Orion (12/15)
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Dean was gently shaken awake, and he blinked in confusion as he blearily stared up at Mary hovering above him. She placed a glass of water and a couple of aspirin on his bedside table, and sat on the edge of his bed.
“Are we going to talk about what’s going on?” She asked with a solemn expression, although her soft eyes and voice of concern were completely overriding it.
“Not if I can help it.”
“I don’t know if you remember, but you were in a state last night.” The sympathy was leaving her words and agitation started to seep through as her voice grew louder. “You came home a total wreck!”
Dean leaned over and grabbed the water, swallowing both of the aspirin just to occupy himself. She wasn’t exaggerating - Dean had stumbled through the door at some early hour with an accompanying stench of booze and self-deprecation. He didn’t remember all that much, actually, just trying to act sober in front of his parents until he could escape to the bathroom upstairs and throw up the contents of his stomach. Evidently, he didn’t do such a great job of being subtle after all.
“Dad’s angry, isn’t he?”
“Of course he’s angry, but Dean, he’s worried too - we’re both worried about you. This is the second time in a week, and you can’t keep doing this.”
Dean hadn’t even sat up yet; he just dragged a pillow over his face and prayed for this conversation to end already. He hadn’t even finished when Mary snatched the pillow from him and threw it over the side of the bed.
“If you don’t get your act together and tell me what’s going on right now, I’m giving you a 9PM curfew for the rest of summer.” Dean groaned at the prospect of this, but Mary simply gave him a stern look that told him not to push his luck.
“I just - I don’t know how to explain, I can’t--”
“Is this something you need to talk to your dad about?”
“No! No - definitely not. He does not need to know about this, at all.”
“Does this have anything to do with Castiel?”
Dean froze, the pure shock preventing him from acting nonchalant and brushing the question off with ease. Not that he’d been particularly good at that anyway; he usually ended up snapping for a change in conversation whenever it came up.
“Why - why would you think that?”
Mary raised an eyebrow and scrutinised Dean carefully, before speaking slower than before. “He used to be over here all the time, I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“Well go ahead and join the club.” Dean huffed, feeling faint anger bubbling in him already. He’d reached the stage where he alternated between torturing himself over this new distance between him and Cas, and being almost livid with him and what he was doing.
“Did you guys have a fight?”
“No, we didn’t, we just uh, we--” Mary watched him expectantly, a hint of something else in her unreadable expression, maybe even the ghost of a smile. Dean was so caught off-guard that he ended up spluttering out the truth in a hurry. “We kissed.”
Dean waited for the rush of the questions, the enquiries about when he started liking boys, and how long he’d liked Castiel like that, and whether Castiel was even the first guy. But they didn’t come. Mary just slipped her hand over Dean’s and let her face soften again, because right now he needed just his mother instead of an authority figure.
“And it didn’t work out?”
“It hasn’t had the chance - Cas will barely talk to me. He wants to forget about it - thinks it was a mistake.”
“Oh sweetie, Castiel is a lovely boy and I’m sure he’s not trying to deliberately hurt you.” Dean rolled his eyes, because that’s exactly what it felt like. “But you need to tell him how you feel.”
Dean nodded, although he was fairly sure there was little chance of him acting on that advice. The very thought of bringing that up in conversation was bad enough, but what was worse, was the thought of having spilled his guts out only to have Cas throw it back in his face - no thank you.
“And if you think you can’t tell your father about this - how you feel about Cas - you’re wrong. He won’t see you in a different light or think worse of you, he just wants to understand, that’s all.”
****
It took Dean the rest of the week to coerce Castiel into seeing him, mostly because he was too stubborn to consider the advice his mother gave him. She told Dean to talk to Cas, to get everything out in the open and work out how the two of them felt, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. Although since then, at least Cas was answering his texts now and again.
Dean was sitting in the Impala procrastinating, and listening to one of his newest mixtapes. He was rolling his phone around his hands and thinking of all the reasons he shouldn’t call Cas, when speak of the devil, Cas’ favourite Jimmy Eat World song started playing. In a wave of intense irritation, Dean ejected the tape and practically ripped it from the player before throwing it into the shoebox in the footwell.
