[SPN] the detonation of your words, the connotation of your affection [2/3]
PARTS: [ 1 | 2 | 3 ]
Things return to a semblance of normality after that, the only difference being that Cas is much more friendlier now than compared to the first time they met outside Mr. Adler’s office. For the most part, the guy just sticks with popping in to drop by his folders and engage in brief conversations with Dean from time to time (conversations that Dean always looks forward to, although he would never admit this to anybody else). Other times he comes in during lunchtime with a sandwich in his hand, or maybe a pasty which Dean lets Cas eat instead because 1) he doesn’t do carbs and 2) it’s kind of adorable seeing Castiel stuffing his face full of food like he’s never so much as experienced food before.
Today, he brings in a salad like the first time which surprises Dean in a good way, and he happily starts gobbling up the meal while Cas places down the files that he brought over with him. Dean’s vaguely aware that Cas is watching him as he eats and Dean knows that he should be bothered, but when he’s occupied with food as heavenly as this? Dean really can’t bring himself to care.
“You really like it,” Cas says, more of a statement than a question.
Dean glances up as he swallows the piece of lettuce he’d been eating before he responds. “Why shouldn’t I? I mean, it’s healthy and all.”
Something flashes across Castiel’s eyes in that comment, an emotion that passes by too fast for Dean to catch and understand. He watches Cas closely, however, as the other man glances away to stare at the door. He seems pretty deep in his thoughts, and Dean isn’t that much of an asshole to start disturbing him; besides, he still has his salad to finish. He returns to his meal quickly enough, finishing it in record him and lets out a satisfied burp as he pushes the container back to Cas.
“You make some really awesome salads, man,” he goes in a way of a compliment, smiling brightly when Castiel turns to look and him and blinks.
Cas takes a moment before he bows his head. “Thank you,” he replies, and there’s another pause as Dean feels the words hanging in the air.
It’s obvious that Castiel wants to say something, and Dean takes a chance to push his luck. He leans forward, arms on the table as he puts his face closer to Cas and gazes at him in an inquiring look. “Is there something you wanted?”
The foreign emotion darts across Cas’s face again, too fast for Dean to comprehend, but there’s no time for him to mull over it as Castiel leans back a little and sets his sight on the ground. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me for dinner tonight,” he asks, and heck if that question doesn’t surprise Dean. He’s thought about it a few times, yeah, but he’s never had the certainty to ask lest he gets rejected; but now here is Cas, asking him and his day just seems to get better.
“You don’t even need to ask, Cas,” Dean replies, grinning outright now while he reaches out and pats the other on the shoulder. “Just wait for me at the car park entrance once we knock off; I’ll drive us over.”
The diner they end up in is pretty decent, although for some reason Cas seems to be pretty uncomfortable on the ride over. Dean doesn’t question it though; he figures that the guy just isn’t used to cars, or something. Well, that can be fixed in time. Maybe.
Dean gets a salad for himself and pointedly tries not to watch how Castiel is gorging himself on his double beef burger with an expression as close to pleasure as Dean’s even seen him look (and damn, that should not sound so dirty in his head). As hot as the guy is, it’s still really hard to watch how he’s destroying himself with all those carbohydrates and fats. How do people even eat them without wanting to throw up from all that oil?
He suppresses a shudder as he goes back to his salad, eating it slowly so that Cas finishes before him and he doesn’t have to look at the horrible sight again. It doesn’t really work, however, when he sees the grease that slathers across Castiel’s jaw and lips. Without even thinking twice Dean takes out his handkerchief and starts wiping away the oil from the other’s face. “Eat properly, would you? There’s oil everywhere.”
Castiel only blinks in that way which simply screams ‘I do not understand’ to Dean, which is frustrating but yet endearing at the same time for some reason Dean doesn’t want to think about. He allows himself to sigh, making quick work of the rest of the grease before he withdraws and puts his handkerchief back into his pocket, silently mourning its sacrifice. At least it was for a good cause.
There’s a beat before Cas bows his head in that weirdly formal way of his once again, voice quiet as he replies. “I will do my best next time.”
Wait. Dean blinks, having frozen a little at the last two words which he echoes now. “Next time?”
The guy only inclines his head in his ridiculous headtilt. “Yes. That is, if you are not averse to it.”
‘Averse to it’? Hell no. Dean quickly shakes his head, silently thanking whatever that is that’s making all of this so easy and good for him as he replies. “Of course not, Cas. I’m more than willing to go out with you.”
He feels way too happy about this, but Dean can’t make himself care. He’s on fucking cloud nine, and nobody’s going to drag him down from it.
So after that night they start a routine of going out together-knocking off together, getting dinner together, talking about random stuff and generally knowing each other better. Castiel tells him a few things about his life, but it’s never anything that Dean can really use; still, he can respect the other’s desire for privacy. On the other hand, Dean just about pours out his entire life story to him (only son in the family, rebellious streak during his teenager years until he got his head straightened and eventually settled down to this) over their first few dinners. It feels great, being able to talk to somebody so easily, but yet there’s always something about Castiel’s looks that bothers him; an expression he can’t place, but he could put it close to sorrow whenever he so much as talks about his work.
