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janie_tangerineTitle: There Will Come Soft Rains 4/5
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, some Sam/Jess
Rating: NC17
Word count: this part 7334; total, around 35000
Spoilers: it's totally AU but since I tried to nod at canon as much as I could there are some S4/S5 spoilers. 5x04 mainly.
Summary: Two years after World War III starts, Dean Winchester is a disillusioned former veteran leading a survivors' camp in the former state of Kansas whose life takes a very, very unexpected turn. Starting when he rescues this guy with huge blue eyes named after an angel.
Warnings: this is a post nuclear war fallout setting with everything that it implies. There's violence and descriptions of situations which could be nasty at best and disturbing at least or however possibly upsetting and/or triggering. Also for plot purposes Dean is an Iraq war veteran (the last one, not the Gulf war) and there are sections dealing with it and for that are valid the same warnings.
A/N: written for the AU/AR challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
deancastiel for the prompt There are no angels or demons, and the apocalypse happened with bombs and a very human war.. Aand, this is where I sort of half send the angst packing. More or less. Part I | Part II | Part III.
Once, as Dean comes back from a supply run, he sees that Castiel is outside the cabin talking with Jess.
What? Well, he knows they get along, fine, but there’s something strange in the way the conversation abruptly changes when they see that he’s coming. He manages to catch Jess saying really, go for it, me and Sam have kind of thought that for... before she waves at him and goes in his direction. When she leaves she winks at Castiel. He blushes.
What, again?
--
Dean doesn’t understand what was it about until a week or so later. The latest supply run was a rare success, they even got some dried meat which didn’t come in a can, it’s still late August and so the sun sets later (or well, the clouds become a sort of pitch black tapestry later, but that’s how it is) and that’s why someone built up a fire and they’re having dinner out there. The atmosphere is as cheerful as it can get and it’s only because after one hour surrounded by a hundred and fifty people he’s starting to get an headache that Dean sort of quietly leaves at one point and goes to stand in front of the fence. The sky is a strange hue of red beneath the perpetual clouds covering it and it’d be freaky if only they weren’t adjusted to it. He still doesn’t like it one bit.
“Was it getting too crowded?” comes from behind him, and Dean sort of smiles for one second. Trust Castiel to notice that he’s not around anymore.
“Yeah, more or less. I just need ten minutes of fresh air. You too?”
“I think so. It is... kind of overwhelming. Even if it’s good.”
“Yeah, it really is,” Dean agrees as he sits down. Castiel sits wordlessly next to him and for the umpteenth time since the truce was over Dean wishes it was before and that they had something to share. A beer, or a cigarette maybe, even if Dean never smoked and Castiel doesn’t look like a smoker either. Not to mention that considering how much cigarettes are worth, these days, around here everyone prefers to trade them whenever they manage to find some. See, the apocalypse is good for your health.
He fleetingly thinks that his sense of humor is slowly getting worse.
“You know, I might even settle for it,” he says after a good five minutes of silence.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you know your coping mechanism? I had one too, once, but I fear it changed with time. Last day it was coming here and finding it surrounded by trees, today is seeing this happen once each week. I guess I might settle for it.”
“Why, is your first option one you can’t try to pursue?”
“Right now? Yeah. It’s pretty much off limits.”
“And why would it be?”
Dean takes a breath and spills it out, even if he carefully avoids mentioning the latest development when instead of finding the woman of his dreams at his side, he finds Castiel. That would probably freak the guy out a fucking lot. Castiel just listens and nods along.
“It’s... it’s a very nice image,” Castiel says when Dean is done, a certain longing in his voice.
“Yeah, but you’ll kinda see that there’s no way it’s happening any time soon if ever. I haven’t seen grass in months, or fresh fruit for that matter, or anything else that was in there. And about the girl, well, that ain’t ever gonna happen. Might as well adjust your expectations.”
He doesn’t say anything about what never gonna happen implies; he has come to terms with it way before WWIII anyway. Right, it’s nice to imagine that one day he could come home (and such a home) to find someone who wants him as he is and will just be there and with whom he’d share everything until death do them part or whatever crap, but it’s not what’s in store for him. He already knows it and he’s already more than grateful for what he has right now.
Something suddenly clicks in his head but before he can elaborate on it a hand is on his shoulder and he turns towards Castiel, who is opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to say something and can’t come up with a way to. Not to mention biting his lip and shaking his head in frustration.
Dean freezes and gives him time.
“Dean, there’s... something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. I just... I don’t have the slightest idea about how I should say it though.”
“Just... give it a try?” Dean answers, all the possible negative outcomes of the conversation running through his head.
Maybe I should move out.
I think I really like that guy living in cabin 33.
I’ve been thinking about it and maybe it’s time that I leave.
It’s not his fault (or at least not completely) if he’s trained to think about the worst outcome whenever he’s faced with any situation.
