A lot of people thought that Alfie was a virgin. Like a lot of people, just fucking assumed that about him because of how he looked and because he was polite. Especially when they found out he was from the South it was like every damn Brokeback, repressed closeted cowboy stereotype came crashing down on him and the way he said ya'll.

But he wasn't repressed and it had been years since he had been a virgin not that it mattered in the slightest to him when he had been one and he kind of liked that Chris just hadn't assumed anything about him. The attractive, older man who had bought him a drink seemed genuinely interested in Alfie and his past and what had brought him to California. They had been on three dates.

The first was at that diner that Charlie had cornered him about going to, because he stole her car without telling her even though he did replace the gas that he used driving all the way out to meet the other man. They had talked the whole night, just getting to know each other and what they did for a living, not that Alfie could actually say much; non-disclosure agreements and shit that Crowley had made him sign held him back from telling Chris much more than he worked as a PA, which he kind of did. He ran a lot of errands for Cas just like Charlie did for Balthazar, only his job description involved a lot more driving.

The second was sort of on accident because he ran into Chris while he was out at the grocery store picking up something that he could try to pass off as edible for Crowley and Balthazar's delicate foreign palettes. It turned out that the teacher was staying at a condo nearby while he was acting as a visiting instructor at the San Francisco Art Institute, having switched offices and homes with another photography professor during the semester which was soon ending. They had gone out to lunch and Chris had apologized for not having called sooner to set up a proper date, though it had only been a couple of days since they had met at the bar.

Chris's borrowed condo had been within walking distance of the cafe where they had detoured from their shopping trip to go and Alfie figured it was only the polite thing to walk the other man home, make sure that he got there okay. Getting invited in honestly hadn't been part of the plan, but Alfie had just followed Chris's lead when the older man pulled him into the house and pressed him against the wall in the front hallway to place a hesitant, lingering kiss on the driver that had left him feeling pleasantly breathless and boneless.

It was one thing to be experienced with sex, which Alfie was so that wasn't the problem. But it was entirely different thing to be experienced with being in a relationship, which he wasn't since his every encounter with Jacob Whitetree had been rushed and fumbled and intoxicated at least on the part of the other boy. He wasn't used to someone being nice to him or even genuinely wanting him for something more than what he could do for them on a physical level.

So it had been surprising to him when Chris had stopped after that first kiss, blushing like a schoolboy despite the graying hair at his temples and murmuring an apology against Alfie's lips before he reluctantly pulled away to get them both glasses of iced tea. The younger man had managed to compose himself long enough to spend another hour in the teacher's company without wantonly throwing himself at the lanky, soft-spoken older man even though really it was all he had wanted to do since the first time he had seen Chris throw his head back and laugh, like full body laugh at one of his corny jokes.

Their third date had actually been slightly more planned; Alfie just needed the car because Chris didn't have one and riding around on the BART to and from their movie and dinner didn't exactly seem like the most romantic option in the world. He bought flowers, taking a cue from Cas who had also lent him the light sports jacket that he was wearing over a dark blue V-neck that Balthazar said brought out his eyes with casual jeans that he hoped made it look like he wasn't trying too hard. The director hadn't asked what he needed the fashion advice for, but Balthazar was usually just giving it out to anyone he thought needed it so Alfie asking didn't even register as a blip for him.

Chris had been highly appreciative of the shirt, to the point where it became a distraction during dinner and they decided to skip going out to the movies altogether in favor of going back to Chris's condo and the very strange assortment of wrestling DVDs and romantic comedies that the house's real owner seemed fond of. Needless to say they didn't make it through Rage in the Cage before Alfie made the executive decision that Chris's own black button down shirt would look much better on the floor. Which it did, so there.


Castiel woke up in the morning feeling much like he had the first night that he and Dean had spent together, contentedly fuzzy and almost uncomfortably warm from the heat of another person's body under the covers with him. The fact that it was Dean's body made him less inclined to toss the blankets off of himself agitatedly like he normally would if he were in bed by himself and more inclined to just stick his foot out of the bottom of the covers and spoon up closer behind the other man in an attempt to wrap himself as much around Dean as possible.

