gripped you tight

8/3/2019 Gripped You Tight

1/35

~Gripped you tight~

Rating: NC-17

Beta: asher_k

Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam, mentions of Alistair

Word count: ~13 000

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

Warnings: Torture, hell, schmoopy ending

Spoilers: 4.01 spoilers, goes AR after that

Summary: Castiel just wanted to help with the dreams...

A/N: Written for spn_reversebang, forthisart promt by ladyamarra. Isn't it gorgeous?
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Castiel

Castiel remembered Hell. How could he not? He was an angel; every single second he spent

down there was as clear to him as the present. He recalled just how long it had taken to fight

through the hordes of demons. Exactly how many of his brothers and sisters had fallen at his

side. Precisely how it felt to have a demon blade slice through his form, the wound just short of

fatal. How useless he had felt for the hours, years, seconds it took him to heal.

He remembered it all, but some things stood out more than others. They shouldnt have, but

they did. Like the first few seconds after he had broken through that last line of demons. How

the soul before him had recoiled from his light. How it had blinked incorporeal eyes at him

and tentatively approached. How it had reached out a bloodstained hand, its fingers brushing

through Castiel. For a second, they had been one being, light and soul blended, the emotions

overwhelming, and Castiel had panicked, gripped the soul as hard as he could as he fled, all the

while feeling its wonder, fear, relief, shame, hope.

Castiel remembered his shame upon realizing that hed branded the soul in his haste. He

remembered how he had tried his best, how he just hadnt been able to stop the mark on the soul

from transferring to its body. The relief he had felt when Dean Winchester had drawn his first

breath had had nothing to do with a job well done, and everything to do with no longer feeling all

the intense emotions of the soul within the man.

Castiel had tried talking to him. It was his mission, after all, to let Dean Winchester know the

plans they had for him. But Dean had fallen to the floor, his hands clutched over his ears. Castiel

wondered how this could be the Righteous Man if he could not hear the voice of an angel. Hehad tried again with the same result, and he wondered at that. Wondered why he was so insistent

on trying to talk to Dean in his true form when he obviously couldnt handle it.

They had met, and Castiel had ignored the stab of doubt he felt coming from Dean when he told

him who he was. It must have been just a lingering effect of having almost scorched his soul

with grace; it would wear off. And if he was more attuned to the way Dean Winchester thought

than he had ever been to any other being, then that was just a coincidence. Nothing to dwell on.

You dont think you deserve to be saved.

It wasnt until later that he wondered just how he had known that. Or why it bothered him so

much.


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Dean

Dean had no idea what he was supposed to do with Castiel. He would show up out of nowhere,

tell Dean what to do, insult Sam, stare at Dean with some strange look in his eyes, and then

disappear without warning. It was annoying as fuck. It wasnt like Dean didnt have enough to

worry about without some freaky angel following him around and acting weird.

Dean suspected he was going crazy, too. Because even when Castiel obviously wasnt there,

even when he said he was going off to do something important and angel-y, even then, Dean

could swear he felt him watching. Dean would usually trust his instincts on the matter and

confront the guy, but there was just something about Castiel that made him hesitate. Besides,

Deans instincts had been less than reliable since his return from Hell.

Dude, Sam said, poking at the leftover pizza they were eating for lunch. Is it just me, or is the

angel acting weird?

The angels always acting weird, Sam, hes an angel, Dean retorted. It shouldnt have bothered

him to know that Sam thought Castiel was weird. Castiel was weird. It was his thing.

Yeah, OK, true, Sam said, leaning back in his chair. But, I mean, isnt it weird how, I dont

know,focusedhe is on you?

Dean shrugged, ignoring the small, fluttery feeling in his belly. Stupid pizza.

What do I know? Maybe thats normal angel behaviour, or maybe its just because Im Godschosen butt monkey. I try not to dwell.

Sam snorted and changed the subject, asking Dean what he had gotten out of their witness. He

hadnt gotten much and they fell silent, leaving Dean with way too much time to think about

what Sam had said. Theyd only known Castiel for a few weeks, and the guy had spent half

that time trying to intimidate Dean, but still. For some stupid reason, Dean liked him. A little.

He should give him a nicknameCastiel was way too long and sounded a bit too dickish for

Deans liking.

Castiel

There was something wrong. This wasnt how it was supposed to work. All Castiel was

supposed to do was set Dean on the right path and step back to watch. Instead, he found himself

appearing at the mans side without any conscious thought, doing his best not to look startled

when Dean jumped in shock every time. It would be amusing if Castiel had a sense of humor,


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which he wasnt supposed to have. Still. It was a little funny. And disturbing, of course, because

it wasnt supposed to happen. Disturbing, but funny.

Dean Winchester had been back from hell for three weeks when he first called Castiel by his

new nickname. Cas, he said, and Castiel tilted his head at him, tried to understand the pleasant

sensation rushing through him. It was closely followed by what could only be Deans sense of

pleasure, which was something new. Castiel felt something else, then, that he knew was his own

emotion, even if hed never felt it before. If he had to name it, he would call it affection.

~~

Dean was having a nightmare. Castiel knew he was; as soon as it started, hefeltit. Without a

thought, he rushed to Deans side; he might be in danger, and Castiel had to protect the Chosen

One, after all.

Instead, he found Dean in bed, his face buried in his pillow as his hands gripped the sheets with

white-knuckled force. It took Castiel a second to understand, and when he did, he frowned. He

felt Deans fear, his self-loathing, as if it was his own; it was hard to think about anything but

stopping it.

Without a glance at the other bed, where Sam was no doubt sleeping obliviously, Castiel knelt

down beside Dean. He placed his hand on the back of Deans head, letting his grace sweep along

the edges of his mind, soothing him. Dean loosened his grip on the sheets, turned his head into a

more relaxed position, and slept on, the dream forgotten.

Castiels relief was instantaneous, but he was quickly gripped with dread. What was happening

to him? Why was he feeling this? What was it about this man that affected him so?

He kept guard over Deans dreams for the rest of the night.

Dean

This case is fucked up, Dean muttered, glaring down at the book in front of him.

I know, Dean, Sam said patiently. Dean could hear the worry in his voice, like he thought

Dean was going to break down before they could get the job done. Who knew, maybe he would.

Stop looking at me like that, Dean said without looking up. Sam huffed a breath.

You sure you dont want me to handle this one, Dean? he asked, and Dean tried his best to roll

his eyes in annoyance. It came out more pathetic than he would have liked.


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What, and leave you to face this thing by yourself? I dont think so, Sammy.

I could call Bobby, Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

Ill be fine, Sam.

Sam didnt seem convinced, but Dean didnt look up, and Sam decided not to press it.

~~

Dean wished hed let Sam handle this one alone. He really, really did.

It wasnt just the blood. He was used to blood, his own and others. And it wasnt the smell.

Smells, he could handle. It was the knowledge that it might as well have been him doing allthose awful things to those people. It might have been him who tortured that woman to insanity,

who peeled off that mans skin until he died from the shock of it. And the worst part was that he

would have enjoyed it. Hell, he would have laughed at their pain, revelled in it.

Dean stumbled out of the room, throwing up outside in a way he hadnt done since he was

thirteen, laying his eyes on his first werewolf victim. Sam didnt follow; he had to make sure the

thing was dead, and all Dean could do was kneel on the gravel and retch.

CastielCastiel came to hate Deans nightmares. They made him feel too much, too many things that

he had no experience handling. He didnt know how to feel guilt rushing through him without

staggering to his knees from the sheer force of it. He had no idea how to stop his tears from

flowing when loneliness filled him. Not to mention shame, self loathing, rage, the suffocating

feeling of dread.

