Dean and Cas check into a motel following the confrontation with the Rit Zien, the angel murdering people after zeroing in on their pain. What happens between them that night is more than either had anticipated, but perhaps not wholly unexpected. Takes place during S09 EP06, "Heaven Can't Wait."
Rated M for sexual content.
He did feel kind of bad for the guy. In a patronizing, pitying way – which was why he wasn't saying anything. He wasn't quite positive, because he hadn't been there, but it wasn't too difficult to put the pieces together. He'd only burst in on that woman's house because the light had been on, and the truck of course. He'd expected to find Cas with his lady friend, maybe doing unseemly things. Not with a baby.
It was funny, in a cute way, that Cas had so terribly misunderstood what was happening with his "date." Babysitting wasn't exactly Dean's idea of a romantic getaway after all. And he had the feeling, based on the way Cas was sitting at the end of his bed refusing to say anything, that he was ashamed of his own mistake. After he'd gone on that long charade of how well he was doing as Steve, and then boasted about his date, well, anyone would be embarrassed.
Especially since there'd been a layer of defensiveness lacing his words concerning the matter.
This last bit made Dean feel guilty, more so than anything. Part of him practically lurched forward, as if wanting to spill his guts all over the floor. Yet the thought of Sam, and Ezekiel, stopped him. He'd made the decision to kick Cas out of the bunker and it was a choice he still stood by. He thought. He hadn't had a choice, right? Because if he hadn't made his friend leave, the angel inside Sammy would have run off. And Sam always came first. If Cas had his powers, he'd be the one healing his little brother, but he didn't, and Dean had had to make some choices.
Even if they did make him feel like a horrible, despicable human being.
Still quite blatantly staring at Cas's profile, he tightened his lips at the dejected, hopeless expression torn there. Like this failed date, and what had transpired with that crazy ass angel, had ripped Cas's whole world apart. Or, rather, the new existence he'd made for himself.
"Hey, look here," Dean forced one of his trademark smiles onto his face as he stood. "This is my kind of motel. Mini bar and everything." Going to the fridge on the far side of the room, he cracked it open, pulled out a bottle, and popped the top. He looked to Cas after, whose sad, droopy eyes had turned up to watch him. "You want one?"
"Sure," he replied, voice heavy and dead. Pursing his lips, Dean retrieved another before kicking the fridge closed and making his way over to Cas. Sitting down on the bed beside him, he pried off the cap to Cas's bottle before handing it to him.
"Hey, don't be so broken up." He'd try the old pep talk. "I've been turned down by plenty of women. I know that may sound surprising," another smile, but Cas wasn't looking at him, "but it's true." He took a drink. A long, cold, guilty drink.
"You don't have to stay here Dean," Cas cut right through the outside pleasantries, still refusing to meet Dean's eye, which caused the other man's expression to falter with unease. "I'm perfectly fine going back to the Gas-N-Sip. I've been sleeping there since I got the job."
"Hey now," Dean was finding it more and more difficult to remain forcefully positive. Maybe that was his own punishment. Cas was homeless after all, and it was his fault. "Don't refuse a night of pure luxury," he patted the bed, "and… top notch beverages." He held up the beer, thankful when Cas finally looked up at him.
He smiled again, hoping it'd do… something.
"I can take care of myself," Cas replied, that hint of defensiveness back in his voice again. The sound of it was like a knife constantly poking Dean in the rips. "I don't need charity." The way he said it though, it was accusing. He didn't need Dean's charity. Not after he'd been the one to kick him out on his own in the first place. Without anything and barely any knowledge of how to function as a human. He didn't want help, and he wanted it least from Dean.
"C'mon Cas," Dean said quietly, finally beginning to give in a little. "I know this is a shitty situation. Really. But you are doing pretty well." Sort of. "Don't refuse a bed just because you're pissed at me." He took another long drink, not surprised when he pulled the bottle back to see it already below half. Hey, he drank his stress.
"I'm not 'pissed' at you Dean."
"Don't lie Cas, you're not any good at it."
"That's not true!"
Dean cocked a single, skeptical brow, which resulted in Cas dropping his shoulders in a defeated sigh.