He felt like they had more than made good on their plan the night before to outdo Crowley and Balthazar's decibel record in the bedroom. After their initial snafu in the bathtub, it had taken some convincing before Dean had let Cas do more than kiss him and even then the other man had been more gentle than usual, touching him like he was something fragile and breakable instead of a grown man who he regularly left bruises and bite marks on when they made love.

Castiel had gotten impatient with the whole thing and finally just pinned Dean down to the bed, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clicked together and he tasted blood before the other man finally took the hint and wrestled his arms out of the actor's grip, flipping their positions so that he could take Cas exactly how he had wanted to be taken before the other man had freaked out and gotten all lost in his head.

Dean had held him afterwards, told him he loved him and that he was beautiful over and over; the sentiments punctuated with soft kisses pressed into his hair and against his temples. That's when Cas wanted the bartender to be tender with him after he wanted him to be rough and not a second before. It helped that Dean was the same way, but that didn't stop the actor from muttering endearments and encouragement throughout their lovemaking just because he couldn't stop the filter that was between his mouth and his heart from going offline anytime Dean made him see stars and wish he had a normal job.

Cas didn't know how this was going to work once they were done filming the movie and he went back to Los Angeles. He had thought more than once about asking Dean to move in with him, to pack up his life and come live in his too big, too empty house that needed the personal touches of another person to finally make it feel like a home for the first time in five years. But it sounded crazy even to him, not that all of this wasn't already crazy to begin with. How fast he had fallen, how hard. And how even with the knowledge that everything that was fucked up about all of this was because of him and his stupid career, he still wasn't ready to give it up for Dean like he should be.

That was what scared him, he should not be hesitating, not when he had someone so gorgeous and amazing and understanding who was willing to put up with the bullshit rules that he had to live by just to be with him. Maybe that was why he hadn't called his mom yet, because he knew that she was going to tear him a new one when she heard the wistful way that he knew he talked about Dean to other people. She was going to know that he was in love and she was going to tell him how much of an idiot be already knew that he was being by keeping Dean hidden away from the rest of the world when he should be showing him off and being proud of him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into Dean's back, pressing his forehead softly against the smooth, freckled skin of the man in front of him. "I'm sorry I dragged you into all of this."

The actor slid an arm under Dean's shoulders, wrapping it around the other man's chest who just mumbled and smiled sleepily before snuggling back into Castiel's arms with a soft, contended sounding sigh. Cas felt like crying, like screaming and cursing and calling himself every useless name that he deserved to be called for treating Dean so much worse than he deserved to be treated. But he didn't want to wake the other man up so he pressed a kiss between Dean's shoulder blades and stealthily climbed out of the bed so that he could go and try to find some breakfast and maybe make the small amends that he could to keep the bartender from realizing how little he was actually settling for by being with him.

Cas struggled into the first clothes that he grabbed out of the dresser before heading down to the kitchen where Charlie and Meg were already up and bustling around a very hungover looking Crowley who was just blearily nursing a coffee at the breakfast nook. The two girls were fluidly moving around the small space like they had been living together for ages and had done more than just spend the night fully clothed in each other's beds once or twice. Balthazar's assistant had told him that she was trying very hard to not get too attached to Meg, Cas wasn't sure how well that was working out for her. Especially not if the way the two girls kept sharing secret smirks with each other when they thought no one was looking was any indication.

"We're making fruit salad," Meg announced when Castiel made a fake grab for Crowley's coffee that just caused the other man to grumble murderously at him and huddle farther in to himself. "And there's more coffee, you don't have to torture poor Fergie."

"I told you not to call me that," the agent grumbled, running a tired hand over his face and up into his hair. "I used to be very respected. My name instilled fear into the hearts of assistants everywhere and now I have been reduced to one quarter of a very strange rock quartet by two girls who's idea of a funny joke is to fill a fruit bowl full of condoms."

"Yea," Castiel said, squinting at the bowl on the counter that used to be full of bananas and apples and mangos, but was now just full to the brim and overflowing with plastic packaged squares of condoms. "What exactly is going on there?'

