Suburban War - Chapter 7, Part 1
You know you look so tired
You’re gonna stay up late tonight
Under the stars
Well I’ll put you in pride of place
I’m gonna set my sights
I’m gonna set your soul alight
Under the stars
~Morning Parade, “Under the Stars”
The following morning, Dean wakes slowly to find wide, blue eyes staring back at him. It takes all of two seconds to remember the night before, and the relief and happiness and anticipation that zing through his body make his heart skip. Castiel is watching him, a wary, yet open look across his face, and when Dean grins, Castiel’s face softens and lights up, as if there’s a glow bursting forth through the smile that breaks across his lips.
Dean moves a hand to reach for his friend and pull him closer, but a voice by the window stops him. “Hey Dean, mom said for us to come down for breakfast in a few minutes,” Sam announces.
Propping himself up on one elbow, Dean looks over at his brother as Sam rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Sure thing, Sammy. You wanna go down and tell her we’ll be there in a sec?”
“Yeah, might as well. I think your snoring scared off all the birds this morning anyways, so there’s nothing to watch out here.”
Dean throws a dirty sock towards the hole in the floor as Sam begins to step down the ladder. “Screw you, you’re the one who snores.”
Sam’s head disappears in a fit of giggles down the ladder, and Dean realizes suddenly just how alone he and Castiel are. He can feel his face flushing as he glances at his friend, and he's relieved to see that Castiel seems just as nervous as he feels. When their eyes meet, they both look away quickly, and Dean considers pretending nothing is wrong and making a beeline for the safety of the house when Castiel clears his throat. Dean jumps at the sound, silently berating himself for being such a pansy-ass.
“Dean,” Castiel says, his voice husky. Dean can’t remember exactly when Castiel’s voice dropped to such a low pitch; it’s been dropping ever since they hit puberty years ago, and has yet to stop. But he’s never heard it this low before, and he wonders if it’s because Castiel just woke up or because of who he’s talking to. He kind of hopes he’s the one who brings it out in Castiel, but whatever the reason, Dean likes it. A lot.
He forces his gaze up to Castiel. “Yeah, Cas?”
Castiel stares at him for several beats, and Dean uses the moment to let his glance roam over his friend’s face. At some point over the years, Castiel has grown into a man. The stubble that he’d had last night is even longer and thicker, making Dean wonder how often Cas must have to shave nowadays. When he squints or smiles, the crinkles around his eyes give him the appearance of someone older and wiser. And the lean muscles of his chest and shoulders that Dean had appreciated before are impossibly broader, exhibiting the strength within.
Dean begins to wonder how he must appear to Castiel, if he looks anything like the man Castiel does, but before he can start to worry if Castiel likes what he’s become, his friend interrupts his thoughts.
“Good morning,” Castiel replies solemnly.
Dean raises his eyebrows at his friend and snorts. “Only you could make good morning sound as serious as a UN speech.”
He grins when Castiel rolls his eyes and tries to hide a blush, using the momentary distraction to scoot closer. He leans forward, stopping just as he reaches Castiel’s lips, and stares. “Hi,” he whispers, closing his eyes and smiling when he feels a huff of warm breath against his lips.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, as he closes the millimeters of distance between them. The kiss is soft, chaste with the tentativeness of daylight, and butterflies in stomachs, and worries of morning breath, but it’s no less monumental for the both of them, and Dean’s heart skips a beat when he feels Castiel’s lips twist into a smile against his mouth.
“Is this real?” Dean whispers, as he drifts his mouth down, making his way to the sharp line of his friend's jaw.
Castiel sighs, sliding a hand up Dean’s neck to thread fingers through his hair. “I hope so.”
Just as Dean decides to give Castiel a proper kiss, morning breath be damned, they hear the screen door of the patio slam open. “Boys! Breakfast is waiting!” Mary yells up to them.
Dean laughs, resting his forehead against Castiel’s and closing his eyes. He feels a hand on either side of his face, and opens his eyes to find Castiel staring at him with fondness. “To be continued?”
“Hell yes,” Dean concurs, placing a quick kiss on Castiel’s lips before sitting up. He shifts in place for a moment, looking around and grabbing a pillow. “At least I’ve got something to carry and hide how awesome it was to wake up this morning,” Dean smirks, crawling over to the ladder to start climbing down.
He stops as he climbs onto the steps, watching as Castiel grabs a t-shirt and shoves it over his lap. When he raises an eyebrow at his friend and winks, Castiel rolls his eyes. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, dreaming about the pizzaman has had this effect on me, as well.”
Dean barks out a laugh, climbing his way down the ladder. “Watch yourself, Cas, or I’ll tell my mom to withhold the French toast.”
“There’s no need to resort to barbaric means,” Castiel retorts as he climbs down the ladder after Dean.
Dean smiles over at him when he reaches the ground, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Nah, you’re right. I can be cruel, but there’s some lines that should never be crossed.”
********************
After breakfast, Castiel rides his bike home to check in with Missouri, and to get showered and cleaned up for the rest of the day. As much as they’d both like to spend some time alone, they’d promised Charlie a few days ago to meet up with her and some of her other friends for an RPG day. Deep down, as happy as he is about how things have changed between him and Castiel, Dean is kind of relieved to be hanging around a group of people. He’s still a little freaked about what all of this means, and worried about how this changes their friendship.
When Dean arrives at Charlie’s house, Castiel is already there, sitting cross-legged in one of the bean bags thrown around the room. Dean stands in front of the door, indecision on where to sit making him feel like an idiot. His first instinct is to scoot in next to Castiel, but he knows how that’ll look to the rest of the room, and he doesn’t know about Cas, but he’s not really ready to field questions on their “relationship,” especially when he probably has just as many questions about it as anyone else would.
Castiel glances up from the book in his hands, and when his eyes meet Dean’s he smiles. Dean can feel his own face light up, and they stare at each other, goofy smiles on their faces until Dean hears Charlie clear her throat beside him.
“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation to the ass-kicking? I need some help figuring out who to put up front to lead the charge, like, today, if you can spare some time from your usual make-googly-eyes-at-Cas.”
Dean smirks, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder as he pushes her towards the large table where the game is being set up. “If you’re gonna keep giving me attitude, I may have to defect to the enemy’s side.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Charlie mocks. “I’ve got too much blackmail material on you for you to ever seriously consider it.”
They crowd around the table, debating in low voices over who to put in what position. Charlie wants to put Alfie up front because he’s fantastic at strategy, but Dean argues that the guy is too soft-hearted, and Ed’s team would find a way to use that to their advantage. Dean is so focused on discussing their game plan that he doesn’t notice Castiel has joined them on the bench at the table until he feels a hand brush against his. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who gives him a sidelong glance but says nothing.
And from then on, Dean becomes useless, because all he can concentrate on is his friend's proximity. He wants to reach over, grab Castiel's hand or touch his back or squeeze his thigh or… something. The warmth of Castiel’s body next to Dean makes him feel giddy, and he has to work to keep a smile from breaking out across his face. Charlie keeps talking to him, asking him questions, but everything she says is a jumbled blur because every time Dean tries to listen to her, Castiel will shift, turn his body or move his leg closer, or rub an arm against Dean’s, and the distraction is maddening. When Castiel sighs and leans away to look at something across the table, Dean can’t help but lean with him, already missing the press of his body.
“Dean, are you okay?” Charlie asks, interrupting his thoughts.
Dean raises his head quickly to look at Charlie, his eyes having been busy staring at his thigh pressed against Castiel’s. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
Charlie makes a face. “You’re acting hella weird. And no offense, but you’re sucking at strategizing today. It’s like you’re not even here.”
Dean opens his mouth to apologize, but then it hits him that the perfect excuse for getting out of here just landed in his lap. “Actually, I feel like I might be coming down with something. You know, headache, and just, uh, not feeling all that good.”
He feels Castiel become very still and quiet next to him, and wonders if Castiel can tell he’s lying through his teeth, and if he’ll be crafty enough to find his own excuse to leave early.
“Dude, go home. I don’t wanna catch your cooties,” Charlie complains, scooting down the bench and away from Dean.
Dean snorts. “Cooties? What are we, ten?” He turns away from Charlie, catches Castiel’s glance long enough to wink at him conspiratorially, and stands up.