“You’re right, that wouldn’t be exactly the easiest thing you could wish for. Especially now and especially with the current state of things. But... about the last part of it...”
“You mean the woman of my dreams who would... er, have me the way I am?” he answers, cringing at his own choice of words; his voice definitely reflects it.
“Yes. Well. I... I am hardly a woman, and definitely not the one of your dreams, but... about the last part... I would. I mean, not in the friendly sense.” Castiel looks like he’s cringing at his own choice of words too, but Dean thinks he understood and suddenly his heart is beating so fast and so loud he thinks he might faint.
“You... wait, do you mean that...”
“I can’t exactly remember when I realized what it was but... I’m... Dean, I’m in love with you, and before you ask, I’ve thought about it. And I’m sure. I would have never told you if I wasn’t... just, I know you couldn’t possibly... but... well, if you don’t we can just forget this conversation ever happened, really, I...”
It’s warm, but Castiel has visibly started shaking and that’s when everything just clicks.
He had been about to get there when Castiel had interrupted him earlier, but now he sees the whole picture clearly, and based on that dream... well, he probably already knew. Even if he hadn’t exactly realized the terms. After all, the whole point was that the random girl was just there for him and seemed to really love him for what he was and nothing else; and now he knows that he already had that person without realizing it, that he has had that person for a while actually, and that, fuck that, he’d really wouldn’t want anyone else.
It’s scary. It’s so scary that he just wants to run and think about it for the next couple of decades, but it isn’t a luxury he has now. Because if he does he has an idea that Castiel will think he doesn’t want it and then he’ll ruin the only chance he has at actually having it all, and it’s enough to get a grip on himself. Then he covers the hand Castiel still has on his shoulder with his own.
“You’re wrong about one thing.”
“... what do you mean?”
“I had a dream some time ago. Not much. It was the whole thing as I told you earlier. With a difference. When I got into the house, there was someone, but it wasn’t a random woman.”
“... was she someone real then?”
“It was someone real, yeah, but not a she. It was you.”
There’s a moment when Castiel looks at him like he’s sure that Dean is joking, but then the expression changes and Dean figures that nothing on his own face suggests he’s making fun of Castiel. And he isn’t, not one bit.
“It was me?”
“Yeah. Then I just... didn’t realize what it could mean. Now... well, I’ll be honest with you. Apart from that, there has been other stuff. I won’t go into detail, but... I’m not thinking about you in friendly terms anymore either. I haven’t for some time. I don’t know what it’s with me that you think is so hot or worth seeing, but... while sure as fuck you ain’t a woman, it seems like you fit the second point pretty well.” Dean is aware that his voice is barely more than a whisper, and then the hand not on his shoulder reaches his cheek forcing him to look at Castiel. And there’s such intensity mixed with hope mixed with sheer terror in there that Dean feels punched in the stomach.
“I just wish you could see yourself as I see you for five seconds,” Castiel blurts, and Dean doesn’t think he can take that stare any longer. “It’s just so unfair that you should even wonder what it is with you.”
“Shouldn’t I? Cas, you could find yourself a nice guy who wouldn’t give you half of the trouble I would. I’m not a good person, not really, and that’s just the first...”
”Do you really think that for me all that is to you is the trouble you’d give or what you did on the other side of the world years ago? And about that, if that’s what... what according to you doesn’t make you a good person... It doesn’t seem to me like you’re forgetting it.”
“I’ll fucking never forget that. And I wouldn’t even want to.”
“Don’t you get it? That is what makes you a good person. You’re punishing yourself for it way more than anyone else ever could. You don’t even try to justify yourself for anything. It might be the right thing that you don’t, it’s not my place to judge it, but it... it just doesn’t mean that you can’t have anything good now. Don’t you think that you might have paid enough of a price already? And if I have to be sincere, I’d wonder why of everyone who could show up in your dream it would be me, but...”
Dean’s hand clasps Castiel’s shoulder hard without even realizing it.
“Are you crazy? Do you seriously think that...”
“Dean. Almost all of my life, I just... didn’t do anything. I mean, I had a life, it was an easy one, I had my church and my faith and my family and I was happy with it. Then it turns out that I don’t fit a standard and suddenly I start disappointing everyone and keep on disappointing everyone just because of that until they leave or die and I just spend six months surviving before you come along. You... you never had it easy, you went into hell on earth voluntarily out of love for your brother, when the war started you didn’t just hide but you did something and everyone here is alive and as fine as it goes just because of you. If I could find something I ever did which is even remotely close to any of this...”
“Christ, you have no fucking idea, don’t you?”
