Everything I Do

[vanimadin]

Title: Everything I Do

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Just. All the smut. All of it.

Summary: When Dean calls on Cas to meet up with him, even though it’s only been seven weeks since their last meeting, Cas agrees immediately, and books a bus to Lawrence, Kansas. But meeting Dean in Lawrence isn’t all burgers and sex, things are COMPLICATED for Dean in Lawrence. Always have been, probably always will be. Plus, he’s just coming off a positively DISASTROUS Hunt with his Dad. Over the weekend, Cas learns a little more about his boyfriend—and maybe Dean learns a little more about himself as well.

Notes: Literally ended up writing this just to include one specific scene that I WANTED to include in Cerulean Blue and ended up having to leave out. This one, like Cerulean Blue, has a plot (if you squint), so it’s not JUST about the smut, though there IS plenty of that. Also just, like, so many feels.

A BRIEF, SHINING MOMENT OF TOP!CAS AND BOTTOM!DEAN (that was REALLY weird for me to write) before we return to your regularly scheduled Top!Dean and Bottom!Cas. Is everyone happy now? :D;;

Cas is, again, taking a bus from Tallahassee to Lawrence, and teh google tells me that to drive that distance takes 16 hours and 16 minutes. So, adding on time for stops and transfers, I rounded it up to a 21-hour trip (give or take) for him. Sucks not being able to drive (this is coming from someone who, in fact, does NOT drive, so I know.)

Go listen to “(Everything I Do) I Do It For You” by Bryan Adams, if you never have. It’s a fantastic song and ABSOLUTELY embodies Cas and Dean’s relationship in this particular AU: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0pdQU87dc8 <3
 

EVERYTHING I DO
By Senashenta

[Motel 6, 6850 W. 108th Street, room 2.]

It was only seven weeks after their week together in New York City and the whole Sally debacle, and Cas was already coming off another twenty-one-hour bus ride, this time to Lawrence, Kansas, where Dean was waiting for him, apparently at an actual Motel 6 this time. He hauled his backpack off the bus with him and headed out to the front of the station to hail a cab, and soon he was on his way to the motel, exhausted from his long trip.

Not that Cas was complaining. It would be nice, to be seeing Dean so soon after their last meetup. Usually there was at least three, sometimes four months in-between, and the time always seemed to go by like molasses, even though they kept in touch over the phone and the computer in the meantime.

But something had seemed… different, this time around, when Dean had said he could take the time to meet Cas again so soon. Something in his voice had been off. There had been a sort of urgency there, for the last-minute meetup. When Cas had asked about it, Dean had brushed him off, but Cas knew something was wrong—maybe not anything huge or life-altering, but something.

When he got to the motel in question—a little run-down but not the absolute shittiest place they had ever met up—Cas made his way down the row of doors until he reached number two, then knocked lightly and waited for Dean to answer, hiking his backpack farther up his shoulder while he waited.

When the locks unlatched and the door opened, Dean just grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the room, then kicked the door closed behind him. Cas let his backpack slide to the ground even as Dean pushed him up against the door, kissed him once, briefly—and then just leaned into his chest, the older man’s forehead coming down to rest against his shoulder.

“I missed you, Cas.” Dean muttered.

Cas came back with a murmur of, “tell me what’s wrong, Dean.”

Dean sighed but didn’t lift his head, instead nuzzling closer into Cas’s neck, and Cas brought his arms up around the other man, just holding him quietly for what seemed like forever. “Nothing’s wrong when I’m with you.” Dean replied finally, voice quiet, “that’s the point.”

“Liar.” Cas accused softly, not unkind, and then shoved off the door, jostling Dean in the process, and tugged the other man over to the bed. He quickly stripped out of his trench coat and shoes and then climbed onto the mattress, motioning for Dean to join him. “Come here, Dean.” Dean made quick work of crawling over to sprawl next to him, and Cas pulled him into his chest, wrapping him up in his arms comfortably. “Much better, right?”

Dean just grunted quietly and buried his face in Cas’s neck once more, and the two of them stayed like that for a while, Cas rubbing along Dean’s arm while Dean slowly unwound a little.

Finally, when Dean seemed a little more relaxed, Cas murmured, “do you want to talk about it?”

Dean was quiet for another couple of minutes. Cas just continued stroking along his arm gently, reassuring. “Dad and I…” Dean began finally, then trailed off and pressed his forehead harder into Cas’s shoulder for a second; “we got a lead on the demon—the demon—up in Yakima, and I… I messed up, I…” He made a frustrated noise, then, and huffed by Cas’s neck, “we could have got it, Dad was sure we could have got it, but I fucked up and it got away. It got away because of me, and Dad just—”

Cas could guess that John had just, when it came to that particular demon. “That bad?”

“If we’d had a house, he would’ve kicked me out of it,” Dean said quietly, “he screamed and shouted and told me to get away from him, get lost until I got my head on straight, and so I bailed and—”

“And you called me?” Cas gave a little, brief smile. “Is that why you picked Lawrence, for us to meet up?”

“Lawrence is my home, Cas. Or the closest thing I’ve ever had to one.” Dean admitted.

“I understand.” Cas ducked to kiss by Dean’s temple gently, “what do you want out of this weekend, Dean?”

The older man was quiet for a while, and Cas just continued rubbing at his arm gently, trying to be reassuring. Eventually Dean shifted so his head was leaning properly against Cas’s shoulder. He slung an arm over Cas’s chest, the reverse of their usual positions, and sighed. “Just… be you, Cas. Remind me that I’m not completely worthless, that I’m not a terrible person, just for a couple of days.”

“Dean…” Cas’s hand stopped moving and he wrapped his arms around Dean tightly, holding him close. “Don’t ever think those things of yourself. You’re never worthless and you’re not a terrible person…” Trailing off slightly, he frowned and murmured, “I can’t believe your Dad would actually say those things to you…”

“He’s… hard on me. With good reason. I’m the eldest, and I can’t… make mistakes. Not like that. If I can’t do the job, I’m worthless. If I can’t finish the mission—the big mission—I’m a terrible person.” Dean sounded like he was actively parroting some of the things his dad had said to him. He turned his head to bury his face and mumbled, “I’ve never felt so useless, Cas…”

“Hey. Stop.” Cas slid one hand up to thread into Dean’s hair and tugged gently, “you are none of those things, Dean Winchester.”

Dean made a soft disagreeing noise and left his face buried in Cas’s chest but stopped talking. They were both quiet for a few breaths before Cas began carding his fingers through Dean’s hair gently.

“Dean you are… courageous and strong and fierce, like the heart of a lion. But you’re also loving, giving and caring. You’re the most caring person I know.” Cas hummed softly, considering before continuing; “you’re so gentle, and selfless, you take care of people over yourself. Me. Your Dad. Your brother. Complete strangers. You’re smart, cunning… and funny. You make me laugh all the time. And you’re… passionate, you carry so much passion in your heart, sometimes it’s overwhelming. You have so many fantastic qualities, Dean, I can’t even begin to list them all… but you are not and never will be worthless or useless or a terrible person.”

“Sometimes I don’t think I’m any of those things, Cas.”

“Trust me, you’re all of them and more.” Cas tugged at his hair gently again, pulling Dean’s head up and leaning in for a kiss. “But most of all, you love me. Somehow, for some reason, you love me.”

“For all the reasons.” Dean corrected him softly.

Cas gave him a smile and tipped his head for another kiss. “I love you, too. For all the reasons.” When Dean leaned into the kiss, Cas sighed and murmured, “I’ll always love you, Dean. Until the day I die.”

When they broke apart a moment later, Dean ducked his head back down against Cas’s chest and asked, barely audible, “hey, Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas replied, back to petting through his hair.

And then, just as quietly; “I think I want you to make love to me.”

Cas’s hand paused in Dean’s hair. He swallowed slightly. The two of them had discussed switching things up between them briefly, once before, and Dean had been reluctant at best. Definitely uncomfortable with the idea. And while it was good that he was opening up his mind, Cas wasn’t entirely sure this was the right… time for it.

After a moment his hand began moving again, threading through Dean’s hair gently, and Cas cleared his throat before asking, “Dean, are you… sure about that?”

“You don’t want to?” Dean asked.