When Dean was awake, his walls were up, he was on guard; Castiel had a better chance of

deflecting his emotions then, of making sure they didnt affect him in any visible way. But

Deans dreams were no-holds-barred torture.

He stopped trying to figure out why he felt everything Dean felt. He accepted it in a way that

should have worried him, but didnt. In fact, he had come to enjoy some of it, like the affection

flowing from Dean when he teased his brother, or the tired contentment after a job well done.

The occasions for this were few and far between, of course, but Castiel enjoyed them every


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chance he got. He found himself drawn to Deans side more and more often, increasingly

voluntarily, just to try to make him feel any of these things, to try to lighten his heart even just a

little.

This nightmare, though. This nightmare wasso much worse than all the previous ones. It wasnt

just the emotions coming at him, or the fact that he was wrenched to Deans side faster and more

forcefully than hed ever been before. No, it was the images. The images flowing straight from

Deans brain into Castiels mind.

Castiel knew what Dean had done in hellit was the reason hed been sent to rescue him, after

allbut knowing what he had done and seeing it through Deans eyes were two completely

different things. He was on his knees before he knew it, clutching at air, a broken sound escaping

his lips as he saw Dean slide a razor sharp knife through muscle and sinew, only to pull it out

again and cut patters into skin with the tip, almost like he was doing an idle doodle. He felt

Deans terror mixed with delight, his gut-wrenching shame, his anguish at the knowledge that

this was absolutely real. That there was no escape.

Before he could think about it, Castiel had flung himself into the dream.

Dean

Dean should have known that there was no escape. How could he have thought that some angel

would come to take him away from this? This was all there was. Blood, and delicious pain.

Forever.

Even as some part of him wanted to die, to stop, something, most of him was focused on figuring

out how to deliver the maximum amount of pain to his victim, how to make the whimpering man

before him scream. Maybe... He reached for the white hot poker he knew would appear as soon

as he wanted it.

The smell of sizzling flesh and the sound of anguished screams filled Deans head, drowning

out any doubts he might have had. It still wasnt enough, though; he needed something more.

Something deeper. Reaching out again, he tried to think of an appropriate tool.

He was stopped by a hand on his arm. He fully expected it to be Alistair; Alistair always arrived

with helpful suggestions at times like these, like he could feel Deans hesitation. Instead, Deans

eyes landed on a familiar face, on a furrowed brow and pinched lips.

Cas? he said, voice a hoarse whisper. He dropped the poker as his hand started to shake.


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What was Cas doing there? Deans mind began to spin, and his eyes locked with Castiels.

Castiel stared at him, his own eyes unreadable, and Deans mind slowly, slowly came back to

itself, drew away from the high hed been on, and he started to think.

This was a dream. Probably. Castiel in Hell might make a certain amount of sensehed rescued

Dean, after allbut Castiel in Hell wearing a trench coat sure didnt. Dean was one hundred

percent sure that Cas hadnt been wearing a holy tax accountant when hed pulled Dean out of

the pit. So. Dream.

Castiel finally spoke, his voice further pulling Dean away from the power of the dream, of his

own memories.

Dean, he said, and for the first time since they had first met in the barn, Dean was sure he

detected an emotion in Castiels voice. Something almost hurt, but also sympathetic, and Dean

flinched. He didnt want anyone to see him like this.

Dean, Castiel said again, his voice softer, a little bit more gentle. I came to help.

Help? Dean asked, forcing himself to keep his eyes on Castiel and not to look at his hands

which were sticky with blood, or at their surroundings. He wasnt sure what he would see if he

tried the latterwhen he was in Hell, hed never bothered with anything more than what was

right in front of him, be it his tormentor of the day or a new victimbut he didnt much feel like

finding out.

Yes, Castiel replied, seemingly surprised by his own words. I want to help, he said as thoughhe was trying the phrase out.

Great, Dean said, trying for cheerful and failing miserably. His hands were still dripping, but

he could no longer hear the man hed been torturing. How did you plan on doing that, exactly?

Castiel looked at him, his eyes unreadable and a small frown between his brows, before he

reached out with two fingers the way he did when he wanted to do something angel-y and weird

to Dean.

Woah, Dean said, dodging the fingers. What are you doing?

Helping, Castiel said impatiently. Trust me, Dean.

And the funny thing was, he did trust Cas. He had no idea why, or when it had happened, but he

trusted him. He nodded.


8/35

Castiels fingers felt real against his forehead, dry and warm, and Dean closed his eyes at the

disoriented feeling he always got when Castiel did this. When he opened them again, they were

standing on a pier, looking out over a calm, sun-drenched ocean. Dean blinked, trying to figure

out where they were.

This is still a dream, right? he asked, and Castiel nodded, looking out over the ocean.

I thought it a suitable location to spend the rest of your sleep. Do you agree? he asked, turning

his gaze on Dean as though he actually cared what his answer was.

Dean didnt answer right away. He looked down at his hands, which were clean, and then out

over the ocean, at the gulls floating in the breeze, at the sun glinting on the water.

Yeah, Cas, he said at last, smiling at the angel. Its perfect.

Castiel

After that, Castiel always saw what Dean was dreaming about; he wished he could do more,

because Dean dreamt of Hell almost every night. As much as the emotions assailing him

bothered Castiel, they were no longer the reason he hated the dreams. He wanted Dean to

be happy. If he could, he would have taken all those feeling into himself to keep them from

torturing Dean.

He couldnt, though, and it frustrated him. He tried to find new ways of making Dean forgetabout Hell for a while. He acted deliberately naive about even the most basic of human tasks,

making Dean laugh as he tried to explain the function of a cassette tape. The sound of his

laughter lightened Castiels heart just as much as Deans amusement running through him did.

As time passed, the nightmares became less frequent, only plaguing Dean every other night, and

Castiel found himself a party to new kinds of dreams as Deans mind slowly, slowly began to

heal.

The new dreams could be confusing, or entertaining, or embarrassing, but Castiel couldnt block

any of them out. He began to wonder if he was destined to live with this mans dreams for the

rest of Deans mortal life.

Dean

Dean had some issues. He knew that. He was fucked in the head in more ways than one. Didnt


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mean he had any reason to have this particular dream.

He knew it was a dream, in that way you sometimes do in dreams. He knew it, but he couldnt do

anything about it. Part of him didnt even want to, and that was just fucked up.

It had started innocently enough: He had been in a kitchen, looking for a beer. At least, he

thought it had started there; in dreams, it was hard to tell. Hed been searching for a beer for

quite some time; he was sure hed find one soon if the fridge would just stop moving. Then, all

of a sudden, Cas was there to help him look.

It felt natural to have Cas help him, so Dean didnt question it. The search for beer would be so

much easier with two people. Well, one person and one angel.

It hadnt been like the time Cas had rescued him from the Hell dream, though. This Cas wasnt

the real Cas. Dean didnt know how he knew that, but he did. He was absolutely sure. So when

Cas turned to him and put a hand on his chest, his first thought was The real Cas would never

do something like this. He didnt know why the thought made him sad, but he ignored it and

decided to see what dream-Cas would do next.

Dream-Cas let his hand slowly move up Deans chest until it reached the naked skin of his neck,

fingers rasping against the stubble on his chin; Dean shivered. The real Cas would never touch

him like this, would never look at him the way dream-Cas was. This was the only opportunity he

would ever have to experience anything like this, so he took it.

The funny thing was, until a few minutes before, he hadnt even known he wanted it.