"We figured since there we were going to use all the fruit making breakfast then the least we could do was replace with something you guys might actually use, since apparently every single man in this house is hell bent on coming down with scurvy," Charlie replied, clattering around in the cabinets above her head until she came up with two small bowls that she loaded up with the aforementioned fruit salad.

"So condoms!" Meg exclaimed, loading up a tray with two mugs of coffee and the bowls of fruit and an artfully sprinkled handful of condoms before she shoved the whole thing in Cas's direction. "Have sex and be merry and maybe, if the thought crosses your mind buy me and Charlie some earplugs or something. Y'know, something thoughtful."

"Hmmm, I'll buy you some earplugs," Castiel said, tossing the condoms back towards the bowl on the counter, wincing when one bounced off of his agent's forehead. "But I don't need these."

"You will need them eventually, Cas." Meg corrected, picking out a grape from the salad and tossing it up in the air to catch in her mouth. She held out her hands in a 'ta-da' gesture, waving her fingers expressively at the trio of housemates who were just watching her with expressions of confused politeness on their faces. "Philistines, that was impressive and you know it. Not as impressive as Dean and Cas's never ending supply of prophylactics, but whatever it's still pretty good."

"It's not that," the actor mumbled, carefully picking up the tray of food that the two girls had put together for him. "I mean I guess it is. Neverending, if um...we never use them, bye."

"Whoa! No, wait, no!" Crowley shouted, reaching out to stop his client before he could dart away up the stairs, which Castiel was finding difficult to do since darting while carrying a tray of hot, scalding liquid was not something he had a lot of practice with. "Please tell me that my hearing is playing tricks on me in my old age. Please tell me you did not just say what I think you just said."

"I didn't say what you think I just said," Castiel said meekly, edging farther out of the kitchen even as Crowley clambered to his feet and started following him.

"You are a terrible liar," Crowley admonished. "Why are you lying to me?"

"Because you asked me to?" he replied, ducking his head and glaring down at the highly offensive kiwis in his bowls of fruit. Kiwis were a fucked up fruit.

"No," the Scotsman corrected. "I asked you if you what you were doing with Dean was a fuck up. If you thought it was a fuck up and you said you did, another lie. That's was months ago and last night I asked you if you were being careful, because if you were then I was willing to let this whole idiotic charade you have forced me to accept continue. And you said you were. You looked right at me and told me that you and Dean were being safe. You need to stop lying to me."

"Why?" Castiel snapped, he was so tired of having to explain his actions to everyone all of the time. He was so tired of living under a magnifying glass.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth, Castiel." Crowley sighed, reaching into the pocket of his pajama pants to pull out his cell phone. "You wanted to be an actor, a star and when I met you I explained everything that was going to mean for you. You knew what you were getting yourself into with all of this, I have never sugarcoated how hard this was going to be, and I have never ever lied to you. "

"Balthazar," Castiel pointed out, jutting his chin towards the stairs. "You didn't tell me about Balthazar."

"I didn't tell you because you didn't ask," the other man said irritably, putting his phone up to his ear. "There is a difference. You're going to the doctor."

"I don't need to go to a doctor," the actor whined. "Dean doesn't have anything and neither do I."

"How do you know that? Because he told you, because he loves you?" Crowley asked impatiently. "There are other things that can happen when you have unprotected sex, Castiel. And just because he told you that he is clean does not mean that he is being honest with you either. Monogamy does not equal fidelity."

He was starting to feel really dumb now, not because he didn't trust Dean because he did, but because how did Crowley know that those guys he had sent over for him had been clean themselves? True the last one had been months before he met Dean and he had always used protection with them, but things could still happen. Diseases could still be spread in other ways than just sex and it would absolutely kill him if he had given Dean something because he was too stupid and impatient to put a fucking condom on. Castiel was way too old to be using some lame excuse like sex didn't feel as good with a condom on, because it fucking did and how could he have put Dean at risk like that? He was selfish, selfish, selfish which shouldn't come as a surprise anymore.