He was not going to act like a whiny bitch about this.
“Come on, come on, don’t be a dick.” Dean muttered as he brought his phone to his ear. On the fourth ring, Castiel actually picked up.
“Dean?”
“Hey, look we should hang out. I’ve barely seen you and I’ll be honest - it’s pretty annoying. So get out of bed, and we can go to the lake and get back to normal.”
Cas was silent on the other end, and Dean could just imagine the conflicted frown on his face as he deliberated it.
“Yeah, okay.”
“Good, great - I’ll come by your place now.”
“I’m not at home.” Dean waited for Cas to continue, because obviously if he was going to pick Cas up, he needed to know where he was. But Cas just went quiet again.
“So where are you?”
“Crowley’s house.”
Dean inhaled deeply as his other hand tightened into a fist, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm as his knuckles cracked. He was being left behind for Crowley; if that wasn’t a good kick in the teeth then Dean didn’t know what was. Just the sound of his name was making his blood boil, but all of the rising anger just made Dean determined not to appear pathetic. He unclenched his jaw, and started the engine up.
“Fine, I’ll pick you up.”
****
It was awful.
Dean actually had to knock on Crowley’s door and be subjected to his smug expression while he waited for Cas to get his stuff and go. He tried to ignore the pink flush on Castiel’s cheeks, the fact that his shirt was buttoned up wrong, but it was all staring him in the face. It made him feel sick that someone like Crowley could have Castiel so easily, yet he was punished for even trying.
“Why are you still screwing around with that shithead anyway?” Dean asked when they were inside the car and pulling out of Crowley’s driveway.
“He’s not all bad, we understand each other.” Cas sighed, already sounding thoroughly exasperated.
“My ass…” Dean scoffed. “You’re just two lonely people.”
Cas turned to glower at Dean, his mouth set in a tight line. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Why are you here?”
“To hang out - that’s what you wanted.”
Dean couldn’t help but laugh bitterly to himself - this entire idea was already falling to pieces. They could barely survive a car ride, never mind anything more.
Against all odds, it did get slightly better from then on. They made conversation, even if at times it felt forced and fake, and for a few minutes at a time Dean would think he’d rewound time to before the kiss. They walked up to the lake and Cas instantly settled down on the grass just behind the crescent of sand.
Dean sat with him for a while, but when Cas got a book out of his bag and leant back to lie down there was little hope left. Cas would be unreachable to Dean. So he disappeared into the house to dig up some swim shorts that would probably be lying around, and returned to find Cas already engrossed in his book.
“Are you coming in the water?” Dean stood over Cas and cast a shadow over him, and when he looked up, Dean could have sworn his expression twitched or flickered for just a second.
“I don’t think so - I’m reading and I didn’t bring any trunks.”
Dean huffed out a sigh and walked down into the water anyway, trying to dismiss the building anger that was rooting itself inside of him. The surfboard was already floating around in the water, left over from when he’d brought Sam out here a few days ago, and Dean pushed himself up onto it. The two of them never even knew why there was a surfboard stashed at the house when nobody could surf and lakes clearly lacked waves, but it had been used as a makeshift pool lounger since Dean could remember.
Dean tried to preoccupy himself; hummed songs and let the sun tan his skin, but all he could think about was his mother’s voice nagging him to confront Castiel. He couldn’t put it off any longer - after all, he’d invited him here for a reason.
“Seriously, Cas, get in here right now!” Dean huffed impatiently, trying to produce a pout with puppy-dog eyes that would rival even Sam’s. He only half expected Cas to fall for it, but apparently even that was wishful thinking.
“I told you already, I’m reading.” Cas didn’t even look up from his book, just kept staring intently at it as if the pages held the secrets to the universe.
Dean slipped off the board and swam over to the shallow water with quick, smooth strokes. He tried to read Cas’ expression from his closer position - his eyebrows were pulled together in a frown and something else, something that was almost pained.