“I never said that.” It was just that Dean was obviously feeling… vulnerable, right now. And Cas didn’t want to take advantage of that, do anything that might break the absolute trust they had long ago established between them. Cas hesitated before offering, “Dean, it’s just… with how you’re feeling right now, I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret later.”

The arm Dean had slung over him tightened slightly and the older man paused, licking his lips and then telling him softly, embarrassedly, “I won’t regret anything with you, Cas. Not ever. I never do. And I think… I need this, right now. I need you to take control. Just for a bit. Get me out of my head.”

That Cas could understand. He knew exactly what it felt like to have every coherent thought vacate his brain while Dean worked him over. It could be a reprieve. An escape, when he was feeling particularly badly over something in his life. And how could he deny that to Dean when Dean had supplied it for him so many times in the past, knowingly or unknowingly?

After another moment of frowning up at the ceiling and toying with Dean’s hair absently, Cas finally moved—he disentangled himself from Dean and pushed the other man down onto his back, then propped himself up to lean over him and look at him seriously. “Are you sure about this?”

Dean offered a little quirk of a smile, though Cas could still see the shadows behind the green of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Cas hesitated for another brief moment—then just flashed a smile of his own and leaned down to kiss Dean, firm and decided. Dean seemed to let out a little relieved breath against Cas’s mouth before returning the kiss. He reached up with his hands, one to fist in the front of Cas’s shirt and the other to grab at the side of his neck—and Cas just eased closer, kissed him deeper.

Inside, Cas was freaking out. His nerves were making his stomach twist into knots, though he did his best not to let to show for Dean’s sake. But this was a big deal, and Cas had never done this before—not this part, anyway. He only had the basest of ideas what he was doing. It was almost like their first time all over again.

Which… under different circumstances, might have actually been a turn-on, but with Dean’s current state it just made Cas worry because what if he screwed it up? He really didn’t want to screw it up. He wanted to be good at it. But it would be his first time, and…

“I can almost literally see your thoughts, Cas, and you’re gonna do fine.” Dean spoke up, and Cas hadn’t even realized their kissing had paused, he’d been so distracted by his own spiralling train of thought. “But if you don’t want to do this, we obviously don’t have to.”

Cas let out a breath and nodded, then sat back a bit and pushed at Dean’s flannel shirt. “Take this off. The t-shirt, too.” Then he just reached to strip out of his own shirt, tossing it away with hands that were only trembling the slightest bit. When Dean sat up and pulled off his flannel overshirt, then his worn AC/DC t-shirt, Cas was momentarily distracted by a huge patch of dark, mottled bruising that marred almost the entire left side of Dean’s torso. “Dean…”

Dean lifted one hand to touch against the patch of bruising, knowing what he was going to say. “From… the thing in Yakima. I got off easy.”

“Easy?” Cas repeated, almost incredulous. He supposed there was no blood, but still. That was edging into internal injury territory. Instead of saying any of that, Cas swallowed slightly and carefully pushed Dean down onto his back again, settling over him and leaning to kiss him deeply. When they broke apart a moment later, he pressed another brief kiss to Dean’s lips and whispered, “be right back.”

Then Cas climbed off the bed and went to his discarded backpack, unzipping one of the front pouches and fishing out the lubricant he had packed. He knew Dean always brought some as well, but he didn’t know where it was, and this was just easier. Once it was firmly in his grasp, he returned to the bed—only to find that Dean had taken the initiative to get out of his pants and boxers in Cas’s absence.

Cas’s eyes swept up the length of Dean’s body and he swallowed slightly before dropping the lube on the mattress and shucking out of his own jeans and boxers as well. And it was the same feeling as their first time, years ago, when Cas climbed back onto the bed with Dean: suddenly it was all very real.

Now, Cas settled over his boyfriend again, ducking in for another few kisses, long and deep and drawn-out, before breaking away and beginning to trail little kisses, nips and licks down Dean’s neck, along his collar bone, across his chest… and he paused when he got to the mottled bruising along his side and ribs, making a special point of pressing gentle kisses all along the area.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.” He murmured softly.

“You didn’t do it.” Dean replied, just as quiet, “you don’t have to be sorry.”

Cas hummed out a soft disagreeing sound, but left it at that, continuing to make his way downward, paused to lick into Dean’s navel and smiled a little when the other man squirmed. Then he eased farther down until he could wrap his lips around the head of Dean’s half-hard cock and start sucking, softly at first, then deeper, harder and wetter as his boyfriend’s dick hardened up properly in his mouth.

Dean moaned quietly, his head back on the pillow now and one hand down, fingers threading into Cas’s hair. But still—“Cas… not that I’m complaining, but this wasn’t… ah… exactly the point, here…”

“Mmhm,” Cas hummed out an agreement and pulled off Dean’s cock, letting a hand come up to start stroking him instead. He looked up at Dean with a little smile. “But you’re still tense. You need to relax more before I…” Blue eyes flitted to where the lube was sitting, beside them on the bed. “Trust me, you don’t want to be clenched up for that part.” A pause, then, and he added, “and I don’t want to accidentally hurt you, just like you never want to hurt me.”

Dean huffed a groan, hips bucking lightly, and admitted, “that’s a good point.”

Another quiet agreeing sound and Cas just went back to what he was doing, sucking Dean back into his mouth and easing deep, beginning to suck him off lazily, not really trying to get him to come, just trying to get him to relax into it—and it worked. After a few minutes Dean was loose and relaxed against the bed, shifting under his ministrations and offering up quiet, breathy little moans every now and then.

Finally, Cas pulled back off with a soft wet sound and smiled up at him. “You think you’re ready now?”

Dean sighed out another soft moan and tugged at Cas’s hair gently. “Y… yeah, I’m good.”

Okay then. Cas grabbed the tube of lubricant, then nudged at Dean’s legs until he got them into the easiest position to prep him. And yeah, suddenly the nerves were back. Cas shifted slightly and swallowed thickly against the twisting ball of anxiety in his stomach even as he slicked up the fingers of his right hand and then discarded the lube to the side again.

When he hesitated a little too long, then, Dean prodded him gently with simply, “Cas.”

“Right. Sorry. I’ve just never… done this before.”

“Sure, you have.”

“Not from this side of things.” Cas protested softly, but he was already reaching to touch against Dean’s entrance with one finger, just lightly. He looked up quickly for a reaction, but Dean just twitched slightly and didn’t tell him to stop, so he carried on, carefully, slowly pushing his index finger into Dean’s body.

Dean hissed and shifted his hips, obviously uncomfortable but unwilling to admit as much. But Cas knew from personal experience—albeit personal experience in the relatively distant past—that the first time was awkward and weird—at least until the prostate came into play. So, he tried to work through the stretching with the first finger as quickly as possible before gently, carefully introducing the second—and when Dean gave a pained grunt at that, Cas murmured an apology but didn’t stop.

Halfway through stretching Dean with two fingers, when he was pushed as deep as possible for the first time, Cas accidentally bumped into his sweet spot and Dean came alive like a livewire, jolting and crying out loudly. Cas just smiled widely and rubbed his fingers firmly over that spot for a long, drawn-out couple of moments, until Dean was practically begging him to stop.

So, he did, pulling back long enough to add the third finger and going back to fucking Dean on them, though not specifically targeting his prostate now, instead just bumping against it here-and-there while he continued to stretch the other man out.

Soon Dean was reduced to a jerking, twitching mess, gasping out curses every time Cas’s fingers collided with his sweet spot and pulling at the blankets desperately, his cock swollen and throbbing, red and leaking precome against his stomach in sticky blurts. He was absolutely wrecked—and Cas had never seen anything so beautiful before in his life.

Still fucking Dean on his fingers, Cas ducked down to lick up the underside of his cock, then across the head and into the steadily growing puddle of precome… and Dean gave an almost protesting shout at that, shaking his head against the pillow, hips jolting and bucking at the touch: “stop…! Stop, Cas, you’ve gotta… or I’m gonna… fuck…! Oh, fuck, fuck, please…!”

Cas paused, glancing up at Dean, licking his lips absently, and after a moment, finally pulled his fingers out of the older man, then crawled up and settled over him, his own hips pressed against Dean’s firmly. Looking down at him, he swallowed and offered the same deal Dean had offered him the very first time they had had sex: “last chance to back out.”