“Actually, I think I’m going to go, too,” Dean hears Castiel say as he’s walking towards the door. “Missouri asked me to help her with some…stuff, and things,” he finishes lamely.
Dean has to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Castiel is good at a shitload of things, but lying sure as hell isn’t one of them.
As Dean turns to say goodbye, he finds Charlie staring at them both with beady, suspicious eyes. He does what he can to pretend he doesn’t see the look as he calls out, “See you guys later! Have fun storming the castle!”
Castiel follows closely behind him as he makes his way out the door and down the hallway leading to the front door and outside. “What should I do with my bike?” he asks Dean as they step off the front porch.
As much as Dean wants to tell him to leave it here, so Castiel can crawl behind him on his motorcycle and they can just get out of here and find some place to be alone right now, he worries it would hurt Charlie’s feelings for them to be that obvious about wanting to get away. Plus, he’s not sure either one of them are ready to let everyone know what’s going on between them, and that would definitely be a very blatant clue.
Dean chews on his lip for a moment. “My house is closer,” he says. “Why don’t we meet up and leave it there?”
Castiel smiles and climbs on his bike. “See you there,” he replies, and Dean watches as he peddles down the street, before climbing his motorcycle and turning the ignition.
The rumble of his motorcycle’s engine makes it impossible for the two of them to be stealthy and escape his house without going inside and letting his mom know what their plans are, and once inside she convinces them to stay long enough to eat lunch. So by the time they are blessedly alone and on their way, the sun has already passed its peak in the hot summer sky.
They don’t discuss where they’re going, both knowing without acknowledgement what their destination is. The pond is the one place they know they can go where no one will find them, the rest of the world apparently having forgotten it exists, if it ever knew at all. Before last night, Dean would have wanted to prolong the drive to the pond, the feel of Castiel pressed against him making him cling to the moment for as long as he could. But now, knowing that he doesn’t have to grasp at these stolen moments of touch, knowing that once they arrive there is promise of even more, Dean is eager for the drive to end and the rest of their day to begin.
They find their way slowly along the dirt path, the motorcycle bouncing unsteadily over the mounds of dirt and grass. Once they make it through the clearing and are parked in front of the pond, Dean takes off his helmet, and listens to Castiel doing the same behind him. Neither seem in a rush to climb off the bike though, and Dean leans back into Castiel’s space when he feels strong arms wrap back around his waist.
It’s sweltering in the early afternoon sun, and Dean can feel rivulets of sweat trickling down his spine and getting lost in the waistband of his jeans, but he doesn’t pull away from the heat of Castiel’s body. He lets himself be enveloped in Castiel, the touch, the smell, the feel of his friend becomes his entire world for these precious few seconds.
Castiel hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder. “Maybe we should get off.”
Dean chuckles. “Is that an offer?”
Sitting back on the seat, Castiel shoves Dean forward. “You know what I mean, jackass.”
Twisting around, Dean shoots him a smile over his shoulder. “You know me, I can never resist an opportunity like that.” He watches as Castiel swings a leg over, and follows suit, both of them strolling to stand behind the pier and stare out at the water. Dean is nervous, suddenly, the nerves from this morning returning full-force. He sneaks a look out of the corner of his eye at Castiel, wondering if he’s feeling the same.
“We should talk about this,” Castiel starts, shooting a quick glance at Dean before returning his stare out over the pond.
Dean’s stomach clenches in a knot. “About what?” he asks, warily.
Castiel sighs. “About, you know…us.”
Dean clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from sounding shaky. “Have you changed your mind?” He hates himself for sounding desperate, needy; maybe this really was all too good to be true.
Castiel turns to look at Dean head-on. “No, I just…I don’t want to do anything to hurt our friendship.”
“Neither do I,” Dean adds quickly, maybe too quickly, judging by how keenly Castiel is returning his stare.
“So, I think maybe we should take things slow,” Castiel continues. “I’ve…I’ve never been - you know. Intimate with anyone before, not even close. So I don’t want to move things too fast, and end up regretting something.”
Dean’s not sure how to reply. A part of him is relieved by Castiel’s request because, if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s been a bit terrified of his feelings for his friend, as well as panicky about how this kind of thing works when it’s between two guys.
But another part of him is worried that this means Castiel is having second thoughts, and is just afraid to let Dean know. He doesn’t want Castiel to feel pressured into this just because Dean’s practically got Cas’s initials tattooed on his ass with hearts drawn all around them.
As Dean is processing all of this, he can feel Castiel’s eyes on him, watching his reaction. “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand because you have…done things with people before, and it’s not a big deal for you anymore,” Castiel adds, voice unsure.
“What? No!” Dean blurts. “I mean, yeah, I have done…things with people before. Or, with girls. Never with a guy, though. And I’ve never…I’ve never had actual…intercourse before, or anything.” He can feel his face turning a bright shade of red, and he hopes maybe the blaring sunlight will hide some of his embarrassment from Castiel. “But, Cas, it is a big deal for me, too. Mostly because it’s, you know, you.”
Castiel’s eyes widen, but he remains silent, so Dean forces himself to continue. “So, yeah, I get it, wanting to take it slow. And, I dunno, I kind of agree, I guess.” He doesn’t say what’s in his heart, that he’s terrified Castiel will change his mind, that he doesn’t want Dean as much as Dean needs him, that he feels like his whole life has led him here, to this feeling that overwhelms and exhilarates, that he’d be willing to wait forever if it meant he got to keep Castiel by his side.
Instead, he holds his hand out, waits for Castiel to thread fingers between his own, and leans over to place a chaste kiss at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “We’re a team, right?” he whispers.
Castiel stares at him, eyes solemn and unfathomable, before nodding slowly. “You jump, I jump.”
Dean squeezes his hand before letting go. “Race you to the water,” he murmurs, before grinning and taking off in a sprint for the pier.
He hears Castiel call him an assbutt as he’s pulling his shirt over his head, and that one movement gives his friend a chance to catch up with him. So when Dean dives into the clear, deliciously cool water, he laughs in delight when he feels Castiel’s strong arm wrap around his waist.
********************
Dean is unsure at first of just what “taking it slow” means, so he decides to let his friend take the reins in their relationship, so to speak. What he soon realizes is that “taking it slow” means a lot of shy smiles and glances, sitting close enough to always be touching, soft sighs against warm skin, and slow, stolen kisses whenever they’re alone and feeling brazen.
And it’s enough, for now. Of course, Dean wants more, he always wants more; he is a guy hitting his sexual prime, after all. But what he’s discovering is that exploring this relationship or thing or whatever it’s called, slowly, taking their time with each other and just getting to know each other in this new way…well, it’s a heady experience, all on its own.
The few weeks since that first kiss are spent in a haze, Dean and Castiel both feeling as if they’re living in a bubble, unable to be touched or affected by the outside world. On the days that Dean works, he spends the mornings trying to hide the smile threatening to burst across his face, and Rufus yells at him more than once for being so goofy he’s going to get a finger chopped off. The afternoons find him rushing home, excited because he knows Castiel will be there waiting for him.
They do what they can to avoid hanging out with other people, both so greedy to have each other to themselves. They agree early on to keep their relationship quiet, mostly because it’s still so new and they don’t want to do anything to change it somehow, but also because they know there will inevitably be some who don’t approve. Dean can’t even bear to consider how his parents will react if they find out about this relationship, so he avoids thinking about it as much as he can. He wishes he could just say fuck it, who cares what anyone thinks, but this is a small town, and unless he and Cas have a quick and sure way of handling it, they need to play things smart, for the time being. It all means that when Dean isn’t at work, their time is spent mostly at the pond, because it’s the one place they know they can be undisturbed.
If this were happening with a girl, Dean would be obsessing about how to act around her, wanting to impress and be the guy he knows is expected of him, the baseball jock who will goof off and do whatever it takes to find the quickest way inside her pants. But with Castiel, even though he’s nervous and it feels like little electric sparks popping and snapping between them whenever they get close (and they’re always close when no one else is around), Dean is also more himself than he thinks he has ever been. There’s this tension building between them, brimming to the surface every time they kiss or touch, and it doesn’t dissipate, can’t dissipate, because they always pull back before things get too heated. But even with that tension, Dean has never felt more relaxed and free to be himself.