“Dude, it’s summer, school is out - what book could possibly be so important that you can’t just chill?”
“Well, some of us actually enjoy reading in our spare time. I don’t expect you to understand that concept though.” Cas said sourly through gritted teeth, he face was still buried in the crisp pages of his book - which just irritated Dean even further. Cas knew he was talking out of his ass, and if he was trying to get a rise out of Dean, he was going about it the right way.
Dean made quick strides straight out of the water and over the sand to where Cas lay in the grass. He practically tackled him, shoving his forearm across his friend’s chest to pin him into the ground as he hovered over him, thoroughly aggravated.
“I have had it with you being a total asshole!” Dean spat, baring his teeth in what could pass for a snarl. Cas now had no other choice than to be face-to-face with Dean, his book tossed aside during the scuffle. “I drove to the other side of town just to pick you up from goddamn Crowley’s house so that we could actually hang out, but you don’t even have the decency to look at me while I bend over backwards trying to salvage this friendship - something you’ve been killing these last few weeks!”
Dean watched as Cas’ expression faltered from spiteful and hard, to the scared and anxious face of a kid. His eyes were wide open, swimming with a blend of dread and guilt. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and shut it quickly, licking his dry lips and doing nothing to defend himself. Dean’s anger seemed to slip away as he broke down every wall of defence that Castiel had put between them; he was staring up at Dean with a vulnerability that he’d never let himself show before.
Castiel didn’t have to say he was sorry; he didn’t have to grovel and suck up to Dean to show it, because Dean could see it painted all over his face. But somewhere in all his anger and aggressiveness, Dean’s face had come to be mere millimetres from Cas’. He could feel the warm puffs of breath leaving Cas’ parted lips, couldn’t ignore the heat that radiated through Cas’ shorts. Dean sat down a little firmer and swallowed the lump in his throat when he felt Cas getting hard beneath him. Cas stopped breathing and stilled, praying desperately that Dean hadn’t realised, that he would just throw a few punches and apologise when he felt bad.
Castiel’s prayer’s were not granted.
Dean put it down to complete frustration when he finally lost control and kissed Cas in a heated hurry. He was still mad and irritated and hurt, but all of those emotions were too easily swallowed by this desire that had manifested and increasingly developed over the past three weeks. He’d been so patient in his mind - he hadn’t pressed Cas about the night they kissed or asked him for more, but now he wanted to take everything he possibly could. Dean’s lips kept moving as he silently pleaded for Cas to kiss him back with more than what he was feebly giving him. Even that didn’t last long; he was soon pushing at Dean’s chest and trying to create some distance as he pulled away.
“Don’t do that,” his voice was quiet and shaky, his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look at the dejection in Dean’s face just millimetres away, “please, don’t… I can’t do it.”
“Why not?” Dean felt sick. He could already feel the nausea rising in his throat and he was sure his hands would be shaking. He’d treated Cas like an elastic band, stretched him too far and thin and now he’d gone too far and Cas was snapping. He was going leave again, this time for good.
“Because,” Cas’ eyes squeezed shut even tighter and he paused, searching for the right words, “If you have a big gay freak-out and decide you never want to see my face again, I won’t be able to handle that - not after this.” Cas opened his eyes again and all Dean could see in them was frightened pleading. “I can’t, Dean, I just can’t…”
Dean sat up straight, frowning, as things seemed to piece together and make more sense. “Is that why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Dean’s blood was boiling again, the frustration rushing through his veins and putting him on the brink of punching Cas there and then. Instead, Dean exhaled through his nose and grabbed the front of Cas’ t-shirt, lifting his torso off the ground entirely so that they were nose-to-nose. “You’re on my mind all the damn time, okay, and ever since Pamela’s I keep… picturing myself with you. And you threw that in my face!” Dean’s fingers tightened around the fabric balled up in his fists, and he inhaled deeply to dispel the churning in his stomach, the prickly feeling in his palms, the jittering of his heart. “I want you.”