There have been many times that he wants to ask about just what is bothering Castiel, but either he’s too obvious or Cas is far too perceptive because the moment he tries to ask the other man simply changes the topic all too easily and Dean has to give up on asking for that night.
Had it been anybody else, Dean would have lost his temper, but with Cas somehow Dean can’t find it within himself to flare up; maybe he’s scared to lose the relationship he has with the other man, or maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason. Either way, he can only let it go and wait for another opportunity to ask about it.
Tonight they’re at Dean’s house after deciding that a change from their usual diner would do them some good (and neither of them like going to bars anyway, much to Dean’s barely-disguised delight). They order takeaway and some bottles of wine from Dean’s barely touched stash; Dean’s just glad to find a reason to open up the bottles, even moreso when it’s Cas he’s spending his evening with. Nothing gets much better than that.
They’re drinking wine and watching some lame doctor show (‘Dr. Sexy, MD’ or something) that Cas insists on, and Dean’s feeling buzzed enough by now to fully appreciate the warmth of Castiel beside him. He starts getting a little daring now that his inhibitions are pushed back. The other man’s staring intently on the screen as Dr. Séance and Dr. Chevron (or whatever their names are again, Dean isn’t exactly paying attention) start bickering with each other, hardly noticing that Dean has a hand on his thigh until it reaches up his hip.
Cas absently swats the hand away, his focus still on the show and Dean doesn’t know if he should be insulted or amused that the guy is far more interested in watching some lameass doctor sitcom rather than what’s happening to him right at this moment. He tries again, placing a hand on Cas’s knee and slowly running up his thigh; this time Castiel turns to him, a scowl on his face as he speaks. “Dean, please stop disturbing me.”
“Then you should stop ignoring me,” Dean returns with a crooked smile as he inches his hand up into the Cas’s inner thigh and he’s fairly certain he feels a little shiver in return from that action. Looks like Cas isn’t so immovable after all.
Dean lets his smile widen a bit more and moves his hand a little bit higher, but Cas shifts and Dean’s hand is now more occupied with grabbing the sides of the leather couch and trying to steady himself as the other man suddenly lunges and kisses him, tongue swiftly delving past lips and mapping out the contours of his mouth as Cas kisses him almost as if he’s starving for it. Dean makes a noise at the back of his throat and reciprocates the action, losing himself quickly in the heat and the simple pleasure of having a hot, wonderful mouth against his own-it’s been far too fucking long since the last time he had this. He’s dreamed of this from the moment he first saw those chapped, plush lips on Castiel, but the reality of it is so much better than what he’s ever fantasized about.
He feels himself getting hard even as they do nothing but kiss and make out, hands slipping under layers of clothing and running up against flush, damp skin. Castiel’s palms are rough and calloused, hardly the hands of a man who only works at a desk-Dean wonders absently just what kind of work Cas does to have such hands, but that thought dissolves quickly when he feels the other man mindlessly humping himself on his thigh and fuck if that isn’t such a hot image. They’re not kissing now, but their eyes are still locked onto each other and Dean feels his mouth go dry and his dick go harder than ever as Cas pants, his face flushed and his eyes almost wholly black with desire.
He reaches out to grab Castiel by his hips before the other man can rut himself to orgasm and tries not to shudder too much at the frustrated whine that comes out from the back of Cas’s throat. “Dean,” he rasps out, his cool and controlled voice now so totally wrecked and fucking gone and it’s everything that Dean’s wanted to hear since he was outside Adler’s door and heard that voice say ‘yes, sir’.
“Just a minute, Cas,” he murmurs back, shifting now so that he can sit up properly as use one hand to reach for the fly of Castiel’s pants, unzipping it so that he can press his palm against the hard length of the other’s cock, feeling the dampness of the boxers that Cas is wearing. Cas makes another one of those quiet, frustrated whines that sounds way too hot and attempts to thrust his hips up, but he can’t because Dean has his other hand on Cas’s hip to hold him down and Cas whines once again, voice breaking as he breathes out his name. “Dean.”
Dean smiles and teases Cas some more, fingers brushing against the damp patch of cloth and he watches how Castiel shivers and moans, watching and hearing the other break little by little with each tease and nudge. The television’s long ignored by now, registering as nothing but white noise in his mind as his world focuses on nothing but Castiel breaking apart beneath him. He feels the dampness spreading and sees Cas already quickly losing it like he’s never done this before. Maybe he never has.
Fuck, that thought shouldn’t be so hot but it is, and Dean feels his own cock straining against his pants now as that thought registers in his mind. He lets out a little groan of his own, looking down now as his hand finally slips under the band of Cas’s boxers and gently tugs it down along with his pants, just enough so that Cas’s cock springs out free from the confines of his underwear and Dean wraps his hand around him, watching greedily as come leaks from the tip steadily and slicks across his hand and Cas’s dick. His hand is totally filthy with it but Dean can’t really bring himself to care at this point, only drinking in the way Castiel loses himself with each stroke. Watches the way Cas’s breaths turn into delicious little pants and gasps as he breathes out nothing but Dean’s name with such need and desperation and earnestness that Dean starts to wonder if he even deserves this.