He doesn’t understand what this means yet, can feel the answer hiding just beneath the surface somewhere, waiting to be found. He doesn’t care to go searching for it, though. In these first few weeks, all he cares about is being around Castiel, and it’s almost like a drug for him. When they’re not together, the world is dim, everything muted and dull and annoying - Dean finds himself irritable, becoming irrationally pissed at anything that delays his time with his friend. But as soon as he sees Castiel, it’s like a light has been turned on somewhere, and the world is as bright and exciting as it should be; his shoulders lose their tension, and his chest expands with the relief of breathing clean air after being buried alive. Dean feels as if he could run to Hell and back, if need be, just to get another hit of what being in Castiel’s presence feels like.
So, yeah. He’s got it bad. He never really understood why people compared being in love to a drug until now. The only thing that holds him back from declaring his undying devotion and pleading for more than just fleeting kisses and light touches is that Castiel asked to take things slow. Well, that and because Dean can’t help but have doubts about the depth of his friend’s feelings. Castiel has never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, Dean has always known this. He’s more of a let my actions speak for me kind of guy, and Dean usually is, too. If there’s one thing that John’s Marines background has instilled in Dean, it’s “no chick-flick moments,” so Dean doesn’t like talking about his feelings, either. But when you’re wanting to hold hands and kiss and declare your undying devotion to your best friend, who’s also a guy, it’d be nice to be one hundred percent certain that that guy is totally on board with the scenario and wanting to do dirty, filthy things with you just as badly.
Other than those little pestering doubts, Dean is happy to a degree that would scare him if he took the time to think about it. But there is no time to think, because when he’s not working he’s with Castiel, and when he’s not with Castiel he’s sleeping, and none of those things leave time for worrying.
One late afternoon finds them, as usual, at the pond, sitting on the pier and watching the sun begin to set. The day started off with a thunderstorm, but by the time Dean gets off work and they make it out to the pond, the sun has reclaimed the sky, and the day is blazingly hot. Instead of cooling things down, the morning storm has just made the air muggier, the heat and humidity making everything sticky and miserable.
Dean and Castiel decide to skip cutting away the brush and weeds that keep growing back before they’ve barely finished clearing them, and instead go for a long swim to try to cool off. The water is warm and unsatisfying though, so not long after diving in they pull themselves up onto the pier to grab a couple of sodas from the cooler. Some clouds have popped up, adding to the milky haze of the afternoon sun, and making the sunshine beating down on them just this side of bearable.
They’re both in their swimming trunks, it being too hot to add more layers. Dean has his fishing pole, but nothing seems to be biting this afternoon. He considers wandering off and trying to catch more bait, but it’s just too humid and he’s too lazy to do anything but sit there, staring out across the water. Castiel is next to him, lying on his back with his legs hanging off the edge of the pier. Dean peeks at him over his shoulder, smiling when he finds Castiel’s eyes closed.
The stillness of the air feels almost like some sacred thing, and Dean keeps his movements small and his breathing quiet, ignoring it when the fishing line jerks with a potential bite. Dean hopes to himself that the fish will leave it alone, not wanting to break the moment of peacefulness they’ve found themselves in, and after another nibble or two the fish finds something else that grabs its attention and swims away.
When Dean feels fingers touch his lower back, he sighs softly, but doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s used to the occasional touches from Castiel, finds comfort in the reassurance of his friend's presence. He feels a bead of sweat trickle down his spine, and Castiel’s fingers catch it, rubbing the moisture against Dean's skin. Dean stays hunched over, elbows sitting on his cross-legged knees, and he closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Castiel’s fingertips counting each knob of his spine. Any tension that Dean may have in the muscles of his back is always leeched away when Castiel does this, his caresses more soothing than they have any right to be.
Dean shivers when Castiel’s fingers trace his ribs along his side, hundred-degree heat be damned. When Castiel sits up suddenly, palm sliding down Dean’s back, Dean leans into him as a kiss is placed on his shoulder. He continues to gaze out at the pond, the bright orange and pink splashes from the sunset reflected in the water as Castiel kisses a long, dangerous line up his shoulder and onto his neck.
“Dean,” Castiel murmurs against his ear.
When Dean turns his head to look at Castiel, their faces are within a hair’s breadth of each other. “Yeah?” Dean whispers, almost cringing at how loud even that is in the waning golden light of the day.
Castiel’s eyes are dark and unreadable in the diminishing daylight, his breath shallow. He moves his hand from his own lap into Dean’s, rubbing the meat of his palm slowly across Dean’s crotch. Dean’s eyes flutter shut as he gasps, and bites his bottom lip. “Lie down,” Castiel says, leaning forward to kiss him with a surety that’s been absent from their kisses before this moment.
Dean has enough clarity to remember to pull the fishing pole from the water and set it aside before letting Castiel push him back onto the beach towel spread out behind them. Castiel lies down on top of him, and it’s the most full-on body contact they’ve had since that first kiss a few weeks ago. Dean only realizes this second just how much he’s been craving it, and he feels like his body goes from zero to sixty in three point five seconds. He can't help grabbing onto Castiel’s hips to grind their groins together, and the feel of Castiel’s dick through his swim trunks has him almost crying out.
Castiel props his elbows on the pier below them, sneaking his hands up to either side of Dean’s face to hold him in place. His kisses are open-mouthed and wet, tongue eager as he explores Dean’s mouth. Dean isn’t usually one to just lie back and take it, choosing instead to do his own claiming, but there’s something about Castiel’s urgency right now that makes him want to open himself up to his friend, let him do whatever feels right to him.
Between the stagnant, late summer air and the fevered rutting of their bodies, the heat is stifling, but Dean can’t stop, would never stop, even if he felt himself catch on fire. This is messy, and hot, and awkward, and perfect, the creaky wood of the pier hard and painful beneath him, splinters almost surely puncturing him through the thin beach towel, but Dean can’t care because of what’s above him, and on him, and in him, Castiel’s tongue curling around his own.
Castiel breaks off the kiss to lick and suck along Dean’s jaw, fingers finding their way to Dean's chest and teasing a nipple. Dean arches his back at the sensation and moans, his nipples always having been especially sensitive. He opens his eyes long enough to find Castiel staring at him with narrowed eyes, his head tilted as if in thought, before he slowly leans in to take the pink bud between his lips. He keeps his eyes on Dean the whole time, watching Dean watch him as he licks the hardened flesh.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Cas,” Dean mutters, his hand sliding up to press against the back of Castiel’s head.
Castiel moves to Dean’s other nipple, giving it as much attention as the first one, before sliding up to give Dean another kiss. He pulls back to stare down at Dean, breath rushed. Dean wishes the sun wasn’t setting because it’s difficult to make out the expression on Castiel’s face, the light from behind is casting his face in shadow. But in the next moment, he feels Castiel shaking, and he lets go of his hips to wrap his arms around his friend’s back, pulling him close. “Hey, what’s the matter? You wanna stop?”
As much as Dean cares about Castiel and wants to do whatever will make him happy, a part of him (the part currently perched heavy and hard as fucking steel in his shorts) really just wants his friend to make like the horny teenager he is and get off already. So when Castiel shakes his head no, Dean has to clench his fist and grit his teeth to keep from yelling a happy whoop! and high-fiving his dick.
Castiel leans down to kiss the side of Dean's neck, taking his earlobe between his lips and sucking gently. “I want you to take off your shorts,” he whispers, words wet against Dean's ear. “Is that okay?”
The butterflies in Dean’s stomach decide that moment to do a victory dance, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s more excited or terrified. A voice in the back of his mind tells him to chill, it’s just sex, it’s not like he hasn’t been groped or done the groping before with girls. But this is Cas. It could never be just sex when Cas is involved, never mind the fact that he’s also never done anything like this with a guy before, either.
Dean swallows hard, his throat making an audible click as he stares up at the shadows of Castiel’s face, wishing like hell he could see his friend's eyes. “Yeah, Cas. S’good, yeah,” he murmurs, raising his head to give him a light kiss.
