Fic: make it end like we wanted to

[l_s_d_me]

Title: Fic: make it end like we wanted to
Author: l_s_d_me
Fandoms: Generation Kill/Supernatural
Rated: R (for some language and sex)
Pairing: Nate Fick/Dean Winchester
Word Count: 6500
Summary: Dean’s POV. Dean is hunting demons on his own, and when he needs backup Nate is there to help.
Notes: This is all fictional and is based off performances from Supernatural and Generation Kill. Supernatural spoilers up through S5. Title from the song “Casey,” by Darren Hayes. Huge debt of gratitude to Deedlit50 for the amazing beta! and to meeks00!! both of whom were irreplaceable at knocking me on my head when I spent days frowning at this.

Dean needs help. He hates himself for admitting it, but he does. Two weeks ago Sam told him that he needed to sort some things out on his own. That it would be better for both of them if they went their separate ways for a while; so they are.

And now it’s just Dean with his Impala and a box of classic rock cassettes making his way through New England; one eye on the road, and one looking for signs of the apocalypse. It’s tiring.

He is halfway through the first chorus of “Wanted Dead or Alive” (because even on occasion Bon Jovi rocks) when he feels his phone vibrating next to him. His heart skips a beat hoping that it’s Sammy, but it never is.

“Cas, what’s up?” he says before the phone is even all the way up to his ear.

Somewhere along the way Castiel went from being kind of a dick to an actual friend. Well, as much of a friend as an Angel of the Lord can be. After all, with Sam gone Cas is the only person Dean sees with any consistency, even if it is just to pop in and give some sort of cryptic warning.

“Dean, where are you?” Castiel says in his usual dry tone.

Dean looked out into the rain, “I’m laying on the beach. Two words, Cas: drunk co-eds.” He can practically hear Castiel try to figure out if he’s being serious. “I’m in Massachusetts,” he breathes out, “Interstate 90, right outside of Framingham.”

“I’ll be right there.”

There’s a breath and he’s there, sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala.

“We’ve got trouble, Dean,” Castiel jumps right in. “We think that Lucifer is trying to steal a talisman that will make it possible for his vessel to hold him for however long it takes for his true vessel to say yes.” Dean silently thanks Cas for saying “his true vessel,” instead of “Sam.” It’s always on his mind, but hearing it out loud always makes him flinch. And over the past months Lucifer’s current meat suit has been cracking, literally.

“How is that not a good thing?” Dean asks. “He can just stew in there until we kill that son of a bitch, and Sam will be fi--.”

“No Dean, you don’t see,” he cuts in. “If Lucifer is able to remain in that vessel his destruction of Earth will be endless. Once the body he is in collapses he will have to find another willing to let him take over, and that will take time.”

“So let me get this straight,” Dean looks over at him, “we want him out of that body because he’ll lose some of his mojo without a meat suit to wear around?”

“That’s right,” Cas answers. Dean swears he hears a little excitement in Castiel‘s voice. He smiles, laughing a little.

“Alright, let’s do it. Where is it? Hell, what is it?”

“Boston. In an old building on the east side of town,” handing Dean a piece of paper with an address on it. “You can’t touch it directly, Dean. It looks like a small wooden statue. You must not touch it.”

Dean nods. “Gotcha, chief. No touch. So you coming or what? Want to tag team this?” he asks because he knows this is a big job. It’s more than that though. He’s been working with Sammy, traveling with him, and he misses everything about it even though he doesn’t want to let on to Cas how much he’s hurting.

“I can’t enter the building. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. I have faith,” Castiel says and then he’s gone.

“Great,” Dean says to himself, “I guess I’m going to Boston.”
__________________________________________________________

“Just call Sam, ya idjit” Bobby is yelling into Dean’s ear.

“Bobby, you know I can’t. He doesn’t…we’re not….” Dean called Bobby once he got to a hotel to ask if he knew anyone in the Boston area who could help him out. And while he knew that he wouldn’t get through the whole call without Sammy being brought up, it still tore at his gut to hear it.