But Dean quickly shook his head, and Cas flashed a brief smile, ducking to kiss him even as he adjusted them both and took a breath—then carefully, gently, maybe a little awkwardly, pushed his own cock into Dean’s now-pliant body, sinking deep in one slow thrust.

And oh, shit, that was…

They were both still for a long moment, almost holding their breaths, and then there was a collective exhale and Cas leaned to kiss Dean again, partly to distract himself because the feeling of being inside the other man was almost too much. It was hot and tight and slick in all the best ways possible—and he could only imagine how it felt for Dean right then. It was pleasure in a totally different kind of way than he was used to, and if he didn’t distract himself somehow, he was going to ruin this and come way too soon.

But also, he was vaguely worried about Dean, who so far was silent. Did it feel good for him, too? Was he in pain and trying to hide it? Dean could be so stoic sometimes, had been raised to be that way, so God only knew. Eventually Cas broke off from kissing his boyfriend to duck his head and bury his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and groaned out softly, “Dean…?”

“Fucking…” Dean’s reply, when it came, was harsh, his voice strained, with a high little pitch to the edge of his words; “move, Cas. Fucking move, before I explode…!” And it was at that point that Dean released the blankets and brought his arms up around Cas, fingers digging into his back lightly, and rocked his hips just the slightest bit, biting back a gasp at the movement. “Cas!”

Cas began to move. He adjusted himself so he could brace on his knees a little and carefully pulled out of Dean, muffling another groan into his neck, then pushed back in again with another muffled sound—almost a curse. It took a little bit, for him to get the rhythm down, the pace, but eventually he was fucking into Dean deep and hot and slow and perfect—and Dean was arching and writhing under him, head back and moaning loudly, fingers digging hard into his back.

And Cas was pretty sure he had managed to find the right angle—that perfect angle—that made the head of his cock slam into Dean’s sweet spot on every thrust into him, because every time he pushed deep Dean’s cries raised a pitch and his nose scrunched up just a little.

He let his own abdomen rub heatedly against Dean’s weeping cock for the longest time before Cas eased back slightly and slid a hand in between them to grasp at it, beginning to jerk the older man off along with his rhythm. And it was a bit difficult, maybe, coordinating the two things, but he managed it—and Dean arched back with a sharp cry the instant Cas’s hand wrapped around his dick.

It all went downhill very quickly after that. Just a few more breaths of thrusting against Dean’s prostate and jerking him off at the same time and Dean was coming, head back and moaning desperately. Cas stroked him off through it until he was done, then let go and focused on taking a couple more, sharper thrusts—then just pulled out entirely and lifted up on his knees, quickly jerking himself off until he came with a groan, pearly cum spurting all across Dean’s heaving abdomen and chest.

Then he sat back on his heels, panting for a moment, before crawling up to lick up the mess from Dean’s skin, long, hot swipes of his tongue, cleaning up both his own come and Dean’s.

“You didn’t have to… oh, fuck…” Dean had one hand up against his forehead and ran his fingers through his own hair, eyes on the ceiling for the moment, pupils still absolutely blown, as he panted for air; “you could’ve come inside me.”

“Mm,” Cas agreed as he finished tidying up the last of the come from Dean’s skin. He swallowed thickly and licked his lips, then crawled up to tuck into Dean’s side comfortably, “but I didn’t know if you wanted me to… so I figured better safe than sorry. Right?”

After a brief pause, Dean dropped his arm and wrapped it around Cas, holding him close. He licked his own lips and managed, “my legs feel tingly.”

Cas laughed and leaned in to kiss by his jaw gently. “You liked it, then?”

“Did I—” Dean began, then broke off and made an incredulous noise. “Of course I—it felt—fuck, Cas you weren’t kidding about the prostate thing!” A huffed breath and he tilted his head to kiss against Cas’s temple, just warm and affectionate and grateful. “I can’t… imagine… having a better first time at that with anyone else. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cas murmured softly, then, “I was so worried I was going to screw it up, though. That’s not the kind of thing you want to have a shitty first time with. And I was really afraid I’d mess up and it would be terrible, or I’d hurt you in some way, God forbid, so…”

Dean smiled a little. “So, you didn’t have as good a time as I did, is what I’m hearing.”

“What? No! That’s not—” Cas quickly shook his head, and when Dean began to chuckle, he swatted at him gently. “Shut up. It felt amazing. You felt amazing. But it was very different from what I’m used to. A radically different kind of pleasure, you know? Or, I mean, I guess you really do know.”

“Mmhm,” Came Dean’s reply, sounding a little sleepy now. He settled further into the pillows and his arm around Cas tightened the slightest bit. “It’s very different, being on the other side of things…”

“Think you’ll want to do it again some time?”

“Maybe… maybe if I’m having another day like today, and I just need to get out of my own thoughts. Not that I didn’t love it, I just think… we might fit together better the other way.” Dean shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling Cas into his chest. Cas smiled fondly, understanding the tired look on his face. Between the emotional release and the physical one, it was a lot. “You mind if I just have a nap, real quick?”

Cas shook his head and ducked in for a quick kiss. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“G’night, Cas. Love you.”

“I love you, too, Dean.”

–
–

Cas had been determined to stay awake and watch over Dean while he slept, but in the end their little experiment caught up to him and he fell asleep as well, warm and comfortable wrapped up in his boyfriend’s arms. When he woke some time later the blankets were pulled up over him, but Dean was gone—where to, he had no idea. Dean had never been great at the concept of leaving notes.

So, Cas climbed out of bed, cleaned himself up, got dressed, and poked around the motel room until he located some bottles of water in the mini fridge. He made a little victory noise and was just cracking one open when Dean came back in through the door, Starbucks tray in his hand and the faintest hitch in his step. Cas smiled fondly at that last bit.

“Coffee?” Dean offered, crossing over and plucking one of the cups from the tray to hold it out for Cas to take. The younger man happily abandoned the water in lieu of caffeine. Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas was busy opening his coffee and taking the first, blessed sip, but once he was done with that, he let his eyes flit over Dean’s form and asked, “how are you… feeling? Still okay?”

Dean hesitated before giving him a fond look—and then glancing down, almost embarrassed. He was picking at the lid of his own cup of coffee but had yet to open it. “I feel good, Cas, really. I feel…” He trailed off, searching for the right word before looking up again and smiling gently. “Lighter. I guess. It really helped. So, thank you, for… you know.”

“For taking your virginity?” Cas asked around the lip of his cup, tone amused.

A little cough. Dean flushed, just the faintest tint of red, and turned his attention to finally opening his coffee. “Yeah. That.”

If Dean was going to be bashful about the subject, that was fine, Cas decided. Other than the faint embarrassment, he seemed to be alright. He seemed to be feeling better. Said he was, anyway, so maybe he really did just need to get out of his own head for a little bit, and if Cas had managed to provide that for him then… it was good. It was all good.

Cas headed over to the little two-seater couch next to the bed, sat down, took another drink of his coffee and asked, “so, other than the obvious, what did you want to do while we’re in town?”

Dean considered for a moment before wandering over to join him, sitting pressed close against his side, “I know this is my hometown, but I don’t really know much about it. I mean for what things there are to do, that kind of thing. Dad brought us back here a couple of times when we were younger, but he was on business, and we just stayed in the motel the whole time…” And he was talking about all this with ease now, so he must have been feeling better. Cas smiled into his coffee as Dean continued; “so I don’t really know what I’d like to do, except maybe…”

When Dean trailed off, Cas tilted his head curiously. “Except maybe?”

“Maybe… go by the old house? Just to have a look at it. I haven’t been back since the night of the fire.” Dean finished before shrugging and adding, “other than that… I’d be perfectly happy to just stay locked up in here with you until you have to leave. Monday morning?”

“Mm.” Cas hummed an agreement around a mouthful of coffee, then gave him a smile, “my bus leaves at eight.”

“In the morning or night?” Dean asked.

“That’s wishful thinking.” The younger man accused fondly, “of course in the morning.”

