhhh, yeah Dean, good morning,” Sam finally said, much later.  

Castiel watched as Dean pulled away from him slowly, then turned to look at a stunned Sam and Eileen.  

Dean either huffed a laugh, a grunt, or a mixture of both towards the couple.  Castiel wasn’t able to properly identify the inflection of the noise, which he didn’t like.  He should be fluent in Dean by this time.  

Dean saw his coffee cup, gave a fraction of a smile as he scooped it up, then leaned his back into Castiel’s chest.  

The angel sighed in relief as he once again wrapped his arms around Dean, who did not give three-quarters of a fuck what anyone else thought.  Castiel kissed the back of his neck, causing Dean to hum happily as he enjoyed his first sip of coffee.  

“Go, go now,” Eileen said and signed adamantly to Sam.

“Uh… where am I going?”

“To get your wallet,” she threatened.  “You know why.”

Sam stood up wordlessly and sulked out of the room.  

Dean waited until Eileen was looking at him before he said, “I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s damn good to have you back.  God, I love seeing him get bossed around.”

Castiel signed as he could, being wrapped around Dean and all, refusing to give up the embrace.  

“And I’ll never stop,” she confirmed.

“That’s my girl,” Dean said, laughing.  

Dean leaned his head back against Castiel and the angel sighed like it was the first time he’d ever felt Dean’s ease against him.  He always would, he’d never get tired of it.  

When the sound of moose clomps echoed back towards the kitchen, Dean lifted his head to have more coffee, happily content to remain in Castiel’s arms.  

Sam tossed down what looked to be a lot of money directly in front of Eileen, flipped her off, then sat back down.  

“Oh I’m awake now, and I think it’s story time,” Dean said alertly as he had a huge gulp of coffee.  

“This idiot,” Eileen began, “said it’d be months before you two finally got together.  I said a week.  Tops.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know exactly when it happened,” Sam argued as he signed angrily.  “They’re clearly together now but what happened if it took longer than a week?  Huh?  You gonna give me the money back?”

Dean leaned forward a little so he could look over his shoulder at Castiel, then winked.  

The angel smiled.  

“Dean invited me to sleep in his bed the first night we were in Vegas.  You can keep the money, Eileen.”

Eileen preened as she began to count the haphazardly strewn twenties.  

“I can’t believe this!” Sam yelled.  “There’s no fucking way, NO way you got your head out of your ass in forty-eight hours.  What in the actual hell happened to make you finally get your act together?”

Dean shrugged and kissed Castiel.  “Divine intervention?”