Now that they’ve agreed this is what they want, they’re both hesitant to make the next step. Dean wraps his arms tighter around Castiel, giving a shaky sigh when he feels Castiel run fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Castiel rests his cheek against Dean’s, and Dean takes advantage of the moment, kissing any skin he can find. He loves the smell of Castiel: the scent of cut grass, and cotton, and whatthefuckever fabric softener Missouri uses mixing with Castiel’s own earthy musk has always been home for him. But the taste of him, to finally know what the skin along his jaw or the nape of his neck tastes like - if Dean could bottle that up, he’d be drunk on it every moment of his life.
Castiel shifts his body, and Dean can’t bite back the groan when his dick rubs against Castiel’s through their shorts. Castiel chuckles, a nervous thing against Dean’s bare shoulder, and pushes himself up. “I guess if we’re gonna take our shorts off, we have to, you know, take our shorts off.”
Dean can feel his face flush, a thrill skating across his skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He sits up next to Castiel, happy that from this angle his face isn’t lost in shadow. His friend’s mouth is red and swollen, skin beneath his jaw glistening from where Dean was kissing him. Dean can’t help the grin that breaks across his face, and when he sees the confused look Castiel shoots him, he laughs.
“This isn’t funny, Dean,” Castiel complains. “Or did I do something wrong?”
Dean shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I’m not laughing ’cuz it’s funny,” he smiles, leaning forward and placing a palm against Castiel’s cheek. “I’m laughing ’cuz this is awesome, idiot.”
Castiel pushes forward, kissing the smile off Dean’s face. “I think it’d be more awesome without the shorts, though.”
And Dean would agree, but he’s too busy biting his lip and trying not to come when he feels Castiel’s hands hook under his waistband and begin pulling his trunks past his hips. Castiel is kneeling over him, and once Dean’s dick is freed from the confines of his shorts, it bounces against his stomach, precome already glistening the head. Dean takes shallow breathes as he watches Castiel stare at his cock, his gaze so intense it feels like a touch, and when Castiel licks his lips Dean whimpers, his cock twitching in anticipation.
“Cas,” Dean whispers. “Take your shorts off.” Dean stops short of begging, but if Castiel wastes anymore time he might have to change the gameplan because he needs to feel Castiel, all of Castiel, against him right the fuck now.
Castiel stands up, staring down at Dean as he slowly pushes the waistband of his trunks down the jut of his hips. It’s Dean’s turn to lick his lips once Castiel’s cock is is exposed, the length of it bobbing in the warm, muggy air. God, all the times Dean has jacked off just fantasizing about this moment, about what Castiel’s dick would look and feel and taste like, and now they’re here, and all Dean can think about is wrapping his arms around his friend and holding him close, savoring this moment because he knows it’s something he will never forget.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, holding a hand up to pull Castiel down on top of him. Castiel looks nervous, but he follows Dean’s lead, and at the first touch of their cocks together, they both gasp. Ignoring his desire to rock and rut against his friend, Dean slides his arms around Castiel’s waist, squeezing him tight and staring up into his eyes. “You okay?”
Castiel releases the breath he was holding, nodding slightly. “You?”
Dean smiles, not even bothering to hide the affection he’s feeling. “I’d be better if you kissed me right now.”
Castiel huffs a shaky laugh, moving a hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair. The movement slides their bodies together, and they both squeeze their eyes shut and moan from the sensation. Dean can’t help but push his hips up a bit to increase the pressure and friction, and Castiel answers him with a roll of his own hips, as he leans down to bite and suck at Dean’s lower lip.
The kissing turns exponentially filthier after that, not so much kissing as tongue-fucking each other's mouths. What Castiel may lack in experience, he more than makes up for with enthusiasm, instinct, and sheer determination to rock Dean Winchester’s fucking world. Dean is embarrassingly close to blowing his wad within seconds of Castiel panting and moaning into his mouth as he licks and sucks Dean’s lips and tongue, cock rubbing and bumping against Dean's as they grind their hips together.
Castiel is perched above Dean, on his elbows, hands holding Dean’s head in place while they kiss. Dean is holding onto Castiel’s hips for dear life as they rut against each other, but as good as everything feels he wants more, wants to feel the heat and heaviness of Castiel’s cock in his hand. He slides a hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s shaft and pulling forth a loud, desperate groan from his friend.
“Dean, oh god, yes,” Castiel mouths wetly against Dean’s shoulder. Dean feels the cock twitch in his hand, becoming impossibly harder and thicker. He makes a loose fist, letting Castiel fuck into it and swiping a thumb over the head to grab some of the come and smear it along Cas's length. Their naked bodies are slick with sweat, the heat and humidity combined with the desperation between them making Dean feel as if they’re on the surface of the sun, and he wants to scream from the frustration and need for release. He sneaks his other hand between them, grasping his own cock and squeezing it next to Castiel’s. He tries to rut alongside Castiel, but he doesn’t have room to gain as much friction as he needs. He settles for jacking himself, sweaty palm on one side of his dick with Castiel’s stiff shaft along the other. Between the two of them, they quickly have enough precome to make things gloriously slick and dirty, and Dean curses when he thinks about his dick being covered in Castiel’s wetness.
Finally, Dean can feel his balls begin to tighten, heat pooling in his gut. Castiel is still fucking into his fist, and sucking at the pulse point of his neck, grunting each time Dean squeezes the underside of the velvety head of his cock. With each thrust he makes into Dean’s hand, Castiel whispers Dean, Dean, Dean against Dean's neck, his name said as if it’s cherished, hot breath mingling with the mixture of sweat and spit. It tears something inside of Dean, something that becomes loose and desperate to find its way out. “Cas, I need … I need you,” he whispers hoarsely, and they’re not the words he meant to say, but are the only ones he has the courage to bare right now.
Castiel pulls back to stare at him, and Dean finds himself almost thankful that the sun has now set, already feeling too open and vulnerable to meet his friend's eyes. He takes a shaky breath when Castiel leans in, lips ghosting over Dean’s mouth, and whispers, “I’m here, Dean. You have me.”
Dean comes apart at those words with a muffled cry, his exultation swallowed down as Castiel covers his mouth with his own. He knows he should probably be embarrassed that, given that he is more experienced, he shot his wad before his friend did, but Castiel follows only a few seconds after. Hearing Castiel moan fuck in his ear while feeling the warm spurts of release between their bodies is definitely going on Dean’s list of Favorite Things Ever.
After a few moments of lying on top of Dean as they try to catch their breath, Castiel rolls over, settling in beside him. They stare up at the stars that are starting to shine in the darkening sky, both silent and content. Just as Dean’s about to start dozing off, he feels the pinprick of an insect stinging his thigh, and tries to slap the mosquito away ineffectually.
“So, that was all kinds of amazing,” Dean says. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who continues to stare up at the sky.
“The sex or the mosquito?” Castiel asks, a smirk slowly making its way across his face.
Dean shoves at his arm, but ends up with their fingers laced together, Castiel’s thumb rubbing circles against his wrist. “Joke all you want, but you’re the one who’s gonna end up with mosquito bites all over his ass.”
Castiel laughs, one of those rare, whole-body laughs that makes his nose crinkle and his smile get all gummy, and Dean thanks the heavens that there’s a full moon out so he can actually see his friend’s face because that’s it, that’s the face that he’d be happy seeing every day for the rest of his life.
“We should swim, get washed off,” Castiel decides then, pushing up on one elbow. “Then go for some cheeseburgers and pie?”
“Y’know, I’m starting to believe all that angel shit because it’s like God made the perfect being and sent him to me,” Dean quips.
Castiel snorts, standing up and holding a hand out to Dean. “You’re so easy. All I have to do is mention cheeseburgers and pie, and you’re happy.”
“And sex! Don’t ever forget the sex part, Cas,” Dean replies, taking Castiel’s hand and standing up.
Castiel leans in, kissing Dean’s neck and behind his ear. “Don’t worry, Dean. I could never forget the best part.” Dean closes his eyes, grabbing Castiel’s waist and pulling him closer. He’s considering forgetting all about supper and maybe trying for round two despite mosquitos and a hungry belly, but he yelps when Castiel slaps his ass and turns to jump in the pond.
“Last one in pays for pie!” Castiel yells, diving headfirst into the water.
“Oh you are in trouble now, Novak!” Dean mutters, unable to hide his grin.
********************
Next...
