Title: Punch Drunk Love
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Dean/OFCs
Warnings: Boy-kissing and teasing
Word Count: 2,500
Summary: A teenage human AU in which Castiel asks his best friend to teach him how to kiss. Well, he didn't actually ask – Dean offered. Which is weird 'cause Castiel is pretty sure he's very definitely straight.
Notes: Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. And I just felt like teasing the hell outta people. I regret nothing :D Enjoy! Title taken from a song, as well as a line within this fic – cookies to the person who spots it!
They're just in Dean's house, chilling on the couch and watching…something. Damn, Castiel really should start trying to remember all the B-listed Western movies that Dean makes him watch. Anyway, it's got that Clive guy, or Clint…Clark? That guy, and Dean's nursing a beer (they're technically not allowed to drink but Dean's dad's cool with it so whatever) and watching the movie.
Castiel, though, has other things on his mind. Like his best friend – that long-ass river in Egypt. Yeah. Except not really.
It's a whole messy boy-likes-straight-boy story. I'm sure you've heard it all before. Point is, at Dean's encouragement, Castiel finally got up the nerve to swallow his gay pride and ask out one of the girls in their class.
"Dean, I don't even know how to kiss."
Now this statement does not have the best insinuations in the first place. For instance, they're currently seniors in high school and Castiel not knowing how to even kiss a girl is sure to make him a target for Dean's gentle form of mockery – it still hurts but he always manages to make you forgive him, damn mid-Western charm. Secondly, telling this to his definitely straight and definitely experienced best friend might lead to awkward 'Teach, Rabbi' moments that Castiel's not sure he's comfortable with. The third consequence he doesn't even want to think about because it's impossible.
Dean turns his head, quirking a little grin at Castiel. "Dude, really?" he asks, like he doesn't quite believe the slightly older boy, and Castiel just bites his lip and looks down, fidgeting. "Shit, man, are you serious?" Surprise, there, and a little bit of…something else. Dean straightens on the couch, shoving himself back so he's resting more upright against it. "Never even just on the cheek?"
Castiel shakes his head. "That's not really kissing, Dean." He finds himself blushing and hates his pale skin for showing color so easily – not like Dean's tan from being out in sunshine even when there isn't any sun to be in.
"Well, we can't be having that," Dean says after a while, straightening up again, and Castiel fixes him with a wide-eyed look. Dean pats his lap. "Come here."
Castiel can only stare for a moment. "You're kidding me, right?" he asks weakly, but finds himself moving towards Dean without even thinking about it. Weird.
Dean smirks a little more widely, taking Castiel's arms and pulling the older teen so he's straddling Dean's lap. Castiel blushes heavily, making a move to get off of him, but Dean's hands come down on his hips and hold him still. "Dean, what are you -?" His hands find Dean's shoulders without his acknowledgement or consent, and he digs his nails into the meaty muscle.
"Can't have you ruining my rep, man – your date's tonight. Gotta teach you to kiss before then." And then three things happen at once – Castiel's eyes widen so far that they are in danger of falling out of his head; all his breath leaves him in one fell swoop, and pretty much every drop of blood in his body leaves his head and rushes right downwards. "Won't be having my best friend be a bad kisser," Dean says like he didn't even notice.
"You've got to be kidding," Castiel whispers. Dean's so close, right here – Castiel could actually lean down and just kiss him. Which seems to be the idea, but still, Castiel can't quite wrap his head around it.
Dean smiles, and Castiel squeaks, tensing up when Dean's hands begin to run up and down his thighs and his sides. "Loosen up," the younger boy whispers, smiling; "A tense kiss is a bad one. Just relax. Pretend I'm that girl you're going to see."
Castiel takes in a deep breath, and holds it, and then lets it out again – he forces his body to relax and lets his thighs fall easily on either side of Dean's, and his hands release their death grip, settling more comfortably along the curve of his neck. "There we go," Dean whispers, grinning a little up at Castiel – his eyes are so green, so beautiful. Castiel can count the shades in them, and the flecks of gold and blue. "Now there are loads of different types of kiss, and they can all say different things. Some of them don't even have to happen."
Castiel frowns, cocking his head to one side. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the drum roll. It's the best part, sometimes," Dean replies. His hands move from Castiel's thighs, up and over his spine – Castiel can feel his warm palms through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and wishes with all his might that it wasn't there. Dean pushes at Castiel's back, forcing the two of them closer, and leans up. Castiel's hands and legs tighten in anticipation, his breath coming fast as Dean leans up, eyes flashing between Castiel's mouth and his eyes.