"Make Dean an appointment too," Castiel blurted causing Crowley to shoot him a sharp, disapproving look. "Just fucking do it, Crow."

"Dean doesn't have health insurance," Meg offered meekly from the barstool next to Charlie that she had settled herself on.

Both men looked over at the brunette woman who just shrugged and shoved a particularly large piece of cantaloupe in her mouth. "He's a part-time bartender, dude lives off of tips. And he has like the immune system of a horse, I don't think I've ever seen Dean sick."

"I'll schedule him an appointment," Crowley told Castiel, silencing Meg with a slashing motion of his hand. "On a different day than yours and until then wear a sodding condom! I feel that I shouldn't even have to say that to you. I'm not your bloody mother."

"Well, I didn't really go discussing my sexual encounters with my mother when I was still living in Boston," Castiel said sheepishly as he recalled his father's painfully embarrassing for the both of them attempts at giving him the homosexual version of the birds and the bees talk.

"And that's why you get to go to the doctor now," his agent scolded, shoving a handful of condom's into the inside crease of Castiel's elbow and forearm causing the tray that the actor was holding to tilt precariously.

"I hate the doctor," Castiel grumbled, managing to right the tray before coffee sloshed everywhere.

"Well maybe this will teach you not to lie to me anymore," Crowley stated smugly, turning away from him to talk to the receptionist of the very prudent physician his client had always seen for more...delicate matters.


Dean was dreaming about white picket fences and bonfires on the beach when he felt Castiel slip back into bed behind him. He had woken up slightly when the other man had first gotten up, but had watched through crackled eyelids as the actor dressed stealthily and slid on his glasses before sneaking out of the bedroom yawning sleepily to himself. The empty side of the bed that still smelled like Cas and held traces of his warmth had just been too tempting and Dean had almost immediately rolled over into it as soon as the other man left the room, drifting back off to sleep with the smell of baseball fields and summer days influencing his dreams.

"You're wearing a lot of clothes," Dean mumbled, settling back into the inviting space of Castiel's empty arms when the other man slid one under his shoulders and wrapped the remaining around his waist to pull him close and bury his face into Dean's hair with a disgruntled 'harumph'. "More clothes than are allowed in the bed."

"I didn't know we had rules about how many clothes were allowed in bed," Castiel murmured, sighing a soft puff of air against his neck that made Dean shiver.

"Well we do, so fix it." Dean demanded fighting to keep the smile out of his voice and off of his face when he felt the other man lever himself up to look down on him before he felt a lot of tossing and turning and heard a fair bit of awkward grunting coming from behind him.

"Better?" Castiel asked lowly and Dean felt the cool skin of the other man spooning up behind him against his back and down along his legs where the actor's curled to fit against his own.

"Much," he replied, opening his eyes enough so that he could glance over his shoulder at Castiel who's blue eyes were studying his face, eyebrows creased in concern and mouth turned down in a frown. "What's wrong, Cas?"

"Nothing," the actor replied, shaking his head quickly and smiling sadly. "Just worrying over nothing, something Crowley said."

"Something about the movie?" Dean asked, trying to turn over so that he could better face the other man, but being stopped the strong arms that enveloped him.

"No," Castiel said with a sigh, burying his face in Dean's neck and kissing his pulse point there softly, reverently. "I don't really want to talk about it. He'll probably say something to you later anyway, I just don't want to ruin our morning."

"Yea," Dean said lightheartedly, tracing one of his fingers over the back of the hand that Castiel had pressed against his chest before lacing his fingers through the other man's. "Our first day out of the closet, what ever will we do?"

"When is your family getting into town?"

"Sam should be here sometime tomorrow, last I talked to him he had some loose ends to tie up with getting a different roommate for next year or something," Dean explained. "And um...Bobby's flight comes in Tuesday in the afternoon. Sam and I are going to go pick him up, find a good hotel close by my place, maybe grab dinner."