Dean needed Cas to understand that it was hard enough for Dean to admit to himself when he liked a girl he’d screwed around with, harder still to admit that he liked his best friend in fear of ruining everything, and it got damn near impossible when his best friend was a guy. Dean was shocked to think that Cas believed he was acting on a whim here - when in fact he’d spent many sleepless nights worrying and considering every angle he could go about making this leap.
Dean’s mind had wandered somewhere else entirely, and he almost yelped in surprise as Cas’ hands clasped on either side of his face and brought their mouths together in a forceful kiss, the sound dying in his throat. There was no easing into this - Cas was making that crystal clear - he was dragging Dean down and leaning up into his chest, trying to close up any distance that might exist between them. And it was the furthest from their first kiss that it could ever be; Cas was kissing Dean as though he might run away at any moment, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulders and the back of his neck to keep him close. And Cas wasted no time in dallying about this time; his tongue slipped between Dean’s pliant lips and was sliding against Dean’s within seconds. And while last time they took their time in tentatively exploring each other’s mouths, now they were licking and sucking and biting with a purpose; with slow, filthy, and heated intentions.
Dean didn’t even notice the small circles his hips were making until Cas started pushing up into them, trying to find some purchase and friction in between the bruising kisses. Dean felt like he was suffocating in the sudden humidity of the air, and he couldn’t tell if the weather was just being temperamental or they really were giving heat off like a furnace. Cas’ hands were groping at Dean’s back, fingers sliding down the dip of his spine until they teasingly pressed into the skin just above his waistband. And then Dean mustered up all the self-restraint he possessed to pull back and get to his feet, dragging Cas up after him.
“Let’s go,” Dean glanced towards the house and watched as Cas’ expression switched from confused to plain old devious. Cas grabbed Dean by the wrist and pulled him along, walking as if his life depended on it until he was practically breaking out into a jog.
As soon as they were in the door, Cas shoved Dean back against wall without an inch of delicacy - and Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t direct his entire blood flow straight to his dick. The back of his head was stinging with the impact, but he only had a few seconds to gauge the pain before Cas’ mouth was on his again, his kisses wet and desperate and teetering on the right side of painful as he bit down into Dean’s lip. Dean didn’t even bother trying to get back in control, he could already see that Cas was going to take him on one hell of a ride and there was nothing he could do to change that. So he let breathy moans spill into Cas’ mouth and fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, fingers shaking with anticipation and too full of impatience. As soon as he pushed the shirt from Cas’ torso, Dean worked on ridding him of the stupid seersucker shorts that Dean hated, but was steadily growing to love when they were on Cas.
As Cas stepped out of the shorts he latched on to Dean’s neck, sucking and nipping at the exposed skin when Dean’s head tipped back, and Dean could feel the angry bruises that Cas was staining his skin with; but it only served to get him even more worked up, especially paired with the feeling of Cas’ hard length pressing into his thigh insistently.
“Shit, Cas,” Dean struggled to get any words out between Cas’ fervent licking and biting, never mind a whole coherent sentence. He pushed at Cas’ chest with more force than he’d usually use, but Cas was barely even fazed by it. Dean yanked his head up roughly by a handful of hair, noting the wide-eyed look on Cas’ face with some interest. “Come on.” He jerked his head towards the bedroom. Cas’ eyes flitted in the same direction before he stepped back a little, giving Dean enough space to grab his wrist and drag him along behind himself.
Dean tried to calmly power-walk his way towards the double bed, which had never looked so damn inviting in all his life. He made quick work of pulling his trunks off and scrambled to the top of the bed without an ounce of grace, propping himself up against the pillows.
“Wait,” Dean ordered. Cas stopped at the foot of the bed, his head tilted and swimming with the thought that Dean would choose now to freak out. “Take ‘em off,” Dean instructed, voice already low with sheer anticipation. Cas looked down at his underwear, still damp from where Dean’s trunks had pressed against them, and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband.
“Slowly.”
Cas looked straight at Dean as he watched him, unable to reign in a smirk as he clocked Dean’s mouth hanging open. Cas inched the waistband further down his hips, taking his time in pushing it all the way past his thighs before shimmying out of them completely- never breaking eye contact.