Dean sighed and turned his attention to his coffee, taking a couple of drinks before returning to picking at the lid and managing, just softly, “I’m… sorry. For calling you here, like this, last minute. And then being so… blegh, when you got here. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“Dean. Dean, look at me.” Cas waited for Dean to look up again, then shook his head and told the older man firmly, “I will drop everything, any time, if you need me. All you have to do is ask. I would do anything for you, you know that. And if it means getting to spend some time with you in the process, all the better, even if you are being… blegh.” When Dean just blinked at him, Cas hesitated, expression softening, before asking gently, “do you want to really talk about it, now? What happened in Yakima? If you don’t, that’s fine, I’m just offering to listen, that’s all…”

There was clear hesitation from Dean for a long moment before he broke eye contact again and went back to picking at the lid of his coffee cup. “Dad’s been… tracking this demon for a long time. Ever since Mom died.” He began, voice soft, “but you know that, I already told you all about it…”

And he had—years ago, at this point, the entire sordid story about the demon and the fire in Sam’s nursery and his mother dying—about his dad’s single-minded quest to track the thing down and kill it. About how his dad had gone out and taught himself to be a Hunter, driven by revenge alone, at first, and then a kind of twisted sense of justice. The same sense of justice he had tried to instill in his sons—and had basically managed to in Dean.

John Winchester wasn’t a bad man, Cas was sure of that, but he was a broken man, and that could sometimes be worse, more dangerous. He was a hell of a Hunter because of it, though.

“Anyway,” Dean continued after a pause, “we got intel that it was going to be in Washington, doing another nursery thing. So, we high-tailed it up to Yakima to set a trap for it. Dad made Sammy stay back in the motel this time, which, I mean, you know Sammy, he was pissed, and Dad and I went in alone. But the instant the demon showed up, it spotted me and I—”

“You?” Cas encouraged softly.

“I fucking—I froze.” One hand came up to run through his hair and Dean shook his head, expression distant as he thought about that moment. Cas reached to rest a hand against his leg, squeezing gently. “I froze, and by the time I got myself moving again the thing had torn through the entire house. Both the parents were dead. Dad and I were both beaten to shit. The place was on fire, and all I could do was grab the baby and make a break for it.”

“Dean…”

“No, I—I royally fucked up, Cas. I got people killed. I’m lucky Dad didn’t—or that baby? How would I have lived with myself if—” Breaking off again, Dean palmed over his face and sucked in a deep breath. “There were already sirens heading our way, so we left the baby on the front lawn and booked it out of there. As soon as we hit the car, Dad started tearing a strip off me, and—well—it just went downhill from there. And here we are.”

“He literally kicked you out?”

“When we got back to the motel, he made me pack my shit and leave. I don’t—I guess I wait until he calls me. He’ll calm down eventually, he always does, but this time… it was the demon, Cas, and I fucked everything up and…”

“Dean, you can’t put all that on yourself.” Cas told him quietly, still squeezing his leg gently, “you’re human. You know how people say there are two danger responses, fight or flight? Well, there are actually three: fight, flight or freeze. This demon you’ve been Hunting for your whole life is like… the Big Bad, the top of the food chain, right? And have you ever actually come face-to-face with it before?”

Dean shifted slightly. “No. We always get close but miss it by a hair.”

“Okay, so you came up against the Alpha Predator for the first time and your body, your brain, instinctively chose the freeze response.” Cas reasoned, “which, admittedly, isn’t ideal, but think about your whole Hunting career so far, has it ever happened before?”

A short nod. “A few times, when I was younger.”

Cas smiled softly and when Dean turned to look at him properly, he leaned to bump his forehead into the older man’s. “Listen, most people would go up against a—a wendigo or a black dog or—or a ghost and absolutely lose their shit. It’s normal to be scared sometimes, especially in your line of work. You just—you learn from it, and you do better next time, right? It’s terrible that those people died, but you can’t blame yourself for being human, Dean. Even if your Dad apparently does.”

Dean closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads tighter together for a moment before easing back again, returning his gaze to his coffee. “This is why I called you.” He told Cas, “because when I get wound up, you bring me down. And when I get broken down, you build me back up.”

“I try to, anyway.” Cas agreed. “Do you feel better now, even a little bit?”

A huffed sigh and Dean nodded, “yeah. I’ll be okay. Just gotta wait for Dad to call me back in, I guess. For now, I’ll stay here. You sure you can’t just… stay indefinitely?”

Cas laughed at that and returned to his coffee, taking another drink. “I have to take off classes and work for our little vacations together. I don’t think it’d fly if I called the university or the Gas-n-Sip and told them I wasn’t coming back ‘indefinitely’. But especially work, my manager is not an easygoing person. I’m surprised she lets me take these days off in the first place. She really rides me.”

Dean offered a little, but genuine, smile at that and joked, “maybe she has a thing for you.”

Cas paused halfway to another drink of coffee, stared off into the middle-distance for a long moment, then gave a little shudder and shook his head emphatically. “I choose not to think about that possibility.”

“Dude, you’re young, you’re virile, you’re super attractive. That ticks off all the boxes!” Dean gave an actual laugh, “I’m just saying, if you want to sleep your way up the ladder, do it now while you’re in your prime and hot!”

“Dean.” Dean continued snickering to himself while Cas leveled him with a flat look. “Dean, are you telling me to go out and have sex with other people because I was under the impression we were pretty exclusive.”

Dean just grabbed at the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. “We are absolutely exclusive,” He murmured against Cas’s lips, and Cas smiled despite himself, “no one else for me but you.”

“Same.” Cas agreed and kissed him again with a grin.

–
–

They spent the rest of the day in the motel room, just spending time together, doing a lot of cuddling, watching TV, talking about anything and everything, and of course having sex—with Dean on top, the way they usually did it, though when they were done and had caught their breath, they had a surprisingly in-depth conversation about the differences between topping and bottoming. It was only mildly embarrassing at times.

And Dean really did seem to be feeling better about things. He was acting more like himself, though there was still a hint of that shadow behind the green of his eyes—but it was fading more and more the longer Cas was with him. He was laughing and joking again and wasn’t positively despondent anymore. It was good.

That night they ordered burgers for delivery, though Cas gave a token complaint because always with the burgers and Dean promised they could get something else the following night. Dean’s love affair with burgers was nearly as strong as his love affair with pie, and Cas was starting to see why Sam had been so sick of them after years on the road with Dean and his dad. Sometimes Cas thought Dean would happily live on burgers and pie alone.

Well, maybe burgers and pie and Cas.

When they went to bed that night, though, they both climbed in and got under the covers—and Dean arranged them so that he was the one cuddled into Cas’s side, rather than the other way around. Cas just hummed out a soft, affectionate sound and wrapped his arms around the older man, even as Dean reached over his shoulder to turn off the lamp. If Dean needed that little bit of extra comfort, still, Cas wasn’t going to deny it to him.

The night passed uneventfully, and the next morning Cas woke up with Dean spooned against his back, one arm slung over his waist. They had shifted back to normal overnight. Cas sighed softly and pressed himself back against Dean, enjoying the rise and fall of his chest, his warm breath against the back of his neck. Cas stayed like that, just enjoying the moment, the closeness, for a while, until he finally had to carefully extract himself and head through to the bathroom.

By the time he was finished in there and came back out, Dean was sitting up on the side of the bed, yawning hugely and rubbing at his hair. Cas wandered over to leaned down to press a kiss against the crown of his head, lips quirking into a smile when Dean hummed a pleased noise in response. “Good morning.”

“…is it morning? What time…?” Dean muttered around another yawn.

Cas glanced at the clock. “Almost noon but technically still morning.” He informed his boyfriend, even as he lowered himself to sit beside Dean on the edge of the bed. “Do you still want to go to the house today?”

“Ask me again after coffee.” Dean told him, ducking in to kiss by Cas’s jaw. “Shower, clothes, coffee, food. Then we talk about plants for the day.”

A chuckle and Cas just stood again, then reached to take hold of Dean’s hand and tugged him up off the bed, turning to head for the bathroom once more. Certainly, the two of them always took longer when they showered together, but hey, maybe this time they would be able to keep their hands to themselves. Cas seriously doubted it, but stranger things had happened, right?

“This is gonna be one of those forty-five-minute showers, isn’t it?” Dean asked with a little smirk.

“Not necessarily.” Cas replied with a shrug.