"They could stay here," the actor offered softly, rubbing his scratchy, sandpaper stubble across Dean's shoulder blades in an absentminded way. "I mean, if you want. I do have three empty bedrooms just gathering dust and this way Sam doesn't end up sleeping on your couch or something."

Dean snorted, half in disbelief that Castiel was offering his home to Dean's family and half because the image of his huge, mountain troll of a brother trying to squeeze himself onto his couch had flittered through his mind. "Why don't I just move in with you while we're at it, Cas?"

He felt the other man stiffen behind him, the actor's soft strokes of his thumb against his hip faltering and stopping after Dean's little Fruedian slip that must not have come out sounding as much like a joke as it had in his head. Dean knew that what they were already doing together was fucking insane, how had they even ended up here? A one night stand to 'I love you' to let me meet your whole maladjusted family over the course of just a couple of months. They hadn't even gone out on a real date yet and they weren't going to get to probably, everything that they were doing was backwards and out of order and not at all like Dean had pictured the relationship of his dreams going.

And now here he was making some desperate, needy grab to keep Castiel here when he knew that the other man couldn't stay forever, this was just the reprieve before they had to go back to their real lives and the actor left him to go back to glamorous Hollywood while Dean went back to slinging cocktails and working on his friends' cars because it was the closest he would ever get to having his own auto shop. He had already resigned himself to this being a summer romance, the best and most meaningful one of his life to be sure, but Cas wouldn't want to drag him and Meg and Charlie around forever all just to keep him close and keep up the lie that the two girls would surely get tired of living themselves.

He loved Cas, but after almost hurting him the night before all of the excitement and fearlessness that he had felt after standing up to Crowley had melted away under the very real possibility of him not being good enough for Castiel. Someone was going to catch them together or figure out that they were so much more than just friends and then the actor's career would be over, leaving him with nothing to show for all of his work and his talent but Dean and the burbling, festering resentment that would eventually make them hate each other. It would be better for all of them if that never even became close to being a possibility.

"I-I mean, joking." Dean sputtered, ducking his head to kiss the other man's arm and forcing a laugh out of his constricted lungs. "I'm joking, Cas. Plus you don't want Bobby here, grouching up the place. And Sam will just nerd all over everything with Meg and Charlie, I'm talking Ghostbusters level ectoplasm grossness there, sweetheart. We'll get a hotel room for them, it's not a problem."

"I want to meet them," Castiel said firmly. "And you're here all the time anyway or at least you can be now that Crow knows about us and really there is more than enough room here for them. There is no reason for you to spend money on a hotel room, they're staying here."

"I don't think Bobby's heart can handle all the sex noises, Cas." Dean objected, turning his head to meet the other man's stony gaze. He sighed and struggled for a bit to break out of Castiel's grip again before giving up and melting into the soft kisses that the other man was placing on his neck and ears. "You'll have to tell Balthazar to be fucking quiet. Or he can go get a hotel room himself if he can't keep his sexcapades down to a reasonable noise level."

"I'll talk to them," Cas mumbled against his skin, squeezing Dean's hip firmly. "And if the family bonding gets to be too much for you, we can escape to your apartment. It can be like our little contingency plan."

"Home away from home," the bartender added, shutting his eyes and smiling softly; remembering what his apartment already looked like from just the few times that Cas had stayed over.

Dishes in the sink from two people eating instead of just one, Cas's clothes mixed in with his own laundry, the message from James Collins signed onto his DVD boxset of Dr. Sexy season two that he could never show anyone because it was fairly obscene. The little signs that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Have you bought Sam a birthday present yet?" Castiel asked behind him, running his hand down lower over Dean's waist, along the jut of his pubis before veering back to skim down the bartender's thigh.

"No and how about a new rule," Dean breathed agitatedly, biting back the frustrated moan that had just about slipped out over the other man's teasing. "No more talking about my brother or Bobby when we're naked. This is ruining naked time."

"You're the one that made me take off my clothes," the actor growled into his ear, catching the lobe between his teeth briefly before moving to the sensitive skin on Dean's jaw. "We'll go get a present today, the girls and us. Okay?"