You’re gonna stay up late tonight
Under the stars
Well I’ll put you in pride of place
I’m gonna set my sights
I’m gonna set your soul alight
Under the stars
~Morning Parade, “Under the Stars”
The following morning, Dean wakes slowly to find wide, blue eyes staring back at him. It takes all of two seconds to remember the night before, and the relief and happiness and anticipation that zing through his body make his heart skip. Castiel is watching him, a wary, yet open look across his face, and when Dean grins, Castiel’s face softens and lights up, as if there’s a glow bursting forth through the smile that breaks across his lips.
Dean moves a hand to reach for his friend and pull him closer, but a voice by the window stops him. “Hey Dean, mom said for us to come down for breakfast in a few minutes,” Sam announces.
Propping himself up on one elbow, Dean looks over at his brother as Sam rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Sure thing, Sammy. You wanna go down and tell her we’ll be there in a sec?”
“Yeah, might as well. I think your snoring scared off all the birds this morning anyways, so there’s nothing to watch out here.”
Dean throws a dirty sock towards the hole in the floor as Sam begins to step down the ladder. “Screw you, you’re the one who snores.”
Sam’s head disappears in a fit of giggles down the ladder, and Dean realizes suddenly just how alone he and Castiel are. He can feel his face flushing as he glances at his friend, and he's relieved to see that Castiel seems just as nervous as he feels. When their eyes meet, they both look away quickly, and Dean considers pretending nothing is wrong and making a beeline for the safety of the house when Castiel clears his throat. Dean jumps at the sound, silently berating himself for being such a pansy-ass.
“Dean,” Castiel says, his voice husky. Dean can’t remember exactly when Castiel’s voice dropped to such a low pitch; it’s been dropping ever since they hit puberty years ago, and has yet to stop. But he’s never heard it this low before, and he wonders if it’s because Castiel just woke up or because of who he’s talking to. He kind of hopes he’s the one who brings it out in Castiel, but whatever the reason, Dean likes it. A lot.
He forces his gaze up to Castiel. “Yeah, Cas?”
Castiel stares at him for several beats, and Dean uses the moment to let his glance roam over his friend’s face. At some point over the years, Castiel has grown into a man. The stubble that he’d had last night is even longer and thicker, making Dean wonder how often Cas must have to shave nowadays. When he squints or smiles, the crinkles around his eyes give him the appearance of someone older and wiser. And the lean muscles of his chest and shoulders that Dean had appreciated before are impossibly broader, exhibiting the strength within.
Dean begins to wonder how he must appear to Castiel, if he looks anything like the man Castiel does, but before he can start to worry if Castiel likes what he’s become, his friend interrupts his thoughts.
“Good morning,” Castiel replies solemnly.
Dean raises his eyebrows at his friend and snorts. “Only you could make good morning sound as serious as a UN speech.”
He grins when Castiel rolls his eyes and tries to hide a blush, using the momentary distraction to scoot closer. He leans forward, stopping just as he reaches Castiel’s lips, and stares. “Hi,” he whispers, closing his eyes and smiling when he feels a huff of warm breath against his lips.
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, as he closes the millimeters of distance between them. The kiss is soft, chaste with the tentativeness of daylight, and butterflies in stomachs, and worries of morning breath, but it’s no less monumental for the both of them, and Dean’s heart skips a beat when he feels Castiel’s lips twist into a smile against his mouth.
“Is this real?” Dean whispers, as he drifts his mouth down, making his way to the sharp line of his friend's jaw.
Castiel sighs, sliding a hand up Dean’s neck to thread fingers through his hair. “I hope so.”
Just as Dean decides to give Castiel a proper kiss, morning breath be damned, they hear the screen door of the patio slam open. “Boys! Breakfast is waiting!” Mary yells up to them.
Dean laughs, resting his forehead against Castiel’s and closing his eyes. He feels a hand on either side of his face, and opens his eyes to find Castiel staring at him with fondness. “To be continued?”
“Hell yes,” Dean concurs, placing a quick kiss on Castiel’s lips before sitting up. He shifts in place for a moment, looking around and grabbing a pillow. “At least I’ve got something to carry and hide how awesome it was to wake up this morning,” Dean smirks, crawling over to the ladder to start climbing down.
He stops as he climbs onto the steps, watching as Castiel grabs a t-shirt and shoves it over his lap. When he raises an eyebrow at his friend and winks, Castiel rolls his eyes. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, dreaming about the pizzaman has had this effect on me, as well.”
Dean barks out a laugh, climbing his way down the ladder. “Watch yourself, Cas, or I’ll tell my mom to withhold the French toast.”
“There’s no need to resort to barbaric means,” Castiel retorts as he climbs down the ladder after Dean.
Dean smiles over at him when he reaches the ground, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Nah, you’re right. I can be cruel, but there’s some lines that should never be crossed.”
********************
After breakfast, Castiel rides his bike home to check in with Missouri, and to get showered and cleaned up for the rest of the day. As much as they’d both like to spend some time alone, they’d promised Charlie a few days ago to meet up with her and some of her other friends for an RPG day. Deep down, as happy as he is about how things have changed between him and Castiel, Dean is kind of relieved to be hanging around a group of people. He’s still a little freaked about what all of this means, and worried about how this changes their friendship.
When Dean arrives at Charlie’s house, Castiel is already there, sitting cross-legged in one of the bean bags thrown around the room. Dean stands in front of the door, indecision on where to sit making him feel like an idiot. His first instinct is to scoot in next to Castiel, but he knows how that’ll look to the rest of the room, and he doesn’t know about Cas, but he’s not really ready to field questions on their “relationship,” especially when he probably has just as many questions about it as anyone else would.
Castiel glances up from the book in his hands, and when his eyes meet Dean’s he smiles. Dean can feel his own face light up, and they stare at each other, goofy smiles on their faces until Dean hears Charlie clear her throat beside him.
“Are you waiting for an engraved invitation to the ass-kicking? I need some help figuring out who to put up front to lead the charge, like, today, if you can spare some time from your usual make-googly-eyes-at-Cas.”
Dean smirks, squeezing Charlie’s shoulder as he pushes her towards the large table where the game is being set up. “If you’re gonna keep giving me attitude, I may have to defect to the enemy’s side.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Charlie mocks. “I’ve got too much blackmail material on you for you to ever seriously consider it.”
They crowd around the table, debating in low voices over who to put in what position. Charlie wants to put Alfie up front because he’s fantastic at strategy, but Dean argues that the guy is too soft-hearted, and Ed’s team would find a way to use that to their advantage. Dean is so focused on discussing their game plan that he doesn’t notice Castiel has joined them on the bench at the table until he feels a hand brush against his. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who gives him a sidelong glance but says nothing.
And from then on, Dean becomes useless, because all he can concentrate on is his friend's proximity. He wants to reach over, grab Castiel's hand or touch his back or squeeze his thigh or… something. The warmth of Castiel’s body next to Dean makes him feel giddy, and he has to work to keep a smile from breaking out across his face. Charlie keeps talking to him, asking him questions, but everything she says is a jumbled blur because every time Dean tries to listen to her, Castiel will shift, turn his body or move his leg closer, or rub an arm against Dean’s, and the distraction is maddening. When Castiel sighs and leans away to look at something across the table, Dean can’t help but lean with him, already missing the press of his body.
“Dean, are you okay?” Charlie asks, interrupting his thoughts.
Dean raises his head quickly to look at Charlie, his eyes having been busy staring at his thigh pressed against Castiel’s. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
Charlie makes a face. “You’re acting hella weird. And no offense, but you’re sucking at strategizing today. It’s like you’re not even here.”
Dean opens his mouth to apologize, but then it hits him that the perfect excuse for getting out of here just landed in his lap. “Actually, I feel like I might be coming down with something. You know, headache, and just, uh, not feeling all that good.”
He feels Castiel become very still and quiet next to him, and wonders if Castiel can tell he’s lying through his teeth, and if he’ll be crafty enough to find his own excuse to leave early.
“Dude, go home. I don’t wanna catch your cooties,” Charlie complains, scooting down the bench and away from Dean.
Dean snorts. “Cooties? What are we, ten?” He turns away from Charlie, catches Castiel’s glance long enough to wink at him conspiratorially, and stands up.
“Actually, I think I’m going to go, too,” Dean hears Castiel say as he’s walking towards the door. “Missouri asked me to help her with some…stuff, and things,” he finishes lamely.