"I'm not angry with you Dean," he persisted, both of them knowing better. Still, it wasn't the lasting kind of anger. Cas wasn't the type to hold grudges, at least against Dean. Never against Dean. Time, that was what he needed. "I'm just frustrated."
Dean pooched his lips thoughtfully before taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I get that. Being human isn't all pie and… pizzamen." He smirked, more so because Cas had scoffed a chuckle and a small smile than because his comment had been funny.
"Dates are something humans do," Cas started after a moment, finally taking a drink. "I fear I'm going to make about as good a human as I did an angel." Which wasn't a compliment.
"Hey, you're new to this," Dean reached around and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Give yourself some credit. And besides…" He cleared his throat, his hand falling away to land back around his beer. "Guys like us, well, we're not exactly the type a woman like her – Nora?" Cas nodded, "not exactly the kind of guys a chick like her would go for."
He took another drink, Cas casting him a questioning look. Which was message enough for Dean to continue.
"She's a single mom, you know, with a full time job," he looked at Cas knowingly. "And you're a, well, like you said, you're a sales associate." Cas wasn't understanding what he was alluding to. "That not a good investment, you know?"
"You mean that… that going on a date with me wouldn't be wise?"
"For someone in her situation, yeah. She's looking for things that guys like you and me can't give her. A woman like that, with a kid, she's not going to be looking for sales associates."
"I don't understand," Cas admitted. "I mean, I understand what you're saying about me, but you keep referring to yourself as well." Naturally, that was what drew Cas's concern, not his own financial stability, or lack of it. "You were with Lisa, and Ben."
"Yeah, and I wasn't any good for them," he replied bitterly. "It's the same kind of thing. Lisa just… didn't know any better." Cas still wasn't totally comprehending, the way his head tilted making that totally clear. "All I know is hunting and cars. I've got a GED; I'm a grunt. I had a construction job, sure, but the baggage otherwise was too heavy." He was thoughtful, a scene from one of those musicals he secretly watched coming to mind. "Everybody's got baggage. The knack is finding some that goes with yours. Girls like Lisa, and Nora, their baggage isn't the kind that goes with ours. They've got those fancy, rolling suitcases – kinda empty, but full of expectation. You and me, we're more like duffels. Easy to move from place to place, stuffed full of useless shit, not much room for anything else. And nothing good to give otherwise."
Cas contemplated his words for a moment, watching as he raised his beer to his mouth again and took a drink. It was nearly empty. The thought reminded him of his own, spurring him to also take a sip of the harsh tasting liquid before speaking. "You're being a little hard on yourself, don't you think?"
"It was a poetic metaphor," because Dean could speak quite eloquently, and intelligently, when he wanted to, "but not entirely true. Maybe you're right about compatibility, but I know you have plenty to offer that's useful."
"Cars and monsters," Dean nodded, his expression somewhat sour. "That's it."
"That's not what I was referring to. Maybe I'm not the most successful human, but I'd be lost completely were it not for what I learned from you." Dean's brows furrowed. "Of all the humans I've met, you're the best example I've come across."
"Ha!" His laugher came out as cynical. "Yeah, okay." Dean finished off his beer. "I don't know about that," Cas was frowning at him, "but I guess if you managed to learn something, that's good."
"You should give yourself more credit."
Dean waved him off as he stood, which didn't much reassure Cas, but he supposed it was better to drop the subject. He knew Dean didn't like talking about such things, which was why Cas had become accustomed to reading his expressions. Still, he did pride himself on getting more out of Dean than most.
Dropping his empty bottle into the trash by the fridge, Dean soon retrieved another before going to the small television sitting on the stand in the corner. The remote was sitting on top, so he grabbed it before heading back over to the bed. Sitting on Cas's left, he switched on the tube, skimming the channels while reaching down to untie his boots. About the time he was kicking them off, he saw a familiar title flash through the guide, a smile coming to his face.
"Dr. Sexy marathon," he smiled up at Cas, who gave him that trademark curious look. "Watch a few before we hit the hay?"
"Hit the what?"