He can hear Bobby mumble something about them being fools and the definite sound of papers rustling in the background.

“There’s a guy I know of,” Bobby says. “He’s an ex-Recon Marine, goes to Harvard now. Name’s Nate Fick.”

Dean almost drops the phone. “Harvard?! Oh come on, Bobby. I’m not looking for some liberal geek who’s going to bore some demons back to hell.”

“Do you want his number or not?” Bobby asks.

He almost says no. He almost says that he can handle it on his own, but he knows that another person with him could really make a difference. “Fine, but I better not end up having to baby-sit this guy. Let me have it.”

________________________________________________________

They talk on the phone and decide to meet after Nate is done with class for the day - outside of a coffee bar no less. Dean can’t believe he’s actually going to ask some soft college guy, ex-Marine or not, to be his backup. He remembers how Sam changed when he went off to college, and that wasn’t even a place like Harvard.

“Dean?” Nate asks, walking up to him.

Dean looks up, taking in Nate. He’s wearing khakis, a button-up shirt, has a bag across his shoulder, and looks like he‘s about twenty. Dean is about to count him out until he sees the greenest, most focused eyes he’s ever seen. Maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Yeah hey,” he says, sticking his hand out. Nate takes it, gripping tight, and nods once as greeting.

“So you’re Dean Winchester,” a half smile forms on Nate’s lips.

It’s unexpected and the smile hits Dean low in the gut. He was right, this is going to be trouble. “Guilty, I guess,” he manages to get out.

“Come on,” Nate motions with his hand, “my place is down the street.” He turns and starts walking away.

The walk is fairly uneventful as walks go, unless of course you don’t count that Dean can’t help but keep from glancing over at Nate. He trying to figure this guy out; he doesn’t want someone unreliable at his back. Well, at least that’s what he’s telling himself.

Nate looks over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t worry Dean, I’m better than you’re thinking.”

All Dean can do is roll his eyes. He’s heard this from rookies before, usually right before they get torn apart by some monster. “I’m sure you are,” is all he can say before Nate is unlocking his front door and walking in.

“Listen Dean,” Nate says, closing the door behind them. “I can tell you’re a little worried about working with someone you don’t know, and I get that, but I’ve been in dangerous situations before.” Dean can see the shift in his eyes, the casual tone of his voice replaced by something commanding.

He can’t remember the last time he saw someone like Nate. Ten minutes ago Dean was sure he was going to have to find somebody else to help him out, or just go it alone, but now he’s not so sure.

He’s kind of impressed, a tight smile twists at his lips. “Fair enough. Why don’t we have a beer and talk about the game plan.”

Nate points Dean towards the living room as he grabs the beers.

Dean can’t help but look around. Nate’s place is clean, organized, and everything that Dean’s not. There are books everywhere. He walks along the shelf noting the books on strategy, weapons, philosophy, some classics. There are pictures too. There’s an odd mixture of pictures of him with his parents and him with a bunch of rowdy looking men; Dean figures those are his Marine brothers. Off to the side there’s a picture sitting by itself of a blond man wearing dress blues. He’s looking at it when Nate comes back in with the drinks.

“Nice pictures,” Dean says, taking the beer. Nate just shrugs at him as he walks past him to sit down. “Okay,” he mutters, so Nate’s not big on sharing apparently.

He is sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, a slight smile on his face. “You can sit down for a while Dean, relax a little.” Dean keeps his eyes on Nate as he sits in the chair next to him, again doubting him.

“How can you be so relaxed right now, man?” Dean asks, unable to stand it any longer. “It’s not like you spend day in day out knee deep in all this demon crap! But here you are, sitting there like you’re waiting for Sunday brunch to be served. You’re like the damn Iceman.”

Nate’s head pops up, “What?!” Dean can see his body visibly tense, and pain flicker through his eyes. It makes him pause for a second like he’s just done something taboo.