Nearly forty minutes later they had run out of hot water but were both extremely satisfied with how the morning was going so far. They climbed out of the chilly shower pleased, relaxed, and sporting goosebumps from the last minute or two of cleaning up. They both dried off quickly, then hurried through to the main room where they pulled on their clothes and finally started to warm up again. Cas made a mental note not to draw out the blowjob quite so long next time, considering the constraints of the water heater. Dean was privately making a similar promise, while simultaneously making a completely contradictory vow to take the lube with them next time so they could have real shower sex.

Being clean, dry and dressed, next came the acquisition of food and coffee. For that they went to a diner down the street (apparently it had been recommended to Dean when he checked in) where they took over a booth along the back wall and were very swiftly served up with two mugs of pretty decent coffee. Dean started drinking right away, but Cas of course doctored his with cream and sugar before taking his first sip.

It turned out to be an all-day-breakfast kind of joint, and Dean ordered the whole shebang: pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns, sausage, bacon and toast. Also, another cup of coffee. Cas was amazed, once again, that he could put away so much food all at once. As for himself, he ordered an omelette with a side of toast—a reasonable breakfast. Dean practically booed him. Cas just laughed.

The coffee was decent but the food, when it arrived, was excellent. They both ate with enthusiasm—Dean more so than Cas, as usual—and Cas actually called the waitress back over to somewhat sheepishly order a side of bacon when he saw how good Dean’s looked. He would have just stolen a piece from his boyfriend, but he rather liked his fingers intact, as a point of fact.

When they were finished eating—and Dean finished every last bite of his positively enormous meal, thank you very much—Dean paid the tab and left a hefty tip, and the two of them made their exit back out the door.

They walked together, after that, just side by side down the streets and roads of Lawrence, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking quietly between themselves about anything—everything. It was always like that between them, warm and easy. Or, at least, almost always. They did have their occasional difficult moments, of course.

When they turned a corner and Dean suddenly grabbed for his hand, Cas knew they were on the same street that his childhood house stood on. He just threaded their fingers together and squeezed gently, reassuring, and even though his steps faltered slightly, Dean kept on walking.

Dean tugged him to a stop when they got to the right house and both of them turned to face it. Dean’s hand tightened in Cas’s, and he took a slightly shaky breath. “I haven’t been back here since… you know. That night. Whenever Dad brought us into Lawrence, he made us stay in the motel.”

Cas looked at the house in front of them and thought it seemed totally ordinary. It was nice, the way it was now. Rebuilt after the fire. “You told me once you carried Sam out of the house that night, do you remember anything else?”

“Just… Dad yelling, and the fire.” Dean told him solemnly, “the flames were so damned hot. I wasn’t even really close to them, and I could still feel them. Fire burns so bright, and so hot. That’s why I told you, way back when… I don’t have nightmares all the time like you do, but when I do have them, they’re usually of fire. I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

Cas just took a little step over to be closer against Dean’s side and squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry.”

Dean just hummed dismissively, eyes still on the house. His childhood memories were vague, he’d been very young when he’d lived there, but he could tell it was different, in subtle ways. The size of the front windows. The color of the front door. The fabric of the curtains inside the living room. The cutting back of the tree in the front yard. Just little things that kind of skewed his memory, blurred it even more in a way.

And then it started raining.

Cas and Dean both looked up at the sky almost blankly because they still had to walk all the way back to the motel, damnit.

But then another voice piped up from beside Dean with, “I just knew I was going to need this today!”

Both men’s heads swivelled. A pleasant looking African American woman was standing next to them, holding an umbrella over her head—and holding another umbrella out in their direction with a friendly smile.

“Uh.” Cas said articulately, even as Dean just reached out to take the offered umbrella—black with little silver stars—almost on autopilot, a suspicious look on his face the entire time. The woman watched him open it up and hold it over them (but mostly over Cas), looking pleased. Cas glanced up at the umbrella over him and then back at the woman. “Thanks.”

“Oooh, honey,” She drawled as she looked at Cas, her eyes narrowing into a squint, “you do shine brightly, don’t you?”

“I—” Cas began.

But Dean interrupted with, “I’m sorry, do we know you?”

“Don’t be rude, Dean Winchester.” She gave him a little verbal slap and then returned her attention to Cas, even as she continued to address Dean; “but no, you don’t know me. Not yet anyway. I know your father, though. He and I go way back. You can call me Missouri.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed a few times and then he managed to ask, “you know my Dad?”

“I do indeed.” Missouri agreed, then turned to face the house with a little smile. “I keep an eye on this place for him, look in on it from time to time. Today I just knew I had to stop by, and now I see why.” She glanced at them again, then smacked a hand into Dean’s arm and added, “Dean, introduce me to your boyfriend, already.”

Dean jumped slightly and looked sideways at Cas, then back at Missouri. “Uh… this is Cas.”

Cas leaned around Dean to wave his free hand slightly. “Hello.”

“Cas… Castiel.” Missouri said his whole name without even having been told it, and squinted slightly again before blinking as if she were coming to a sudden realization. Her eyes flickered up to the space above Cas’s head just briefly, then she flashed another smile. “Oh, dear, I must remember not to look too deeply with you, musn’t I?” Then she addressed Dean again with, “you’ve got a good one, here, boy. Hold onto him as long as you can.”

“I plan to.” Dean informed her, still obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

Cas just looked up above his own head, but all he saw was empty air and the umbrella. Missouri gave him an almost fond look. “You absolute dear, you don’t even know, do you?”

“Know what?” Cas asked.

Dean looked at her with curiosity that bordered on suspicion.

But Missouri just shook her head and turned her attention back to the house. “Never you mind, boys. It’s nothing important. You go on your way, now. There’s nothing here but ghosts and memories. And you take care of each other, you hear me? Have faith. It’ll be important.”

Then she turned around and disappeared down the street, leaving them to stare after her, the rain still pouring all around them. She didn’t even take back her umbrella.

“She was a psychic, right?” Cas asked after a moment.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean responded with a shake of his head. He still didn’t particularly trust most “psychics” and doubted that he ever would. Missouri had felt… different, though. “I’m pretty sure she was a psychic.”

–
–

The meandering walk back to the motel was a lot soggier than the walk to the house had been originally, but they did have the umbrella Missouri had left them with, so they just squeezed together to fit under it, and it kept them relatively dry. Relatively being the key word. When they walked in the door of their motel room they still immediately set to getting changed into dry clothes.

“I guess we co-own an umbrella now,” Dean commented once they were changed. He turned on the clock radio for some music and came up behind Cas, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist. “What should we name it?”

Cas laughed and leaned back into him—but when Dean nuzzled into his neck, he flapped his hands and reached up to push him away, laughing, “off. You’re way too stubbly for that right now. You need to shave.”

Dean grinned and rubbed his jaw along Cas’s cheek anyway. “Are you gonna say no sex until I shave? Is that where this is going?”

“Basically,” Cas laughed again and squirmed around in Dean’s arms so he could plant his hands against the older man’s chest and push him back. Then he pointed toward the bathroom. “Go.”

Chortling to himself, Dean held his hands up in a placating manner and backed away a couple of steps, then moved closer again to duck in for a quick kiss before crossing the room and digging through his duffle bag for his shaving kit. Once he had it in hand, he headed for the bathroom, leaving Cas to entertain himself while he shaved.

“You know,” Dean called out from the bathroom a minute later as he worked on getting the shaving cream lathered up and applied, “when I was first learning how to shave, my Dad taught me three ways: regular razor, straight razor, and hunting knife.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Cas wandered over to stand in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and watching Dean work with a little smile on his face. This wasn’t the first time he’d watched Dean shave, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“It’s funny,” Dean glanced at him in the mirror briefly before picking up his razor and getting to work, “in all the time we’ve been together I’ve only seen you shave a couple of times.”

“Mine doesn’t grow in as fast as yours.” Cas shrugged, “and I get right on it as soon as it gets past where it is now, it gets really scruffy and scraggly. Not very good looking.”

“C’mon, I’m sure you could work it.” The older man teased.

Cas just rolled his eyes and, when Dean was finished, stepped over to pick up the towel. “Look at me.” And when Dean turned to face him, Cas quickly wiped up the last bits of shaving cream with a smile, then reached to run a hand down one of Dean’s cheeks. “Much better.”

Dean tipped his head to kiss against Cas’s palm before turning back around and setting about actually washing the shaving cream residue off his face, then drying himself off with a clean towel and rinsing his razor clean. He tucked everything back into his shaving kit even as Cas tossed the dirty towel over the side of the sink and headed back out into the main room.