"Oh, this is a good one," Dean gestured for Cas to look to the television. In the same moment, he scooted back in the bed, leaning up against the pillow. He reasoned that he wouldn't be able to watch from his bed, the far one, and so didn't object when Cas copied his actions. Side by side, legs stretched out and folded at the ankles, they watched, Dean quite happy to do so. After all, it wasn't like he could watch Dr. Sexy when Sam was around. That'd just get him made fun of. Cas though, well, he didn't know well enough to judge, so Dean didn't have to worry about it.
"I don't quite understand," Cas started halfway through the second episode. "I mean, Dr. Sexy is clearly capable, but I don't see anything beyond typical to justify his name. Certainly he's attractive, but…"
"What?" Dean was clearly aghast. "You're joking, right?" He wasn't. "That's- he's-" Dean sighed, disappointed. "Dr. Sexy is the sexiest M.D. That's the whole point."
"You think he's sexy?" Cas asked straight.
"Well yeah," Dean gestured sharply to the television screen, where the good doctor was bedding a nurse on an operating table. "Look at him!"
"I am," Cas was peering at the television again. "And I don't see anything overly sexy about him." Dean was staring at his friend in silent irritation. "He's cold and brooding, and hardly has any natural charm. Not socially dependable." Cas looked back at Dean. "He's not clean shaven, his hair is a mess. If anything, he's a complete disaster."
"Take that back," Dean demanded, causing Cas to cock an eyebrow. "Don't you get it, that's exactly what makes him sexy. He's got that whole… dark, handsome, scruffy thing going for him. Undependable, sure, but he keeps 'em guessing. And he is too charming. Just in a silent, measured kind of way."
"Well," Dean did have to give him that. "I'm a different kind of sexy."
"I prefer your charm to Dr. Sexy's," Cas admitted, looking back to the television.
"While I appreciate the compliment, you should watch who you criticize," Dean looked back to the television as well. "You and Dr. Sexy have a lot in common." This drew Cas's eyes back his way. "You know, that whole… scruffly, messy look. I can't pull it off, but you…" he nodded, still watching the show. "I see it."
"Thanks?" Cas eyed the screen a little differently when he looked back. "If I and Dr. Sexy have so much in common, why is it that I can't attract anyone?"
"Why are you so worried about that all of a sudden?" Dean replied shortly, looking back at him.
"I don't know," he admitted, seeming to slump back against the pillow. "I think it might have something to do with being human." Analytical as ever. "When I was an angel, it wasn't something I was at all preoccupied with. Not to say I didn't value the company of others – you and Sam are my friends – but that I simply didn't require any such closeness."
"Which you do now?"
Pause. "It's cold," he said quietly. "Being on your own."
Dean knew what he meant – exactly what he meant – and felt guilty for it all over again.
"Hey, you'll get used to it," he said gently, reaching out and patting Cas reassuringly on the thigh, just above his knee. "Not gonna say it'll be fun, but you'll learn to ignore that kind of stuff eventually."
"Like you do?"
"Well, yeah," Dean's hand retreated, his arms crossing over his chest. "You take it when you can get it and learn to deal the rest of the time."
"You don't desire a significant other?" Cas inquired, ever curious.
"I've learned not to hope for what I'll never have," he shrugged. "Besides, I'm not like Sam. I like hunting, you know, helping people. That kind of gig doesn't give much time for anything else."
"Certainly there's someone out there who is similar," Cas tried to reason. "Someone who shares your same lifestyle."
"Maybe," Dean shrugged, "but, if you hadn't noticed, people who get close to us don't always last. It's better to just… keep a healthy distance." He smirked, their eyes meeting again. "I think you're the only exception. I mean, you've probably met some quota by now. Known me and Sam for six years and you're still around." Kevin was in the running, as it were.
"You act as though you and your brother were cursed."
"We're sure not good luck."
"Were you not just going on about baggage? There must be someone with… matching luggage to yours."
"I'm not worried about it," Dean shrugged, trying to focus back on the television. "I got Sam. We've got similar baggage."
"He's your brother," Cas deadpanned.