Castiel tilts his head at him again and Dean just shakes his and stands up, bringing Castiel with him. He wishes he could say everything that is going through his head. He wishes he could say yeah, for one you did one thing at least, coming along, or maybe something else, but he has used up all of his talking for today and he never was one for words; he slowly, carefully cups Castiel’s cheek with his hand before leaning down and they’re an inch or two from touching when Castiel sighs and closes his eyes, his head leaning a bit forward. Dean closes the gap and they kiss. It’s just lips moving against lips, nothing more than that; Dean’s hands sneak around Castiel’s waist bringing him closer and Dean sighs into the kiss when hands cup his face on one side and his neck on the other. Their bodies are a perfect fit (he already knew that but now it’s a whole other thing) and he doesn’t think he has ever given such a chaste kiss in his whole life, and meanwhile there’s no thunder or explosions or the romantic soundtrack or anything else that in another world used to happen in movies, when the couple finally kisses in the end. It’s quiet, almost shy even, and it’s the best kiss of Dean’s life until now.
Castiel’s breathing is warm on his cheek when they part and when Dean opens his eyes Castiel is staring at him and he looks so happy, with his cheeks gaining a bit more color, that small smile there and he’s looking at him like that evening months ago; Dean’s heart skips a beat or two.
“That was... a whole other thing.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asks. That wasn’t exactly the comment he was expecting. Castiel looks at his left, seeming almost ashamed.
“I just... I only just kissed one other person and they pushed me away after two seconds. I’m s...”
“Don’t even try to apologize for that. Means I’ll just need to show you how things are done properly. What ‘bout it?”
Dean doesn’t wait for an answer and this time he kisses Castiel for real. He only meets a second of resistance before Castiel parts and gives him access and then oh, scratch it, this is the best kiss he’s ever had. There’s something in the way Castiel’s tongue moves almost frantically against his and about how warm he is, about how he lets Dean map every single bit of his mouth, about the way he melts against Dean that makes it different, that makes it fucking special even. Like there isn’t a part of himself that Castiel won’t give Dean if he only just asks. It’d make his head spin, if he wasn’t set on showing Castiel exactly how much he wants this. He aches for when they’ll make it back to the cabin and he feels a certain warmth spreading inside him if he thinks about all the ways he’s finally, finally going to touch Castiel like he wants to, like he has wanted since that dream; when the kiss ends, he’s breathless and then Castiel fucking beams at him and if he even had a lingering doubt about this, then it’s gone. If he was the reason when it took freaking eight months or something for Castiel to crank a honest to God smile then well, he still has an ace up his sleeve.
“Y’know what?”
“What?”
“I think we could actually get back to the cabin. No one’s around but... I’m kinda jonesing for some privacy here.”
“I think I can live with it.”
They part and start for the cabin, trying to walk around the crowd so that they don’t get sucked in; if at one point Dean consciously goes and grabs Castiel’s hand, he figures that it just means he’s in for good.
--
They get there without much trouble and after Dean locks the door, it isn’t long before they fall on the mattress, completely wrapped in each other. They just kiss, though; or better, they kiss a lot and feel each other as they do it, without taking their clothes off, and Dean can’t remember when it was the last time he was with someone and they just did this. Just kissing, maybe some groping here and there, mostly finding out how they taste like and nothing else; maybe in high school. Surely never later than that. Maybe. But he’s okay with this, he likes it, and anyway it’s also turning him on like crazy because each second that passes Castiel’s hands are firmer when they touch him and after ten minutes you couldn’t tell that the guy has never really done this before. Even though Dean isn’t forgetting that and well, he’s so going to give Castiel the fucking best night of his life. You can bet on it. You can really bet on it. For now, though, he will just relax and go along, also because sincerely? He isn’t in any kind of hurry. The world isn’t ending right in this moment and he wants to take this nice and slow and everything else that wouldn’t be with a random person. He wants Castiel to enjoy every fucking second of this, too, but considering the way hands are roaming across his arms or any part of him that they can reach... maybe he won’t have to work too much for that.
Whatever.
They’re both kneeling on the mattress when he slows things down and his lips leave Castiel’s in order to hover on the hollow of his neck. Dean feels Castiel shivering and files it for later. He has always loved taking his time with someone to find all the places that will make them moan, but lately? Not many chances, and now he’s determined to take this. He’s slow as he unbuttons Castiel’s light blue flannel, one which he got recently; Dean has this idea that Castiel considers it the best shirt he currently owns. Something gets caught in his throat forming a lump as he spends a few seconds observing things and realizes that Castiel has worn his only pair of jeans without any rips or holes and that he must have begged Jess for an extra turn with the showers because his hair is cleaner than it’d be if his last shower had been the regular one three days ago. His fingers almost shake as he pulls the flannel’s buttons open slowly and carefully, not wanting to ruin anything; he knows that Castiel is watching his hands and it’s just so intimate that his heart might burst, and they didn’t even start to do anything.
