Dean hadn't expected to like California, scratch that. He hadn't expected to like San Francisco. He knew before the move that he would love California. It had everything that he could never get in Kansas, the sandy beaches, the almost year round summer weather, the surfing (which he had turned out to be really good at), seafood at almost every meal, Disneyland.

That had been the deal breaker, Disneyland. It was the first place he and Sammy had stopped at besides crappy hotels, gas stations, and diners on their last brotherly road trip before the younger man started at Stanford in the fall. And man, it had been beyond awesome.

The food and the rides and drinking beer in Little Germany and making out with that guy who played Peter Pan in the backstage, employees only area of the park while Sam got his picture taken with Cinderella. Yea, that little vacation had been one for the scrapbooks, the ones Ellen made. Not the ones that he never finished himself.

It had been hard to leave Anaheim and continue north, but Los Angeles was cool. Too full of ass kissing wanna-bees for Dean's taste, but all of the old Hollywood stuff was pretty neat and he almost convinced Sam to camp out in front of Ryan Gosling's house for the night before they had been scared off by the patrolling policemen in the upscale neighborhood. He had found out that he had the same sized hands as John Wayne and he made his little brother take a picture of him in front of Mann's Chinese theater to commemorate the moment.

Eventually they made it to the town that got its namesake from Sam's new school and Dean managed to kick around long enough to help his little brother unpack into his cramped college housing appropriated apartment before getting restless and moving on to San Francisco which was just under an hour away. Close enough that he could still keep an eye on his baby brother, but far enough away that Sam would be able to finally have his own life for once.

He sublet his first apartment in the city from a guy who was moving to Germany to live with his artist boyfriend and Dean was more than happy to see the flamboyant little man leave so that he could white wash over the large, graphic nude painting that the boyfriend had chosen to grace the living room walls with. It was small, with a bedroom that was barely big enough to fit his king size memory foam mattress, but it was less than five blocks from the beach and it was rent controlled. Two things that were too tempting to ignore in favor of larger accommodations.

Dean looked for a job as a mechanic, it was what he had done in Kansas after all and with references from Rufus and Bobby he figured it would be a breeze. He was wrong, everyone wanted someone who worked on foreign cars, Audis and Benzs, or who did custom paints jobs and airbrushing on tricked out Escalades and El Caminos. Dean just wanted to work on old cars, leave all of the fancy finishing touches to someone who didn't think that every car should only be painted black like his own 1967 Impala was.

So he took a job as a bartender, if there was anything that Dean Winchester did better than fixing rusted out engines it was drinking. He was lucky enough to find a bar that was hiring fairly close to his apartment and it was a normal bar too, not one of the many drag bars that seemed to be everywhere in San Fancisco or one of the tacky tourist traps that were located closer to the beach.

The Neighbourhood was trendy, intimate and inviting all at the same time. It was the kind of place where you could go if you wanted to dance and socialize, but was upscale enough that some of the biggest business deals in the city had taken place in the secluded alcoves and VIP only access areas of the club. It saw its fair share of celebrities, but most nights it was just the usual mid-level movie executives or entourages waiting around for their more famous friends to call them to their sides.

Dean walked into the club after a long day spent surfing and giving Baby a much needed oil change. He was happy that the Oscars had aired the week before because he really wasn't in the mood to deal with all of the pomp and circumstance that the club put on for their annual viewing party that they hosted.

He had been working the main area of the club that night and while the tips had been good, he had been beset upon my weepy boys who were just heartbroken that Hugh Jackman had been robbed of his award. Normally he liked the attention that his looks got him, but that night he had wanted nothing more than a good hard fuck from someone who would take control of the tryst and he sure as hell wasn't going to get it from one of the wispy twinks that had been all over him that night.

"Winchester!"

He looked around for who was calling his name as he made his way towards the employee area of the club where he could set down his jacket and keys before clocking in. He spotted his manager, Meg, a short no-nonsense brunette flagging him down from where she was standing with one of the bouncers going over the list of approved guests for the VIP area.

Dean wandered over, navigating around the talking, laughing clusters of people who were already in the club despite it only being 9pm.

"I'm putting you in VIP tonight." Meg said flipping through the pages on the clipboard she was holding.