"Yeah, so," Dean shrugged. "And I got you," he slapped him good-humoredly on the leg again.
"Our baggage goes together?" Cas was looking up at him from under those dark lashes.
"Sure," Dean nodded, that penetrating stare, which he'd seen so many times before, still as heavy on his chest as ever. It had this habit of taking his breath away. "You know it does Cas," he said breathily, his voice quite ahead of his brain. He was on his third beer by that time (Cas was still nursing his first) and knew he was probably saying things he shouldn't. But it was so easy to feel at ease around Cas, to feel safe, which only lowered his inhabitations more.
And Cas, who wasn't exactly well versed in holding his alcohol, was feeling far too warm and comfortable beside Dean. Some of it he supposed was attributed to the haze floating around in his head, some to the mere fact that he wasn't sleeping alone in the back of a store on a sleeping bag, but instead sitting beside another warm body – which belonged to one of the few people in the entire world he knew he could trust. Because, though Dean had kicked him out of the bunker, it was Cas's trust in him, despite being initially angry, that spurred him to believe Dean had done what was necessary. What he, at least, thought needed to be done. And if there was any judgment Cas thought he could have faith in, it was Dean's.
For all their history together, Dean was his best friend.
His most treasured.
"Cas…" His name came whispering from between Dean's lips, the fact that they'd been staring at each other for some few seconds longer than was acceptable not getting by either of them. But, like always, Dean had a hard time tearing himself away. Because of everyone he knew, everyone in his life, Cas was the only one that looked at him that way. That saw through every defense he had without judgment or bigotry or prejudice like so many other humans, including himself, were prone to. Like his soul was bared completely.
He tried, really, to give Cas that same experience, but he knew it was impossible. Because Cas wasn't jaded by human emotion as Dean was. By societal expectations that brought redness to his cheeks as the seconds continued to slowly tick by. They urged him to turn away, to end the connection. But the two were alone, even if for just one night. And Dean had maybe had a little too much to drink, and Cas was lonely, out on his own at Dean's fault.
And Dean missed him.
He didn't know exactly how it'd happened, how Cas's lips had ended up only a hairs breadth from his own, but Dean could feel heated breath against his face, his stare blinking back into Cas's before falling to follow his nose to that slightly open mouth. His full lips that seemed to pull up a little too far, delicately pointed. Back to his eyes. Blue. Bluer than blue.
"Dean," Cas said his name breathily, the sound still weighed with gravel and intentions and things that sent Dean's blood from his face downward. Things he thought about sometimes, but was usually too distracted to really entertain. Yet there they were, side by side, no sign of interruption in sight. One night.
Just one night.
Despite how his nerves tried to hijack him, Dean pushed through, willing courage through his system. Locked in eye contact with Cas, he gulped, lightning jolting through him as his nose brushed just gently against Cas's. As their foreheads came lightly together, lips dancing closer and closer.
Dean closed his eyes – perhaps a little tighter than he needed to. Because if he didn't, he was afraid he might chicken out. And Cas, who found his whole body sizzling with an excitement he'd never experienced before, carefully, hesitantly, closed the distance between them. He pressed his lips just barely to Dean's, his own lashes falling closed. The touch was tentative and fueled by all that was known but unsaid. Butterflies against Dean's lips.
Light, but there nonetheless. It was enough to break the levee inside Dean. For the water to come rushing forth, pushing him closer. Reaching out, his hand went instinctively to the back of Cas's neck, his body turning on the bed as he pulled the kiss more thoroughly against him. The contact deepened, Cas – who was lacking far more in experience than Dean – reaching out and gripping at Dean's leg if only for leverage. Brows scrunching, Dean sucked that top lip between his own, his breath gasping as he did. Because he was kissing Cas, one of his dearest friends, and it was okay.
It was perfect.
Cas knew, despite a handful of other times, that he was lacking greatly in experience in comparison to the man that was now sucking the sheer breath out of him. But he didn't care. Because it was Dean and, if there was anyone who'd be understanding about that, it was him. For all of Dean's rough and tumble image, he was really quite the opposite – one of the things Cas found so endearing about him.