He stops when they're less than an inch apart – Castiel can feel Dean's warm breath on his lips and parts them, wanting to taste each other's air. They remain like that for God knows how long, just staring into each other's eyes, and Dean keeps looking down at Castiel's mouth like he intends to close the distance. Every now and again Castiel will shift, just a little closer, swallowing and blowing out a shaky breath against Dean's lips, which makes the younger boy wets with his tongue, as though he's tasting their air. Castiel's eyes follow the motion, copying it absently – they're so close, so fucking close. He imagines he can feel the other boy's heat, like they're already kissing, against his lips.
Castiel's palms are beginning to sweat, his hands shaking from the intensity – it's really quite frightening, the anticipation, making his heart thud so loudly that he can't hear himself think, or breathe.
Dean chuckles and leans back.
"That's what I mean," he says, running a hand through his hair, and Castiel lets out a shaky breath, sitting back on Dean's legs again.
"Oh," he says, trying to cover up his blush and the fact that his hands are shaking and the fact that he's hard, sitting in his friend's lap, talking about practicing how to kiss a girl. "I see."
"Yeah…" Dean clears his throat, running a hand through his hair once more. "Then there's the actual kissing part – girls' lips can get really sensitive really quickly, and apparently it feels better for them. All tingly or some such shit."
Castiel blushes, pressing his lips together, because he thinks he might be feeling that 'some such shit'. "How do I do that?" he asks, looking at Dean's mouth, his full lips and how pretty and red they are. He bites his lip and tries to imagine them on some chick, but they can't come close to Dean's mouth.
The younger boy smiles, and brings his hand up to the side of Castiel's face. "A lot of the girls I've dated like it when you trace your thumb along their bottom lip," he says, watching his thumb as it gently grazes the middle of Castiel's lower lip, making them part and Castiel's breath ghosts along Dean's skin. "Just like that – the lightest touch can melt them completely if you do it right. And the mouth is super sensitive. You can bite very gently, or lick over their lips – like when we sweat and get cold. Same kind of principle. And it makes their lips really…full, and pretty."
"Oh…Okay," Castiel stutters, blushing and biting his lower lip again, wondering if Dean will go far enough to practice that too – Castiel honestly doesn't know how he's still in one piece. He feels like he's about to explode.
His hips shift, just a little, friction making him shudder and bite back a small noise that he prays Dean didn't hear.
Taking a deep breath, he tries to sit back, because he's losing control here and if this keeps going where it's going he's going to end up creaming himself in his best friend's lap just from kissing him (embarrassing doesn't even cover that).
Dean sits up too, following him. "You can do a lot to a girl with a pretty mouth," he murmurs, smirking a little, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. Castiel's breath hitches at the sight and his friend's suddenly rough voice and the double entendre that he's drawling – when did that happen? "But it's even better if you make her chase yours. Make her so desperate for it that she'll mewl so prettily and shove you back and force it."
Castiel cocks his head to one side. "You like a girl who can take control?" he asks, partially curious, part imagining Dean submitting to him instead – of shoving Dean up against his wall or this couch or the lockers at school and just kissing him senseless, reducing him to a pile of goo with nothing. Castiel wants that so badly he can hardly breathe. He wonders if that's why Dean's got them like this, with Castiel in his lap so the older boy can maneuver how he wishes while Dean's essentially pinned. He wonders if Dean has thought about this.
He might have.
But Dean's straight.
The younger boy smiles, running his hands down Castiel's shoulders, back to the neutral area of his waist to help him keep his balance. "There's nothin' like it, man," he replies, closing his eyes at some memory, biting his lower lip, and Castiel feels Dean flush very hot for a brief moment, and wonder what he's thinking about.
"I want to try," he suddenly says, becoming bold now, because he doesn't want Dean thinking about some chick while Castiel's right here and perfectly willing to rock Dean's world instead. The younger boy's eyes flash open again, pupils wide and black, and he tilts his head very slightly in permission. Castiel takes a deep breath, the nerves returning, and mimics Dean's hold before – one hand settles over Dean's elevated pulse, cupping his neck, the other brushes over the side of his face, holding his jaw and drawing it towards him like he's seen people in movies do.