Castiel

Castiel was confused, to say the least. So far, none of Deans dreams had been sexual in nature,

for which Castiel was thankful. He wasnt sure what he could expect from such an experience,

but he was sure he would have felt guilty spying on such a private moment, no matter how little

control he had over it.

This, though. He didnt know what to do with this.

As always, hed been pulled to Deans side. He wasnt sure why he bothered to stay away

anymore; there was nothing for him to do anywhere else. If not for the fact that Dean and Sam

seemed to get confused when he stayed with them for more than a few hours, he would never

leave. The other angels had long ago stopped trying to pull him away; he was an outcast, a freak

who cared too much about his charge, and he couldnt even find it in himself to care. Not when it


10/35

meant more time with Dean. Not when he could see just how emotionless his brothers and sisters

were compared to humans. How lifeless they seemed.

When he wasnt with the Winchesters, he contemplated his new situation, wondering if it was

Gods plan for him. That thought alone was blasphemous, but Castiel felt he had to ask: Had

God wanted him to be the one to rescue Dean from Hell? Was it Gods plan for Castiel to have

branded Dean as he had when he started slipping away from the only life he had ever known?

If it was Gods plan, what was Castiel supposed to do about it? Was he supposed to go along, or

was it a test? He didnt find any answers, but he knew he couldnt leave Dean. Not anymore.

As soon as he arrived at Deans side, he knew this was a different kind of dream from the

rest. The images he received from Deans mind made little sense at first, but the emotions

accompanying them were clear to him: Dean was aroused. Aroused and sad, a combination

which made little sense to Castiel, but there was no time to dwell on it before the images began

assaulting him in earnest.

Dean was naked, leaning against what looked like a kitchen counter, his hands braced behind

himself and his eyes locked on the man before him. His pupils were blown wide with lust, his

chest flushed and heaving. It took Castiel a second to recognize the other man as himself; he was

distracted by Deans low groan and the way he bit his lip.

The Castiel that wasnt him was on his knees, his hands gripping Deans hips firmly and

his mouth wrapped around Dean cock. His eyes were locked with Deans, a look of wanton

determination on his face. Dean let out another sound, moving one of his hands to dream-Castiels head and running his fingers through his hair.

Thats it, Cas, Dean groaned. Just like that.

The wave of pleasure and want that surged through Castiel at the sight had nothing at all to do

with what Dean was feeling; he found himself unable to look away as dream-Castiel took a little

more of Dean into his mouth, Deans eyes closing as his head fell back.

God, Cas, he moaned.

The heat in Dean was building, reaching towards something, and all Castiel could do was follow.

Feeling his body react, his mind was overwhelmed with new pleasure, his breath coming in short

puffs as his hands curled into fists without any conscious thought.

Cas, Im gonna... Dean began, his hips stuttering; dream-Castiel sucked harder, one hand

sneaking down to cup Deans balls.


11/35

The pleasure exploded, and for awhile, all Castiel was aware of was the connection he had to

Dean, the waves of ecstasy flowing through him. Hed never felt anything like it, and he wished

it could go on forever.

It didnt, of course, and as he came down from the high, gasping and shaking, he saw Dean look

up, his pupils still blown. Their eyes met. Castiel felt Deans panic, and before he knew it, Dean

woke up.

Dean

Dean woke with a gasp, momentarily unsure why he was feeling such immense dread; it hit him

suddenly. Shit fuck motherfucker! He sat bolt upright, grimacing at the sticky wetness soaking

through his boxers and wildly gripping at the covers to make sure it wasnt showing, even

though the room was dark and Sam was sound asleep.

Dean, came Castiels voice from somewhere to the right of his bed. Dean startled and swore.

Dammit, Cas! he hissed, shooting a glance at Sams sleeping form before trying to make out

the angel.

He ignored the churning in his gut, the dread coursing through him. It had just been a dream,

nothing more. Just a dream that he never needed to think about again.

What the hell are you doing here? he asked, his mind leaping back to the dream. Hed beensosure that hed seen the real Castiel there for just a second, just as he had before in the dream

about Hell. God, he hoped that wasnt the case.

I... Castiel hesitated. Dean didnt like that; it was never a good sign.

Look. Dean interrupted whatever Castiel had been about to say, suddenly feeling crowded,

cornered. I don't know what you want, but could it wait 'til morning? I need to sleep.

Castiel was silent, and Dean wished he could see his face. Not that it would have helped much;

the guy had the best poker face Dean had ever seen.

I saw, Dean, he said at last, quiet, like he was unsure whether he should say it or not.

Dean really wished he'd gone with or not. He gripped the covers harder, his gut clenching,

disgusted with himself for landing in that situation. How the hell could he have even dreamed


12/35

about Castiel like that? Cas was an angel. A male fucking angelof the fuckingLord, and Dean

had just dreamed about him sucking his cock.Fuck.

Dean, don't Castiel began, stepping closer, his voice too loud in the small room.

Sam snuffled into his pillow; they both froze as he shifted and burrowed further under the

covers.

Cas, Dean said. His voice was colder than he'd intended, butfuckdid he want out of this

conversation. Leave me alone. Don't spy on my fucking dreams, don't think you know what the

hell goes on in my head. Just...leave.

Dean kept his eyes trained on a spot on the dark wall opposite the bed, willing Castiel to do as

he was told for once. He wasn't going to talk about this tonight. He wasn't going to talk about it

ever, if he could help it. It would be better for everyone. It wasn't like Dean really wanted what

Cas might think he wanted, so there was no need for anyone to tell him he couldn't have it. No

need at all.

~~

Dean didn't see Castiel for a whole week after that. He'd expected it, of coursewho could

blame him? Dean wouldn't have wanted to see himself either, if their roles were reversed. That

didn't stop Dean from cringing at the memory of the dream, or the fact that Cas had seen him like

that; had seen himself as Dean dreamed about him.

That was another thing that Dean didn't want to think about: the guy part. The few times he had

let himself go there, all he could think was: What the everloving fuck? It never went much further

than that.

On the third day after the dream-stalking incident, Dean got stupidly drunk and tried to be honest

with himself. Unfortunately, Sam was there to bear witness to it.

So, Dean slurred, poking at the last remaining french fry on his plate with his plastic

fork. You can't really control what you dream about, right? he asked it. He heard Sam snort

from somewhere over by the other bed. Sam wasn't drunk. That was a shame; drunk Sam was

much more fun than research nerd Sam.

I mean, he continued, trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. It's just your

brain, right? And your brain does stupid shit without asking you all the time.

Dean, how many shots have you had? Sam asked, sounding amused.


13/35


14/35

OK, Sam said at last. Youre not gay. Sure. Theres nothing wrong with being gay, you

know.

Oh God, Sammy, Dean groaned. Were not gonna have this talk. I dont need you to hold my

hand and tell me its OK to be different. Im just not gay. I dont swing that way. Guys dont do

it for me. Other people can be gay all they want, but Im not. If I was, shouldnt I have known

about it sooner?

God, someone shut me up! Dean thought, even as his mouth kept talking.

I mean, you dont just wake up in the middle of the night and realize youre gay! Thats not

how it works!

Sam was still looking at him with that calculating expression, like he was trying to figure out just

what Dean was thinking.

Cas usually looked at him like that when he said something particularly human and weird.

Stop looking at me like that!

Dean, Sam began. You know I wouldnt treat you any differently if you were gay, right?

Dean groaned and hid his face in his hands.

Sammy, he said, the word barely comprehensible. Shut the fuck up.