“Fuck, look at you,” Dean said softly, gaze scanning the expanse of new skin in front of him, eyes landing on the trail of fine hair beginning below Cas’ navel, and the erection that had consequently slapped against his stomach. “Like a fucking Adonis.” Dean’s mouth went dry as Cas crawled over to hover above him, humming in approval at the comment. He’d yet to fully close in on Dean and was still on his hands and knees, looking down at Dean teasingly through the shadow of his eyelashes.
“Such a filthy mouth for a beautiful face.” Cas’ voice was guttural now, but it couldn’t mask the curiosity that bled through his words. They rumbled through Dean and ignited yet more heat in his body, making him feel as though he were lying on a bed of scorching rocks rather than a mess of sheets and blankets.
Cas pushed Dean’s knees further apart and settled between his legs, relishing the melding of their sticky chests and the press of skin as he sank into Dean’s hold, his breath stuttering for a moment as their cocks finally touched and slid against each other. Cas felt the muscles in Dean’s thighs tighten on either side of him, and he took this as a prompt to push his hips into Dean - dragging a rough moan out of him. Dean’s hands quickly slipped below the small of Cas’ back to pull him down harder, Cas’ lips catching his in another clash tongues and teeth. With every ragged breath and bit-back moan that came from Dean, Cas rolled his hips harder and pressed himself even closer to Dean, all sense of rhythm lost when Dean’s hands found his ass and his fingers spread across the flesh with a firm press.
The heat from outside seemed breezy compared the house; the windows were all shut and the humidity felt like it had multiplied by twenty. As droplets of sweat beaded on their skin, Dean wished he’d taken the time to get the air-con fixed before the height of summer had hit. Instead, he began to get light headed as the heat increased with every slide of their bodies, sweat mingling and slipping between them.
“Dean,” Cas breathed against his lips, repeating it like a mantra as he rocked against him, “You’re perfect - you’re so perfect to me.” And even though it would be against all logic given their current position, Dean felt as if every drop of blood in his body rushed to his face and left him even redder and more flushed than he already was. He couldn’t listen to that, he didn’t know how to handle sweet nothings and declarations of adoration - not from Cas anyway, because he knew they were so goddamn sincere. So he worked on a distraction plan and trailed kisses from the juncture between Cas’ neck and shoulder, all the way up to his jaw until he could tug on his earlobe with his teeth. And while yes, Cas was now preoccupied with groans and harder thrusts and feeling his way down the span of Dean’s chest, he was only temporarily thrown off-course. “You’re so bright, and--” Dean was barely making out the words now, their heavy breathing filling his ears and the beat of his own heart roaring over Cas’ rasping voice. “And you’re the only one who can make me feel like this.”
Dean stared up at the boy above him; all pink cheeks and puffy red lips and dilated pupils. His chest felt like it was constricting in on itself, as though it might literally collapse if Cas continued running his mouth like that, so he caught his mouth in another sloppy kiss and reached his hand between them, only managing to circle his fingers around the tip of Cas’ cock because he would barely remove himself from Dean to make enough room. But he rolled his hips up to meet Cas, harder, faster now, and managed to give him a few strokes and pulls until Cas was trembling above him and his eyes were fucking rolling back as he choked on his moans and spilled into Dean’s hand and his chest and his chin.
Dean thought he’d left the lake house and left Kansas altogether when Cas leant forwards and licked his own come from Dean’s face, before kissing him slowly to let the taste seep into Dean’s mouth. It made Dean felt like he was balancing on a knife’s edge; his thighs were shaking and his chest heaved with the feeling of it being so close, but just not enough. And then Cas was mumbling more things to Dean; more chants of praise and affection that washed over Dean’s head as he used his come to slick his hand before wrapping it around Dean’s cock. And Dean didn’t know what did it; whether it was the fervent pulls of Cas’ fingers or the debauched look that he wore so well, or the blissed-out expressed that adorned his face as he watched Dean writhe beneath him. Whichever it was, Dean’s whole body was arching up into the tremors that shook him as Cas worked him through it, come inelegantly painting the space between their chests.