Holding Dean's leg tighter, he breathed in that familiar scent of leather and alcohol, of spice and sweat and steel. When he'd been an angel, he'd been able to make out such things rooms away, but as a human he'd been quite without that ability, being so close to Dean then rushing him into a lightheaded euphoria that sent heat plummeting down between his legs. Quite without warning, a moan escaped his throat, one that spoke more than words ever would have.
The sound pulled Dean momentarily out of the kiss. It was a noise so charged, so drawn, that he had to pause if only to get ahold of himself. It was one of the most erotic, sensual sounds he'd ever heard, his jeans tighter in that moment than they had been in a long time.
And the look on Cas's face, his head tilted back into Dean's hand, was nearly too much. Dean had to take a deep breath if only so he didn't ruin it all.
"Cas," he breathed heavily, his lungs heaving as he gulped, licking his lips. Those blue eyes opened, staring down at him darkly and full of lust. More physically penetrating than ever before. "Cas," he said his name again as he leaned down, his lips finding the corner of that sharp jaw, "I need you."
Those words, oh how they both knew them. How important they were.
They meant everything.
"You can have me Dean, you know that," Cas assured, his hands coming up to reach around, gripping Dean's t-shirt tightly while those lips travelled down his neck. "I'm yours."
Fingers falling to Cas's sides, Dean leaned forward, over the other man as their eyes fell closed once more. The heated skin he kissed at hungrily tempted him further, his hands soon sliding up and taking the other man by force. Pulling him down, he was soon lying back against the pillows, Dean placing himself over him fully as he continued to ravage his neck.
Breathing labored, Cas's eyes popped back open at the rough handling, his hands becoming claws against Dean's shirt. He could feel the other man's warmth through the fabric, the idea of friction between their bodies spurring him to do something about it. Bunching the thin piece of clothing into his fists, he began to roughly pull it upward, Dean registering well enough what he was doing and making it that much easier for Cas to yank the offensive object up over his head. Allowing it to fall to the floor, his hands went immediately to Dean's heaving chest, the other man sitting back in his lap as Cas surveyed his thick, muscular figure.
Fingers deft and intentional, Dean began to undo the buttons to Cas's dress shirt, chest soon exposed and victim to searching fingers. Dragging his hands back beneath Cas, he easily lifted the other man up, their lips meeting again as Cas's fingers came up to grip at the other man's shoulders. Dean wanted the shirt gone however, which meant it was soon being shrugged from Cas's shoulders before being discarded over the bed. Bare skin on skin, they pulled at one another, Cas's hands falling to Dean's back pockets as he pulled him more securely into his lap. Groaning some against the tight heat that rubbed through their jeans, Dean hugged Cas as close to him as he could, every brush his arms made against warm flesh, every rub their chests made against one another, sending him farther and farther from any sense of logic.
Lips smashing clumsily together, their actions soon began to lose grace, both quite overwhelmed with their need of the other. Pushing forward, Dean laid Cas back into the bed again, his lips falling down to that scruffy chin from which he began to dot kisses down, down, down to his throat, which gulped as sweat began to form between them. Leaving burning marks in their wake, Dean ran his fingers down Cas's sides as his lips found his chest, his nails knocking at every one of his ribs, tight and wanting.
Cas's hands were in Dean's hair, pulling greedily as he registered each heated touch the hunter trailed across his torso. His abdomen quivered with anticipation, Dean's body beginning to shimmy downward as his tongue left a scalding path down to the rim of Cas's jeans. Fingers dragging to his button and zipper, Cas's hips bucked quite unconsciously as the heavy fabric was loosened. Taking hold of the edge of his pants and boxers, Dean began to tug them downward, his eyes trained on Cas's erected need, now exposed to the chill of the room.
With legs pulling quite willingly from the confining jeans, Dean dropped Cas's clothing carelessly at the foot of the bed, the man now totally naked before him. Knees bent, Cas was staring at him, the desire in his eyes only intensified by his vulnerable position. Crawling back up the bed, Dean soon found himself between Cas's legs, his hands running down his muscular, tanned thighs, all the while their eyes caught up in one another. It wasn't until Dean leaned down that the connection broke, his lips finding the inside of Cas's thigh, his hands gripping them equally. The contact pulled a growling gasp from Cas, whose fingers had found the sheets and were grasping them tightly.