The clock radio was still playing, the same classic rock station Dean had picked out earlier, and Cas made his way over to grab a bottle of water out of the mini fridge before leaning back against the counter and opening it, taking a sip. When Dean emerged from the bathroom, fresh shaven but somehow still sporting a little bit of stubble, Cas gave him a fond look.

Coming across to where Cas was standing, Dean stopped in front of him and leaned his hands on the counter on either side of the younger man—then leaned in for a kiss. Cas smiled and kissed back with a pleased hum. “Mmm, you smell nice.”

“It’s just the shaving cream, nothing special.” Dean murmured against Cas’s lips and went in for another kiss—then paused when the song on the radio ended and a new one started. Cas barely noticed, but Dean shifted back a little and took the bottle of water from his grasp, setting it on the counter. He took one of Cas’s hands and tugged him toward the center of the room. “C’mere…”

Cas looked at him, tilting his head curiously. “Dean?”

“Listen. Do you know this song at all?” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist and Cas automatically lifted his own to slide over Dean’s shoulders and around his neck. Dean smiled softly and leaned their foreheads together lightly, then began roughly singing along with the music: “don’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for. You know it’s true. Everything I do, I do it for you… for you…”

When Cas felt himself being rocked back and forth on his feet, just slightly, he suddenly realized what was going on. “Dean, are we dancing right now?” He asked quietly, incredulous. He actually had to take a second because this was probably the last thing he would ever have expected from his boyfriend.

“Just shut up and move your feet.” Dean instructed. “Have you danced with someone before?”

“I—yeah, once, in sixth grade. The teacher made the girl dance with me, and it was obvious. It was humiliating.” Cas muttered, looking down at his own feet, trying to get them to move in some sort of proper order. He was kind of just shuffling instead. He frowned at his own incompetence. “Dean, I—I don’t know how to—”

“Relax. Breathe.” Dean murmured with a smile, “you obviously weren’t thrilled with dancing with that girl, but this is me. You know I won’t care if you’re awkward. That girl in elementary school didn’t count, okay? And I’m not her. I want to dance with you.” He tightened his arms around Cas just slightly before adding, “all you have to do is kind of… step back and forth in time with the music. Just move with me.”

“Usually when you say that we’re about to have sex.” Cas complained, but licked his lips absently and carefully eased his steps into a relatively decent rhythm with Dean’s. The song continued to play, and from what he was hearing it was nice. Finally, Cas hesitated before leaning his head down on Dean’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d like a song like this.” He admitted.

“Mmm…” The older man hummed out a pleased sound when Cas’s head came down on his shoulder, and he continued the slow dance they were sharing, closing his eyes to listen to the music and feel Cas in his arms. “Power ballads are okay occasionally and Bryan Adams is allowed sometimes. Everything I Do is iconic, and the lyrics…” Trailing off a little, he sighed softly and finished; “they make me think of you. Of us.”

“Did you pick a song for us without even consulting me?” Cas joked softly.

Dean laughed, just a quiet rumble from his chest. “Maybe.”

Cas didn’t really mind. It was a nice song and from the few lyrics he had managed to pick up on, Dean was probably right. It fit them. Cas privately thought he would look up the song online later. “I’m not even mad.” He admitted, “I just never thought about us having a song, that’s all.”

Dean didn’t reply to that, just falling silent as they continued to dance in a slow circle in the middle of the room. Cas finally closed his own eyes and, while keeping one arm wrapped around Dean’s neck, brought the other hand down to rest against his chest, feeling out his boyfriend’s heartbeat as the music continued.

It was… pleasant, once he relaxed into it. Warm and affectionate, a new kind of intimacy. A little smile tugged at Cas’s lips, and he pressed a gentle kiss against the side of Dean’s neck, making Dean hum out another happy noise. This was nothing like the awkward dance he had been forced to share with that unhappy girl back in sixth grade. This was… love, encompassed by a single action. He almost wished it wouldn’t end.

Unfortunately, the song was only about six minutes long and was followed by a much harsher, jarring one. Dean gently slowed them to a stop but kept his arms around Cas—and tilted his head to kiss by the younger man’s temple. “Do you know how much I love you?” He asked, then answered his own question with, “because it’s more than life itself.”

Cas moved his hand from Dean’s chest and wrapped his arm back around his neck with a sigh. After a moment he lifted his head up and leaned in to kiss Dean gently. “You know I love you, too, Dean. More than anything.”

Another kiss, and then he shifted back to take hold of one of Dean’s hands and tug the other man over to climb into the bed, reaching to turn the radio off on the way past. Once they were both settled down on the mattress, Cas tucked neatly into Dean’s side and Dean’s arm around his waist, Cas returned his head to Dean’s shoulder and let one hand come up to play with Dean’s pendant almost absently.

They were both feeling relaxed, loved and closer than ever in the little bubble they had temporarily established for themselves.

“So how was your first dance?” Dean asked after a few minutes of companionable silence, “since that shitty one in grade school didn’t count.”

A smile tugged at Cas’s lips, and he buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, pressing a kiss there, then replied, muffled by Dean’s shirt, “it was really nice. Thank you.” Then he turned his head to rest on Dean’s shoulder properly again and wondered, “where did you learn to dance?”

“TV, mostly.” Dean admitted with a grin. “I never really went to school dances; they weren’t my kind of thing.”

“You would have been popular at them, though. You are unreasonably attractive.”

“I think you’re biased.”

“I think you’re trying to be humble, but don’t. Because you are. Unreasonably attractive, I mean.”

“Hate to break it to you, Cas, but so are you.”

“I’m what now?” Cas laughed and swatted at Dean lightly. “Don’t even joke.”

Dean just smiled up at the ceiling. “I’m not. You’re freaking hot. You are not the one who got lucky in this relationship, I am.”

Cas was quiet for a minute, then lifted his head to look down at Dean properly. “You… actually mean that, don’t you?”

Even after years of being in a relationship with Dean, Cas had trouble thinking of them as equals. He still saw himself as awkward and weird, no matter what Dean tried to tell him. He secretly thought Dean was kind of slumming it with him, if he was honest, even though he’d been told time and again that he was beautiful, amazing, something precious to be treasured.

Now, Dean sighed and let one hand come up to thread his fingers into Cas’s hair gently, then tugged him down for a kiss, long and lingering. When they parted, he just asked softly, “why don’t you ever believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just…” Cas leaned into the hand in his hair and closed his eyes with a soft little sound. He had never had the best self esteem, and while being with Dean had certainly helped with that, helped build him up, it hadn’t cured it entirely. “I just don’t see myself like you see me, I guess. That’s all.”

“Cas,” Dean tugged at his hair lightly to get him to look at him, and when blue eyes opened again and flitted to meet Dean’s, the older man gave him a little smile. “I am not the reason people look at us when we go out together. It’s gorgeous, gorgeous you they’re looking at.”

“To be fair I think they’re probably looking at you, too.” Cas managed after a moment.

“So, they’re looking at both of us. But at least half of that is because of you.” His tone was sincere, and Dean continued stroking through Cas’s hair reassuringly. “You have… amazing bone structure. And downright gorgeous eyes. A beautiful smile. Your skin is perfect. And your hair is so, so soft and touchable. It looks soft and touchable, too.” There he paused before grinning and asking, “do I need to start talking about your body?”

Cas flushed red slightly and shook his head. “No, I, ah… get the idea.”

Dean tugged him down for a kiss. “So, just accept the fact that you are a freaking phenomenally beautiful person and lets’ move on.”

“Move on to what?”

“Well,” Dean grinned up at him, “you said no sex until I shaved. And I shaved.”

Cas blinked down at him—and then began to laugh softly. He leaned down to kiss Dean again. “Don’t look so excited, it would make saying no like kicking a puppy.”

“Don’t be that guy, Cas. Don’t kick the puppy.”

Another snort of laughter, but Cas shifted around, sitting up properly and swinging one leg over Dean to settle straddling the older man’s hips. He braced his hands against Dean’s abdomen, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt a little and leaned down for another kiss. After a moment he murmured against Dean’s lips; “I would never kick a freshly shaven puppy.”