"Rules, Cas." Dean groaned, arching back until he could feel his actor's arousal pressing into the small of his back. "Are you going to talk or have sex with me?"

"I can do both," the other man teased, running the hand that had been on Dean's thigh over the curve of his rear with a soft, almost timid caress. "I have a lot of talents."

"Well you can't fucking cook," Dean joked back, frowning and looking over his shoulder when he felt Castiel move away from him only to see the actor fumbling in the nightstand where they kept the lube that Dean had used almost all of while prepping Cas the night before, after the bathtub the last thing he had wanted to do was hurt the other man. Maybe going shopping today was a good idea. "So whatever you have to say in bed better be pretty damn impressive."

The actor smiled mischievously at him before diving back in to press himself against Dean's back, catching his mouth with an awkward over the shoulder kiss that was more teeth and tongues than actual lips, but Dean was past the point of caring when he felt Castiel slip a thigh through his own and heard the snap of the lube opening behind him. He hissed a bit when he felt the cool, slickened fingers of the other man probing and rimming around his entrance, but he was much more used to it than Cas was so Dean pressed back eagerly onto the intrusion, biting his lip when he felt the first finger slip past the tight ring of muscle and move inside of him.

"Is everyone awake?" Dean choked out, putting his hand back over Castiel's that had nails scratching softly over his chest and nipples in that way that just drove him completely crazy.

It felt like sensory overload a bit and right now all he wanted to focus on was the way that Cas was slowly stretching him open, kissing his shoulders and how he could hear the other man's ragged, aroused breathing behind him. Dean still couldn't believe that someone so amazing could be affected by him like that, but every stupid little thing that Castiel did pretty much turned Dean into a giant puddle of love-struck goo so maybe it wasn't too far-fetched of him to believe that this could actually work. The details of how were just what was eluding him right now and honestly, the details could go fuck themselves as long as Cas kept touching him like he was precious and calling him gorgeous like he meant it.

"Everyone but Balthazar I think," the other man replied lowly, adding a second finger to the first and twisting his wrist so that Dean was gasping and whining in front of him, making needy, unconscious half-thrusts backwards with his hips onto Castiel's nimble fingers. "Want to give him a wake up call?"

"Why the fuck not." Dean mumbled, reaching backwards with his free hand that had been griping the base of his own cock so that he wouldn't come just from Castiel prepping him to scrabble at the other man's bare hip. "Fucking British asshole with his fucking accent."

"I can do an accent," Castiel whispered into his ear, breathing hot and steamy against his overheated skin that was already becoming slick with sweat. "You vant I do accent, yes?"

Dean moaned, loud enough that if it wasn't already obvious to anyone who might be wondering why they hadn't left the bedroom what they were doing, then it was going to be hella obvious now. "What the fuck kind of accent is that?"

"I call it India-Russian," the actor replied and Dean could hear the smugness in the other man's voice when he whined as the three fingers that had been stretching him open, brushing maddeningly soft over his prostate, disappeared. "I told you I'm talented."

"I stand corrected then," Dean amended, glancing back at the other man who's hand hadn't been replaced with something much harder and thicker and pulsing yet like the bartender had been expecting. Castiel was frowning and fidgeting with something between them before he noticed that Dean was looking at him and he smirked sheepishly.

"It's been a while since I've dealt with one of these," the other man admitted causing Dean to crane his neck enough to see the torn condom wrapper lying near the other man's chest. "Sorry, give me a second."

"This is very sexy, Cas." Dean deadpanned, resolutely ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach when he remembered how Victor had suddenly been abundantly stocked in condoms right before Dean had walked in on him with someone else.

This was not the same thing, just because Cas all of a sudden wanted to wear condoms when they never had before it wasn't the same thing, it didn't mean anything. Did it? He couldn't stop the image of how Cas had looked in the booth at the bar with Balthazar's arm draped around him from floating through his head and the soft kisses that the other man was leaving on his back wasn't helping the sudden urge he had to cry.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Castiel asked, both of the other man's arms appearing around his chest to turn him over onto his back a bit so that the actor could look down on him with concern flaring in his too blue eyes. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Dean managed to force out. Shaking his head to make the insecurities in his head well and truly go away. "You didn't do anything. You're perfect, sweetheart. I'm just...I love you."