He gets rid of his own t-shirt when he’s done, not really minding that any attention; he moans lightly when Castiel’s fingers start tracing an old scar on his right side, another gift from Iraq and when Castiel’s stare reaches the relatively fresh ones on his left shoulder and hip he feels self-conscious for a second, not that Castiel hasn’t seen those enough when he changed his dressings. But then he comes forward and kisses the one on Dean’s shoulder and it does things to his stomach, things including a storm of butterflies dancing right there and other things for which he doesn’t even have a name. He takes his time when they finally lay down, he checks every inch of the body underneath him because well, this never was about physical appearance, not really, but now that he looks he actually notices that it isn’t just about the eyes. Castiel has quite the body, Dean thinks; well built, proportioned, maybe still too thin but definitely healthier than he was at the beginning, full pink lips which now are kind of swollen from all the kissing, such soft skin. He has never really noticed it before because Dean just never paid men that kind of attention, but maybe it’s better like this because the attraction isn’t there for the looks, though well, Dean isn’t going to complain about it one second.
Hell no.
He kisses his way down from Castiel’s mouth to his shoulder, biting lightly there in the hollow of Castiel’s neck again and there, he’s moaning again and Dean checks another point for himself. Found one place alright, or so it seems.
In the next twenty minutes, he finds out that he can check at least navel, ears and shoulders; whenever he barely touches there he gets small, greedy moans in return and did he already mention that Castiel’s voice is a turn-on in itself? At one point, though, it happens that for some reason Castiel’s lips find the inside of his wrist and Dean moans, loud, and seriously, he had thought he had known where he liked to be touched, but looks like he missed this. He thinks that there’s something wicked in the way Castiel smirks before kissing it again and slowly licking his way across his palm with the tip of his tongue, and Dean honest to God melts while he’s there on top of Castiel. He doesn’t know why isn’t Castiel just pushing him on the side because he isn’t holding his own weight at all, but then lips find his, a hand grabs at the short strands of his hair and Dean feels just so great that he doesn’t know what to do with it.
There’s nothing difficult in this. It’s comfortable and fairly easy and he isn’t feeling self-conscious at all and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he hasn’t been with anyone since Jo, and that was at least three months before January. He’ll admit that maybe it could have a bit to do with the fact that he isn’t thinking about the scarred parts of him, visible or not visible, which he’s always been way too self-conscious about in the last five years.
Whatever, scratch the issues that apparently are issues for him but not for Castiel. He’s getting hard here, really hard, and from what he feels, since there isn’t an inch of them that isn’t touching, Castiel has totally joined the club. He breaks the kiss slowly before his hands reach Castiel’s jeans and pull them down along with his underwear, and well, fuck, indeed Castiel is hard. So hard that there’s some pre-come leaking already and Dean’s own jeans suddenly feel way, way too tight, not that they didn’t feel that way before. He pushes them down and gets rid of them; before he can do anything, arms around his neck are bringing him forward.
“I was kind of waiting for that,” Castiel whispers, and while it was so low and freaking hot that Dean thinks he might just save himself the hard work and come now, he also realizes that Castiel hadn’t been looking at him. He has been whispering that straight into his left ear and that’s it, that’s just it. Dean knows they won’t get to do anything too fancy tonight, he doesn’t have anything which could pass for lube at hand (fine, there’s gun oil but he isn’t never going to use it during sex, or sex with Castiel anyway; it just feels wrong on any possible level) and he isn’t going to risk anything (that same feeling tells him he wants something better than spit here), but it doesn’t mean anything. There’ll be time for that, or at least that’s what he wants to believe.
He takes his time. He kisses his way down from Castiel’s lips to his navel all over again, stopping by whenever he finds a spot worth paying more attention to; he can’t help feeling pleased when Castiel suddenly bucks up against him the second Dean’s tongue brushes along one of his nipples while Dean’s hand is teasing the other, or when he reaches below the navel and Castiel’s fingers grip his hair so hard that it almost hurts the second Dean’s mouth is on Castiel’s cock. Almost hurts, though, and it’s the good kind, and so Dean just takes a small breath, thinks about all the times a girl went down on him (because hey, first times for everyone here it seems) and about what he had liked about it; then he just stops thinking and the moan he gets when he finally takes Castiel’s cock into his mouth? Best sound ever. Hell yes.
He takes things slowly mostly because he needs to get acquainted with this himself and also because he doesn’t want it to be over too soon. He experimentally starts to move his head up and down, flickers his tongue a couple of times there at the base (he remembers seeing stars once and from Castiel’s reaction and the way his hips thrust up? Works for Castiel too) and at a point he has to grip Castiel’s hips with his hands or otherwise he won’t stand even remotely still. He can just sense when Castiel is about to come and then he decides it’s too soon; he kind of feels awful for a second when he moves away and Castiel groans in what is obvious displeasure, but Dean shuts him up with a kiss and he thinks about Castiel probably tasting himself on his mouth and... well, fuck, that’s another whole level of hot for today.