“You know, Top Gun… Mr. Couch Jumper himself, Tom Cruise…Val Kilmer?… come on man!”

The look Nate gives him is deadly serious and leaves Dean wondering how he even learned to pin someone down with their eyes like that. Hell, he wishes he knew.

“Look Dean, I…uh…I feel the need, the need for speed.” Nate’s face lights up as he starts laughing, his mouth fighting off what could only be described of as a shit-eating grin.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispers. He can’t help but smile. “Who are you?” he asks, not really expecting an answer.

“Nathaniel Fick, former Marine Corps Captain, served in Afghanistan and Iraq, and helping your ass out the best I can.” He raises his beer and nods. Dean closes his eyes, taking a swig of his beer.

He can hear Nate laughing quietly, and then feels a hand clamp down on his knee. “Oh come on,” Nate laughs out, squeezing Dean’s knee a little. Dean can feel the added pressure all the way up his leg. “I might not do this every day, but I’ve been on dangerous missions before, and I can handle myself.”

Their eyes are locked now; Dean can feel the heat pouring out of his. “It’ll be ok, Dean, I am assured of it. Now why don’t you tell me exactly what we’re up against.”

“Well when Lucifer rose….”
_________________________________________________________

The next night Dean is sitting in his car outside of Nate’s place waiting for him. They had planned everything out the night before, from whom would carry what weapons (even going into how Ruby’s knife kills demons), to their approach and escape plans. Apparently when you mix someone raised by John Winchester and an ex-Recon Marine, planning becomes pretty thorough.

Dean looks up when he hears Nate’s front door close. “Damn…,” he says to himself as he looks Nate up and down. Unlike yesterday he has on jeans, a t-shirt that is tighter than any shirt Dean ever wears, and a sweatshirt jacket. It looks good on him.

“This is your car?!” Nate asks opening the door, his eyes lit up.

“Yeah, this is my baby,” he pats the dashboard lovingly while waiting for Nate to settle. Dean can’t deny that it feels good to have somebody else in the car with him; since Sammy left it’s felt empty even with Castiel’s occasional drop-ins.

He doesn’t realize he’s just sitting there looking at Nate until Nate clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m ready when you are.”

For a moment he wonders what Nate must think of him, sitting here in the dark just staring. But once he got back from Hell he stopped really caring about the small stuff, so he just shrugs and starts the car. He can see Nate shake his head out of the corner of his eye.

The drive doesn’t take that long. On the way there they go over little details again. Dean will have a shotgun filled with rock-salt rounds and Ruby’s knife; Nate will have a similar shotgun and small bottle of holy water he can put in his jacket pocket. During their planning the night before, Nate had pulled up the blueprint for the building so they could study the layout.

“I’m not even going to ask how you managed to get access to those old blueprints,” Dean had said. He had never even seen Sammy find something that buried. Nate had only smiled and said that he had known some people in his life who were good with computers.

But they’re there now, parked just down the street from the building.

“Hand me those binoculars in the glove box.”

Nate has to push through several cell phones to get them; he almost laughs a little.

“Jesus, how many phones do you need?” he asks as he hands over the binoculars.

“You’re looking at two generations of Winchester phones there,” Dean says in mock offense. “Show a little respect, man.”

Dean picks up the binoculars, scoping out the place.

“I can see some movement through the upstairs windows,” Dean says as he passes the binoculars over to Nate.

After about ten minutes of observation (because Nate refused to just run in there without properly observing the location), they decide that it’s now or never and move to get their weapons.

The look on Nate’s face when Dean opens the truck of the Impala is priceless; it makes Dean swell with pride. Dean has always been proud of his collection of weapons, fake ID badges, salt, holy water, and any other number of things you might need for any given case.

Nate shoulders the shotgun, looking at Dean expectantly. “Let’s do this.”

“Are you ready? You sure?” Dean asks, giving Nate a chance to back out if he wants to, but knowing full well that Nate isn’t that kind of man.

Nate raises his eyebrows at him, clasping him on the back. “I’ve got your six, don’t worry.”