"Any specific reason why I'm being punished?" Dean asked trying to peek at the long list of celebrities that only rarely bothered with coming to the upscale bar.

"Well," Meg said glancing down at her watch. "As of two minutes ago, you're late and I just think Anna needs a break from getting hit on by producers all of the time."

"So, I get hit on instead?"

"Come on, Dean. Don't act like you don't love it."

"Fine," he sighed taking a step away from the shorter woman. "But you owe me."

"Drinks at mine after work? I'll make waffles and we can compare horror stories for the night."

"Deal."

Dean moved quickly through the motions of dropping his stuff off in one of the employee lockers and stopped to glance at himself in the mirrored hallway on his way towards the smaller, quieter VIP section that he would be working in that night. He was getting tan from spending so much time outside, freckling a little bit more but that was ok. He straightened the neckline of the dark Henley he had worn to work that night and pulled his sleeves up on his arms. Dean shot his reflection his trademarked smirk and thought to himself that he looked too damn good to be going home alone again tonight.

He served drinks to the few people who were sitting around the small bar and then started tackling the orders from the two waitresses who worked the VIP area, both blondes who worked for one of the area's modeling agencies during the day, Jess and Jo.

They resembled each other enough that they could be sisters, but their personalities were entirely different, Jess was soft spoken sweet and smart and Jo was sarcastic, sharp tongued and catty. But they got along well and Dean envied their close friendship because while he got along well with Meg, it was different to have a roommate or lover you could come home to, who just knew what your day had been like by looking at you.

He sang along with some of the music that the DJ was playing as he mixed cocktails and expertly poured shots. Ash always tried to play something that he knew whatever bartender was working would like. He would mix in upbeat pop hits with classical music for Anna and for Dean he would spin classic rock and 80s mash-ups that were sometimes hilarious (Dean had burst into laughter the first time the wiry man introduced Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' and Queen's 'We Will Rock You' into the normal rotation on the nights he worked VIP), but usually very good.

Ash had just put on 'It's a Long Way to the Top' by AC/DC, which was pretty much Dean's ultimate power ballad, when Jo sidled up to the bar, balancing her black serving tray on her hip.

"Hottie alert." She said looking down toward the other end of the bar from where Dean was stacking dirty cups into a black plastic tote.

Dean glanced behind him, Jo had notoriously horrible taste in men and her obsession with bad boys was well known by all of The Neighbourhood's employees, before doing a double take at the only person that she could possibly be looking at.

"Dibs," Dean said looking at the man with what he was sure was the most stupid expression on his face. He could feel it, he could feel the stupid on his face.

"No way!" Jo said leaning across the bar top to punch him in the shoulder. "I saw him first."

"Who?" Jess asked clattering a tray of empty cups onto the bar and wiping her prettily perspiring forehead.

Dean nodded at the man sitting at the end of the bar who was too engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his phone to notice that he had the attention of several people on him. The guy was just too, gorgeous and Dean figured he probably didn't even know it.

The man was slim, wearing a rumpled looking grey suit with a white dress shirt and blue tie that had been loosened so that he could undo the top two buttons on his shirt. There was an equally wrinkled tan trench coat draped across the back of his chair and he had a pair of dark framed glasses sitting in front of him on the bar. He had messy dark brown hair that looked like he had either just been seriously fucked or woken up from a very debauched dream, there was at least a day's worth of stubble on his cheeks, but Dean liked his men a little less than clean cut; that rasp of almost beard against his skin was one of the things that just drove him crazy. He had pale, pale skin and long thin fingers that flew over the keys of his phone.

"That guy is a total 'mo." Jess said matter of factly, leaning over to grab three beers out of the ice bin next to Dean's hip and popping the tops off with her bar key. She took a long swig of one of them and then made an up down gesture with the bottle in her hand. "Jo, come on. You can fully tell. Let Dean have him."

Jo sighed and picked up the second beer, "You think? Man, maybe I'm losing my touch. I need to get laid."

"Me too." Dean said gulping when the man looked up from his phone confusedly before he spotted the bartender and waitresses across from him. God, the guy just had the bluest fucking eyes. Were eyes allowed to be that color, was it legal?

"Then go get him, tiger." Jo said, reaching over to give him a playful slap on the butt.