Dean has to bite his lip to hold back a laugh. Castiel is good at a shitload of things, but lying sure as hell isn’t one of them.
As Dean turns to say goodbye, he finds Charlie staring at them both with beady, suspicious eyes. He does what he can to pretend he doesn’t see the look as he calls out, “See you guys later! Have fun storming the castle!”
Castiel follows closely behind him as he makes his way out the door and down the hallway leading to the front door and outside. “What should I do with my bike?” he asks Dean as they step off the front porch.
As much as Dean wants to tell him to leave it here, so Castiel can crawl behind him on his motorcycle and they can just get out of here and find some place to be alone right now, he worries it would hurt Charlie’s feelings for them to be that obvious about wanting to get away. Plus, he’s not sure either one of them are ready to let everyone know what’s going on between them, and that would definitely be a very blatant clue.
Dean chews on his lip for a moment. “My house is closer,” he says. “Why don’t we meet up and leave it there?”
Castiel smiles and climbs on his bike. “See you there,” he replies, and Dean watches as he peddles down the street, before climbing his motorcycle and turning the ignition.
The rumble of his motorcycle’s engine makes it impossible for the two of them to be stealthy and escape his house without going inside and letting his mom know what their plans are, and once inside she convinces them to stay long enough to eat lunch. So by the time they are blessedly alone and on their way, the sun has already passed its peak in the hot summer sky.
They don’t discuss where they’re going, both knowing without acknowledgement what their destination is. The pond is the one place they know they can go where no one will find them, the rest of the world apparently having forgotten it exists, if it ever knew at all. Before last night, Dean would have wanted to prolong the drive to the pond, the feel of Castiel pressed against him making him cling to the moment for as long as he could. But now, knowing that he doesn’t have to grasp at these stolen moments of touch, knowing that once they arrive there is promise of even more, Dean is eager for the drive to end and the rest of their day to begin.
They find their way slowly along the dirt path, the motorcycle bouncing unsteadily over the mounds of dirt and grass. Once they make it through the clearing and are parked in front of the pond, Dean takes off his helmet, and listens to Castiel doing the same behind him. Neither seem in a rush to climb off the bike though, and Dean leans back into Castiel’s space when he feels strong arms wrap back around his waist.
It’s sweltering in the early afternoon sun, and Dean can feel rivulets of sweat trickling down his spine and getting lost in the waistband of his jeans, but he doesn’t pull away from the heat of Castiel’s body. He lets himself be enveloped in Castiel, the touch, the smell, the feel of his friend becomes his entire world for these precious few seconds.
Castiel hooks his chin over Dean’s shoulder. “Maybe we should get off.”
Dean chuckles. “Is that an offer?”
Sitting back on the seat, Castiel shoves Dean forward. “You know what I mean, jackass.”
Twisting around, Dean shoots him a smile over his shoulder. “You know me, I can never resist an opportunity like that.” He watches as Castiel swings a leg over, and follows suit, both of them strolling to stand behind the pier and stare out at the water. Dean is nervous, suddenly, the nerves from this morning returning full-force. He sneaks a look out of the corner of his eye at Castiel, wondering if he’s feeling the same.
“We should talk about this,” Castiel starts, shooting a quick glance at Dean before returning his stare out over the pond.
Dean’s stomach clenches in a knot. “About what?” he asks, warily.
Castiel sighs. “About, you know…us.”
Dean clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from sounding shaky. “Have you changed your mind?” He hates himself for sounding desperate, needy; maybe this really was all too good to be true.
Castiel turns to look at Dean head-on. “No, I just…I don’t want to do anything to hurt our friendship.”
“Neither do I,” Dean adds quickly, maybe too quickly, judging by how keenly Castiel is returning his stare.
“So, I think maybe we should take things slow,” Castiel continues. “I’ve…I’ve never been - you know. Intimate with anyone before, not even close. So I don’t want to move things too fast, and end up regretting something.”
Dean’s not sure how to reply. A part of him is relieved by Castiel’s request because, if he’s being completely honest with himself, he’s been a bit terrified of his feelings for his friend, as well as panicky about how this kind of thing works when it’s between two guys.
But another part of him is worried that this means Castiel is having second thoughts, and is just afraid to let Dean know. He doesn’t want Castiel to feel pressured into this just because Dean’s practically got Cas’s initials tattooed on his ass with hearts drawn all around them.
As Dean is processing all of this, he can feel Castiel’s eyes on him, watching his reaction. “Maybe it’s hard for you to understand because you have…done things with people before, and it’s not a big deal for you anymore,” Castiel adds, voice unsure.
“What? No!” Dean blurts. “I mean, yeah, I have done…things with people before. Or, with girls. Never with a guy, though. And I’ve never…I’ve never had actual…intercourse before, or anything.” He can feel his face turning a bright shade of red, and he hopes maybe the blaring sunlight will hide some of his embarrassment from Castiel. “But, Cas, it is a big deal for me, too. Mostly because it’s, you know, you.”
Castiel’s eyes widen, but he remains silent, so Dean forces himself to continue. “So, yeah, I get it, wanting to take it slow. And, I dunno, I kind of agree, I guess.” He doesn’t say what’s in his heart, that he’s terrified Castiel will change his mind, that he doesn’t want Dean as much as Dean needs him, that he feels like his whole life has led him here, to this feeling that overwhelms and exhilarates, that he’d be willing to wait forever if it meant he got to keep Castiel by his side.
Instead, he holds his hand out, waits for Castiel to thread fingers between his own, and leans over to place a chaste kiss at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “We’re a team, right?” he whispers.
Castiel stares at him, eyes solemn and unfathomable, before nodding slowly. “You jump, I jump.”
Dean squeezes his hand before letting go. “Race you to the water,” he murmurs, before grinning and taking off in a sprint for the pier.
He hears Castiel call him an assbutt as he’s pulling his shirt over his head, and that one movement gives his friend a chance to catch up with him. So when Dean dives into the clear, deliciously cool water, he laughs in delight when he feels Castiel’s strong arm wrap around his waist.
********************
Dean is unsure at first of just what “taking it slow” means, so he decides to let his friend take the reins in their relationship, so to speak. What he soon realizes is that “taking it slow” means a lot of shy smiles and glances, sitting close enough to always be touching, soft sighs against warm skin, and slow, stolen kisses whenever they’re alone and feeling brazen.
And it’s enough, for now. Of course, Dean wants more, he always wants more; he is a guy hitting his sexual prime, after all. But what he’s discovering is that exploring this relationship or thing or whatever it’s called, slowly, taking their time with each other and just getting to know each other in this new way…well, it’s a heady experience, all on its own.
The few weeks since that first kiss are spent in a haze, Dean and Castiel both feeling as if they’re living in a bubble, unable to be touched or affected by the outside world. On the days that Dean works, he spends the mornings trying to hide the smile threatening to burst across his face, and Rufus yells at him more than once for being so goofy he’s going to get a finger chopped off. The afternoons find him rushing home, excited because he knows Castiel will be there waiting for him.
They do what they can to avoid hanging out with other people, both so greedy to have each other to themselves. They agree early on to keep their relationship quiet, mostly because it’s still so new and they don’t want to do anything to change it somehow, but also because they know there will inevitably be some who don’t approve. Dean can’t even bear to consider how his parents will react if they find out about this relationship, so he avoids thinking about it as much as he can. He wishes he could just say fuck it, who cares what anyone thinks, but this is a small town, and unless he and Cas have a quick and sure way of handling it, they need to play things smart, for the time being. It all means that when Dean isn’t at work, their time is spent mostly at the pond, because it’s the one place they know they can be undisturbed.
If this were happening with a girl, Dean would be obsessing about how to act around her, wanting to impress and be the guy he knows is expected of him, the baseball jock who will goof off and do whatever it takes to find the quickest way inside her pants. But with Castiel, even though he’s nervous and it feels like little electric sparks popping and snapping between them whenever they get close (and they’re always close when no one else is around), Dean is also more himself than he thinks he has ever been. There’s this tension building between them, brimming to the surface every time they kiss or touch, and it doesn’t dissipate, can’t dissipate, because they always pull back before things get too heated. But even with that tension, Dean has never felt more relaxed and free to be himself.