The actor tilted his head at Dean and frowned slightly before planting a firm kiss on the bartender's lips. "I love you too, Dean. Why does this keep happening?"

He shook his head, not wanting to talk about Victor or the one other time that he had let himself start to think about someone in abstract, fairy tale terms like soul mate or forever or happily ever after instead of the more immediate way he thought about the guys he hooked up with, which was with his dick instead of his brain. So he kissed Castiel harder instead, moving the other man's hand down from his chest to cover his waning erection so that the actor would get the hint that this wasn't something that was going to continue to be an issue. The last thing he need was for the other man to go looking for something Dean knew he could give Cas somewhere else. He might not be rich or famous or be able to fly the actor all over the world or whatever, but he was a damn good lay and that's all Dean wanted to focus on right now; feeling better instead of the looming disaster that he knew his life was turning into.

"I just love you so much," Dean muttered against Castiel's lips, grinding his ass back onto the other man's cock with purposeful intent. "Just need you, right now. Need you forever."

The actor whimpered behind him, sighing in a resigned sort of way when he wrapped his hand around Dean's member and started stroking him back to full hardness, running his thumb along the tip and spreading the precome down in a lazily slow gesture with his thumb until he was just rubbing the spot that he always teased with his tongue right under the bartender's frenulum.

Castiel knew something was wrong, despite what Dean may or may not be willing to tell him. He had seen the look on the other man's face when his boyfriend realized that he was putting on a condom and part of him knew that it had to have something to do with that guy that Sam had mentioned. The one that he hadn't talked to Dean about yet, because they just hadn't talked about past relationships at all; obviously something they were going to have to remedy if he was going to keep Dean from freaking out every single time they had sex.

Because he didn't want to remind Dean of someone that had hurt him in the past and he had no intention of being someone who hurt him in the present. He was just going to have to prove to the other man in any way that he could that he was in this for the long haul or as long a haul as Dean wanted them to be in; Cas had no illusions that Dean wouldn't get tired of hiding, but he hoped that by the time it became a big issue, which he knew it would, then he would have figured out a way to come out to the rest of the world, not just his parents and his friends.

He lined himself up to press into Dean, coating his latex wrapped member in more lube now that he wouldn't have the slick that his own precome provided aiding him when he thrust into the other man. It didn't feel any different, having sex with a condom on. The heat and the tightness and all of the things that made making love to Dean intoxicating and addicting were still there. He could still feel the other man clenching around as he started a slow and steady rhythm of moving with his lover, alternating between stroking Dean's cock and grabbing onto his hips in order to keep the other man in place when he gave a particularly hard thrust.

"What happened to the accent, Cas?" Dean asked breathlessly, smirking when he looked back at the actor before he threw his head back against Castiel's shoulder when he received several hard, fast strokes to his engorged member as an answer.

Castiel thought about slipping back into his faux Russian accent that he had modeled after his father's side of the family, Dean had seemed to enjoy it earlier, but something made him stop; decide that maybe the other man needed the reassurance that Cas wasn't just in this for the sex even though it helped that sex with Dean was astronomical and could probably be considered a lethal weapon in some of the more conservative states. Saying 'I love you' could only have as much meaning as Dean wanted it to have and if he was used to hearing it from whatever assholes had treated him badly in the past then maybe Castiel needed to figure out another way to say it, a way that meant more.

He slowed his thrusts, moving his hand that was around Dean's chest up to cup the other man's jaw and tilt his head so that Castiel could speak right into his ear.

"No sooner met but they looked; no sooner looked but they loved; no sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy."

He didn't know if Dean knew much Shakespeare, not that he thought the bartender wasn't educated, just not a lot of people knew it when they heard it. And especially hearing it during sex, when most people's minds were in a distinctly different place than they would normally be during a play or a lesson on early British theater, but it was the main area of study that Castiel had focused on in school and the other students had teased him for being a romantic. He knew it was strange dirty talk, but he still wasn't crazy enough to say the line that he had left out this early in a relationship, not even in the middle of mind blowing sex with the person that he was pretty sure was the love of his life.