Dean grabbed the remaining beer and downed it in several long swallows; he needed to get his confidence up because this guy was so out of his league. He walked over to the man on shaky legs and let his most winsome smile fall onto his face.

Up close the guy was probably even more handsome, like movie star handsome. Dean watched as he picked up his glasses and placed them back on his perfect nose and god, it was just the cutest gesture and the only thing that could make it better would be if they were held together by masking tape in the center. The other man licked his chapped pink lips and Dean knew that he should probably be saying something right about now, asking him what he wanted to drink, doing his job, something.

"Hi, uh can I get a beer?" The man asked and Dean looked back over his shoulder at the two blondes who were still watching him with amused expressions on their faces, mouthing 'Oh my god' at them.

This guy's voice was like sex on the rocks. He would listen to anything this guy wanted to read to him, fucking descriptions of medieval torture techniques, if it meant that he would just keep hearing that deep, gravelly voice. It was throaty and rusty and he hoped the guy didn't smoke like ten packs a day to get that voice because it would just ruin the whole innocent image of him that Dean had going in his head.

"Anything in particular?" Dean asked leaning against the bar and smiling at the other man cheekily.

The man's mouth twitched and he gave Dean a long look before leaning back and striping off the jacket of his suit. "Just whatever you have on tap is fine."

"Coming right up, sweetheart." Dean said turning and grabbing one of the pint glasses from under the bar and then filling it at the tap with his own favorite brand with practiced motions. He did this so many times every night; he could probably do it in his sleep.

When he returned with the golden, foamy beverage the man had already rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and loosened his tie even more. Dean watched as he gratefully accepted the beer and took a long drink of it; the muscles in his throat working overtime as he downed at least half of the drink in that first go. The man let out a long sigh when he set the glass back down and then ran a hand through his hair, making it form into new and interesting shapes that defied all of the laws of gravity.

"Long day?" Dean asked, thankful for probably the first time ever that he was working the VIP area because he could take the time to talk to this guy a little more since there weren't as many other customers to take care of.

"Long week," the guy replied drawing shapes in the water that was condensing off of his glass on the bar top. His phone buzzed and vibrated next to him and he made a face before he picked it up and looked at who was trying to contact him. The man glanced up at Dean and then back down at the phone in his hand before hitting the ignore button and setting it back down. "I just got out of the meeting from hell."

"What do you do?" Dean noticed as the other man hesitated slightly at the question. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I work in film. I'm a—"

"Wait!" Dean said holding up a hand at the other man and putting the other up to his temple like he was a mind-reader. "Let me guess. I'm really good at this."

The man smiled and leaned back in his chair, giving Dean the opportunity to take in more of his body and damn, what a body. Even under the rumpled suit it was easy to see that the guy took care of himself, probably ran or did yoga judging from the toned muscles moving under the thin material of his dress shirt. A shirt that probably cost more than everything in Dean's wardrobe combined.

"You're a writer. A screenwriter, but that's not what you do. You're job is producing and you just got done negotiating with some high strung diva somewhere for the next the movie you're working on. Some romantic comedy where boy meets girl, misunderstandings ensue and everyone lives happily ever after once they get their heads out of their asses."

"Amazing." The man said smiling widely at Dean, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle merrily.

"I was right?"

The man nodded, "I don't understand why you think I'm a producer who secretly wants to be a writer though."

Dean shrugged, "Everyone here is chasing a dream. Most of them end up having to settle for something they don't really want to be doing, but everyone's got bills to pay. Y'know?"

"So what are you?" The man asked leaning across the bar towards Dean who found himself moving to mirror the position, perching on his folded arms and meeting the intriguing, beautiful man halfway. "A struggling actor? No a model? Maybe a stuntman moonlighting as a bartender till you hit it big? Get cast as Brad Pitt's stunt double or something?"

He laughed at that, it wasn't the first time someone thought he was a model, but stuntman was new. "No. I'm just a mechanic with a rule about not working on cars that are younger than me."

"How's that working out for you?" The man asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Tonight, it's working out pretty well. Name's Dean. Dean Winchester." He stuck out his hand for the other man, realizing it was kinda pointless since they were right in each other's faces anyway.

The other man reached across the small space separating them and wrapped his slim, perfect fingers around Dean's outstretched hand. His grip was firm, sure and warm. "Castiel. Castiel Krushnic."