Dean couldfeelSams bitch face, but his brother didnt speak again, and after a few seconds, he

heard the laptop booting up again.

~~

Dean woke up the next morning with a splitting head ache and a mouth that tasted fuzzy and

rank. He lay in bed for a few moments, letting his miserable mood sink in. He remembered

exactly what hed said to Sam the night before. He wished hed drunk more just so he could have

forgotten the whole conversation, even as his stomach heaved at the thought. What the hell had

he been thinking?

After a shower that felt like sweet bliss and three cups of coffee, Dean felt a bit more human, but

he still found himself eyeing the whiskey bottle standing on his bedside table, just waiting for

him. He could feel Sams concerned gaze on his back. Ignoring him, Dean grabbed the bottle. He


15/35

was pretty sure that if anyone had the right to a shot of whiskey at ten in the morning, it was him.

~~

It had been four days since Dean had last seen Cas. Not that Dean was counting or anything, but

he was starting to feel a little worried that Cas might be in trouble and they wouldnt even know

about it. Then he thought about seeing Cas again now that Cas... knew. Well, he didnt know,

because there was nothing to know, but still. Awkward and shit.

It was really for the best that Cas didnt show up. Really.

~~

By the sixth day, Dean was pissed. What the hell kind of right did that freaky angel bastard have

to go snooping around in his dreams anyway? Sure, Dean might have had an inappropriate dream

about the guy, but that didnt give him the right to pull some sort of breaking and entering stunt

on Deans mind. No right at all.

Sam shot Dean a look when he came out of the tiny bathroom, rolled his eyes, and muttered

something about getting them breakfast. He was out the door so fast Dean was sure hed

developed super powers, and Dean was left alone in the stinky motel room theyd rented for the

week.

He glared at the ugly ass wallpapera brown and grey flower patternand slumped down on

his bed, doing his best not to think. The flaw in that plan, though, was that there was absolutelynothing to do butthink. Deans mind wandered, trying to ignore the foul mood hed found

himself in, but his thoughts always came back to the same thing.

Cas being in his dreams pissed him off.

Castiel

Castiel wasnt sure where to go. He could feel Deans anger and shame like something physical

in his stomach, and he wanted to ease it, but he was sure that trying to talk to Dean would only

make things worse. He wasnt sure if the self-disgust he felt was Deans or his own; all he knew

was that he wished it would stop. He wished he could do as Dean had asked and stay out of

Deans dreams.

Seven days passed before Castiel was yanked to Deans side again. This time, he fought against

it as hard as he could, tried to stay where he was, tried to ignore the terror emanating from Dean.

Castiel had no right to feel these things, had no right to invade Deans mind.


16/35

It was futile, of course, and as soon as he appeared in the room, Castiel noted the way Sam had

pulled a pillow over his head in his sleep, like he was unconsciously trying to drown out the

noises Dean was making. Castiel was sure that if Sam had been conscious, he would have woken

his brother up; Dean sounded like he was dying. Like he was in Hell.

Castiel shuddered at the gut-wrenching fear coming off of Dean. He had to do something. He

couldnt let Dean suffer like this. It didnt matter if Dean hated him in the morning; he had to

help him.

Dean

The pain wasnt the worst part, even if it was so unbearable it made him scream; nor was it the

darkness around him, or the silence, or the sound of his screaming and his tormentors laughter.

No, it was the despair. The despair that seeped through him, the knowledge that if he didnt givein, this would be his existence forever. There would be no end, no pause, no hope. Just this, for

all of eternity.

The demon in front of him, one of Alistairs lackeys, grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Dean.

I think weve had enough blood for one day, dont you? he asked, licking his index finger

ecstatically. Deans blood painted the demons tongue red. Yes, he continued. I think its time

for something more...abstract.

That was all the warning Dean got before he woke up on a dirty kitchen floor, dressed in hisfavorite clothes with the scent of apple pie in the air. He looked around, trying to figure out

where he was, and realized he was in Bobbys kitchen. He was on his feet at once, walking into

the living room and trying to get his bearings.

He froze in the doorway.

Sam was killing Bobby. Slowly, with care, like he was enjoying it. In Bobbys living room.

Hey, Dean, Sam said, looking up.

Blood was splattered over Sams face. Bobbys blood. But what made Dean feel like vomiting

was the happy, innocent look on Sams face. Like he was glad to see Dean. Like he wasnt

slowly carving Bobby up right there on the hardwood floor.

Dean tried to scream, but all that came out was a gasp; Sam lurched forward, like hed been


17/35

struck. The blood pooling on the floor turned to flames, and a woman started screaming from

somewhere to Deans right. Dean watched, helpless, immobile, as Sam burned.

That was when Castiel showed up. Dean didnt question it, didnt think, just threw himself at

Cas, gripped his trench coat like his life depended on it.

Cas, he said, his voice no more than a croak, a broken, wavering sound. Cas, make it stop.

Castiel nodded; the screams stopped, the smell of burning flesh disappeared, and only the bile in

Deans throat remained. The bile, and the excruciating images seared into his mind. Dean could

hear himself, a mantra of oh God, oh God, no, oh God, but he couldnt seem to make it stop.

Dean, he head Castiel say, and he found himself pressed against the angel, still holding his

lapels in a death grip, his face pressed into Castiels shoulder as he tried to breathe. Dean, it was

a dream.

Yeah, Dean croaked. Yeah, I know. Shit, I know. Oh God.

Its over now, Dean, Castiel said, his voice far more gentle than Dean would have expected.

Dean tried to pull himself together, tried to tell himself that nothing hed seen was real, that

it was just memories, but it didnt seem to help. Then he felt Cas pull him in tighter, his arms

winding their way around his back, and it was a sign of just how shaken Dean was that he

relaxed into the embrace.

They stood there for a long time, Dean trying to get his breathing under control as Castiel stroked

soothing patterns on his back.

Would you like to wake up, or should I make up a happier dream? Castiel asked after what felt

like ages, when Deans breathing was back to normal and only the occasional shudder rocked his

body.

Dean drew back and Castiel let him go, dropping his arms back to his sides. Dean tried to not

think about how he felt the loss of warmth even there, in a dream.

I think... he started, his shock making it hard to think. I think Id like to wake up. I have to see

Sammy.

Castiel nodded and touched his forehead with two fingers.


18/35

Castiel

Castiel watched Dean wake up gasping, his eyes immediately seeking Sam out in the other bed;

the tension in his shoulders only relaxed when Sam made a snuffling sound and turned onto his

side. Dean turned to Castiel and looked him straight in the eye.

Thanks, Cas, he whispered, and for a moment, the gratitude rolling off of Dean was

overwhelming. Castiel could only nod. Im sorry I was such an asshole before, Dean

continued, looking down at the bed covers.

You have nothing to apologize for, Dean, Castiel said at once. I had no right to enter your

dreams.

Dean looked up again.

Yeah, about that. Why are you in my dreams all the time?

For a second, Castiel wasnt sure how to answer. He hesitated, but found no reason not to tell

Dean the truth.

I cant seem to control it, he confessed.

Huh?

Sam made another snuffling sound, like he was displeased with even the small amount of noise

they were making. Dean shot him a glance and got out of bed. Cmon, I feel like driving, hesaid as he pulled on a pair of jeans.

Dean grabbed his jacked and keys and wrote Sam a note before he opened the door silently.

Castiel followed him out into the chilly air, carefully closing the door behind them.

I wasnt sure you knew how to do that, Dean said when Castiel turned around.

Do what?