He tries not to think about it though as he quickens his pace, watching as Cas grabs the sides of the couch now as his hips mindlessly thrust towards his hand, desperate to seek more friction. His chest his heaving without pause and Dean can see a fine sheen of sweat covering Cas’s face and body, and that’s just so hot Dean’s certain he’s about to lose it himself.
Dean wants nothing more than to see Cas come, wants to hear his voice breaking apart as he does too, but he makes himself stop because he has other plans. Cas makes a noise as if he’s dying, and Dean has to hold his hips down again before Cas can attempt to start humping against the couch.
“Dean,” he breathes out the name again like it’s the only thing he knows what to say, and it’s so hot how he can hear Cas breaking like that. Dean shifts them both now so that Cas is lying on the couch and he’s above him, and Dean places one hand on the armrest as another fumbles with the fly of his own pants, groaning at the pressure that eases on his dick once he finally manages to get his own pants and underwear down. He’s rock hard and already leaking all over, close to the edge himself. Dean’s forgotten the last time he’s been so turned on.
Cas is staring into Dean’s face as if he’s searching for something, and Dean smiles back in return as he lowers himself so that he can catch Cas’s lips with his own as he grinds his hips against Cas, moaning at the delicious friction that comes between them. He hears Cas’s returning groan and feels hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt at the small of his back, the other tangled in his hair. This feels way too good and far too fucking perfect and Dean moans out Cas’s name against his mouth as he thrusts his hips harder, eager for more friction.
Cas breaks their kiss, unable to keep up with it any longer as the pleasure starts to override him, and Dean watches as Cas’s face is captured in an expression of rapture, shattering under him as Cas comes, hot and wet against his thigh and between them. He comes a second later, Cas’s expression the last thing he needs before his orgasm takes a hold of him and Dean moans loudly, shuddering with the force of it as he empties himself.
He collapses on top of Cas once he stops shaking, feeling boneless and fucking drained but sated in a way he hasn’t been for a long time. Castiel reaches up with a hand and places it on Dean’s head, fingers brushing through hair in a gesture that’s far too intimate for… whatever they are now. Dean isn’t quite sure what to call this.
“I didn’t know it was like that,” he hears Cas say, and Dean lets out a soft laugh in return before reluctantly pushing himself back up and putting himself back together (or as much as he’s bothered to). The upholstery of his couch is pretty much ruined, but it’s a small price to pay for something like this. He feels Cas’s inquiring gaze as he switches off the television and gets tissues from the coffee table nearby to clean the both of them off, tossing them away as soon as he is done.
Cas sits himself back up, looking at the state of the couch and an apologetic look crosses his face. “I apologize.”
Dean only finds himself shrugging, a small grin crossing his face. “It’s a small sacrifice for such mind-blowing sex.” Well, all they really did was frotting, but it was still pretty awesome by itself. He can wait before they get to fucking; Dean’s mindful of his partners that way.
There’s a small pause after that reply before Castiel nods again, and he zips his pants back up before standing up. “I… I should go.”
Dean blinks, caught by surprise at the words. “You’re not going to stay?” he asks.
Castiel tilts his head once more, and now Dean can’t help but think that it’s vaguely adorable. “Should I?”
“Uh.” A pause now, as Dean fumbles around in his head for a suitable answer. Fuck, how should he even respond to something like that? “If you want to?”
A moment passes by as Castiel frowns, and Dean wonders if he’s made a bad decision in all of this before Cas blinks and nods and smiles in that special way of his, speaking. “I would not mind spending the night here.”
Dean grins, feeling absolute relief washing over him. “Great. Make yourself at home.”
It’s all so worth it when he sees that smile.
Things don’t really change too much after that, aside from the fact that Castiel ends up spending his nights at Dean’s house more often than not. Dean doesn’t question it-he’s glad to have Cas around-but he does wonder once or twice if he should ask Castiel about spending some nights at his place instead. It isn’t that he minds, but… well, it would be nice if he got to see Cas’s house at least once rather than having Cas come here all the time.
It takes a while, but eventually he manages to get the question out one night while they’re on the bed fumbling to get their clothes off. All he gets in response however is a shake of the head and before Dean can ask why Cas is kissing him in that way that just makes Dean’s brain melt into mush and the question goes forgotten.
Dean stares at the book that Castiel is reading. “What the heck are you reading?”
Cas glances up, holding up the book in his hand so that Dean can see it properly. The title reads Cat’s Cradle.
It takes a while before the name clicks in his mind. “Vonnegut?”
Castiel nods, and Dean makes a face.
“You should read better things, man,” he says sadly, and somehow Castiel’s expression mirrors his look.
“Perhaps,” is what Cas says, although after that Dean never sees him reading a book again.
Then, one time while Dean was driving them both back to his place, Cas suddenly reaches for the radio and turns it on. In the next second, Dean finds himself abruptly grinding his car to a halt as he cringes at what must be the most obnoxious rock music now blasting out from his speakers without warning.
It takes a minute before Dean manages to turn off the radio, eardrums still throbbing from the godawful music. “Just no, Cas.”
Regret crosses past Castiel’s face and he lowers his head. “I apologize.”
Dean allows himself to take a breath. “It’s alright. Just… don’t do that again, alright?”
“I understand.” And Castiel never reaches for the radio again after that.