Dean quirked his eyebrow at the name, "Russian?"

"My father," the man answered smiling. "Shouldn't you be working or something, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, it was getting late. There weren't many people left in the bar and if he decided to duck out he was pretty sure Jo or Jess could handle things without him. The phone vibrated on the bar again and both men looked down to see a picture of an angry looking man in a black suit flashing across the screen. He looked up to see Castiel biting his lip indecisively, a finger hovering over the ignore button lit up on the touch screen.

"Do you need to get that?" Dean asked lowly causing the man across from him to look up with those wide blue eyes.

Castiel studied Dean's face for a moment before picking up the phone and turning it off, slipping it into the pocket of his suit coat. "Do you want to get out of here?"

He was surprised by the suddenness of the question; usually it was him making the moves on the men he brought home. But he could dig the straightforward way Castiel had asked him. It had sounded possessive made him feel all kinds of sexy and wanted by the gorgeous man in the wrinkled suit.

"Jess!" Dean called not breaking eye contact with this man who for some reason had taken an interest in him. He felt like if he blinked then Castiel would disappear. "Tell Meg I had to leave. Something came up."

"Oh, I'm sure something's coming up!" Jo said with a snicker as Jess gave her a long-suffering eye roll and nodded at Dean.

"I have to grab my stuff," Dean said breathlessly coming around the bar as Castiel stood and pulled on his suit jacket, draping his trench coat across his arm. "Just don't move."

He practically ran to the break room, snatching his jacket roughly out of the locker and fumbling with his keys as he searched for the one that would unlock the Impala. Castiel was waiting for him in the mirrored hallway, shuffling his feet and looking around anxiously when Dean emerged from the door marked 'Employees Only'.

Dean stopped, his breath catching in his chest. God, this guy was so fucking gorgeous and he wanted him. Castiel's image, a picture of unstudied beauty, was reflected a million times across the mirrored walls and Dean took advantage of their moment in the dimly lit hallway to step closer to the other man and lean down to place a soft, lingering kiss on those perfect pink lips. He could feel Castiel tense beneath him for a moment before a hand rose to the nape of his neck and he was pulled closer.

Their mouths fit perfectly together and Dean sighed into the kiss. It was exactly how he had thought it would be with the other man; hot and innocent at the same time and it made liquid heat pool in his stomach. If just one kiss did this to him, then he couldn't imagine what else Castiel could do to him if say, he wasn't wearing any clothes.

He broke the embrace and twined his fingers through the free hand that Castiel had managed to place on Dean's waist. With a small tug and a smirk he led him through the back hallways of the bar, avoiding the large crowded main area so that Meg wouldn't ask him why he was ditching the rest of his shift and out to the parking lot.

Dean unlocked his car and climbed into the driver's seat, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door from the inside. Castiel scrambled into the car, looking around nervously and Dean figured that maybe he wasn't out yet. He could understand the other man's unease, Dean had jumped at every little noise and movement the first time he had gone home with another man when he was a teenager, but that was in Kansas where he probably would've gotten his ass kicked for being a fag. This was San Francisco, straight couples got more stares on the streets here than two dudes would.

He started the car and grinned sheepishly at the man beside him when The Police started blaring from the radio. Castiel smiled at him, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and sinking down low in the seat as he scooted closer to Dean.

Dean stretched an arm across the back of the seat and Castiel took advantage of the open space to snuggle close to Dean and start placing soft, teasing kisses on his neck and ear. He was getting turned on so fucking much and he wished that he could just blink and they would be back at his apartment.

"You're so beautiful," Castiel murmured in his ear as they were stopped at a red light. Dean shivered as the other man's warm breath ghosted over his skin and Castiel reached a hand over to rest on his thigh.

He turned to the man beside him and lunged in for another kiss, feeling his jeans get tighter as he took in the taste and smell of Castiel. It was like how the air smelled right after a summer rainstorm, like electricity and ozone and broken blades of grass.

A horn sounded behind them and Dean pulled away reluctantly this time, turning his attention back to the road as he broke every traffic law to get to his apartment as quickly as possible.

They stumbled up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, stopping every so often to pull each other into another breathless, bruising kiss that served no other purpose besides making the tense, unexplainable coil of attraction between the two of them wind tighter and tighter. And Dean didn't know how it happened, but he certainly was not going to complain about it when Castiel pressed him hard against his front door once they finally, finally make it into the small apartment.