Close a door. Youre always using your mojo, I wasnt sure you even knew what a door handle

was for. Dean smirk told Castiel he was joking, even as Deans emotions continued to roil

under the surface. Castiel smiled a small smile. It felt foreign on his face, but it seemed to please

Dean, so he made a note to try it more often.

They were silent as they got into the car, as Dean started the engine, and as he pulled out of the


19/35

parking lot. Then Dean spoke again.

What do you mean, you cant control it?

I seem to be pulled to your side as soon as you have an intense dream of any kind, Castiel said,

trying to make it sound unimportant. Like Dean shouldnt worry about it.

Dean had too much to worry about already, too much weight on his shoulders.

What? Why? Dean asked, taking his eyes off the road to look at Castiel.

I dont know, Castiel said. I only know that it happens. I...

Castiel wasnt sure he should confess to Dean, wasnt sure what Deans reaction would be, but

hed had enough of secrets and trying to figure this out on his own.

I can feel your emotions. Castiel didnt look at Dean, instead choosing to look out the

windshield. Someone should keep an eye on the road, after all; Dean wasnt going to right then.

Castiel could feel him staring at the side of his face.

What do you mean, you can feel my emotions? Dean asked, his voice strained. Castiel could

feel his disbelief and confusion.

I mean I feel what you feel. All the time. I can usually block it out, but when you dream, I am

helpless to its sheer force.

I... What? Dean seemed to be struggling, his eyes still on Castiels face.

Perhaps you should stop the car, Castiel suggested, and after a few seconds, Dean pulled off

the road and onto the shoulder. The silence when he turned the engine off was deafening.

How long? Dean asked at last.

As long as Ive known you. At first it was just flashes, moments when I knew what you were

feeling, but now... Now its all the time.

Castiel looked over at Dean, their confusion mixing and making him want to hold onto

something. As he and Dean stared at each other, neither knowing what to say, Castiel realized

just how much he cared for this human. If Dean couldn't stand to be near him after this, if he

wanted him to leave, Castiel would, no matter how much it hurt. He would leave and never come

back, if that was what Dean wanted.


20/35

It wasnt anything new, it wasnt a revelation, but Castiel could finally put a name to it. He was

in love with Dean Winchester.

Unaware of Castiels thoughts, Dean spoke again.

Why didnt you say something? There was a small note of betrayal under his confusion, and

Castiels heart ached.

At first, I didnt know what was happening, and I wasnt sure where I stood with you. After

I realized just what was going on, I wasnt sure how to broach the subject. Or, indeed, if you

would hate me if I did. The last sentence was harder to speak than it had any right to be. Castiel

wasnt ready for Dean to hate him. He looked out the windshield again.

Cas, Dean said, the betrayal disappearing even as he spoke. I dont hate you. Never could. Itsnot like you did it on purpose or anything, right?

No. But my interference in your dreams was mostly voluntarily, Castiel admitted.

And Im grateful, dude, dont think I dont appreciate that. Well, most of it. Dean stifled a

yawn with his hand and gave Castiel a tired smile. But can we save that conversation for some

other time? He yawned again.

Should you perhaps try to get some more sleep? Castiel asked. Dean nodded.

Yeah. I better get back before Sam freaks out.

Dean started up the car and turned it to glance at Castiel.

You got somewhere you need to be? I could use the company on the drive back.

Castiel recognized it for the peace offering it was, and he spent the rest of the ride back to the

motel listening to Dean try to explain the difference between classic rock and plain old regular

rock. Castiel wasn't sure he understood half of it, but Dean was talking to him againDean

didn't hate him, and Castiel finally had a name to apply to his feelings. He sat back and listened.

Dean

The following week, Dean began to notice little signs that should have tipped him off a long time

ago to just how in tune with him Castiel was. When Dean laughed and teased Sam, the edges of


21/35

Castiel's eyes softened. When Dean was angry, when all he wanted to do was kill the fucker who

was slaughtering little school boys, Castiel's perpetual frown deepened, his eyes grew stormy and

his lips pinched.

Dean also noticed just how much the angel hung around with them for no apparent reason.

Didn't angels have other duties? Shouldn't Cas be off playing a harp somewhere or something?

He became hyper-aware of every emotion he was feeling, checking to see how it was affecting

Castiel, making sure it wasn't bothering him too much.

Flirting was just something to do to pass the time. The waitress was hot, Dean was bored, and

their food would be another few minutes. So he flirted. As Joan laughed at one of his more

obvious come-ons, he shot a glance at Castiel in the corner of the booth.

Castiel looked flustered. There was no better word for it. The tips of his ears were red and he was

staring at the tabletop so intently that Dean was afraid it was going to go up in flames. Dean was

suddenly very aware of the dirty thoughts he'd been having; for a few minutes, he'd forgotten that

the angel could feel everything he felt.

Castiel knew that he was turned on right now. Knew what the sight of Joan's ass in those tight

jeans did to him. Worse, he didn't just know it, hefeltit. Which meant that Cas was feeling

turned on right now, just like Dean.

I'll be right back, Dean blurted out, fleeing for the bathroom.

Not hot. Not hot! he tried to tell his body.Disturbing, yes. Hot? No! It didn't seem to be working,though, and it took a long while for Dean to calm down enough that he dared to face Sam and

Castiel again. It wasn't made easier by the knowledge that Castiel had felt every second of his

freak out. Fuck, this was complicated.

Sam shot him a look when he sat down at their booth, like he was wondering just what kind

of crazy demon had possessed Dean to leave right when the food arrived. Dean ignored him,

refused to look at Castiel, and ate his burger in silence.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

~~

Sam and Dean were in their motel room (sans angel, for once), going over everything one last

time before they went to the cemetery to salt and burn an old widower who'd decided to haunt

the local old folk's home, when Sam huffed out a breath and leveled Dean with a look.


22/35

You know, Sam said, and Dean was on edge in an instant. When Sam used that tone of voice,

it always meant a deep, pain-in-the-ass, we are going to get to the bottom of this conversation.

Ignoring the tension in Deans shoulders, Sam went on. Seeing as I'm not blind, or stupid, I

really hope you don't think you're being discrete.

Dean was almost certain he had no idea what Sam was talking about. It wasn't like Sam could

read minds, after all. At least, Dean was pretty sure he couldn't.

I...what? he asked.

Your epic love affair with the angel, Sam clarified, causing Dean to choke on his own spit.

My what!

Dude, it's the most obvious thing ever. I mean, just the way he looks at you would tip off thedensest person on the planet.

Dean did a double take at that, shutting out his confusion and panic to focus on what Sam had

just said.

How does he look at me? he asked.

Sam shot him an incredulous look.

Don't tell me you haven't noticed. He's not exactly discrete about it, either.

How. Does he look. At me? Dean gritted out. The panic was still nudging at the edge of his

mind, but he fought it off, not daring to look closer at just why this was so important.

Sam took one look at his face and sobered up.

You really haven't noticed, have you? He keeps looking at you like he...like he wants to protect

you. At Dean's raised eyebrow, Sam clarified. Not from physical danger, it's not like you're a

swooning maiden or something. It's more like he wants to protect you from all the crap you go

through. Like he wants to make you happy, but he doesnt know how.

Dean's head was swirling with thoughts and feelings, everything jumbled up. He couldnt make

any sense of it, but he spoke anyway.

How the hell can you tell all that just from looking at the guy? He has, like, the best poker face


23/35

ever.

Sam rolled his eyes.

I'm very perceptive. Not really the point, Dean. The point is that you obviously feel the same

way about him.

I do? Dean asked immediately.

Yeah, Dean. If you weren't so completely focused on the guy thing, you might have noticed

that you're in love with him.