Dean laughed, head falling back and entire body shaking with it, and this time it was Cas’s turn to grin. Actually grin—hugely. Then he eased his hands under the edge of Dean’s shirt and pushed it upward. “No, no, come on, no laughing right now, be serious, we’re going to do this. Take this off.”

Dean just kept chortling, but leaned up to pull his t-shirt off, discarding it to the side. Cas continued to smile widely and ran his hands up from Dean’s abdomen to his chest, feeling out his warm skin and muscle. He sighed deeply, eyes going half-lidded and licking his lips. “And you think I’m the beautiful one? You’re a freaking adonis. I thank whatever fates aligned to put us together every day. I am so grateful that I get to be with you…”

“Cas…” Dean reached up to grasp at the side of Cas’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, hard and deep, and when he eased back it was only by an inch to murmur, “take your clothes off.”

He didn’t believe in fate—not the way Cas did. He didn’t think things were pre-written for them, for anyone, he believed they made their own way in life. What he did believe in was this—what he had with Cas, what had grown between them in what seemed like an instant, so long ago, and continued to this day. He put his faith in Cas, in their relationship—in their love—and he didn’t think he would ever look back from that.

He definitely didn’t want to, at the very least.

Now, Dean watched Cas straighten back up and pull his own shirt over his head, tossing it to the side—and then the two of them were kissing again, hot and wanting. And it was probably unfair of him, to keep Cas all to himself, to hoard him like gold, but he couldn’t help it, not when they came together so perfectly, fit like puzzle pieces, were so obviously made for each other.

After a moment, Cas broke off, giving Dean one more, brief kiss, to start trailing kisses downward, along his neck and over his chest, against the ridges of his abdomen to nip just under Dean’s navel, making him twitch, and shuffling himself down in the process. When he’d gotten as far as he could go, he sat back up and worked open the button and zip of Dean’s pants, then lifted up onto his knees to tug them down a little, just enough to free the older man’s flagging cock.

Then a soft hum and Cas eased to the side on the bed and ducked down to suck Dean’s cock into his mouth, loving the feel of him hardening up the rest of the way against his tongue. He sighed and closed his eyes, beginning to bob his head slowly, an easy, casual blowjob that Dean normally would have enjoyed immensely, however—

This time, after a few moments of his breath becoming heavier and heavier, Dean reached down with one hand to thread his fingers into Cas’s hair and gently tugged him up and off his cock. Cas came willingly, licking his lips as he looked up at him and made a quiet questioning noise.

“I want you, not just your mouth.” Dean explained with a sigh.

Cas smiled at that and crawled up to give him a proper kiss again, his tongue tasting of salty precome. “So, take your pants off, then.” And then he proceeded to ease away and take his own advice, climbing off the bed long enough to get out of his jeans and boxers—and also to grab the lube from the bedside table while he was at it.

Dean just focused on getting himself the rest of the way out of his own jeans, kicking them away, followed by his boxers, before reaching one hand out for Cas, who took it and climbed back onto the bed with him—then stumbled slightly and half-fell on top of him. Cas muttered a quiet apology, but Dean just laughed and pulled him into another kiss, even as Cas slid into his lap, straddling his hips again, and pushed the lube into his hand.

Swallowing slightly, Cas adjusted himself while Dean opened the tube of lubricant and squirted some out, slicking up his fingers before capping it again and dropping it off to the side. Then he reached around Cas’s side and down to start easing his fingers into the younger man, who just buried his face in Dean’s neck in an attempt to muffle himself a little bit.

The first finger hardly felt like anything anymore, and Cas took a couple of deep breaths while Dean worked it into him, in and out gently, before offering softly, “I’ve… tried this on myself before, you know. A couple times.”

Dean actually paused at that, and even though Cas wasn’t looking at him, he could see the kind of blankly surprised look on his face. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“Keep going.” Cas urged, shifting his hips, and Dean finally started moving his hand again, carefully introducing the second finger—and smiling a little when that made Cas gasp. “I—ah—sometimes I miss this so much, especially when we’re… a-ah… apart for a long time, and I just… a couple of times I’ve gotten desperate and—”

Dean shoved his fingers deep at that point, right up against his sweet spot, and Cas broke off to muffle a cry against the other man’s skin. Dean rubbed the pads of his fingers over Cas’s prostate for a long moment before easing off and going back to stretching him out. “Christ, Cas… I would pay to see you do that.”

Cas just shook his head, hips pushing down against Dean’s hand as he gently pushed the third finger in, a stinging burn as he stretched out farther. “S’not the same.” He panted, hands grabbing at Dean’s shoulder, kneading there restlessly, “can’t reach as deep, doesn’t feel as—a-ah!—good…! A poor, mmh, poor substitute at best…”

“Still sounds hot.” Dean told him, and Cas could hear him grin, even as he was easing his fingers out and sliding his slick hand down Cas’s thigh. “Your turn now, Cas…”

Nodding against his neck, Cas pushed himself up, licking his lips absently, and shuffled around until he was in the right position, then reached down to grip Dean’s cock and hold it steady as he slowly sank down over it, plunging deep and taking the other man into himself in one smooth motion. His back arched and his head fell back slightly, a sharp cry in his throat. Cas bit his lip to muffle it, then gasped out, “oh, God, Dean… yes…!”

“Not that I ever thought you were,” Dean told him around a barely-swallowed moan, his own head back and his breath coming faster, his hands moving restlessly as he tried to resist the urge to thrust up into Cas’s perfect, silky heat, to give him a minute to adjust, “but you are not the gawky, awkward high school kid you thought you were anymore, Cas…!”

Cas could only whine softly at the compliment, licking his lips as he began shifting his hips just slightly, so completely stuffed full he couldn’t even put it into words—had never been able to. Somehow there was comfort in the fact that Dean knew how it felt now, too, though.

“You’re amazing,” Dean continued on, hands sliding up Cas’s thighs and in toward his abdomen to feel the younger man’s stilted breath, then farther up to his chest; “you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re loving, you’re loyal, you’re incredible…” he trailed one hand, drifting up to tangle his fingers in Cas’s hair, tugging to get him to look at him, “you’re fucking hot.” He finished with a grin, then; “and the best part is you’re mine.”

“I… I like being yours…” Cas managed to gasp out, a touch embarrassed, followed by; “Dean, c-can we please… have this conversation… when you’re not… inside me…?”

But Dean just shook his head, “you don’t listen when I’m not—ah—inside you.” And then; “Cas, move…!”

A brief nod and Cas licked his lips before beginning to rock himself over his boyfriend, just slow, careful little rolls of his hips that moved Dean only the slightest bit in his body but gave them both some of the friction they were craving. Cas’s hands were down, kneading against Dean’s abdomen—and Dean had one hand tangled in Cas’s hair, the other grasping at his chest, thumb rubbing over a pert nipple before sliding back down to hold at his hip tightly.

Dean was hard as a rock inside him, and Cas was almost painfully hard himself, but he still drew things out, continuing his little, almost gentle rocks of his hips for a while until Dean grew frustrated and bucked up against him—at which point Cas gave a breathless laugh and accused, “impatient…!”

“Just because I want you…” Dean grumbled, but settled himself again, just pulling at Cas’s hair and tugging him down for a kiss.

The new position, leaning over Dean like that, made the older man’s cock grind right up against his prostate, and Cas gasped out an almost startled moan against Dean’s mouth. “Oh, God!” Then he shook his head, pressed one more kiss to Dean’s lips, and straightened again with a groan, going right back to what he had been doing.

When Dean swore under his breath and dragged the hand in Cas’s hair down to his hip, Cas swallowed thickly and managed, “just… just let me make love to you, Dean. Let me have this… slow and deep and not just—ah—screwing… let me feel you…”

And suddenly Dean understood. He watched Cas continued to move over him, now just the slightest bit harder, blue eyes closed—and abruptly grabbed at the younger man, pulling him down and kissing him hard, then tumbling them over so he was the one on top. Cas went down with a startled yelp but didn’t complain when Dean settled between his legs and his cock slid into him again, deep and firm and full.

Cas took a minute to catch his breath, then wrapped his arms around Dean and gave him a vaguely surprised look. “Wh…?”

His boyfriend smiled and ducked down for a kiss, bracing himself on one forearm and sliding his other hand down to nudge at one of Cas’s legs. “You wanted to make love, so we’re going to make love.” He told him softly. “Unless you were really set on being on top.”