Dean unconsciously leans back onto his hand for a moment, and he can feel the warmth of it through his jacket. Nate’s arm tense a little, his hand moving just enough to let Dean know that he is fully aware of what he just did.

And then the moment is over and Dean’s sheathing the knife at his belt, grabbing his shotgun, and motioning for Nate to follow him.

Castiel had told Dean that they’d need to look at the back of the building on the main floor. It seems simple enough, but nothing ever is.

Dean makes quick work of picking the lock. The area right inside the door is seared black, like someone tried to burn out the inside, but all it did was make it seem eerier. It looks deserted, but they know otherwise so they keep their guard up.

They move slowly down the hallway trying to make as little noise as possible. Dean actually has to check to make sure that Nate is still there because he’s so quiet. He thinks that if it were Sammy he’d probably have kicked something over by now. Dean can’t decide which one he likes more because at least he knew that Sammy was still there safe behind him, and with Nate he can’t hardly tell.

It’s when he’s thinking about this that he hears a shotgun blast behind him. He turns to see Nate taking down some poor possessed soul behind them. Dean didn’t even hear the guy coming.

Nate turns back to him looking focused and in charge. “Move Dean. They’ll know we’re here now.”

He starts running towards the back with Nate right on his heels. At the end of the hall they stop, glancing around the corner. It looks clear as they start down it. Halfway to the steps they see a figure standing guard at the end of the hall, its back turned to them.

Nate grabs Dean from behind the pulls him between a doorframe.

“We should wait here for a minute to see if he’ll leave before we move,” Nate whispers. They’re so close Dean can feel Nate’s breath on the back of his ear. Nate lays his hand on Dean’s back, next to his arm. Dean almost imperceptibly turns his head toward Nate, but he can see Nate shake his head slowly. So much for asking him what he’s doing, Dean thinks.

But then he realizes that they’re breathing in sync, and he feels calmer and more focused. “Cool trick,” he mumbles under his breath, and then can feel Nate laugh quietly behind him.

The man at the end of the hall isn’t moving and they need to get to the room beyond the staircase he’s standing in front of. Dean is trying to figure out the best way to get by him when he feels Nate bring his other arm around, grasping the knife Dean has sheathed in his belt.

Dean turns his head sharply, his eyes questioning. “What are you--?” he starts, but Nate cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“There’s an obstacle in front of our objective. I‘m going to remove it.”

“I’ll go,” he tells Nate. “This is my job.”

Nate gives him that look again, the one that simultaneously causes someone to stand up straighter and feel a little intimidated, and Dean shuts up.

“No Dean,” Nate’s still whispering, but it’s the most commanding whisper Dean has ever heard. “We’re in this together.”

“Fine,” Dean breathes out, taking Nate’s gun. “I’m gonna trust your judgment in this.”

Nate freezes for a mere second, opening his mouth like he’s going to say something before stepping out into the hallway. If Dean wasn’t watching him, he wouldn’t have thought there was anybody there. The demon still hasn’t noticed Nate moving through the shadows behind him.

There’s a pause in Nate’s movements, and then he steps forward wrapping his left arm around the front of the guard, bringing his right up and swiftly plunging the knife into him. He holds on until the demon flickers and dies, slowly lowering the body to the ground.

Dean rushes forward not wasting any time. He gets to Nate just as Nate stands, pulling out the knife. “This way,” Dean urges him along, tossing him back his gun.

It’s only a few more feet to the room they need. Dean turns the knob, pushing the door open with the end of his shotgun, but the room is empty. As they make their way into the room Dean spots a leather pouch sitting on the table against the wall.

“I guess we beat Lucifer here.” Nate watches the door as Dean goes to grab it.

Opening the bag, Dean sees that it looks just like Castiel said it would. “This was almost too easy,” he says as Nate walks up next to him.

“Well they are looking out for you upstairs,” Nate tells him.

Dean huffs, “I guess you could call it that.”