Dean's mind went blank. He scoffed.

I'm what?

The conversation wasn't going anywhere Dean wanted to follow, but Sam wasn't giving him

much choice.

Dean. You're in love with Cas. Sam's voice was patient, careful, like he knew how close Dean

was to bolting. You get pissy as hell when hes not around, you keep looking around the room

to check where he is, you actuallysmile at the guy. All Im trying to say is that you should think

about it, and that I dont have a problem with it.

Wow, thanks, Samantha, Dean said, his own voice sounding far away to his ears. Sam had noidea what he was talking about. Now could we please go kill this ghost fucker before I burst out

into Celine Dion from the sheer touchy-feely-ness of this conversation?

Dean Sam began, but Dean had had enough. He couldn't take one more second of this.

No, Sam. I heard you, I don't want to talk about it, let's go kill something. Now.

Sam sighed and threw his hands up in surrender.

Yeah, OK. Let's go.

~~

Dean wished he could stop thinking about what Sam had said. It was ridiculous; Dean didn't fall

in love, and if he did, it sure wasnt with another dude. Sam was delusional. End of discussion.


24/35

Except, that wasn't the end of it. You're in love with Cas, Sam had said. And for a second, all

Dean had thought wasyes. Before panic and denial had set in, Dean had been on the verge of

telling Sam that he was right. And it scared the hell out of him.

When Castiel showed up the next day, Dean tried to see if he could catch one of those looks

that Sam had been talking about. He'd been sure he was studying the guy as closely as possible

since he had found out about CastielsI feel your emotions thing, but apparently he'd missed

something. That is, if Sam was right. Which he wasn't. Couldn't hurt to look anyway, right?

For the first few days, Dean didn't see anything more than what he was used to. Castiel looked

at him, Castiel knew what he was feeling, Castiel hung around all the time as if he had nothing

better to do. Dean certainly didn't see any looks. Not like that ones that Sam had described.

~~

The bar was one of those where cigarette smoke hung low in the air and county music played out

of an old-fashioned jukebox. Dean tried to ignore the crappy genre and focus on the beer he was

drinking instead. It wasnt a very good beer, but he figured that as long as it was alcoholic, even

a Budweiser wouldnt be a complete failure.

He was waiting for Sam. Had been for half an hour now, but apparently the library was much

more interesting than dinner.

Dean was only on his second beer, mostly because it tasted like piss. He looked around the bar,

scoping out the place as he always did. There were a few women hot enough to bother with, allbut one seemingly attached to a boyfriend or husband; the last was a blond woman with serious

cleavage sitting at the end of the bar, giving off come flirt with me vibes. She met his gaze

when he looked over, a smile playing at her lips.

Dean took another swallow of beer, fully intent on going over there when he realized he wasnt

interested. The question was just why he wasnt interested. Which, in turn, made him think about

when hed last gotten laid. Panic followed soon after.

It didnt take Castiel more than two seconds to show up, but Dean really wasnt ready to face

him. He took a deep breath, knocked back the rest of his beer, and ordered a whiskey.

Dean?

Im a little busy here, Cas, Dean said, downing the whiskey before he turned to face the

angel. No, you know what? Maybe you should watch and learn. Here, sit down. He motioned


25/35

for Castiel to take a bar stool. Just look at what Im doing. Consider it your first lesson in

human flirting.

Before Castiel could say anything, Dean turned his back on him and walked over the girl.

He needed to get laid, that was all. He might be off his game, and maybe he wasnt all that

interested, but once hed gotten laid, it would all get better. Nothing to worry about.

Hi, he said, aiming his most charming smile at the girl. Im Dean.

Hi, Dean, she replied, taking a sip of her appeltini. Im Allison.

Dean shot a look over his shoulder to make sure Castiel was watching, somehow disappointed

when he saw that he was looking down at the scratched surface of the bar and not at Dean. He

turned back to Allison, ignoring the guilt sneaking its way into his gut.

So, can I get you another drink? he asked.

He sat down next to her, looking at Castiel again as he did so. Something was off with him.

He didnt look up at Dean, even though he must know Dean was looking at him, and Dean felt

another twinge of guilt. Why was he over here, talking to Allison and leaving Cas all alone? He

should be keeping the guy company, hed obviously come to see him. It was what friends did.

It was a subtle thing when it happened. Dean wasnt sure exactly how he knew, but he felt hurt

coming from Castiel. Hurt and loneliness, and before he knew it, hed made some lame excuse to

Allison and walked over to where Castiel was sitting, still not looking at him.

Hey, he said, reaching out to put a hand on Castiels shoulder. You OK?

Im fine, Dean, Castiel said in that voice he got when he was utterly failing at lying.

Bullshit. I could feel you being miserable from all the way over there. Even as he said it, Dean

realized just how weird it was.

You could? Castiel looked up, his eyes meeting Deans.

Yeah, I...I have no idea why, but I could.

Can you feel what I feel now? Castiel asked, suddenly intense, his eyes boring into Dean.

Dean took a moment to think about it, but all he could feel was his own confusion; he shook his

head.


26/35

No. It was just a second, a there-and-gone sort of thing. Why could I feel you? Is this thing

getting worse?

Dean wasnt even aware of their surroundings anymore; all he knew was that Castiel could

feel every single confusing emotion running through him and hed never felt so exposed in his

life. Never felt at such a disadvantage. For a second, he wished that it could have at least been

mutual, whatever it was, that it hadnt just been a there and gone kind of deal. At least then he

would know how Castiel was being affected.

Without warning, Castiel reached out and touched Deans forehead. There was a tugging

sensation in Deans gut, and when he looked around, they were in a motel room. In theirmotel

room, actually; he saw Sams duffel in the corner.

What the hell, Cas? The cars still at the bar!

Your car will be fine, Dean. Sam will take care of it.

Yeah, thats another thing! Sams gonna think I ditched him!

If youd like, I can go and tell him you are otherwise occupied, Castiel offered. Dean shook his

head in exasperation.

Ever heard of a phone? Ill just text him. And then you can explain why we needed to get here

so damn quickly.

As Dean typed a quick text to Sam to tell him to take care of his car, Castiel stood in the middle

of the room, ramrod straight and unmoving as only an angel could be. Dean threw his phone onto

Sams bed and turned to Castiel, folding his arms over his chest.

Well?

I wanted to explore the possibility of you sensing me, Castiel said, not looking at Dean as

though he was afraid Dean might be offended by the suggestion.

You wanted to what? Dean asked, eyebrows raising. He ignored the part of him that really

liked that suggestion; he didnt feel like exploring just why he did.

I apologize for the assumption, Castiel said. Dean could tell he was getting ready to leave,

even though he gave no outward indication of it. Dean was just really perceptive at the moment,


27/35

there was nothing more to it.

Dude, wait. Dean held up a hand to stop Castiel from fluttering off. If you think theres

something to discover, then Im game. Lets find out if this freaky thing is a two way street.

If it was, then at least they would be on even ground. Dean wasnt sure he wanted to know what

Castiel really felt about him, but theyd come this far, right? And no one could ever accuse Dean

Winchester of being a chicken.

Are you sure? Castiel asked, his eyes searching Deans face and reminding Dean of the first

time theyd met. You dont think you deserve to be saved. Now he knew just how Castiel had

known that. He took a deep breath and nodded.

Yeah. Lay it on me.

Very well. Perhaps it would be best if you sat down.

Dean sat on one of the beds, his heart suddenly beating ten times faster than normal.

Dean, theres nothing to worry about, Castiel assured him.