"Well, hello there." Dean said with a smirk as the other man hovered over him, their faces inches apart as Castiel panted heavily from the climb to their destination.

"Hello Dean." The other man growled out before burying his face in the taller man's neck and inhaling deeply. And, damn if that wasn't just the sexiest thing that anyone had ever done. "You smell really good. Like the ocean and pumpkins."

"Pumpkins?" Dean laughed, pushing slightly on Castiel's shoulders until he could look at the other man's face, his glasses were slightly askew and Dean reached out to tilt them back into place.

"I like pumpkins," Castiel explained leaning forward to kiss him again.

It was soft at first, but then quickly became heated again as the smaller man nibbled on Dean's lower lip. Dean parted his lips slightly allowing his tongue to dart out and taste Castiel's mouth before he was full on assaulted by the man crowding him farther against the door, hands moving possessively to cup the back of his head, fingers sifting through his hair eliciting a groan from Dean.

Dean's hands clutched at the material of Castiel's jacket before he gave up any pretense of being modest and just pushed the coat forcefully off of the other man's shoulders and stared working on the buttons of his shirt next. His fingers were shaking and he fumbled blindly as his mouth worked furiously against Castiel's, it had been too damn long and this was too damn good.

Castiel's mouth moved off of his and Dean let out a strangled sound of disappointment before he felt the other man's skillful lips moving down his jaw and neck to nip playfully at the hollow of his throat as a thigh slipped between his legs, allowing him to grind down and relieve some of the pressure that his zipper was putting on his growing erection.

"Too many clothes," he heard the other man groan into his ear before sucking lightly on his lobe.

Dean made a needy noise low in his throat and flipped Castiel around so that he could quickly strip off his own leather jacket and pull his Henley over his head. He reached out to twist the tie off of the other man and finish unbuttoning the white dress shirt as he felt trembling hands smooth over the tanned planes of his chest and abdomen. Castiel's skin stood out a stark white in the dim apartment and a primal part of Dean liked how it contrasted against his own sun kissed skin.

He pulled on the other man's belt loops, dragging him towards the bedroom as he moved backwards through the small space, navigating easily around the couch and coffee tables that stood between the pair and their destination.

Dean allowed himself to be pushed backwards onto the bed by Castiel when he felt his knees hit the edge of the mattress. The paler man loomed over him and Dean could see how his pupils were blown wide with lust in the soft moonlight that filtered through the windows that faced the ocean. He watched as Castiel kicked off his dress shoes and made quick work of the belt and fastenings of his pants, never taking his eyes off of Dean who had started palming his own erection through his jeans, wanting nothing more than touch himself as he watched his lover undress, but knowing it would be all the better if he waited to be touched by the other man first.

"Fuck," he heard Castiel mutter as he stripped down to just a pair of form fitting black boxer briefs, a sizeable bulge clearly visible even in the dim light. "You're gorgeous."

The smaller man crawled up the end of the bed and hovered over Dean's body as he straddled his hips. Dean leaned up to pull Castiel back down into another kiss, this one slower and sweeter, calming the urgency of the situation enough that Dean could still his rapidly pulsing heart before he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager. He was used to being complimented for his looks, but no one had ever said it so reverently as this amazing person hovering over him, staring into his eyes like he really meant everything he was saying.

Dean plucked the glasses off of Castiel's face and deposited them blindly on the night stand next to the bed, feeling the other man smile into their kiss as they clattered when he dropped them. He allowed his hands to roam over Castiel's back, feeling the hard taunt planes of muscle moving under the smooth skin and reveling in how their bodies seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces.

He groaned when the other man's hand fell to the button and zipper of his jeans and those long fingers made quick work of freeing him from what Dean's lust addled brain had started thinking of as denim purgatory.

Castiel pulled back sharply, looking down in surprise at the fact that Dean wasn't wearing any boxers under his jeans. He quirked an amused eyebrow at the man laying beneath him and laughed when his lover just smirked at him in return.

Dean shrugged against the mattress, "Wishful thinking?'