He doesn’t understand what this means yet, can feel the answer hiding just beneath the surface somewhere, waiting to be found. He doesn’t care to go searching for it, though. In these first few weeks, all he cares about is being around Castiel, and it’s almost like a drug for him. When they’re not together, the world is dim, everything muted and dull and annoying - Dean finds himself irritable, becoming irrationally pissed at anything that delays his time with his friend. But as soon as he sees Castiel, it’s like a light has been turned on somewhere, and the world is as bright and exciting as it should be; his shoulders lose their tension, and his chest expands with the relief of breathing clean air after being buried alive. Dean feels as if he could run to Hell and back, if need be, just to get another hit of what being in Castiel’s presence feels like.
So, yeah. He’s got it bad. He never really understood why people compared being in love to a drug until now. The only thing that holds him back from declaring his undying devotion and pleading for more than just fleeting kisses and light touches is that Castiel asked to take things slow. Well, that and because Dean can’t help but have doubts about the depth of his friend’s feelings. Castiel has never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, Dean has always known this. He’s more of a let my actions speak for me kind of guy, and Dean usually is, too. If there’s one thing that John’s Marines background has instilled in Dean, it’s “no chick-flick moments,” so Dean doesn’t like talking about his feelings, either. But when you’re wanting to hold hands and kiss and declare your undying devotion to your best friend, who’s also a guy, it’d be nice to be one hundred percent certain that that guy is totally on board with the scenario and wanting to do dirty, filthy things with you just as badly.
Other than those little pestering doubts, Dean is happy to a degree that would scare him if he took the time to think about it. But there is no time to think, because when he’s not working he’s with Castiel, and when he’s not with Castiel he’s sleeping, and none of those things leave time for worrying.
One late afternoon finds them, as usual, at the pond, sitting on the pier and watching the sun begin to set. The day started off with a thunderstorm, but by the time Dean gets off work and they make it out to the pond, the sun has reclaimed the sky, and the day is blazingly hot. Instead of cooling things down, the morning storm has just made the air muggier, the heat and humidity making everything sticky and miserable.
Dean and Castiel decide to skip cutting away the brush and weeds that keep growing back before they’ve barely finished clearing them, and instead go for a long swim to try to cool off. The water is warm and unsatisfying though, so not long after diving in they pull themselves up onto the pier to grab a couple of sodas from the cooler. Some clouds have popped up, adding to the milky haze of the afternoon sun, and making the sunshine beating down on them just this side of bearable.
They’re both in their swimming trunks, it being too hot to add more layers. Dean has his fishing pole, but nothing seems to be biting this afternoon. He considers wandering off and trying to catch more bait, but it’s just too humid and he’s too lazy to do anything but sit there, staring out across the water. Castiel is next to him, lying on his back with his legs hanging off the edge of the pier. Dean peeks at him over his shoulder, smiling when he finds Castiel’s eyes closed.
The stillness of the air feels almost like some sacred thing, and Dean keeps his movements small and his breathing quiet, ignoring it when the fishing line jerks with a potential bite. Dean hopes to himself that the fish will leave it alone, not wanting to break the moment of peacefulness they’ve found themselves in, and after another nibble or two the fish finds something else that grabs its attention and swims away.
When Dean feels fingers touch his lower back, he sighs softly, but doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s used to the occasional touches from Castiel, finds comfort in the reassurance of his friend's presence. He feels a bead of sweat trickle down his spine, and Castiel’s fingers catch it, rubbing the moisture against Dean's skin. Dean stays hunched over, elbows sitting on his cross-legged knees, and he closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Castiel’s fingertips counting each knob of his spine. Any tension that Dean may have in the muscles of his back is always leeched away when Castiel does this, his caresses more soothing than they have any right to be.
Dean shivers when Castiel’s fingers trace his ribs along his side, hundred-degree heat be damned. When Castiel sits up suddenly, palm sliding down Dean’s back, Dean leans into him as a kiss is placed on his shoulder. He continues to gaze out at the pond, the bright orange and pink splashes from the sunset reflected in the water as Castiel kisses a long, dangerous line up his shoulder and onto his neck.
“Dean,” Castiel murmurs against his ear.
When Dean turns his head to look at Castiel, their faces are within a hair’s breadth of each other. “Yeah?” Dean whispers, almost cringing at how loud even that is in the waning golden light of the day.
Castiel’s eyes are dark and unreadable in the diminishing daylight, his breath shallow. He moves his hand from his own lap into Dean’s, rubbing the meat of his palm slowly across Dean’s crotch. Dean’s eyes flutter shut as he gasps, and bites his bottom lip. “Lie down,” Castiel says, leaning forward to kiss him with a surety that’s been absent from their kisses before this moment.
Dean has enough clarity to remember to pull the fishing pole from the water and set it aside before letting Castiel push him back onto the beach towel spread out behind them. Castiel lies down on top of him, and it’s the most full-on body contact they’ve had since that first kiss a few weeks ago. Dean only realizes this second just how much he’s been craving it, and he feels like his body goes from zero to sixty in three point five seconds. He can't help grabbing onto Castiel’s hips to grind their groins together, and the feel of Castiel’s dick through his swim trunks has him almost crying out.
Castiel props his elbows on the pier below them, sneaking his hands up to either side of Dean’s face to hold him in place. His kisses are open-mouthed and wet, tongue eager as he explores Dean’s mouth. Dean isn’t usually one to just lie back and take it, choosing instead to do his own claiming, but there’s something about Castiel’s urgency right now that makes him want to open himself up to his friend, let him do whatever feels right to him.
Between the stagnant, late summer air and the fevered rutting of their bodies, the heat is stifling, but Dean can’t stop, would never stop, even if he felt himself catch on fire. This is messy, and hot, and awkward, and perfect, the creaky wood of the pier hard and painful beneath him, splinters almost surely puncturing him through the thin beach towel, but Dean can’t care because of what’s above him, and on him, and in him, Castiel’s tongue curling around his own.
Castiel breaks off the kiss to lick and suck along Dean’s jaw, fingers finding their way to Dean's chest and teasing a nipple. Dean arches his back at the sensation and moans, his nipples always having been especially sensitive. He opens his eyes long enough to find Castiel staring at him with narrowed eyes, his head tilted as if in thought, before he slowly leans in to take the pink bud between his lips. He keeps his eyes on Dean the whole time, watching Dean watch him as he licks the hardened flesh.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Cas,” Dean mutters, his hand sliding up to press against the back of Castiel’s head.
Castiel moves to Dean’s other nipple, giving it as much attention as the first one, before sliding up to give Dean another kiss. He pulls back to stare down at Dean, breath rushed. Dean wishes the sun wasn’t setting because it’s difficult to make out the expression on Castiel’s face, the light from behind is casting his face in shadow. But in the next moment, he feels Castiel shaking, and he lets go of his hips to wrap his arms around his friend’s back, pulling him close. “Hey, what’s the matter? You wanna stop?”
As much as Dean cares about Castiel and wants to do whatever will make him happy, a part of him (the part currently perched heavy and hard as fucking steel in his shorts) really just wants his friend to make like the horny teenager he is and get off already. So when Castiel shakes his head no, Dean has to clench his fist and grit his teeth to keep from yelling a happy whoop! and high-fiving his dick.
Castiel leans down to kiss the side of Dean's neck, taking his earlobe between his lips and sucking gently. “I want you to take off your shorts,” he whispers, words wet against Dean's ear. “Is that okay?”
The butterflies in Dean’s stomach decide that moment to do a victory dance, and Dean doesn’t know if he’s more excited or terrified. A voice in the back of his mind tells him to chill, it’s just sex, it’s not like he hasn’t been groped or done the groping before with girls. But this is Cas. It could never be just sex when Cas is involved, never mind the fact that he’s also never done anything like this with a guy before, either.
Dean swallows hard, his throat making an audible click as he stares up at the shadows of Castiel’s face, wishing like hell he could see his friend's eyes. “Yeah, Cas. S’good, yeah,” he murmurs, raising his head to give him a light kiss.