The door slams shut behind them. They turn to find three demons standing by the exit. They all have coal black eyes, but one of them is very tall and dark, while the other two are younger and blond.

“Well I’ll be. If it isn’t Dean Winchester, brother to poor little tortured Sam,” the tall one says.

“You don’t get to talk about Sam,” Dean practically growls out. He can see Nate reloading his gun out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh we’ll talk about whatever we please, Dean. I’m sure even Nate here wants to hear about some things. How’s life alone treating you?”

The one who is doing the talking is staring at Nate. The other two are looking at Dean like he’s Christmas dinner. Dean hears Nate mutter something under his breath, he catches the phrase, “sometimes I think it’s a sin.” And then a look crosses his face that Dean can’t decipher.

“Fuck this,” he says, and then opens fire on the tall one in the middle. Dean quickly puts the pouch in his pocket as the two blonds rush at him. He shoots one of them, but the other one tackles him onto the top of the table causing it to break and cut Dean’s arm.

He can see Nate across the room fighting with the one he shot. Dean’s too busy fighting these two to worry about Nate, plus he’s already proven he can handle himself. He shoots the blond from the left, just as the other one slams him up against the wall. He reaches for the knife, but then realizes that Nate still has it.

Dean kicks the demon he’s fighting, but is knocked to the ground when the other one comes up from the side punching him in the back. He’s catching his breath when he sees Nate pop up on the left side of him, thrusting the knife into the demon next to him. The second one only has time to turn his head before Nate is spinning around twisting the knife into him. Dean can only sit there marveling at how efficient Nate is at being a warrior.

Nate is breathing hard. He reaches his hand down to help Dean up. They lock hands around each other’s forearms, pulling up. Dean comes up fast and is suddenly in Nate’s space, chest to chest. He realizes that close up Nate is bigger than he seems. They’re still holding onto each other, breathing hard, when Dean’s eyes settle down on Nate’s mouth. Nate licks his lips, his eyes watching Dean’s.

There’s a crash upstairs and the moment is gone. Dean realizes his arm hurts, and they’re still in a building with God knows how many other demons. Nate hands back the knife, moving away from Dean.

“We need to get out of here…now.” And then they’re running.

_________________________________________________________

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells as Nate pours peroxide over the gash in his arm.

“I’ve seen worse cuts on my Grandma, Dean, don’t be so dramatic.”

They’re sitting at Nate’s kitchen table where Nate is wrapping a bandage around Dean’s forearm. Dean rolls his eyes at Nate, but also realizes that he has a completely different view of this man after seeing him in action. Now that he knows both versions of Nate - the squeaky-clean Harvard student and the Marine - Dean can see how they both marry inside him making Nate lethal.

“So,” Nate begins as he finishes tying Dean’s bandage, “who usually does this for you? Or are you too much of a lone wolf?”

Dean begins to say something about what a stupid phrase that is, but stops when he sees the corners of Nate’s eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Nah, up until a little while ago I moved around with my brother, Sam. But he, uh, he had a few things he needed to work through so we split up.” Dean’s trying to look anywhere but directly at Nate. He just knows that Nate could pry all his secrets out of him with a look.

“I get it; you don’t have to talk about it.” Nate stands, motioning for them to move into the living room. “I just know how life can get when you’re left on your own. At least you have the freedom to drive as far as you want, whenever you want.” There’s unmistakable sadness in Nate’s voice. “Speaking of,” Nate leans back into his seat, “I would sell my soul for a car like that.”

“Trust me,” Dean says sitting next to him on the couch, “you wouldn’t.” He can feel the pain from Hell, Sammy’s indiscretions (as he’s taken to calling it…her), the whole damn apocalypse twist his insides. He misses Sam, and it’s eating him up.

Dean feels a hand grab his shoulder, he flinches, but when he looks it’s just Nate looking at him with concern in his eyes.

“Are you back with us?” Nate asks, applying a little more pressure.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean clears his throat. “So what about you? You alone here all the time, or do you got somebody?”