He moves slowly as they kiss until his own erection is rubbing against Castiel’s and it feels so good, so much, as Castiel mirrors his motions (and while he isn’t exactly on time with Dean and there’s uncertainty in the way he moves it still feels fucking good); Dean would just do this until both of them come but then Castiel’s hand reaches down and wraps around the both of them. Dean lets out a choked sound and as Castiel keeps on stroking with his fingers Dean just can’t bring himself to form a half-coherent thought. It feels good, no, scratch it, amazing, and then his hand reaches Castiel’s down there and they look at each other exactly at the same second. Castiel’s eyes are impossibly wide, all blue, clouded with such desire that Dean would find it almost unbearable, if he was still thinking coherent thoughts. Which is so not happening right now. Totally not. He blurts a garbled sentence that definitely contains at least fuck, Cas and Jesus so fucking good (he can’t guarantee about the rest) before he comes and Castiel comes with him. Dean doesn’t know if what was getting him off was his own orgasm building or the sight of Castiel’s face lost in pure bliss and the fact that they came at the same moment and against each other. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he just wants to laugh against Castiel’s shoulder until he doesn’t have it in him anymore; he can’t help it and he does, and then he realizes Castiel is doing it too and yes is the only word going through his head.
They’re both completely spent after, but Dean can’t seem to keep his hands off Castiel and Castiel can’t either. They just lay there, still touching each other, the sheet barely covering their legs (and Dean thinks he really needs to wash it tomorrow. Hell, they’ll need to wash sheets a lot more often. Not that he minds). Castiel is still smiling at him and Dean is sure his expression can’t be too different. Hell, he feels weird knowing that he’s probably glowing there, it has been so much time since he had a reason to, but he won’t try to help it just because of that.
“Woah,” he mouths after a while, “either you’re a natural or that wasn’t your first time.”
Castiel looks at him like he isn’t exactly believing him. “What?”
“Exactly,” Dean whispers as he leans closer and places a kiss right there on lips which are way, way swollen, “what,” he keeps on after placing another, “I said,” he finishes letting his head drop on his pillow. His hand rests there on Castiel’s neck, though. He just doesn’t want to take that off.
“Jesus,” Castiel whispers then, and Dean can’t help raising an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t that be kind of blasphemous?” he asks, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. Castiel shrugs and shakes his head.
“Hardly. Or well, that might just be my very humble opinion, but I’m pretty sure He doesn’t mind if someone mentions His name when said someone is happy.”
“Are you?” Dean asks, suddenly regretting the question, but then two soft lips meet his for a couple of seconds and well, that might be an answer.
”Saying that I am would be an understatement.”
“Are you really convinced of your humble opinion? I just, you must be the first person I meet putting it that way.”
“As of this moment, I’m pretty sure that if I ever needed a proof that He’s there and that He doesn’t hate me, this is it. So no, I don’t think He minds.” Castiel’s fingers thread in Dean’s hair once, then twice, and Dean can’t help leaning into the touch. “Also, I can’t imagine how could He ever despise something like this, if He loves us all.”
“So what, no crisis of faith going on here?”
“The contrary, Dean. The contrary,” Castiel answers before kissing him senseless again, and while Dean isn’t there, never was and will never be, the answer warms him up. He has never felt so happy on someone else’s behalf since Sam and Jess hooked up, but now he does and knowing that he has a role in all of that doesn’t freak him out at all. He closes his eyes, not an inch of space between him and Castiel, and his sleep is dreamless for once.
--
He doesn’t have a single doubt about what it is, if he still had any, when he wakes up the next morning and for once Castiel was the one still sleeping. He can admit that he hadn’t just wanted to put a name to it, but when he opens his eyes and he realizes that there are arms around his waist, lips against the hollow of his neck and that his own hands are carding through Castiel’s hair, and that Castiel looks like there’s no other place in the world where he’d rather be...
He’s just too tired to beat around the bush and he has been through too many things to make an issue of the fact that until last month guys didn’t do a thing for him in that sense. He’s in love, not a crush or a fling or anything else. It should scare the fuck out of him. He just lays down again, pulls the sheet over them both and clings tighter.
He doesn’t tell Castiel, though. Not then. He tells him two weeks later, when after a supply run Dean manages to trade cigarettes for three boxes full of packets of oil. Before handing them to Chuck and Ellen, he hides fifteen in his jacket and he doesn’t miss the way Castiel’s eyes glint when he takes a couple of them out of his pocket after dinner.
So they’re there on his bed, Castiel’s legs are hooked around his waist and Dean’s fingers are sticky with oil as he grips Castiel’s hips and pushes in slowly, so incredibly slowly, even if he has taken care to slick the both of them as much and as thoroughly as he could. His hands shake slightly and he’s sure that Castiel’s fingers are leaving bruises on his shoulders, they’re gripping so hard, but he doesn’t care because he’s overwhelmed enough and he really doesn’t give a damn about bruises. He hadn’t planned on talking at all, Dean never was one for much sex talking (or at least he hasn’t been for a while, mostly because he didn’t have much he could say apart from the usual things you say while fucking someone), but when he gives the first push and Castiel just thrusts up against him looking like every fucking prayer of his has been answered right this moment he just loses it. He kisses Castiel as he starts going faster, trying not to be too rough or too harsh or anything that could ruin this, and he hadn’t really meant to start talking and actually say sensed things, more or less; he surely hadn’t planned on saying I love you so fucking much in between kisses right when he was on the verge of coming, but then Castiel opens his eyes almost in shock and Dean knows he was wrong. Now the guy looks like every fucking prayer of his has been answered and it’s too much, too much and Dean comes three seconds after Castiel does, Castiel’s head buried against his shoulder and Dean’s hand stroking Castiel’s cock. When it’s done and Castiel looks at him like that again, Dean realizes he could say anything, like sorry but it was the heat of the moment, or that he could say nothing at all.