“You shouldn’t be eating that.”
Cas looks up from the fried chicken he’s holding in his head, and Dean tries not to cringe at the oil that’s not slicked across Cas’s fingers, far too shiny and greasy for him to be comfortable with. Dean purses his lips together, swatting Castiel’s hand so that he’s no longer holding onto that oily monstrosity. “Don’t eat that,” he repeats himself, now scowling.
Again he sees the flicker of disappointment flashing across Cas’s eyes, but it disappears again and he shrugs. “If that’s what you wish,” he returns, and despite the neutrality of his voice Dean can pick out the tiniest hints of regret laced in those words.
“Hey,” Dean starts, now attempting to salvage the situation as he-carefully-takes Cas’s hands in his own. “I just don’t want you to lose the great shape you have now, you know? You should try and keep it.”
Castiel blinks and looks at Dean in a way that seems like he’s totally lost on what Dean has just said, but after a moment he blinks and nods. “I will, Dean.”
Dean smiles and returns to his meal, but Cas doesn’t drop by his house that night.
The dreams return to him when he sleeps later, and Dean spends the time after that staying awake and staring at the ceiling as he waits for dawn to break.
Castiel looks rather apologetic when he comes to Dean in his office the next day, offering him a Caesar salad and a cup of juice and asking him out for dinner once work is done. Dean is of course happy to oblige, and once it is knock off time it is a trip to the local diner and then right back to Dean’s place.
That night they fuck for the first time, and when Dean pushes himself into Cas and finds himself lost in the heat and warmth he mindlessly murmurs love this, love this so much, love you and Cas’s returning expression only looks like he’s about to cry. Dean wants to ask if something is wrong but Cas doesn’t let him and only moves back against him and lets Dean sink into him deeper, muttering out a barely-audible come for me, Dean and that’s what Dean does, spilling himself into that warmth.
Exhaustion sweeps through his body once they’re done and Dean doesn’t protest at all as Castiel gathers him into his arms, leaning into the junction between neck and shoulder and mouths another silent love you against the skin. Cas doesn’t respond, only threading his fingers in Dean’s hair as he kisses his forehead and tells him to sleep.
Dean does so.
When he wakes up the next morning he sees Castiel already dressed and sitting at the foot of his bed.
“What time is it?” he mutters out as he pushes himself up to sit, the heel of his right hand rubbing against one of his eyes to get rid of the sand.
“Early,” Cas responds, and then he speaks again. “Dean, I’m sorry.”
The words instantly make Dean pause, his mind snapping into awareness as he blinks at Cas. “Huh?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and the regretful look is on his face as clear as day now as Castiel turns to look at him properly. “I can’t continue with this anymore, Dean.”
“What?” Dean wonders if he’s dreaming and pinches himself to see if that’s the case; it hurts. “Why?”
Castiel looks away, keeping his gaze towards the door as he replies. “I can’t bring myself to love you.”
Dean feels his blood freeze at those words, a pit opening up in his stomach as his mouth goes dry. “…Were you cheating on me?” What the fuck? Was Cas really doing this to him? Why?
The other instantly shakes his head. “No-”
“Then why?”
“There is…” Castiel starts, lowering his head and Dean sees his fists clenching. “There is somebody else who I love-somebody who is you but is not.”
Dean is only confused by the answer, and he narrows his eyes and snaps back. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means what it means.” The smile that’s on Cas’s face is mirthless and pained, and Dean doesn’t know if he should punch Cas or just hug him instead. He’s angry and he’s all sorts of pissed that Cas is suddenly dropping this on him and-and he doesn’t know why, but he can’t just ignore the pain that’s so visible on Cas’s expression now. “I’ve tried, Dean, but I can’t bring myself to love you like I love him.”
“So, what?” Dean returns, trying to stop himself from shaking and feeling so disgusted about himself, at how he’s been led around like an idiot for so long. “Was I just a replacement?”
“You will never be a replacement, Dean,” Castiel instantly responds, and despite the shit he’s just said earlier-despite the crap he just gave without so much as a fucking warning-Dean can’t help but believe in the pure earnestness of his words, the way he says everything as if he means it right from the bottom of his heart. “You are important to me, but I cannot love you.”
Dean sucks in a breath now, closing his eyes and trying not to lose it. When he speaks, his own voice is so raw that he almost doesn’t recognize it himself. “Go,” he says, and he almost hears himself break at the end of that single word. “Just… go.”
“Dean,” Castiel tries to start, but Dean cuts him short.
“Go, Cas. We’re done.”
A pause settles in after those words.
“I’m sorry,” Cas says again, and when Dean opens his eyes Castiel is gone.
Dean lets himself lie in bed until his alarm clock rings and he forces himself up and out. He makes the bed, cleans himself up and tosses the sheets into the wash. He makes a sandwich for lunch and packs it in his briefcase, and makes sure he eats his breakfast and drinks his coffee (decaf, like always) before he goes to work, trying to forget all that’s happened to him. The day passes by smoothly without sign of Castiel anywhere, and Dean thinks he’s handling things well enough. Maybe he can get through this.
That all crashes down the moment the giant tech guy in the lift with him stares over to look at him with a puzzled look and says the first words that he had said to Castiel himself when they first met.