He flipped the still laughing Castiel over and started down at the breathtaking sight of the smaller man trying to suppress his mirth until it just turned into small, cute bursts of giggles. Dean kicked his boots off and wriggled his way out of his jeans before he started placing his own tender kisses across the shaking man's face, planting them on his eyelids and cheekbones, trailing across his forehead and down his jaw pausing just long enough delve into the other man's mouth for a long, sensuous kiss.

"Amazing, Cas. You're amazing. So handsome and funny. God, I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." Dean whispered the platitudes into Castiel's ear, something he normally wouldn't do when he was trying to just get off with some random dude he met at the beach or one of the few gay bars he frequented. But he really thought Cas was something special and his gut told him that the guy didn't hear it often enough to believe it about himself.

"Say it again." Castiel groaned underneath him, rutting his boxer clad erection against Dean's thigh unabashedly as the man above him gently bit his collar bone and then kissed away the sting.

"I can't get enough of you." Dean said slightly muffled from where his face was pressed into the hollow of Castiel's throat.

"No," the other man said, tugging slightly on Dean's hair to get him to look up. Verdant eyes met cerulean and the electricity in the gaze sparked palpably between the pair. "My name. I like the way you say my name."

Dean smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of the man's nose, chuckling as the man beneath him went slightly cross-eyed as he watched the action. "Cas."

Castiel moaned and clutched at Dean's shoulders as the larger man started ghosting kisses down his chest, stopping to lavish attention on the dark, pert nipples and kiss the small moles that dotted the pale, board expanse of chest and stomach beneath him. Dean could feel his own erection throbbing as he reached the dark trail of hair leading down from Cas's belly button to mysterious places under those tight black boxers.

He stopped teasingly over the cloth covered bulge and looked up at Castiel from under his eyelashes. The other man was breathing heavily and had one hand fisted in the dark blue sheets covering Dean's bed.

"Dean, please. You're such a fucking tease," Castiel groaned throwing his head back wantonly against the pillows, exposing the long column of his neck.

Dean could see a small dark mark on the other man's collarbone where he had bit him and felt a surge of possessive lust flow through him when he thought of other people seeing how he had marked this perfect man as his own.

He hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband of Castiel's underwear and pulled them off, shuffling around until he was kneeling between legs of the other man. His own cock was curled up tight and aching against his stomach and he felt it twitch as he took in the sight of Castiel fully exposed and laid out on his bed.

The light coming in through the window cast the most beautiful shadows on the sharp angles of Cas's hipbones and he could see the slight sheen of sweat that had formed on the other man's chest . Dean just wanted to spend the next week memorizing every curve and plane of the smaller man's body, but his attention was brought back to their current situation when Castiel thrust his hips into the air desperately seeking friction for his own long member that was jutting up proudly from the dark, thatch of hair where that curious trail had ended.

He settled down on his stomach between the other man's legs and Castiel reached down to cup his face for a moment, their eyes met and Dean forgot how to breathe. He reached out a shaky hand to grasp Castiel's member and gave it a couple tentative strokes, adding a twist of his wrist on the upstroke that caused the other man to groan lewdly.

And that was all it took. Dean had to have Castiel in his mouth like ten minutes ago. He leaned over and steered the red, leaking head of the other man's cock between his lips and was rewarded with Cas twining his fingers through his hair and murmuring encouragement.

"Oh, dear Lord. Yes, Dean. You're so beautiful."

He flicked his tongue into the slit at the tip of Castiel's member and savored the taste of the other man's salty fluid spreading throughout his mouth. Dean bobbed his head experimentally, seeing how far he could go down on the other man before he felt that familiar nudging at the back of his throat.

He pulled away slightly and spread the saliva down Castiel's length, providing his own lubrication as he stroked the writhing man before delving back down to take the rigid fullness back into his mouth; hollowing out his cheeks and humming in contentment as he ground down on the sheets beneath him to relieve the aching in his own cock.

Castiel's fingers tightened in his hair and he could feel the man fighting the urge to thrust up into his mouth. He pulled off of Castiel's cock with a vulgar, wet popping sound and looked up at the man who was struggling with opening eyes to look down at Dean.

When Cas did he was greeted with the sight of the panting man between his legs, mouth mere inches away from his flushed member; mouth red, swollen, and shiny with a mixture of spit and precome. It was probably the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life.