“I meant that,” is what comes out of his mouth instead. Castiel smiles against his lips as he answers right back at you.
--
The next week, he tells Sam. Or better, he tells Sam and Jess since he found them together and hey, it wasn’t like he was gonna hide it from one or the other. She isn’t legally family just because people don’t get married these days, so yeah. He goes and tells the both of them.
It goes like this.
Dean sits in front of them, looking at the sleeve of his jacket like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Sam raises an eyebrow in Jess’ direction. She raises an eyebrow in his. They turn to look at him as they sit on the other side, obviously holding hands under the table around which they’re all sitting. Dean swallows and stares at the both of them; they look freaked out on his behalf. Well, he’s nervous as fuck here and he figures that Sam can’t remember the last time he was nervous in front of him. Jess probably never saw him nervous.
“I have, uh, something to tell you. Both. Whatever.”
“... okay,” Sam answers, still looking not exactly convinced.
“Sure,” Jess adds. “Hey, it’s nothing bad, right?”
“Bad? No. Not really. But. Uh. You might freak out. I’m freaked out myself.”
“That was blatant,” Sam answers. Now he’s rolling his eyes. Typical Sam bitchface. Dean is at least thankful that Sam is still able to do that, even if it’s highly annoying.
“Shut the fuck up. Well. It’s. It’s that...” Dean doesn’t know why he’s behaving like a thirteen year old girl bringing her first boyfriend to meet her parents. Jesus. Especially because Sam is so not his dad, but well, he’s the only family he has left and well. He’s technically talking about his first... no. Not going there. Not fucking ever. Yeah.
“Oh, whatever. It’s, uh, me and Cas.”
“What’s with him, he’s moving out?” Sam asks, suddenly looking worried. Jess looks worried too. What?.
“No! Far from that. Er. Me and Cas, we... we’re... together.”
There. Said it. Wasn’t too hard. Now the only problem is the reaction. Sam just keeps on staring at him.
“You mean together as in... together together?”
“I mean together as in together together, yes.”
“And this, since when?” Jess asks, suddenly looking very smug. Dean isn’t liking this.
“Is that important?” he answers, not exactly getting the point.
“It’s very important,” she says, and her tone doesn’t suggest otherwise.
“Uh. Last month, more or less? It was the end of August. What does this...”
“I knew it!” Jess shouts beaming, while Sam just looks resigned.
“Sammy, the fuck does this mean?”
“I owe her all my chocolate rations for a month now, dammit. I was sure you weren’t going to cave until January.”
“You had a bet going on?” Dean shouts, not knowing if he feels enraged or relieved.
“Yeah,” Jess answers, still unable to stop grinning. “We both agreed it was totally going to happen, but he was sure you were both going to wait until January because it’d have been a sort of anniversary and you both seemed like the type while I was sure you were totally going to be all over each other a lot before.”
“Since when is this going on?”
“Er,” Sam answers almost embarrassed, “since that time there was a free cabin and the both of you looked like you desperately needed an excuse for someone else to have it. That was pretty obvious. So, who was the first?”
“Him,” Dean answers, and then Sam chuckles and Dean glares at him again. “What now?”
“Sorry. I won this one. I mean, I was sure you would have never taken the first step. She said it was gonna be you, but...”
“Sam, seriously. You... do you have a problem with it? Because if you do...”
Sam stands up, comes at his side and grabs Dean’s elbow and looks at him like he’s a complete idiot. Also the fact that Sam is way taller than he is probably contributes to the fact that Dean is feeling pretty small at the moment.
“No, not really. Or well. Fine. Maybe betting on that for a while helped it, and the fact that you’re suddenly liking guys out of nowhere does freak me out, some, and if it had happened, I don’t know, last February, I would have been way more perplexed about this, but... well. It’s been a lot and I guess you had, er, time to get to know each other. Or something. And while he’s totally not the kind of person I figured you’d go for... Dean, he’s good for you. He really is.”
“... what?”
“Come on, you think I haven’t noticed? Since he’s been around he has managed to accomplish everything that stuff they prescribed you back then failed to accomplish. You’re getting some sleep, you haven’t had a mood swing in ages when before you were lucky if it was once every two months, I guess you haven’t taken much care of yourself as usual but I’m pretty sure he took care of you alright, after that stunt with Gordon you stopped going anywhere near suicidal...”