Cas shook his head and when Dean leaned their foreheads together, he sighed deeply and smiled fondly, then just lifted his legs up to wrap them around Dean’s hips, ankles crossed just below the small of his back, and murmured, “make love me to me, Dean.”

This time it was Dean who started moving his hips, just shallowly and gently at first, carefully working his way up to deeper, more forceful thrusts—but nothing ever got hard. Nothing ever got rough. Cas arched and panted and moaned into it, head back and eyes closed until Dean drew him into another kiss, pressed their heads together so they could look into each other’s eyes as he continued to move.

Staring into Dean’s eyes when they made love just… laid Cas’s soul completely bare, opened up everything he was, he thought, left him nowhere to hide. The first time it had happened it had been a revelation. Now it was just reaffirmation of their love. Of the trust that existed between them. He saw many things in Dean’s eyes, too; beautiful things that he would never forget. Entire universes.

When Dean finally had to break eye contact and duck to bury his face in Cas’s neck, Cas slid one hand up to thread his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair gently and began rolling his own hips to meet Dean’s thrusts, slow, deep and hot.

And this was exactly what he’d wanted. Why hadn’t he just started out like this to begin with? Then again, they had made love with Cas on top before, so there was no reason to think that it wouldn’t work out. This was better, this time, though… so much better.

Dean shifted slightly, bracing his knees to push his cock deeper into Cas’s body and Cas was left to arch into it with a gasp, his own head falling back against the pillows, hair mussing there, eyes closed again as he panted for air, the hand in Dean’s hair twisting and tugging at the soft strands along with their movements. His other hand, meanwhile, was holding against Dean’s back, by his shoulder, fingers digging in sharply. He had been known to leave marks in the past—and Dean was usually pleased when he did.

Now Cas tightened his legs around Dean, spurring Dean on to increase his pace, moving faster and a little harder but with just as much feeling behind it, fucking into Cas until both of them could do nothing but pant and moan loudly, Dean beginning to trail messy kisses along Cas’s neck and shoulder and Cas eventually dragging his nails down Dean’s back, leaving sharp pink tracks in their wake, to let his hand come to rest at the small of the older man’s back.

Hissing softly at the scratches, Dean gave a breathless chuckle and accused, “tease.”

“Not… teasing…” Cas panted out, loving the feeling of Dean moving inside him—of his muscles shifting and bunching under his palm. “Just feels… oh, God… so damn good…!”

Dean grunted out an agreement and just ducked his head against Cas’s shoulder again, burying his face as he began to move faster, harder, working them up to the edge, finally. Cas threw his head back, panting out a cry as Dean worked him over—and it always ended up this way. The last few minutes were almost always fierce despite their initial intentions—but definitely not in a bad way.

Now Dean just fucked into Cas hard and deep, aiming to purposefully jam against his sweet spot as much as possible, and Cas wailed, clinging to Dean for all he was worth, frantically trying to work his own hips to keep up with the other man. He didn’t last for much longer, his orgasm crashing over him only a few moments later, leaving Cas to gasp out another sharp cry and arch against Dean, coming hard between them.

Dean was next, taking a few more, hard thrusts that made Cas whimper before coming deep inside Cas—and there was something deeply satisfying about that every single time. Dean was still for a long minute before collapsing on top of Cas, panting against his shoulder with a grin. “…awesome.”

“So… so you keep saying.” Cas gave a breathless laugh, head back and eyes closed, and smoothed his hand up Dean’s back, fingers trailing along the new scratches lightly, making Dean hiss in a breath again. “Sorry about the, ah… scratches.”

“Mmm… don’t be… you know I like it when you do that.” Dean hummed and nuzzled into Cas’s neck warmly. “I love you, Cas.”

Cas’s lips quirked into a little fond smile, and he opened his eyes, lifting his head from the pillows to glance down at Dean. “I love you, too.”

After a couple minutes of catching their breath, Cas kicked Dean off of him and they cuddled up together, sweaty and sticky and otherwise dirty, definitely in need of a shower. But later. For now, they were just enjoying the afterglow. It was always nice when they got to do that.

That night, after they got cleaned up, they went back to the diner for dinner. Dean ordered a burger and Cas got pasta, and it was just as good as breakfast had been. Cas watched Dean eat quietly, privately pleased that the other man seemed good again, after the day before, and visiting his childhood house earlier. He had been worried about that; about the effect it would have on Dean. But Dean seemed perfectly happy with his burger and fries and just spending time with Cas like regular people, the beginning of their weekend now just a memory.

When they finished eating, they went back to the motel again—and spent the rest of the weekend, until Cas had to leave on Monday, locked up in the room together, just reassuring each other that everything was alright. Would always be alright. With them, anyway.

On Monday morning Cas woke up early. He always woke up early on the days he was leaving from their weekend meetups, like his body was trying to remind him that he only had so much time left. He rolled over in bed and tucked himself into Dean’s side, and Dean curled around him, wrapping him up in his arms, protective, somehow, even in his sleep. It made Cas smile to himself in the darkness of the room.

When Dean woke up some time later, when the sun was finally starting to properly rise, Cas was caught watching him sleep and could only give a sheepish smile. “Hey… good morning.”

Dean stretched and settled on his back with an arm around Cas and an amused smile on his face, “am I really that interesting?”

“You are.” Cas slid one arm over Dean’s chest and leaned his head down on his shoulder. “To me, anyway.” He hesitated before saying just softly, “I have to leave today, Dean.”

Dean’s smile faded at that. “I know. I hate these days.”

“Me too.” Cas agreed, tightening his arm over Dean. “This sucks.”

“It always sucks, Cas.”

“I know, but…” Cas adjusted his hold on Dean, bringing one hand up to trace his fingers against his chest absently. “I just think it would be nice, sometimes. If we could be together all the time.” Then he added quickly, “I know we can’t! You can’t quit Hunting and I can’t exactly go on the road with you, your Dad would commit murder… but I mean…”

“I hear you.” Dean chuckled, “there’s times when a normal, run-of-the-mill life with you sounds really good. But with the way things are… it’s just not possible. So, we’ve gotta just make the best of it, right? These weekends aren’t so bad. They’re like our own private little world, but all over the place. Like we own the whole country.”

“Sort of.” Cas admitted with a little smile. That was a nice way of looking at it. He lifted his head and leaned up to give Dean a soft kiss. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.”

“A sad Castiel is no good.” Dean said against his lips with a smile of his own, “so hey, what do you want to do this morning, before we have to go to the bus station?”

They ended up taking a shower together and making love under the running water, and even managed to avoid running out of hot water in the process. Then they went back to the diner down the street for breakfast, where Dean once again stuffed himself silly and Cas watched him with an amused smile the entire time.

By the time they finished eating and got back to the motel, Cas had to pack up his things so they could head for the bus station, and he did so with marked reluctance. Once everything was packed and ready to go, Dean pulled Cas into his arms and held him close for a long, few minutes until they simply couldn’t put it off any longer, at which point they left the motel again and headed downtown.

Goodbyes at the bus station were long and lingering and sad on both sides, but particularly for Cas. These partings were always hard on him—or, at least, he showed it more easily than Dean did, anyway. They stood together at the bus terminal, waiting for his boarding call, facing each other, foreheads pressed together and holding hands, Cas’s backpack at their feet, and completely ignoring anyone and everyone around them—until it was time for Cas to leave.

Cas’s automatic response was to grip tighter to Dean’s hands, but Dean gently eased away, murmuring a soft apology—and that he loved him. Cas just wanted to cry. He always wanted to cry in these moments. But eventually, after another boarding call, Cas had to release his grip on Dean and pick up his backpack to board the bus.

The last thing Dean did before Cas climbed onto the bus was lean in for one last kiss and whisper softly into his ear, “everything I do, I do it for you.”

Cas carried that with him all the way home.

Look into your heart you will find
There’s nothin’ there to hide
Take me as I am, take my life
I would give it all, I would sacrifice
Don’t tell me it’s not worth fightin’ for
I can’t help it, there’s nothin’ I want more
You know it’s true
Everything I do, I do it for you, yeah
-“(Everything I Do) I Do It For You” by Bryan Adams

THE END

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