Now that they’ve agreed this is what they want, they’re both hesitant to make the next step. Dean wraps his arms tighter around Castiel, giving a shaky sigh when he feels Castiel run fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Castiel rests his cheek against Dean’s, and Dean takes advantage of the moment, kissing any skin he can find. He loves the smell of Castiel: the scent of cut grass, and cotton, and whatthefuckever fabric softener Missouri uses mixing with Castiel’s own earthy musk has always been home for him. But the taste of him, to finally know what the skin along his jaw or the nape of his neck tastes like - if Dean could bottle that up, he’d be drunk on it every moment of his life.
Castiel shifts his body, and Dean can’t bite back the groan when his dick rubs against Castiel’s through their shorts. Castiel chuckles, a nervous thing against Dean’s bare shoulder, and pushes himself up. “I guess if we’re gonna take our shorts off, we have to, you know, take our shorts off.”
Dean can feel his face flush, a thrill skating across his skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. He sits up next to Castiel, happy that from this angle his face isn’t lost in shadow. His friend’s mouth is red and swollen, skin beneath his jaw glistening from where Dean was kissing him. Dean can’t help the grin that breaks across his face, and when he sees the confused look Castiel shoots him, he laughs.
“This isn’t funny, Dean,” Castiel complains. “Or did I do something wrong?”
Dean shakes his head quickly. “No, no, I’m not laughing ’cuz it’s funny,” he smiles, leaning forward and placing a palm against Castiel’s cheek. “I’m laughing ’cuz this is awesome, idiot.”
Castiel pushes forward, kissing the smile off Dean’s face. “I think it’d be more awesome without the shorts, though.”
And Dean would agree, but he’s too busy biting his lip and trying not to come when he feels Castiel’s hands hook under his waistband and begin pulling his trunks past his hips. Castiel is kneeling over him, and once Dean’s dick is freed from the confines of his shorts, it bounces against his stomach, precome already glistening the head. Dean takes shallow breathes as he watches Castiel stare at his cock, his gaze so intense it feels like a touch, and when Castiel licks his lips Dean whimpers, his cock twitching in anticipation.
“Cas,” Dean whispers. “Take your shorts off.” Dean stops short of begging, but if Castiel wastes anymore time he might have to change the gameplan because he needs to feel Castiel, all of Castiel, against him right the fuck now.
Castiel stands up, staring down at Dean as he slowly pushes the waistband of his trunks down the jut of his hips. It’s Dean’s turn to lick his lips once Castiel’s cock is is exposed, the length of it bobbing in the warm, muggy air. God, all the times Dean has jacked off just fantasizing about this moment, about what Castiel’s dick would look and feel and taste like, and now they’re here, and all Dean can think about is wrapping his arms around his friend and holding him close, savoring this moment because he knows it’s something he will never forget.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, holding a hand up to pull Castiel down on top of him. Castiel looks nervous, but he follows Dean’s lead, and at the first touch of their cocks together, they both gasp. Ignoring his desire to rock and rut against his friend, Dean slides his arms around Castiel’s waist, squeezing him tight and staring up into his eyes. “You okay?”
Castiel releases the breath he was holding, nodding slightly. “You?”
Dean smiles, not even bothering to hide the affection he’s feeling. “I’d be better if you kissed me right now.”
Castiel huffs a shaky laugh, moving a hand up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair. The movement slides their bodies together, and they both squeeze their eyes shut and moan from the sensation. Dean can’t help but push his hips up a bit to increase the pressure and friction, and Castiel answers him with a roll of his own hips, as he leans down to bite and suck at Dean’s lower lip.
The kissing turns exponentially filthier after that, not so much kissing as tongue-fucking each other's mouths. What Castiel may lack in experience, he more than makes up for with enthusiasm, instinct, and sheer determination to rock Dean Winchester’s fucking world. Dean is embarrassingly close to blowing his wad within seconds of Castiel panting and moaning into his mouth as he licks and sucks Dean’s lips and tongue, cock rubbing and bumping against Dean's as they grind their hips together.
Castiel is perched above Dean, on his elbows, hands holding Dean’s head in place while they kiss. Dean is holding onto Castiel’s hips for dear life as they rut against each other, but as good as everything feels he wants more, wants to feel the heat and heaviness of Castiel’s cock in his hand. He slides a hand between their bodies, wrapping his fingers around Castiel’s shaft and pulling forth a loud, desperate groan from his friend.
“Dean, oh god, yes,” Castiel mouths wetly against Dean’s shoulder. Dean feels the cock twitch in his hand, becoming impossibly harder and thicker. He makes a loose fist, letting Castiel fuck into it and swiping a thumb over the head to grab some of the come and smear it along Cas's length. Their naked bodies are slick with sweat, the heat and humidity combined with the desperation between them making Dean feel as if they’re on the surface of the sun, and he wants to scream from the frustration and need for release. He sneaks his other hand between them, grasping his own cock and squeezing it next to Castiel’s. He tries to rut alongside Castiel, but he doesn’t have room to gain as much friction as he needs. He settles for jacking himself, sweaty palm on one side of his dick with Castiel’s stiff shaft along the other. Between the two of them, they quickly have enough precome to make things gloriously slick and dirty, and Dean curses when he thinks about his dick being covered in Castiel’s wetness.
Finally, Dean can feel his balls begin to tighten, heat pooling in his gut. Castiel is still fucking into his fist, and sucking at the pulse point of his neck, grunting each time Dean squeezes the underside of the velvety head of his cock. With each thrust he makes into Dean’s hand, Castiel whispers Dean, Dean, Dean against Dean's neck, his name said as if it’s cherished, hot breath mingling with the mixture of sweat and spit. It tears something inside of Dean, something that becomes loose and desperate to find its way out. “Cas, I need … I need you,” he whispers hoarsely, and they’re not the words he meant to say, but are the only ones he has the courage to bare right now.
Castiel pulls back to stare at him, and Dean finds himself almost thankful that the sun has now set, already feeling too open and vulnerable to meet his friend's eyes. He takes a shaky breath when Castiel leans in, lips ghosting over Dean’s mouth, and whispers, “I’m here, Dean. You have me.”
Dean comes apart at those words with a muffled cry, his exultation swallowed down as Castiel covers his mouth with his own. He knows he should probably be embarrassed that, given that he is more experienced, he shot his wad before his friend did, but Castiel follows only a few seconds after. Hearing Castiel moan fuck in his ear while feeling the warm spurts of release between their bodies is definitely going on Dean’s list of Favorite Things Ever.
After a few moments of lying on top of Dean as they try to catch their breath, Castiel rolls over, settling in beside him. They stare up at the stars that are starting to shine in the darkening sky, both silent and content. Just as Dean’s about to start dozing off, he feels the pinprick of an insect stinging his thigh, and tries to slap the mosquito away ineffectually.
“So, that was all kinds of amazing,” Dean says. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who continues to stare up at the sky.
“The sex or the mosquito?” Castiel asks, a smirk slowly making its way across his face.
Dean shoves at his arm, but ends up with their fingers laced together, Castiel’s thumb rubbing circles against his wrist. “Joke all you want, but you’re the one who’s gonna end up with mosquito bites all over his ass.”
Castiel laughs, one of those rare, whole-body laughs that makes his nose crinkle and his smile get all gummy, and Dean thanks the heavens that there’s a full moon out so he can actually see his friend’s face because that’s it, that’s the face that he’d be happy seeing every day for the rest of his life.
“We should swim, get washed off,” Castiel decides then, pushing up on one elbow. “Then go for some cheeseburgers and pie?”
“Y’know, I’m starting to believe all that angel shit because it’s like God made the perfect being and sent him to me,” Dean quips.
Castiel snorts, standing up and holding a hand out to Dean. “You’re so easy. All I have to do is mention cheeseburgers and pie, and you’re happy.”
“And sex! Don’t ever forget the sex part, Cas,” Dean replies, taking Castiel’s hand and standing up.
Castiel leans in, kissing Dean’s neck and behind his ear. “Don’t worry, Dean. I could never forget the best part.” Dean closes his eyes, grabbing Castiel’s waist and pulling him closer. He’s considering forgetting all about supper and maybe trying for round two despite mosquitos and a hungry belly, but he yelps when Castiel slaps his ass and turns to jump in the pond.
“Last one in pays for pie!” Castiel yells, diving headfirst into the water.
“Oh you are in trouble now, Novak!” Dean mutters, unable to hide his grin.
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