Nate looks at him like he’s weighing his options. Finally he breathes out, moving his hand off Dean’s shoulder.

“I had one once - Brad.” He nods over to the picture sitting on his bookshelf that Dean had been looking at the day before. “We served in Iraq together, and when I got out we both knew that life was too short for caring what other people thought. It was more than I had ever hoped for after being surrounded by death and broken ideals.

“And when I came here, and he went to the Royal Marines, it was still perfect because bonds like that don’t fade just because of distance.” He nods a little towards Dean, “sort of how I can tell you hurt inside because you’re separated from your brother.

“Anyway, Brad would come home, we’d lay in bed and he’d say ‘I’ve seen things, Nate, things you wouldn’t believe.’ He’d tell me tales of seeing bodies ripped apart by God knows what, and thinking that people with black eyes were following him.” Nate smiles and it nearly tares Dean apart. “Then he’d go back to England and I’d go back to school.

“I should’ve known nothing that good could last forever.” Nate glances at Dean, they’re sitting closer together than they were at the start, but Dean can’t remember moving.

“We were walking home from dinner one night while he was on leave and this little girl stepped out in front of us. I asked her if she needed help. When she looked up at me her eyes were pure white. I could feel Brad’s hand tighten around mine, and he looked at me like there were a million things, a thousand explanations just waiting to be said…,But then the girl grabbed his arm and smiled. I heard her say, “you know far too much about us Brad.” And he died. There. Right there on the street. I don’t know how, or why, but I do know that I’m going to find her…it…and make it feel as much pain as it caused me. So that‘s why I hunt, it keeps me going, keeps me from just giving up.”

Dean closes his eyes when he realizes Nate is talking about Lilith, the demon that Sam killed bringing upon the apocalypse. He can’t bring himself to tell him she’s dead because he can feel the determination mixed with pain radiating out of Nate. When he opens his eyes he can feel a tear sliding down his cheek. Pain like this isn’t new to him; after all it was how his dad got into hunting, and what sucked Sammy back in. When a demon kills the person you love right before your eyes it changes you.

“You listen to me,” Dean says, his voice fiery and unable to stand the defeated look that is haunting Nate’s face. He grabs Nate‘s arms, shaking him a little. “You don’t give up. You fight. You fight until there’s nothing left, because when you’re all you’ve got out there life can get ugly real fast.”

Nate nods at him. Dean can see him calming, fortifying himself once more. They’re just sitting there looking at each other when a smile starts to curve up the side of Nate’s mouth, and then he actually blushes a little.

“Ahh, I’m sorry Dean. You didn’t need to hear all that,” Nate tries to explain, but Dean’s not really listening. He’s looking at those eyes that are too green, too pretty. He licks his lips when he realizes that he’s still holding onto Nate, knows it would be so easy to close the gap between them.

Nate’s right hand on Dean’s thighs, just enough pressure so that there’s no mistaking his intentions. They both sway towards each other at the same time, their mouths just ghosting over one another, nothing more than sharing the same breath. Dean knew it would be dangerous to wait for Cas at Nate’s house, more dangerous than the job they were doing, because while he is strong, he’s not sure if strong enough to resist someone like Nate.

“I’m going to get us a drink,” Dean decides, suddenly moving toward the kitchen.

He’s standing with the refrigerator door open like he’s looking for the beer, but all he can do is notice the change in the air as Nate walks up behind him.

“Dean, turn around,” Nate says from behind him. “Please.”

When he turns Nate is closer than he thought he’d be. His eyes snap up to Nate’s, he sees his own green eyes reflected in them. And then Nate’s mouth is tentatively pressed to his with lips that are just as soft as Dean thought they’d be.

“Wait, what…?” Dean tries to sound coherent, like he hadn’t thought about this happening a hundred times over the past two days.

“I’m not blind,” Nate licks his lips and Dean can’t help but follow the line of his tongue with his eyes. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been watching me, and how you react when I touch you.”