“Do I know you?”
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Things return to a semblance of normality after that, the only difference being that Cas is much more friendlier now than compared to the first time they met outside Mr. Adler’s office. For the most part, the guy just sticks with popping in to drop by his folders and engage in brief conversations with Dean from time to time (conversations that Dean always looks forward to, although he would never admit this to anybody else). Other times he comes in during lunchtime with a sandwich in his hand, or maybe a pasty which Dean lets Cas eat instead because 1) he doesn’t do carbs and 2) it’s kind of adorable seeing Castiel stuffing his face full of food like he’s never so much as experienced food before.
Today, he brings in a salad like the first time which surprises Dean in a good way, and he happily starts gobbling up the meal while Cas places down the files that he brought over with him. Dean’s vaguely aware that Cas is watching him as he eats and Dean knows that he should be bothered, but when he’s occupied with food as heavenly as this? Dean really can’t bring himself to care.
“You really like it,” Cas says, more of a statement than a question.
Dean glances up as he swallows the piece of lettuce he’d been eating before he responds. “Why shouldn’t I? I mean, it’s healthy and all.”
Something flashes across Castiel’s eyes in that comment, an emotion that passes by too fast for Dean to catch and understand. He watches Cas closely, however, as the other man glances away to stare at the door. He seems pretty deep in his thoughts, and Dean isn’t that much of an asshole to start disturbing him; besides, he still has his salad to finish. He returns to his meal quickly enough, finishing it in record him and lets out a satisfied burp as he pushes the container back to Cas.
“You make some really awesome salads, man,” he goes in a way of a compliment, smiling brightly when Castiel turns to look and him and blinks.
Cas takes a moment before he bows his head. “Thank you,” he replies, and there’s another pause as Dean feels the words hanging in the air.
It’s obvious that Castiel wants to say something, and Dean takes a chance to push his luck. He leans forward, arms on the table as he puts his face closer to Cas and gazes at him in an inquiring look. “Is there something you wanted?”
The foreign emotion darts across Cas’s face again, too fast for Dean to comprehend, but there’s no time for him to mull over it as Castiel leans back a little and sets his sight on the ground. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me for dinner tonight,” he asks, and heck if that question doesn’t surprise Dean. He’s thought about it a few times, yeah, but he’s never had the certainty to ask lest he gets rejected; but now here is Cas, asking him and his day just seems to get better.
“You don’t even need to ask, Cas,” Dean replies, grinning outright now while he reaches out and pats the other on the shoulder. “Just wait for me at the car park entrance once we knock off; I’ll drive us over.”
The diner they end up in is pretty decent, although for some reason Cas seems to be pretty uncomfortable on the ride over. Dean doesn’t question it though; he figures that the guy just isn’t used to cars, or something. Well, that can be fixed in time. Maybe.
Dean gets a salad for himself and pointedly tries not to watch how Castiel is gorging himself on his double beef burger with an expression as close to pleasure as Dean’s even seen him look (and damn, that should not sound so dirty in his head). As hot as the guy is, it’s still really hard to watch how he’s destroying himself with all those carbohydrates and fats. How do people even eat them without wanting to throw up from all that oil?
He suppresses a shudder as he goes back to his salad, eating it slowly so that Cas finishes before him and he doesn’t have to look at the horrible sight again. It doesn’t really work, however, when he sees the grease that slathers across Castiel’s jaw and lips. Without even thinking twice Dean takes out his handkerchief and starts wiping away the oil from the other’s face. “Eat properly, would you? There’s oil everywhere.”
Castiel only blinks in that way which simply screams ‘I do not understand’ to Dean, which is frustrating but yet endearing at the same time for some reason Dean doesn’t want to think about. He allows himself to sigh, making quick work of the rest of the grease before he withdraws and puts his handkerchief back into his pocket, silently mourning its sacrifice. At least it was for a good cause.
There’s a beat before Cas bows his head in that weirdly formal way of his once again, voice quiet as he replies. “I will do my best next time.”
Wait. Dean blinks, having frozen a little at the last two words which he echoes now. “Next time?”
The guy only inclines his head in his ridiculous headtilt. “Yes. That is, if you are not averse to it.”
‘Averse to it’? Hell no. Dean quickly shakes his head, silently thanking whatever that is that’s making all of this so easy and good for him as he replies. “Of course not, Cas. I’m more than willing to go out with you.”
He feels way too happy about this, but Dean can’t make himself care. He’s on fucking cloud nine, and nobody’s going to drag him down from it.
So after that night they start a routine of going out together-knocking off together, getting dinner together, talking about random stuff and generally knowing each other better. Castiel tells him a few things about his life, but it’s never anything that Dean can really use; still, he can respect the other’s desire for privacy. On the other hand, Dean just about pours out his entire life story to him (only son in the family, rebellious streak during his teenager years until he got his head straightened and eventually settled down to this) over their first few dinners. It feels great, being able to talk to somebody so easily, but yet there’s always something about Castiel’s looks that bothers him; an expression he can’t place, but he could put it close to sorrow whenever he so much as talks about his work.