He hesitates a second from sealing the deal, the nerves returning full throttle, because shit, this is Dean, and he's about to kiss Dean, and it's only been in his fantasies for the past, like, six years since he knew what kissing and sex was, so it's kind of a big fucking deal.
Dean smiles, running a hand up and down Castiel's side. "It's okay to be nervous," he whispers, and Castiel just laughs, resting his forehead against Dean's own, watching his friend's eyes. "Just go with it, Cas – do what feels natural. What feels good."
Swallowing, the older teen nods, and slowly leans in. Dean's eyes flutter closed a moment before their lips touch. It's warm – really, really warm. Dean's lips are just as soft as they look, and they're full and yield perfectly to Castiel's own, molding over the older teen's as Castiel presses a little harder. His hand moves to cup Dean's jaw a little more forcefully, keeping them together, and the other moves up to fist in his hair because it feels natural to do that.
Dean lets out a quiet little sound when Castiel's fingers knot in his hair and tug very slightly. The sound just sets something in Castiel on fire – he swallows a soft moan, shifting forward very slightly so he's more pressed up against Dean, and he's pretty sure the other teen can feel his hard-on but that doesn't fucking matter, 'cause he's kissing Dean.
Remembering what Dean told him, Castiel parts his lips, just a little, dragging the tip of his tongue along the seam of Dean's lips, and the other boy opens so nicely to him, shivering just slightly, and Castiel tugs his head back just a little more. Dean's lower lip falls between his own and it just feels natural to nip at it, just a little, and then lick over the reddened flesh which has just the right amount of give to his tongue.
The room feels like it's a thousand degrees but Castiel can't bring himself to care. The hand on Dean's jaw moves to his hair as well, and Castiel breaks away for air, resting their lips together still, and catches Dean's eye for the briefest moment before he dives in again. He can't stop watching Dean's mouth, how their lips mold together so perfectly and how Dean's are getting all shiny and slick when he pulls away. He bites down again on Dean's lip, loving how he can feel tiny blood vessels bursting and making it swell.
When he finally meets Dean's tongue, he goes fucking weak in the knees. Letting out a soft little whimper, Castiel can only taste when Dean's tongue slides along his own, done with being passive. Dean's an expert at that cherry-stem-tying thing and his tongue curls along Castiel's, so warm and wet. It feels amazing. It feels like nothing he's ever felt before. His body is burning up and it feels like he's going to explode – his hips are rocking very subtly, providing friction to his aching hardness, but he's too caught up in the feeling of Dean's mouth on his to really do much about it.
He's so passive, just letting Castiel explore and use his mouth as he pleases, and that thought kind of turns Castiel on to no end. The older boy moans, very softly, and he can feel the vibrations against his own lips. He licks along the roof of Dean's mouth and it earns him a shiver, so he does it again, and again, until Dean's moaning right along with him. And fuck, that feels good. That feels really fucking good.
When they break apart, they're both breathing very heavily, like they've sprinted a marathon. Castiel and Dean are both flushed with the beginnings of sweat on their brows, and the older boy gingerly starts disentangling his hands from Dean's hair, swallowing as he realizes that his lesson is probably coming to a close.
"Fuck me," Dean mutters, looking a little dazed, and Castiel's eyes widen.
"What?" he asks, not quite believing his ears.
For a moment, Dean just blinks at him, and then he chuckles, running his hands through his hair and then shoving at Castiel's shoulders so the other teen has to let some air get between them. "Fuck, Cas, you're gonna knock that girl dead," he says, chuckling, and Castiel swallows, climbing off of Dean's lap and doing his best to hide his erection. "You feel better about it now? More confident?" he asks, raising an eyebrow towards his friend.
Castiel nods, biting his lip and fidgeting. "Yeah," he whispers in reply. "Yeah. Thanks, Dean."
"No problem," Dean replies, clapping a hand to Castiel's thigh and squeezing, then he stands up. "You've got nothin' to be worrying about," he says, standing in front of Castiel and leaning forward, bracing himself on his friend's knees. Castiel flushes a little when Dean winks. "Definitely the best kiss I've ever had."
Castiel's sure that, if he wasn't already, he's beet red by now, and Dean just chuckles and goes into the kitchen to grab another beer, and Castiel's left alone in the room to try and calm his raging hormones down before his very definitely straight best friend returns.