“Hey, I never...”
“Dean, shut up. You’ve been risking your neck since before the truce. Don’t try to say you haven’t.” Sam pauses and Dean notices that Jess left the room. Jesus, does this mean that now they’re heaving a freaking heart-to-heart?
“Anyway. Can I be honest with you?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Okay. Dean, since... since you had that... I can’t even find a word to express its idiocy... since you had to fucking enroll and since you came back... You’ve been a mess. All the time. I know you don’t need me to tell you, but I have to make my point. Actually, the only time when I was thinking you were starting to be more like yourself was when we set the camp up. Then I just realized that it was because you were still adjusted to the war mindset, but whatever. Isn’t the point. The point is that the last time I saw you being happy was before dad died. And don’t think that I haven’t seen you trying.”
He doesn’t exactly say what is it, but Dean gets it alright. Trying to be a sort-of-adjusted person, he figures. Or maybe settle down.
“And believe me, there isn’t anything you deserve more than someone that is good for you and that can make you happy. Sometimes I kind of felt bad for, well...”
“Are you an idiot? You know that...”
“Yeah, I know, but still. Now, I think that it’s pretty much evident that he’s good for you. Point is, does he make you happy?” Sam asks, looking at Dean like this is the most important conversation they’ll ever have. Maybe he has a point.
“Yes,” he answers without even thinking about it.
“Then I don’t care if he’s a man, a woman or whatever.”
Dean almost wants to cry. Dammit. He’s getting too soft. He shakes his head, biting his lip.
“Christ, Sam. This just... seems too good. Or too good at once. Things sucked for years and now I don’t even have to explain you why I suddenly like men?”
“Oh, give me a break. Like I give a damn about that. And, why can’t you just believe that good things do happen once in a while?”
“Jesus Christ, that’s what he fucking told me the second day.”
“Then he obviously knows better than you do.”
“Bitch, shut up.”
Dean knows what comes next. He doesn’t even fight it.
He lets Sam hug him for exactly twenty seconds (he hugs back for fifteen of said twenty seconds). Then he storms out of the door where he finds, unsurprisingly, Jess congratulating herself with Castiel. She sort of blushes and rushes back into the house. Castiel looks at Dean half-smiling and Dean sort of wants to kiss him right here and now.
“I take it went well?”
“Yeah. It went better than well.”
“That’s good,” Castiel answers, and he looks sincerely glad even if there’s a sort of sadness about him and well, of course there would be. At least Dean has some family with whom he can share the news. Well. It’s not like it won’t be common knowledge within two weeks. And since Chuck is just walking by... perfect occasion, he thinks.
He waits for Chuck to be in a position where he can see them, then he grabs Castiel’s hand and starts walking slowly and without a care towards their cabin. Jesus Christ, he’d have never done this a year ago, with anyone. He just doesn’t do this kinda thing anymore.
Or maybe he didn’t, since it seems like he’s doing it just fucking fine and Castiel is squeezing his hand back. He’s probably doing something right here. It feels good.
--
He catches Sam and Castiel talking one night. Or better, he’s about to open the cabin’s door when he hears Sam’s voice and he stops there. He knows he shouldn’t, but it’s too tempting.
“I just, don’t get me wrong here because I’m totally on board with it, but can I ask you a very blunt question?”
“Of course. It’s about Dean, right?”
“Yeah. It’s... just... for you I mean. Is it really... you know, serious? I wouldn’t want to...”
“Sam. Stop staring at the ground. It’s alright to ask that, really. In your position, I’d have done it too. Anyway, serious wouldn’t exactly make justice to what I feel for him but... yes, it is. Sam, I’m in love with him. I have been for months at this point. And while sometimes I just feel like it’s too much of a good thing and I can’t even fathom how it was that I was graced to have met him at all, I’m not going to pack and try my luck elsewhere. It’s not like I actually could, as much as I wish I could say otherwise, but that’s not the point. There’s... no other place I’d rather be.”
“Christ, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say that about Dean in ages.”
There’s tangible relief in Sam’s voice though. Dean doesn’t know if he should feel enraged because Sam totally didn’t have the right or if he should feel touched.
“Believe me, in my case it’s literal. But it’s not because I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. He just... the idea of never meeting him makes me feel miserable. And he’s just, such a great person, and it pains me that he can’t even begin to see how much.”
“Jesus, I was losing hope to ever hear someone say that about him lately. I mean, I know, but that’s not about me. It just seemed like... whatever. Cas, really...”
Dean doesn’t hear the rest because he can’t allow Sam to find him outside if he decides he needs to get out. Most of anything, he has realized that there was something stinging in his eyes and when he’s far enough and reaches up to his face, his fingers are wet.
Fuck. He can’t remember the last time he...