Breathing in the smell of sweat and need, Dean nosed his way up to the base of that desire, his tongue soon dragging along the shaft as Cas trembled before him. With experience in more things than he was really willing to admit, Dean was soon taking Cas wholly into his mouth, his lips sucking as the body beneath him jolted and bucked.
He could tell Cas wouldn't hold out long however, be it due to lack of experience or simply – like in Dean's case – because their situation was too heavy and charged to really control. He drank Cas in and out for a moment, the labored moan that echoed around the room telling him just how close the other man was. Which was why he soon let him go, Cas whimpering some as the cold air assaulted him once again. Ever intent however, Dean was soon distracting the ex-angel with other ideas, his lips once again trailing down between Cas's heated thighs. As if wanting to meet him, Cas's hips rose, Dean's attention falling down to the heated entrance that he was quite positive no one but himself had ever touched so.
He got a delicious kind of satisfaction out of the fact that Cas was complete putty in his hands. Fingers gripping almost territorially at the ass pulling his attention, he allowed his tongue to do the exploring that was sending Cas into a delirious mess. He knew just as well as Cas that it was more than what he was physically doing – that it was the fact that it was the two of them, touching, discovering, intimately getting to know one another in ways they never had before, that was sending them both into euphoric states of pleasure. Which was why Dean pressed on despite not having the tools he knew would make it less painful. They'd just have to make do with what they had, because they certainly weren't stopping.
Leaving as much wetness behind as he could, Dean pulled one of his hands between Cas's thighs, taking a single finger between his lips to get it as ready as possible before allowing it to find that waiting opening. Eyes flicking up, he watched as Cas's whole body jerked as he entered, his hands in his own hair as he groaned. He leaned into the touch, submerging Dean's finger more fully. His wanton display of desire, despite how painful it may have been, forced Dean to steady his own breathing. He focused his attention on the preparation necessary, his fingers expertly penetrating until he located that one spot that nearly sent Cas over the edge.
A second finger, Cas was whining his name. A third and the sound of his voice was nearly too much to bear.
Leaning up while still keeping on with his stroking, Dean used his other hand to reach for his own pant's button, quickly undoing it before doing the same for the zipper. Forcefully shoving his jeans down his thighs, he did the same for his own boxers, pulling himself free while removing his fingers. Not bothering with the patience needed to remove his pants entirely, he instead leaned over Cas, who was staring up at him as he did.
"This might hurt," he warned through heavy breathing.
"I don't care," Cas made forcefully clear, his hands coming up to grip at Dean's shoulders. With his legs between Cas's, Dean could feel the way the other man's hips surged upward, begging for attention, which Dean was more than willing to give. Pressing his hips down against Cas's, he reached back between them, situating himself before slowly pressing his own need against that warm entrance. Cas clawed tighter at his shoulders, the expression on his face becoming feral as Dean pushed himself in further and further. Until, finally, he was engulfed entirely, Cas's throat resounding with a loud moan that echoed more so of pleasure than pain. Because they'd both experienced much worse, which made any kind of hurt hardly a variable.
Body sunk against Cas's, Dean felt a groan escape between his teeth as he buried himself as fully as possible. Knees against the bedding, he allowed the tightness to envelop him totally, his fingers clawing at the sheets on either side of Cas.
For a moment he allowed the sensation to fill him completely, his eyes closing as he bit his lip and realized just how deeply he was touching Cas in that moment. A moment that his body was soon issuing he repeat.
Over and over and over again.
Pulling back until he was nearly out completely, he then thrust himself forward again, Cas gasping beneath him, seeming to flounder in the sheets as Dean began to slowly develop a rhythm. Bodies flush up against one another, he was soon plunging himself in and out, making sure to hit that single spot that sent Cas moaning every time. Each breath he took bounced around the room, Dean reaching between them and taking hold of Cas's length, beginning to pump him in tandem with their pattern.