There have been many times that he wants to ask about just what is bothering Castiel, but either he’s too obvious or Cas is far too perceptive because the moment he tries to ask the other man simply changes the topic all too easily and Dean has to give up on asking for that night.
Had it been anybody else, Dean would have lost his temper, but with Cas somehow Dean can’t find it within himself to flare up; maybe he’s scared to lose the relationship he has with the other man, or maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason. Either way, he can only let it go and wait for another opportunity to ask about it.
Tonight they’re at Dean’s house after deciding that a change from their usual diner would do them some good (and neither of them like going to bars anyway, much to Dean’s barely-disguised delight). They order takeaway and some bottles of wine from Dean’s barely touched stash; Dean’s just glad to find a reason to open up the bottles, even moreso when it’s Cas he’s spending his evening with. Nothing gets much better than that.
They’re drinking wine and watching some lame doctor show (‘Dr. Sexy, MD’ or something) that Cas insists on, and Dean’s feeling buzzed enough by now to fully appreciate the warmth of Castiel beside him. He starts getting a little daring now that his inhibitions are pushed back. The other man’s staring intently on the screen as Dr. Séance and Dr. Chevron (or whatever their names are again, Dean isn’t exactly paying attention) start bickering with each other, hardly noticing that Dean has a hand on his thigh until it reaches up his hip.
Cas absently swats the hand away, his focus still on the show and Dean doesn’t know if he should be insulted or amused that the guy is far more interested in watching some lameass doctor sitcom rather than what’s happening to him right at this moment. He tries again, placing a hand on Cas’s knee and slowly running up his thigh; this time Castiel turns to him, a scowl on his face as he speaks. “Dean, please stop disturbing me.”
“Then you should stop ignoring me,” Dean returns with a crooked smile as he inches his hand up into the Cas’s inner thigh and he’s fairly certain he feels a little shiver in return from that action. Looks like Cas isn’t so immovable after all.
Dean lets his smile widen a bit more and moves his hand a little bit higher, but Cas shifts and Dean’s hand is now more occupied with grabbing the sides of the leather couch and trying to steady himself as the other man suddenly lunges and kisses him, tongue swiftly delving past lips and mapping out the contours of his mouth as Cas kisses him almost as if he’s starving for it. Dean makes a noise at the back of his throat and reciprocates the action, losing himself quickly in the heat and the simple pleasure of having a hot, wonderful mouth against his own-it’s been far too fucking long since the last time he had this. He’s dreamed of this from the moment he first saw those chapped, plush lips on Castiel, but the reality of it is so much better than what he’s ever fantasized about.
He feels himself getting hard even as they do nothing but kiss and make out, hands slipping under layers of clothing and running up against flush, damp skin. Castiel’s palms are rough and calloused, hardly the hands of a man who only works at a desk-Dean wonders absently just what kind of work Cas does to have such hands, but that thought dissolves quickly when he feels the other man mindlessly humping himself on his thigh and fuck if that isn’t such a hot image. They’re not kissing now, but their eyes are still locked onto each other and Dean feels his mouth go dry and his dick go harder than ever as Cas pants, his face flushed and his eyes almost wholly black with desire.
He reaches out to grab Castiel by his hips before the other man can rut himself to orgasm and tries not to shudder too much at the frustrated whine that comes out from the back of Cas’s throat. “Dean,” he rasps out, his cool and controlled voice now so totally wrecked and fucking gone and it’s everything that Dean’s wanted to hear since he was outside Adler’s door and heard that voice say ‘yes, sir’.
“Just a minute, Cas,” he murmurs back, shifting now so that he can sit up properly as use one hand to reach for the fly of Castiel’s pants, unzipping it so that he can press his palm against the hard length of the other’s cock, feeling the dampness of the boxers that Cas is wearing. Cas makes another one of those quiet, frustrated whines that sounds way too hot and attempts to thrust his hips up, but he can’t because Dean has his other hand on Cas’s hip to hold him down and Cas whines once again, voice breaking as he breathes out his name. “Dean.”
Dean smiles and teases Cas some more, fingers brushing against the damp patch of cloth and he watches how Castiel shivers and moans, watching and hearing the other break little by little with each tease and nudge. The television’s long ignored by now, registering as nothing but white noise in his mind as his world focuses on nothing but Castiel breaking apart beneath him. He feels the dampness spreading and sees Cas already quickly losing it like he’s never done this before. Maybe he never has.
Fuck, that thought shouldn’t be so hot but it is, and Dean feels his own cock straining against his pants now as that thought registers in his mind. He lets out a little groan of his own, looking down now as his hand finally slips under the band of Cas’s boxers and gently tugs it down along with his pants, just enough so that Cas’s cock springs out free from the confines of his underwear and Dean wraps his hand around him, watching greedily as come leaks from the tip steadily and slicks across his hand and Cas’s dick. His hand is totally filthy with it but Dean can’t really bring himself to care at this point, only drinking in the way Castiel loses himself with each stroke. Watches the way Cas’s breaths turn into delicious little pants and gasps as he breathes out nothing but Dean’s name with such need and desperation and earnestness that Dean starts to wonder if he even deserves this.