Dean thinks he should deny it, should tell Nate that he had it all wrong. Instead, he slowly slides his hands onto Nate’s sides knotting his shirt in his hands. He pulls Nate a little closer and stops, “oh fuck it.” And then he’s pulling Nate hard against his body, their tongues slide against each other at the same time that Nate snakes his hand up grabbing Dean’s hair.

Without breaking the kiss Dean turns their bodies, slamming Nate up against the refrigerator. He can hear the magnets and bottle opener hit the ground, but then Nate grunts and pulls Dean’s head back a little biting at his bottom lip. Dean loves it when they bite, and he shows his appreciation by pushing his pelvis hard against Nate’s, thrusting up against him.

“Oh God, Dean,” Nate blurts out.

Dean smiles as he nips his way along Nate’s jaw to his ear. “Be careful what you say,” his voice is husky. “He could be listening.”

Nate’s laugh reverberates through both their chests they’re pressed together so tightly. Dean brings his mouth back to Nate’s, licking his way back in. He shifts so that his thigh is between Nate’s legs. They both moan as they rub against each other.

Pretty soon Dean is pulling Nate’s shirt up over his head and throwing it across the room. He bends his head to lick across one of his nipples, and back up the line of his neck. The sensation causes Nate to shudder against him as he runs his hands over the muscles on Dean’s back.

Dean’s got one hand holding onto the side of Nate’s face, and the other squeezing him through his jeans when he feels Nate start to pull his shirt off. Once it leaves Nate’s hands he pushes Dean back. If the look in Nate’s eyes wasn’t full of predatory lust Dean would’ve been a little worried.

But he’s not.

So he lets Nate push him back until the back of his legs hit the kitchen table. Nate keeps moving toward him though, so he slides up to sit, allowing Nate to stand in between his legs.

Dean keeps eye contact with Nate as he reaches forward, undoing his pants. Before Dean lets go of the zipper he pulls him a little closer as Nate slides one hand into Dean’s hair.

He thinks the noise Nate makes when he wraps his hand around his dick is beautiful. Nate closes his eyes as Dean works him a few times. It’s fucking gorgeous, his eyes closed and lips parted.

When he opens them he makes short work of getting Dean’s pants open and his hand inside. Dean’s hand stops moving when Nate’s fist closes around him and his eyes widen because he hasn’t felt anything this good in months.

Dean lifts his legs, wrapping them around Nate’s lower body and pulling him in so that their erections are rubbing together. Nate moans one of those sinful moans again and Dean can’t help but pull his head down into a rough kiss.

Dean moves his hand so he’s got both of them encased in it, thrusting against one another. They break the kiss, resting their foreheads together as they continue to move.

As the pace quickens, the grip Nate has on the back of Dean’s head tightens. The hand Dean has resting on the small of Nate’s sweaty back pulls him closer. The added friction causes Nate to gasp, biting his lip hard as he comes onto Dean’s fist.

Dean leans forward to lick Nate’s bruised lips. He groans when Nate puts his hand over Dean’s, which is still holding both of them, and makes him stroke himself faster, harder. He opens his mouth, groaning when he comes. Nate swallows his groan down, licking it straight out of Dean’s mouth.

They stay that way for what seems like forever, sweaty chests breathing hard against each other.

“So much for Harvard students being boring,” Dean smiles at Nate, a little embarrassed he said that out loud.

“We’re anything but boring,” Nate says, running his hands down Dean’s chest.

Dean’s mouth is hanging open as Nate turns walking out of the kitchen toward upstairs. As he jumps up to follow him, he realizes this is the first time in years he’s wanted to chase after somebody. It feels good.
________________________________________________________

“Dean wake up,” a voice says through his fog of sleep.

When he opens his eyes he isn’t quite sure where he’s at for a second. Then he feels someone move next to him and remembers that he’s in Nate’s bed. Dean’s eyes roam over Nate’s sleeping form next to him, he smiles as he sits up.

It’s only then that he notices someone standing at the end of the bed.