Easy for you to say, Dean muttered.

What exactly were you thinking about when you felt me? You dont have to tell me, but try

to get in the same mindset, Castiel instructed. He sounded a lot less sure of himself than Deanwould have liked. He figured Castiel had to be making this up as he went, but Dean wished

someone knew what they were doing.

Taking another deep breath, he tried to remember just what hed been thinking about when hed

felt Castiel.

I was worried about you, he said. I felt guilty leaving you alone so I could go hit on that

chick.

Hed thought that he was a shitty friend. He still thought that. Cas deserved better, deserved

friends and happiness and people who cared about him.

It wasnt subtle this time, it was overwhelming. The affection, curiosity, tenderness, loyalty,

protectiveness flowing from Castiel made Dean gasp; it all added up to something that Dean

wasnt sure he was ready to name, but whatever it was, it made his heart ache.


28/35

No, Cas, he said, unaware he was even talking out loud. You shouldnt... Not for me. He

wasnt looking at Castiel, didnt want him to see just how much this affected him or just how

much he could feel.

Dean? Castiels voice sounded like it always did, and Dean wondered just how long hed been

hiding these feelings from Dean. From everyone.

Dean looked, really looked at the angel. At the rumpled trench coat that never came off, at the tie

that looked like it had seen better days, at the permanent stubble, at the face that never revealed

much of what the guy was thinking. He looked at Castiels eyes, saw how they didnt betray

even a hint of what he was feeling, andfelt.

He let it flow through him, tried to make sense of it. Tried to see just how this could have

happened. Tried to see if there was any way to fix this, to keep Castiel from loving him without

hurting him.

Loving him. Shit.

It took Dean a few moments to fight down the panic that rose in him at that thought, at the fact

that hed put words to it; the concern flowing from Castiel didnt really help.

I dont want to fix it, he realized. Just the thought of taking the feelings away from Castiel was

painful to Dean, and he tried to figure out just why that was. How could he be OK with Cas

loving him?

Dean? Castiel said again, worry sneaking its way into the flow.

Yeah, Cas. I...feel you. Even as he said it, Sams words echoed in his head. You're in love with

Cas. Huh. Maybe his brother had a point.

As soon as the thought settled in his mind, he knew it was true. He was in love with Cas. He had

no idea how it had happened, or why, or how the hell he was supposed handle it, but it was true

nonetheless. He saw Castiels eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he knew he had felt it too.

Dean gave himself over to the realization without another thought.

Dean was in love with Castiel. With the way he tilted his head when he didnt understand Dean,

with his poker face of doom, with his slightly ruffled hair, with the way Castiel always seemed to

be there when Dean needed him. With that, and so much else.

He was on his feet before he knew it, invading Castiels personal space as Cas had done to him


29/35

so many times before. Looking him straight in the eyes, Dean let Castiel feel everything he was

feeling.

Castiel

Castiel didnt think about it; he didnt contemplate the consequences or think about the

risks before he reacted. He grabbed the front of Deans leather jacket and pulled him in, still

overwhelmed by the feelings running through him, running through Dean, over and over like

a loop. Dean let out a small, surprised huff of air before he relaxed against Castiel, his hands

coming up to frame his face.

This is so beyond weird, Dean said before he kissed him.

Castiel had never been kissed before. He knew the theory behind it, the correct ways to do it.

He knew that people enjoyed it. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for kissing Dean

Winchester. The moment their lips touched, the bond between them crackled to life, intensifying

every sensation, every touch.

Dean let out a surprised groan and pressed closer to Castiel, licking a tentative stripe across

Castiels lips, asking for permission. Castiel didnt hesitate in the slightest. He brought his arms

around Dean and opened his mouth, letting the tips of their tongues touch for the first time as he

clutched at the back of Deans jacket.

Their tongues tangled together as Dean took control of the kiss, his fingertips digging into

Castiels skull, stubble rasping against stubble in a way that made Castiel shiver and press evencloser. His hands found their way under Deans jacket, under his flannel shirt, until he could

feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his tee. Dean broke the kiss, his breath puffing

against Castiels lips pleasantly.

Cas?

Yes, Dean?

Is this... Is this going where I think its going? Dean asked, his voice rough, thrills of desire

and nervousness emanating from him.

Would you like it to? Castiel asked; not wanting to push Dean into something he wasnt ready

for. Castiel had known how he felt for Dean for a while now, hadnt really had any reason to

doubt it, but he knew Dean would be having trouble with it; with the fact that Castiel was in a

male form, with the fact that Castiel cared so much for him. Castiel could wait until Dean was

ready.


30/35

Dean grinned at him.

Hell, yeah, I would. He kissed Castiel again, this time with more heat, more intent, one hand

letting go of Castiels face to grip at his hip, pulling him flush against Dean.

Castiel groaned as he felt the nervousness disappear from Deans mind, replaced by want and a

little bit of wonder even as the hardness of Deans erection pressed against his own through their

pants. Castiel hadnt even contemplated the physical aspects of intimacy before then, hadnt put

Dean and sex together like that; he found that he had no problem whatsoever doing so now.

His hands found their way under Deans t-shirt, his fingers tracing over warm, soft skin that

he could remember remaking as he continued kissing Dean, exploring. Dean began tugging at

Castiels tie, trying to work the knot loose without breaking their kiss, but Castiel found he had

no patience for it; he got rid of all their clothing with a thought.

Whoa. Dean took half a step back as he found himself suddenly naked, almost losing his

balance as the back of his knees hit the bed behind him. He steadied himself against Castiel

and stared down at them both. Huh. One of the perks of being an angel, I guess, he said,

smiling. Never have to worry about buttons or zippers. Next time, though, he added, pulling

Castiel with him as he lowered himself onto the bed. were doing it the old fashioned way.

As you wish, Castiel said, distracted by the feel of all that skin against his as he landed on top

of Dean on the bed.

Dean reached up to kiss him again, his hands roaming over Castiels back, tracing the shape of

his muscles, making him arch into it, making him crave more. More touch, more Dean, more

everything. He kissed back almost desperately, shifting their position slightly and moaning into

Deans mouth as their erections slid together. The friction felt like nothing else, and Castiel

moved his hips again; this time Dean moaned with him.

Yeah, like that, Dean gasped, his hands coming down to grip at Castiels ass, urging him on.

They set a rhythm, grinding against each other, kissing and gasping into each others mouths.

Deans grip on Castiels ass became more and more firm, the heat pooling in Castiels belly

echoed in Deans feelings.

On impulse, Castiel brought his hand between their bodies, lifting up to get better access as he

tried to take both of them in hand. He wasnt entirely successful, but the friction became even

more exquisite and he kept going, starting to stroke in time with the thrusts of his hips.


31/35

Cas, Dean gasped, his hips snapping up to meet Castiels; his back arched as he came with a

groan so full of lust it pushed Castiel over the edge right after him.

It was the second orgasm Castiel had ever experienced, the first of which his body was actually

a part. It felt like the world disappeared, and all that was, all that ever would be, was pleasure.

His and Deans, feeding off each other, mixing together until he wasnt sure whose was whose

anymore. All he knew was that Dean was there, and that was all that mattered.

As the pleasure faded, Castiel became aware of his surroundings again. More specifically, he

realized that he was lying on top of Dean, his face tucked into the hollow of his neck and his

hand trapped between their bodies. Dean stirred under him; Castiel rolled off, not wanting to

suffocate him.

Whoa, Dean said, blinking his eyes open slowly, trying to focus.

Was that... Is it always like that? Castiel asked.