He tries not to think about it though as he quickens his pace, watching as Cas grabs the sides of the couch now as his hips mindlessly thrust towards his hand, desperate to seek more friction. His chest his heaving without pause and Dean can see a fine sheen of sweat covering Cas’s face and body, and that’s just so hot Dean’s certain he’s about to lose it himself.
Dean wants nothing more than to see Cas come, wants to hear his voice breaking apart as he does too, but he makes himself stop because he has other plans. Cas makes a noise as if he’s dying, and Dean has to hold his hips down again before Cas can attempt to start humping against the couch.
“Dean,” he breathes out the name again like it’s the only thing he knows what to say, and it’s so hot how he can hear Cas breaking like that. Dean shifts them both now so that Cas is lying on the couch and he’s above him, and Dean places one hand on the armrest as another fumbles with the fly of his own pants, groaning at the pressure that eases on his dick once he finally manages to get his own pants and underwear down. He’s rock hard and already leaking all over, close to the edge himself. Dean’s forgotten the last time he’s been so turned on.
Cas is staring into Dean’s face as if he’s searching for something, and Dean smiles back in return as he lowers himself so that he can catch Cas’s lips with his own as he grinds his hips against Cas, moaning at the delicious friction that comes between them. He hears Cas’s returning groan and feels hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt at the small of his back, the other tangled in his hair. This feels way too good and far too fucking perfect and Dean moans out Cas’s name against his mouth as he thrusts his hips harder, eager for more friction.
Cas breaks their kiss, unable to keep up with it any longer as the pleasure starts to override him, and Dean watches as Cas’s face is captured in an expression of rapture, shattering under him as Cas comes, hot and wet against his thigh and between them. He comes a second later, Cas’s expression the last thing he needs before his orgasm takes a hold of him and Dean moans loudly, shuddering with the force of it as he empties himself.
He collapses on top of Cas once he stops shaking, feeling boneless and fucking drained but sated in a way he hasn’t been for a long time. Castiel reaches up with a hand and places it on Dean’s head, fingers brushing through hair in a gesture that’s far too intimate for… whatever they are now. Dean isn’t quite sure what to call this.
“I didn’t know it was like that,” he hears Cas say, and Dean lets out a soft laugh in return before reluctantly pushing himself back up and putting himself back together (or as much as he’s bothered to). The upholstery of his couch is pretty much ruined, but it’s a small price to pay for something like this. He feels Cas’s inquiring gaze as he switches off the television and gets tissues from the coffee table nearby to clean the both of them off, tossing them away as soon as he is done.
Cas sits himself back up, looking at the state of the couch and an apologetic look crosses his face. “I apologize.”
Dean only finds himself shrugging, a small grin crossing his face. “It’s a small sacrifice for such mind-blowing sex.” Well, all they really did was frotting, but it was still pretty awesome by itself. He can wait before they get to fucking; Dean’s mindful of his partners that way.
There’s a small pause after that reply before Castiel nods again, and he zips his pants back up before standing up. “I… I should go.”
Dean blinks, caught by surprise at the words. “You’re not going to stay?” he asks.
Castiel tilts his head once more, and now Dean can’t help but think that it’s vaguely adorable. “Should I?”
“Uh.” A pause now, as Dean fumbles around in his head for a suitable answer. Fuck, how should he even respond to something like that? “If you want to?”
A moment passes by as Castiel frowns, and Dean wonders if he’s made a bad decision in all of this before Cas blinks and nods and smiles in that special way of his, speaking. “I would not mind spending the night here.”
Dean grins, feeling absolute relief washing over him. “Great. Make yourself at home.”
It’s all so worth it when he sees that smile.
Things don’t really change too much after that, aside from the fact that Castiel ends up spending his nights at Dean’s house more often than not. Dean doesn’t question it-he’s glad to have Cas around-but he does wonder once or twice if he should ask Castiel about spending some nights at his place instead. It isn’t that he minds, but… well, it would be nice if he got to see Cas’s house at least once rather than having Cas come here all the time.
It takes a while, but eventually he manages to get the question out one night while they’re on the bed fumbling to get their clothes off. All he gets in response however is a shake of the head and before Dean can ask why Cas is kissing him in that way that just makes Dean’s brain melt into mush and the question goes forgotten.
Dean stares at the book that Castiel is reading. “What the heck are you reading?”
Cas glances up, holding up the book in his hand so that Dean can see it properly. The title reads Cat’s Cradle.
It takes a while before the name clicks in his mind. “Vonnegut?”
Castiel nods, and Dean makes a face.
“You should read better things, man,” he says sadly, and somehow Castiel’s expression mirrors his look.
“Perhaps,” is what Cas says, although after that Dean never sees him reading a book again.
Then, one time while Dean was driving them both back to his place, Cas suddenly reaches for the radio and turns it on. In the next second, Dean finds himself abruptly grinding his car to a halt as he cringes at what must be the most obnoxious rock music now blasting out from his speakers without warning.
It takes a minute before Dean manages to turn off the radio, eardrums still throbbing from the godawful music. “Just no, Cas.”
Regret crosses past Castiel’s face and he lowers his head. “I apologize.”
Dean allows himself to take a breath. “It’s alright. Just… don’t do that again, alright?”
“I understand.” And Castiel never reaches for the radio again after that.
“You shouldn’t be eating that.”