Hands skimming down Dean's back, Cas was soon gripping his ass hard enough to leave bruises, willing their hips to collide harder, faster, more aggressively. A fact over which Dean had little complaint. Their tempo soon became erratic, Dean beginning to slip out of control. And Cas, who'd held out for about as long as he could, was soon gone, his whole body tensing.
"Dean!" his gravelly voice groaned loudly, his whole body arcing upward as he reached release. Still held tight in Dean's pumping hand, everything was let go, the sight of Cas's body giving out beneath him pushing Dean even closer. Hands falling to the sheets, Cas's eyes, which had previously been closed in ecstasy, opened again, that blue bleary as his body spun out of the high.
And Dean, staring down at him while his hips continued to work, gritted his teeth as his blood rushed him over the cliff. Slipping, he arms became weak, his chest sinking as he pumped those last few seconds into Cas. Cas, who could see that he was losing it, was getting out of control, and reached up tiredly to catch him. Foreheads leaning together, Dean closed his eyes, aware of the way his thrusting weakened, his body releasing, engulfed in the man beneath him. Mouth gaping, he was silent, Cas watching in erotic fascination as his pleasure stretched across his whole expression, the sheer force of their actions breaking any shields he had against revealing what he felt.
He let everything go, Cas's strong arms, despite their exhaustion, holding him steady as he twitched what was left in him against the ex-angel. Breathing out heavily, he gasped, his chest heaving as the final throws of their foray fled him. Faint and in a state of leftover ecstasy, Dean's whole body fell heavily atop Cas, whose hands gripped and caught him tightly. One arm wrapping around his back, Cas pulled Dean as close to him as possible, his other hand sifting through his short, dirty-blonde hair.
Bodies sweaty, breathing heavy, they lay without a word, both their brains a little too frazzled to think anything coherently. The only direct voice within the room was emitted from the television, where Dr. Sexy was beginning a new episode, one neither of the men had the attention span to hear.
Instead, warm and feeling quite safe in their own bubble of a world, Cas soon registered that Dean's breathing had evened, the familiar sound of his sleep only aiding in reminding Cas just how exhausted he was too. Within the moment, they'd both drifted off, the shaking of their motel room only disturbing the overhead light as a train rattled by outside.
They slept, wrapped up in one another, more soundly than either had in a long time (or in Cas's case, ever). However, one night didn't erase years of a hard life, Dean only managing to get in his usual four or five hours before his eyes slowly cracked open. Blinking slowly, he registered that he was still lying quite comfortably atop Cas, who's soft snoozing was a more comforting sound than any of the women Dean had ever woken up with. Probably because, with Cas, he wasn't waking up full of insecurity or the want to get away as soon as possible. He was rarely gifted with such a luxury, his trust and comfort level with Cas almost taking himself by surprise. But, ultimately, it didn't. He and Cas had fought countless battles together, been there for one another through thick and thin, and that wasn't something a romp in the sack could disrupt. If anything, it only cemented to Dean how much Cas meant to him (a fact he'd already been quite aware of). It was strange, especially when considering how sex usually went over. Cas was his friend, really, above anything else. It wouldn't matter if they slept together every night for the rest of their lives, that was where it all ended. Because Dean knew there wasn't an appropriate way to label what was between them, Cas's "profound bond" perhaps coming closest. And he honestly didn't have a desire to put a label on it. "Friends" was good enough for anyone who needed to know, because both him and Cas knew everything otherwise.
There weren't any words for it.
If there ever did come a time where it became necessary to pin down their status, then they'd deal with it. As it were, when considering everything going on outside their motel room, what happened there would have to be left. Part of Dean wanted to bring Cas back to the bunker, his hands finding his bare sides and his face cuddling into that chest as he considered it. But he knew he couldn't. Not with Sam in the situation he was.
Maybe that was the whole thing. He and Cas knew what was between them, what could be, and they simply had to wait until it was appropriate to make something of it. Until then – if that time ever came – they had what they did, broken and disjointed as it was.
But it was something.
A very important something.
"Dean?" Cas's scratchy voice sounded above his head, Dean realizing too late that his grip had been enough to wake the other man. Releasing his hold, he turned his head up to take in the stare looking down at him, dark eyebrows furrowed curiously.