"I can take it, Cas. Just let go." Dean said his voice sounding raspier than usual before he took almost the entire length of Castiel back into his mouth.

Scratch that. Dean swallowing around his dick was the hottest thing he had ever seen and Castiel had seen a lot of exotic things in his life.

He threw his head back and just let himself feel the tight, wet heat of the other man's mouth as he gripped the short strands of Dean's dark blonde hair. He bucked up into Dean's mouth, the first time on accident but when he heard the muffled moan of the other man and felt the vibration of it all the way to his toes he began to thrust into the mouth surrounding him with abandon, part of him still taking care to not make Dean choke.

Castiel felt the familiar tingling at the base of his spine and tried to warn Dean.

"Dean, stop. I'm gonna…I want to….no!"

It took every ounce of strength that he had to pull Dean off of him. He wanted nothing more than to have this fucking Adonis streaked in his come, marked so that everyone could see that he belonged to Castiel Dmitri Krushnic and no one else would ever be allowed to touch him. But that was not how this night was going to end and a sad, rational part of him knew that.

Castiel pulled a confused looking Dean up to his face by his forearms noting how the other man's eyes fluttered as their erections slotted together perfectly. He kissed the man above him deeply and ran his hands over every part of him that he could touch, needing to memorize how Dean felt so that he could look back on this time they had together and remember it in as much detail as possible. Because he was never going to be let out of his overgrown nanny's sight after tonight so he might as well enjoy it.

He kissed the other man like all of the air he would ever need was hiding in Dean's lungs and turned them so he was once again on top of the other man. He needed to be in control of this situation, he needed to make this good for Dean so that the other man wouldn't be giving so much of himself to Castiel.

He balanced himself on his forearms above Dean and stroked away the hair that had fallen onto his lover's forehead, marveling at the way his eyes seemed to glow in the dark room. The kisses became less desperate, more meaningful. Castiel was pouring every unspoken, unasked for promise that he would never make to Dean into those kisses because life wasn't fair and this couldn't work and there would never be a time when his career wouldn't dictate his every move. But tonight, he could make tonight worth it. And that's what he tried to tell Dean as he cradled his face and stroked his sides and thrust his hips slowly against the ones of the man beneath him.

"Cas," Dean breathed into his mouth. "You're so awesome. God, you're amazing. Please don't leave, sweetheart. Please don't leave me."

Castiel shut his eyes as Dean poured forth endearments and pleas and he buried his face in the other man's neck so that he wouldn't see the tears welling up unbidden in his eyes. He reached a hand between them and captured both of their sliding erections in his grip, creating a hot tight tunnel that was eased only by the saliva that Dean had left on his cock.

Their breathing quickened and both men were groaning and muttering incoherent sweet nothings, making the kind of dopamine-induced declarations of affection that most one night stands regretted in the morning, but right now felt like the most sincere things that either man had ever uttered.

"I want you to come for me, Dean." Castiel growled into his lover's ear. He could feel the tingling in his spine and he wanted, no needed to see Dean come undone. God if it was the only good thing he ever did with his life, he needed to give this gorgeous man something to remember him by.

"Fuck, Cas!" Dean groaned and writhed beneath him, grabbing on to Castiel's shoulders as he thrust up into the fist between them. "Tell me your close, please. I need…I'm gonna… Caaasss!"

Dean arched his back off of the bed, hot white spurts of come spilling into the tight space between their chests and as Castiel watched his lover bite his lip in an effort to stifle his moans and felt him grip his arms tight enough to leave bruises he was gone. Reaching his orgasm just moments after Dean did, his vision going white on the edges and his lover's name falling from his lips over and over like a prayer.

He collapsed on the bed next to Dean, being careful not to crush the other man who was still coming down from his own post-orgasm high, chest heaving as he dragged in deep gasping gulps of air. Castiel let a contented smile fall onto his face as he fell his pulse begin to slowly return to normal. His limbs felt heavy and his thoughts were pleasantly fuzzy.

Dean turned to him, propping himself up on one elbow and scooting closer to kiss the corners of Castiel's upturned mouth. Neither man paid any attention to the rapidly cooling mess on their chest and stomachs and Castiel wondered idly if he would have time to take a shower in the morning.

"So that guy who was calling you earlier," Dean asked uncertainly, trailing his fingers over Cas's hipbones and lower abdomen. "That wasn't your boyfriend or anything was it?"