"Fuck accents," Dean moaned, swallowing hard and licking his lips that had suddenly gotten very dry while Castiel had been murmuring fucking poetry in that low, gravelly voice of his right against his ear. It was so much better than medieval torture techniques and he never wanted the actor to stop. "More, do more of that. You sound so sexy, Cas."

"You like that?" Castiel growled, sounding slightly surprised and all Dean could do was nod and arch his back and try to keep himself from begging the other man to continue while long, slender fingers caressed the tendons in his neck and held his stuttering hips in place as he sought out his release with the actor buried inside of him. "My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee the more I have, for both are infinite."

"Oh jesus," he groaned, biting his lip against the pressure he could feel building in his spine every time that Castiel's cock thrust against his prostate, making him gasp and his toes curls against the sky blue sheets that were on the bed. Dean wrapped his leg around the other man's, willing Cas closer and deeper and harder until no one would be able to tell where one of them stopped and the other began. "Don't fucking stop, sweetheart. God, don't leave me please don't. I love you so much. Please please."

"Never, never Dean." Castiel muttered into his shoulder, pressing his forehead hard against the sweat, tacky skin of the man he loved so much that it physically hurt him that Dean could even question whether or not Cas would stay. He had promised him he would stay and he had no intention of lying to the people that mattered to him anymore. "Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love."

Dean closed his eyes, seeing stars as he moaned out his release; griping Castiel's hip behind him with his nails as the actor continued to groan and thrust deep and shallow inside of him. He was still breathless when he felt Cas coming inside of him, tightening his grip on Dean's neck almost unconsciously for a second before he quickly dropped his hand down to press tightly against the larger man's chest with a breathed apology and a shiver that Dean felt through the tips of his fingers that were tailing along his lover's hip.

"I didn't mean to choke you," Castiel mumbled, propping his chin on Dean's shoulder and kissing at the spots on Dean's neck where his fingers had pressed faint red marks into the tanned flesh.

"It's okay," Dean said, wincing when he looked down at the crescent shaped imprints that his nails had left on the other man's rear, marks that were welling up with blood right under the surface of Castiel's skin. "I got you too, sweetheart. We'll call it even."

"I guess that makes three kinks of yours that I get to exploit now," the actor teased, making a face that Dean didn't see when he pulled the condom off and tied it off to toss it towards the trash can that was next to the night stand.

"Where are you getting three from?" Dean asked, snuggling back into Castiel's arms and the hands that were making soft trails over the red raised scratch marks that the actor had left on his chest. He closed his eyes with a contended sigh and counted four, four kinks so maybe Castiel wasn't counting the glasses like he was since Dean got half hard anytime the other man pushed them up his nose while he was reading something.

"Lingerie," Castiel replied, holding up a finger in front of Dean's face and poking him on the nose. "boop. Accents, boop. And iambic pentameter, boop."

"Whatever that is," Dean said, smiling when the other man wrapped their legs tighter together and pulled the blankets back over them. "Guess I'll just have to work a little harder to figure out what yours are."

"Oooh, remember when you changed the oil in my car? Hunky mechanic, unf."

"Awesome," Dean hummed; reminding himself that Victor had alway hated the greasy mechanic look; yet another reason why Castiel was nothing like his former boyfriend and why he had nothing to worry about. "I'm not even going to have to work at that one. Still washing your hair later?"

"Later," Castiel agreed, smiling against the other man's back and idly wondering how long he could get away with letting that fruit salad sit there before it got gross or people came looking for them. He figured he had plenty of time to worry about that later, later.

And then he could call his mom and dad.


Author Note: Guys! Look I did another thing! I'm surprising even myself. Some days I can just spit out 7K words and then others its like pulling teeth to write more than 1K. Obviously, that has been my problem with this fic, but thank you for being so patient and understanding and awesome and I love you. *scampers off to write chapters for other fics while inspired*