“What the hell are you doin’ here Cas?!” Dean asks gesturing toward Nate.

“Don’t worry Dean, he won’t wake up right now.”

Dean huffs because of course Cas would put some Angel mumbo jumbo on him to knock him out.

“Did you get the talisman? Were you successful?” Castiel asks like Dean’s not sitting naked in bed with another man.

“Yeah we got it, no worries. By the way, you should see this guy work,” he motions at Nate. “It’s impressive.”

Castiel tilts his head, confused, as if he only just noticed Dean wasn’t alone. “Yes, I know. We know everything about him.”

Dean wonders if Cas knew that by sending him to Boston that he would end up meeting Nate. Maybe this is all part of the plan, and the Angels knew all along that he would meet his equal here. But he doesn’t say any of that out loud.

“If you want this thing now you’re going to have to turn around unless you want the full monty.” When Cas just keeps looking at him Dean sighs and twirls his finger, motioning for him to turn around. Suddenly understanding, Castiel nods, "Of course."

After dressing, Dean leads Castiel downstairs to where he left his jacket the night before. Dean reaches into his pocket, showing Cas that he’s got it.

“Tell me Cas, what would’ve happened if I had touched this thing?”

“Death.”

“Death!” Dean yells, immediately looking around, making sure he didn’t wake Nate up. “You coulda told me that; I would’ve been more careful with it.”

“Yes, well, it all worked out for the best. But for now we need to get it to my brothers.” Castiel says, grabbing Dean’s shoulder teleporting them both.
_________________________________________________________

“You have to send me back!” Dean yells as soon as he realizes what’s happened.

“Later” Castiel answers. “You got what we needed, and I had to have it moved to a secure location.” There’s a flash of what Dean thinks is mischief in Cas’s eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for him to really know if it was ever there or not.

“Because you don’t have the right to just show up and take me somewhere!” he turns his back on Cas like doing that will make him unable to hear what he says next. “Plus he was asleep, and won’t know what happened to me.”

Even as the words leave his mouth he realizes how out of character it sounds for him. He doesn’t care though, he can’t leave Nate without him knowing the truth.

“Listen Cas, just take this thing and pop my ass back there. I‘ve got information he needs to know.”

And with that Castiel grabs the leather pouch and disappears. Dean breathes a sigh of relief, and hopes that Cas will get him back before Nate wakes up.
_______________________________________________________

“Holy shit!” Nate screams, jumping off of his couch.

Castiel, very tactlessly, just popped himself and Dean into the middle of Nate’s living room. Dean glares at Castiel for not placing them somewhere less abrupt, but more importantly he glares because he has no idea how long he was gone for because it’s clearly not the same night.

“Dean?” The look on his face is a cross between relief and confusion. “What happened to you?”

“Cas here showed up and, uh, had to take me somewhere…but I’m back now. There’s something I have to talk to you about.” Dean nods towards Castiel as both an introduction and a that’s-all-you-can-leave-now look.

Castiel does little more than squint his eyes a little in acknowledgement.

“I’m going to see if there are new orders. Don’t linger too long, Dean,” he says, stepping slightly away from Dean. “Oh and Nathaniel, don’t worry, Brad’s here with us. He’s doing our work now.” And with that Castiel was gone.

Dean just stares at Nate who is glued to his spot, green eyes wide with shock. He doesn’t know what to say so he just says nothing. Dean sits down and waits for Nate to come back to the present.

Eventually Nate turns his eyes to Dean, looking at him like he had completely forgotten there was somebody else in the room with him.

Nate clears his throat. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

His voice surprises Dean with how even and sure it sounds. There’s not a hint of the pain that Dean just witnessed.

“Well,” he begins, but doesn’t know how to continue. Nate needs to know that the demon responsible for Brad’s death is gone forever, that he doesn’t need to carry this vendetta around anymore because it will only hurt him. So he takes a deep breath and starts from the beginning.

“There were 66 seals that needed to be broken in order for Lucifer to rise….”

end.