Cas looks up from the fried chicken he’s holding in his head, and Dean tries not to cringe at the oil that’s not slicked across Cas’s fingers, far too shiny and greasy for him to be comfortable with. Dean purses his lips together, swatting Castiel’s hand so that he’s no longer holding onto that oily monstrosity. “Don’t eat that,” he repeats himself, now scowling.
Again he sees the flicker of disappointment flashing across Cas’s eyes, but it disappears again and he shrugs. “If that’s what you wish,” he returns, and despite the neutrality of his voice Dean can pick out the tiniest hints of regret laced in those words.
“Hey,” Dean starts, now attempting to salvage the situation as he-carefully-takes Cas’s hands in his own. “I just don’t want you to lose the great shape you have now, you know? You should try and keep it.”
Castiel blinks and looks at Dean in a way that seems like he’s totally lost on what Dean has just said, but after a moment he blinks and nods. “I will, Dean.”
Dean smiles and returns to his meal, but Cas doesn’t drop by his house that night.
The dreams return to him when he sleeps later, and Dean spends the time after that staying awake and staring at the ceiling as he waits for dawn to break.
Castiel looks rather apologetic when he comes to Dean in his office the next day, offering him a Caesar salad and a cup of juice and asking him out for dinner once work is done. Dean is of course happy to oblige, and once it is knock off time it is a trip to the local diner and then right back to Dean’s place.
That night they fuck for the first time, and when Dean pushes himself into Cas and finds himself lost in the heat and warmth he mindlessly murmurs love this, love this so much, love you and Cas’s returning expression only looks like he’s about to cry. Dean wants to ask if something is wrong but Cas doesn’t let him and only moves back against him and lets Dean sink into him deeper, muttering out a barely-audible come for me, Dean and that’s what Dean does, spilling himself into that warmth.
Exhaustion sweeps through his body once they’re done and Dean doesn’t protest at all as Castiel gathers him into his arms, leaning into the junction between neck and shoulder and mouths another silent love you against the skin. Cas doesn’t respond, only threading his fingers in Dean’s hair as he kisses his forehead and tells him to sleep.
Dean does so.
When he wakes up the next morning he sees Castiel already dressed and sitting at the foot of his bed.
“What time is it?” he mutters out as he pushes himself up to sit, the heel of his right hand rubbing against one of his eyes to get rid of the sand.
“Early,” Cas responds, and then he speaks again. “Dean, I’m sorry.”
The words instantly make Dean pause, his mind snapping into awareness as he blinks at Cas. “Huh?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, and the regretful look is on his face as clear as day now as Castiel turns to look at him properly. “I can’t continue with this anymore, Dean.”
“What?” Dean wonders if he’s dreaming and pinches himself to see if that’s the case; it hurts. “Why?”
Castiel looks away, keeping his gaze towards the door as he replies. “I can’t bring myself to love you.”
Dean feels his blood freeze at those words, a pit opening up in his stomach as his mouth goes dry. “…Were you cheating on me?” What the fuck? Was Cas really doing this to him? Why?
The other instantly shakes his head. “No-”
“Then why?”
“There is…” Castiel starts, lowering his head and Dean sees his fists clenching. “There is somebody else who I love-somebody who is you but is not.”
Dean is only confused by the answer, and he narrows his eyes and snaps back. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means what it means.” The smile that’s on Cas’s face is mirthless and pained, and Dean doesn’t know if he should punch Cas or just hug him instead. He’s angry and he’s all sorts of pissed that Cas is suddenly dropping this on him and-and he doesn’t know why, but he can’t just ignore the pain that’s so visible on Cas’s expression now. “I’ve tried, Dean, but I can’t bring myself to love you like I love him.”
“So, what?” Dean returns, trying to stop himself from shaking and feeling so disgusted about himself, at how he’s been led around like an idiot for so long. “Was I just a replacement?”
“You will never be a replacement, Dean,” Castiel instantly responds, and despite the shit he’s just said earlier-despite the crap he just gave without so much as a fucking warning-Dean can’t help but believe in the pure earnestness of his words, the way he says everything as if he means it right from the bottom of his heart. “You are important to me, but I cannot love you.”
Dean sucks in a breath now, closing his eyes and trying not to lose it. When he speaks, his own voice is so raw that he almost doesn’t recognize it himself. “Go,” he says, and he almost hears himself break at the end of that single word. “Just… go.”
“Dean,” Castiel tries to start, but Dean cuts him short.
“Go, Cas. We’re done.”
A pause settles in after those words.
“I’m sorry,” Cas says again, and when Dean opens his eyes Castiel is gone.
Dean lets himself lie in bed until his alarm clock rings and he forces himself up and out. He makes the bed, cleans himself up and tosses the sheets into the wash. He makes a sandwich for lunch and packs it in his briefcase, and makes sure he eats his breakfast and drinks his coffee (decaf, like always) before he goes to work, trying to forget all that’s happened to him. The day passes by smoothly without sign of Castiel anywhere, and Dean thinks he’s handling things well enough. Maybe he can get through this.
That all crashes down the moment the giant tech guy in the lift with him stares over to look at him with a puzzled look and says the first words that he had said to Castiel himself when they first met.
“Do I know you?”
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