You kidding me? Dean turned his head to face Castiel. That was the best damn orgasm Ive

ever had, and Ive had a few.

Oh. I see. Castiel was strangely pleased by Deans answer. He turned on his side, looking at

Dean and wondering just what happened now. As if reading his mind, Dean reached out and

pulled Castiel closer.

Hey, he said. Dont even think about flying off somewhere. I want a nap, and then a repeat

performance.

What about Sam? Castiel asked, even as he slung his leg over Deans thigh.

Right. Wait here, Dean got out of bed and found his phone on the other bed; he typed a quick

message and put it on the nightstand. Castiel found that he couldnt look away from Deans

naked body, from the way muscles played under his skin to the way the light from the neon sign

outside made his skin change color from blue to red to yellow.

Dean got back into bed, pulling the covers up over them, and turned to Castiel.

I guess you dont need to sleep, huh?

Not as such, no, Castiel admitted. But I will be here.


32/35

Good, Dean said. Dont go anywhere. He slung an arm over Castiels waist.

I wont.

Dean

Dean woke to the feeling of another warm body pressed against his and the knowledge that hed

gotten a full nights sleep. No nightmares, no monsters to be killed...just sleep. He knew who

was beside him without opening his eyes, the warm flow of affection reminding him of just what

had happened last night.

Castiel must have known he was awake because he began kissing Deans neck, gently nipping at

his earlobe in a way that never failed to make Dean shiver. He wondered how Castiel knew about

that spot. Or the one by his collarbone, for that matter.

As Castiel kissed a trail down Deans body, seeking out every sweet spot Dean had, Dean

opened his eyes to look down at him. Cass hair was messier than usual, a little flattened on one

side from where he must have been lying on it; Dean couldn't help thinking he looked adorable.

That thought in itself was so new that Dean had to take a moment to adjust. OK. So he was in

love with a dude. And an angel dude, at that. Who was also in love with him. Cool. Nothing to

freak out about. Nothing at all.

Dean was just about to freak out about it when Castiel looked up at him, catching his gaze ashe slowly licked a stripe from the base of Deans cock to the crown. All thoughts of freak-outs

evaporated and Deans head fell back against the pillow, a low groan escaping his throat. Castiel

licked him again, this time swirling his tongue around the head like he was tasting it, and Dean

had to stop his hips from snapping up to meet him.

Cas, he gasped out, one hand finding Castiels head as the other fisted in the sheets.

Castiel just hummed and continued to lick, exploring, learning as he went. One of his hands

came up to grip the base of Deans cock, keeping it steady as Castiel lowered his mouth over

Deans dick, taking it in as far as he could. The urge to thrust up into that warm, wet heat was

almost overwhelming, but Dean controlled himself.

His breath was coming in gasps, all his focus on Castiels mouth on him, on Castiels tongue

pressing against his slit, on Castiels free hand lightly stroking his balls. How the hell did he

know how to do this? Last time Dean checked, Cas was some kind of 2000-year-old virgin or


33/35

something, but he sure as hell wasnt acting like it.

Not that it mattered right now. Something else had occurred to Dean, and once hed though of it,

he couldn't get it out of his head.

Cas, he groaned. Cas, turn around. I want...

Castiel pulled off, looking up at Dean with a question clear in his eyes, a small wave of

confusion flowing off him.

What do you want, Dean? he asked. Dean was momentarily distracted by his lips, slick with

spit and pre-come, just begging to be kissed. That wasnt what Dean had planned, though, so he

stomped down on his urges and tried to form some sort of coherent sentence to explain what it

was he wanted.

I want to try it, too, he said. Ive never... I want to try.

Dean had no idea how the hell Castiel understood what he meant from only those words, but

apparently he did. After some shuffling and wrestling with the bed sheets, Dean found himself

on his side, facing Castiels cock. He studied it for a second, the swollen head, the bead of

pre-come trembling on the tip on the verge of falling off, before he took it in a firm grip and

swallowed it down.

It was strange, having another guys dick in his mouth, but not unpleasant. The weight of it felt

good against this tongue, and the taste was musky, hot. Arousing. He could do this. Remindinghimself to be careful with the teeth, he began to pull out every trick a girl had ever used on him;

Castiel made a choked noise, almost like a sob, before he took Deans cock into his mouth again.

It wasnt like this was Deans first time doing a 69, but it was certainly the first time it had ever

involved two dicks, and it took some adjusting before they got up a good rhythm. Just like the

night before, Dean could feel Castiels pleasure as his own, making everything more sharp, more

focused, just more, and he was getting close embarrassingly fast. The noises Cas was making

certainly werent helping.

The thing that pushed Dean over the edge, though, was Castiels hips thrusting into him,

pushing his dick further into Deans mouth, painting his tongue with pre-come. It was almost

uncomfortable, but so hot that Dean couldnt do anything but come. Even as his mind was

consumed with the pleasure of it, he felt Castiels cock twitch in his mouth, filling it with come.

If hed had the brain power, he would have felt weird about having come in his mouth, but as it

was, he wasnt complaining.


34/35

When he was no longer quite so overwhelmed with pleasure, Dean pulled back, looking down at

Castiel.

Cmere, he mumbled, pulling Castiel so he was the right way up, lying half on top of Dean.

They were silent for a moment, letting their breathing get back to something resembling normal,

before Dean chuckled. You know, youre gonna ruin me for sex with anyone else if this keeps

up.

Castiel nuzzled into his shoulder and pressed his lips against his skin.

Good, he said, and Dean couldn't help but agree.

~~

Dude, Sam said, his disgusted voice startling Dean into consciousness. I know I said to go for

it, but I just spent the night in the next motel over without any of my stuff. The least you could

do was get dressed before I came back.

Dean stretched, slipping an arm around Castiels shoulders as he did, and looked up at Sam, who

was standing in the middle of the room with his hand over his eyes.

And a good morning to you, too, sunshine, he said with a grin.

Yeah, yeah, hi guys. Clothes? Sam said, refusing to look at them.

Right. Clothes. Im afraid Cas mojoed them away, so I have no idea where they are.

My apologies, Castiel said, his amusement clear to Dean but undetectable in his voice.

Well, thats great, Cas, but could you mojo them back now? I think Im scarred for life as it is.

Tell you what, Dean said, still grinning. If you go get breakfast, I promise well be dressed

when you get back, mojo or no mojo.

Sam glared at Dean through his fingers, flinched as he took in their still-naked chests, and threwhis hands up in typically dramatic Sam Winchester fashion.

Fine. Breakfast it is. Anything to get you two dressed. Im so getting my own room after this.

Sam stomped over to the door, paused, and looked back at them.


35/35

Congratulations, guys, he said begrudgingly, and left.

Dean turned to Castiel, inhaling the warmth and smell of sex coming off of him.

When he gets back, Im teaching you about pancakes, OK?

Castiel looked back, a rare smile lighting up his face and making Deans heart speed up.

That sounds more than acceptable, yes.

Good. Now, before we get to the whole clothing business, I think I should teach you about

showers.

As he led Cas into the bathroom, Dean smiled to himself. The happy fluttering in his gut was

going to take some getting used to, but he wouldnt change it for the world.

As it turned out, they werent dressed by the time Sam got back. Castiel did something about that

fairly quickly, though, so Sam really couldnt complain. Teaching Castiel about pancakes was

every bit as entertaining as Dean had thought it would be, and Sam even loosened up enough to

join in, trying to persuade him to try something a little bit more healthy. It wasnt a bad morning,

Dean thought as he watched Castiel carefully chew a piece of bacon. Not bad at all.

The End

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