Castiel cocked an eyebow at him and caught Dean's wandering hand, bringing it up to his mouth to place a chaste kiss to the other man's palm. "Shouldn't you have asked that before we did this?"

Dean felt his stomach drop and prepared himself for the inevitable, all of the good ones were always taken, but that didn't mean he liked being made into the other guy.

"He wasn't my boyfriend, Dean." Castiel said noticing the distressed look on the other man's face.

"Really?" he couldn't help the hope that seeped into his voice.

"More like my babysitter or my personal assistant. He makes sure that I'm where I need to be when need to be there." Castiel replied gathering Dean into his arms and carding his fingers through the short locks of the other man's hair.

"So you can stay?" Dean asked resting his head on Cas's chest, hearing the steady beat of the heart beneath the warm, pale skin.

"Yea, I can stay." The rumbling voice replied.

"Good, because I make a mean omelet."

"Wouldn't want to miss that," Castiel murmured sleepily into his hair, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Dean awoke early in the morning feeling more relaxed than he had in ages and it took him a moment to remember why. Thankfully, the warm presence of the body pressed up behind him and the weight of the arm draped over his waist brought back all of the memories from the night before and he smiled into the sheets as he thought about Cas calling him beautiful and gorgeous. Making him feel wanted and safe and sexy.

He slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb the other man and padded quietly over to the bathroom, taking care of his morning ablutions and debating to himself for a moment before hopping into the glass paneled cubicle for a quick shower.

He placed a soft kiss onto Castiel's cheek and slipped on a pair of blue plaid pajama pants before heading to the kitchen to start some coffee and gather the ingredients for his trademark Winchester omelet. There was only one problem, he was out of coffee.

Dean considered for a moment just not having coffee for his guest to drink, but if Castiel was anything like himself then the other man probably wouldn't be able to function without at least some caffeine in him.

He crept back into the bedroom, noticing that Cas was a sprawler when he had the bed all to himself and admiring how the sun played off of the smooth lines of the sleeping man's back, before shoving on his boots and moving into the living room to grab his shirt from the night before off of the floor. He wrote a quick note on the back of a menu for take-out Korean that he had lying on the counter of the breakfast nook and left it on the nightstand next to Castiel's glasses.

He jogged down the four flights of stairs and around the corner to the closest Starbucks, smiling when he ordered the biggest fanciest pumpkin spice latte for Castiel and a cup of black coffee for himself before he made his way back to his apartment. He had to sidestep a black Lincoln town car with darkly tinted windows on his way back , narrowly avoiding being hit since he was too busy wondering if Cas would be up for round two instead of paying attention when he was crossing the street.

Dean toed off his boots when he got back inside the apartment and crept towards the bedroom with the pumpkin flavored concoction, wanting to wake up the other man gently just in case he was the type of person who woke up swinging.

He hadn't expected to find his bed empty when he returned. Dean looked around the small space confusedly, checking the bathroom and small kitchen before he finally noticed that the note he had left had been moved to the small table close to the door where he usually ditched his car keys and wallet when he walked in the door. Underneath his written note, there was another added on in small neat handwriting that was so different from his own messy barely legible scrawl.

Cas

Out of coffee, be back in ten minutes. Make yourself at home.

XDean

Dean

Thank you for a wonderful evening.

–C

He looked down at the note for a couple of minutes before crumpling it into a tight ball. He grabbed the coffee he had bought for Castiel off of the counter and calmly dumped it down the kitchen sink, watching the vaguely orange liquid swirl away and allowing the hope he had permitted himself to foster to go with it.

Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept for emergencies out of the cabinet over the sink and went to sit on the edge of his bed. He took a long draught of the burning liquid and lay down as the warmth spread through his chest. It was only when he realized that his pillow still smelled like summer rain that he finally allowed the tears to fall.


Author Note:

So I literally knocked this out yesterday on my day off and am just a tiny bit proud of how it came out. This is probably going to be a multi-chapter fic that I will write as time permits in between posting chapters for my other story, Born to Run. Updates will not be regular, sorry. That still doesn't mean I don't value your input so take the time to review and we might all find ourselves pleasantly surprised by how nonexistent my social life is so that I can spend time working on both fics at once.