"Sorry," he apologized with a deep breath. "I didn't mean to wake you up."
"It's fine," Cas assured, his body stretching some beneath Dean as he glanced over to the end table. A cheap, digital alarm clock sat there, the time reading six thirty-seven. "I have work at eight anyway."
Nodding, Dean finally got up the energy to move. Rolling to the side, his sticky body seemed to stretch off of Cas, his pants around his knees hindering his movements some. Pursing his lips, he began to kick them off entirely – once he'd landed back down beside Cas. They "fwumped" heavily to the side of the bed, Dean sinking some into the mattress as he cocked a single knee upward.
Watching him the whole time, Cas soon turned on his side, his gaze focused on Dean's profile. It took a second, but Dean eventually returned the look, a smirk pulling at one side of his lips.
"You're beautiful," Cas said quite certainly.
"Hmm, thanks," Dean grinned wider. "I think it's pretty clear what I think of you."
Cas smiled just a little.
"You have work at eight?" A nod of confirmation. "You should probably take a shower," Dean reached out, his hand landing with a soft pat against Cas's hip. "You'll smell like sex all day otherwise." Which was something others would definitely notice.
"I suppose you're right," Cas agreed, making no initial attempts to move. After a few more seconds of staring however, he sighed, giving in. Sitting up, Dean's hand fell away from him as he stared out across the room. His attempts to rise only got about halfway to success, one of his legs coming up to fold before him as he sat stationary on the bed.
Dean admired the view for a moment. That body – which was more Cas's than anyone else's, as far as Dean was concerned – with its well-formed, wiry muscle, naturally tanned skin, dark hair. Sharp features. Yes, Cas was most certainly something worthy of desire.
Sitting up as well, Dean scooted up beside him, their thighs bumping as he placed a hand behind Cas's back, his chin leaning on his shoulder. Turning into him, Cas allowed their eyes to meet again, their noses touching as they stared.
"You know," Cas started, his voice a mere murmur, "the day I raised your from hell, I really was lost."
Dean blinked, knowing his eyes said enough. "I've found, in this world, that it's more often better to be lost than found."
A soft, sad smile below those blue eyes.
Shortly after, Cas was up, the bathroom shower running. Dean had lain back in the bed, cruising through the television channels until Cas came back out. With him toweling his hair dry and gathering their clothes around the room, Dean took over the bathroom. By the time seven-thirty was rolling around, Dean was pulling his jeans back on, Cas yanking on his work vest, which he'd retrieved from the car. With sunlight shining in through the blinds on the windows, they were soon fully presentable, Dean lastly shucking on his coat as Cas rose from where he'd been sitting on the end of the bed. He'd pulled up the sheets and gathered them into a roll, for the sake of the help, which left the room in a state of farewell.
Looking only quickly to one another, Dean sighed before going to he door. Reaching for the knob, he twisted before pulling it open. Cas was just behind him, his arm catching Cas's as the door opened. Turning up, he was caught up yet again in that look, his lips pursing as he took it in.
Leaning forward, he caught Cas by the arm, his fingers holding his sleeve as he pressed their lips together. Cas gave in willingly, the contact lasting only seconds. But it was heavy, and meaningful, and more than what time could define.
Still holding Cas's sleeve, Dean leaned back, blue eyes blinking back at him.
"I guess this is adios," he muttered.
Cas nodded, knowing there was no objecting to the truth of the statement.
With only a last look into each other, Dean nodded to the door, gesturing Cas through first before pulling the door closed behind him. Foregoing checking out – he'd left the key in the room – his eyes turned to the impala. His hand still lingered on the doorknob, Cas's back to him as he headed to the passenger side of the car.
Willing himself to take a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes for a moment, his hand still on the knob.
He considered what was in that room, what they were leaving behind, and nearly tore his chest apart as he finally allowed his hand to fall to his side.
Going to the car, he climbed in the driver's side before starting the engine and backing out of the parking spot. Soon enough they were on the road, the Gas-N-Sip only some ten minutes away.
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