When Dean’s limbs went limp and he collapsed back down on the bed, Cas followed suit and sprawled across him, looking at Dean with soft eyes and a sated smile. Dean decided that it was a good look for Cas, and he wanted to see it as many times as he possibly could. He wanted to savour the pink blush that spread across his chest, the masses of hickeys that were now darkening into shades of violet, the slow blinking of his drowsy eyes. Dean stretched over the side of the bed to pick up his trunks and wiped them down quickly, before tossing them back across the room.
“I think you’re great,” Dean said quietly in Cas’ ear, but it sounded deafening in the silence of the house. The air was still stuffy, but now there was a distinctive musk of sex that lingered in it. “You know that, right?” Cas nodded and his smile extended into an all-out grin, the rare kind that made him look like a Cheshire cat. They stayed in the same spot, legs and arms twisted around one another as they dragged their fingertips across more skin and chaste kisses were exchanged, before they drifted into sleep.
****
Dean woke up around two hours later; the day spent in the blaring sun and the sex that followed having completely knocked him out. He buried the side of his face further into the pillow and listened to the heavy patter of rain outside. He usually disliked storms in summer; the kind that came after a muggy and hot day and only lasted half an hour at the most, but still managed to ruin all of his plans. Today was different though, he welcomed the storm with open arms because it meant he would have to stay cooped up in the lake house with Cas until it eventually ended.
Dean cracked an eye open and wasn’t altogether surprised that Cas was watching him sleep. It probably wasn’t even the first time.
“How long have you been staring at me?”
“Sorry.” The room had darkened considerably and the sun setting outside tinged it with a magenta glow, but Dean could still make out the blush on Cas’ cheeks.
“No, I mean it’s okay. It’s kind of… endearing.” Dean smiled and thought about reaching out, just touching Cas’ collar bone or pushing back the hair that had curled on his forehead from sweat. He stopped himself, and decided it was still too soon for that; he didn’t want to rush this and risk ruining it for good.
Apparently Cas didn’t have any such reservations though, because he was already crowding back into Dean’s space and wriggling between all of his limbs again. The dwindling sunlight did nothing to lessen the heat of the room, and Cas’ skin pressed against Dean’s like a hot poker that still glowed red. He touched his fingers to Dean’s chest and watched serenely as they trailed up to his shoulder, stopping to circle in soothing patterns there. Dean noticed the focused look in Cas’ eye as watched his fingers graze over his skin, and couldn’t help but feel he was out of the loop. And then Cas was reaching up to press his lips to the same skin, to brush at the curve of his shoulder and then the slope of it until his lips were dragging at the flesh below his nape, meeting the jut of his shoulder blade.
“Do you know what I love most about summer?” Cas mumbled, the words dissipating into Dean’s back as his lips moved against it still. Dean just shook his head and hummed inquisitively. “These.” And Dean had no idea what Cas was talking about, if he was even on the same planet anymore, but none of that seemed to compare to the warm pecks that Cas continued to pepper Dean with. And then Dean knew what Cas meant, and he automatically squirmed with embarrassment.
“My freckles?” After spending the better part of yesterday in the sun as well, his shoulders, back, and even arms were swarming with them. They’d never been so prominent before but he’d been spending so much time at the lake with Cas that now they were in full bloom, splattering across the golden tone of his skin.
Cas smiled so much that Dean felt the imprint of it, felt teeth grazing the surface of his back, and felt the delight radiating from Cas like an aura. He brought his face close to Dean’s, noses touching side by side and lips hovering millimetres apart.
“It’s like an entire galaxy has been painted on you.” Dean felt the breath from Cas’ mouth ghost over his lips and slip between them, and couldn’t understand why his voice was so soft and low with admiration. “I could spend hours, entire days even, just searching for the constellations in them.” And then his mouth was on Dean’s and he kissed him slow and lazy, tongue gliding along the length of Dean’s lips before he pulled back again.
And when Cas looked up at Dean again, it was his eyes were bright with a look of complete contentment
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