Well. It was just a couple of tears. Nothing more. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt and takes five minutes to get a fucking grip. Thankfully no one saw him.
When he gets back to the cabin Sam is gone and if Castiel notices that there’s something grateful in the way Dean kisses him, he doesn’t mention it.
Part V
Pairings: Dean/Castiel, some Sam/Jess
Rating: NC17
Word count: this part 7334; total, around 35000
Spoilers: it's totally AU but since I tried to nod at canon as much as I could there are some S4/S5 spoilers. 5x04 mainly.
Summary: Two years after World War III starts, Dean Winchester is a disillusioned former veteran leading a survivors' camp in the former state of Kansas whose life takes a very, very unexpected turn. Starting when he rescues this guy with huge blue eyes named after an angel.
Warnings: this is a post nuclear war fallout setting with everything that it implies. There's violence and descriptions of situations which could be nasty at best and disturbing at least or however possibly upsetting and/or triggering. Also for plot purposes Dean is an Iraq war veteran (the last one, not the Gulf war) and there are sections dealing with it and for that are valid the same warnings.
A/N: written for the AU/AR challenge at
deancastiel for the prompt There are no angels or demons, and the apocalypse happened with bombs and a very human war.. Aand, this is where I sort of half send the angst packing. More or less. Part I | Part II | Part III.Once, as Dean comes back from a supply run, he sees that Castiel is outside the cabin talking with Jess.
What? Well, he knows they get along, fine, but there’s something strange in the way the conversation abruptly changes when they see that he’s coming. He manages to catch Jess saying really, go for it, me and Sam have kind of thought that for... before she waves at him and goes in his direction. When she leaves she winks at Castiel. He blushes.
What, again?
--
Dean doesn’t understand what was it about until a week or so later. The latest supply run was a rare success, they even got some dried meat which didn’t come in a can, it’s still late August and so the sun sets later (or well, the clouds become a sort of pitch black tapestry later, but that’s how it is) and that’s why someone built up a fire and they’re having dinner out there. The atmosphere is as cheerful as it can get and it’s only because after one hour surrounded by a hundred and fifty people he’s starting to get an headache that Dean sort of quietly leaves at one point and goes to stand in front of the fence. The sky is a strange hue of red beneath the perpetual clouds covering it and it’d be freaky if only they weren’t adjusted to it. He still doesn’t like it one bit.
“Was it getting too crowded?” comes from behind him, and Dean sort of smiles for one second. Trust Castiel to notice that he’s not around anymore.
“Yeah, more or less. I just need ten minutes of fresh air. You too?”
“I think so. It is... kind of overwhelming. Even if it’s good.”
“Yeah, it really is,” Dean agrees as he sits down. Castiel sits wordlessly next to him and for the umpteenth time since the truce was over Dean wishes it was before and that they had something to share. A beer, or a cigarette maybe, even if Dean never smoked and Castiel doesn’t look like a smoker either. Not to mention that considering how much cigarettes are worth, these days, around here everyone prefers to trade them whenever they manage to find some. See, the apocalypse is good for your health.
He fleetingly thinks that his sense of humor is slowly getting worse.
“You know, I might even settle for it,” he says after a good five minutes of silence.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you know your coping mechanism? I had one too, once, but I fear it changed with time. Last day it was coming here and finding it surrounded by trees, today is seeing this happen once each week. I guess I might settle for it.”
“Why, is your first option one you can’t try to pursue?”
“Right now? Yeah. It’s pretty much off limits.”
“And why would it be?”
Dean takes a breath and spills it out, even if he carefully avoids mentioning the latest development when instead of finding the woman of his dreams at his side, he finds Castiel. That would probably freak the guy out a fucking lot. Castiel just listens and nods along.
“It’s... it’s a very nice image,” Castiel says when Dean is done, a certain longing in his voice.
“Yeah, but you’ll kinda see that there’s no way it’s happening any time soon if ever. I haven’t seen grass in months, or fresh fruit for that matter, or anything else that was in there. And about the girl, well, that ain’t ever gonna happen. Might as well adjust your expectations.”
He doesn’t say anything about what never gonna happen implies; he has come to terms with it way before WWIII anyway. Right, it’s nice to imagine that one day he could come home (and such a home) to find someone who wants him as he is and will just be there and with whom he’d share everything until death do them part or whatever crap, but it’s not what’s in store for him. He already knows it and he’s already more than grateful for what he has right now.
Something suddenly clicks in his head but before he can elaborate on it a hand is on his shoulder and he turns towards Castiel, who is opening and closing his mouth like he was trying to say something and can’t come up with a way to. Not to mention biting his lip and shaking his head in frustration.
Dean freezes and gives him time.
“Dean, there’s... something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while. I just... I don’t have the slightest idea about how I should say it though.”
“Just... give it a try?” Dean answers, all the possible negative outcomes of the conversation running through his head.
Maybe I should move out.
I think I really like that guy living in cabin 33.
I’ve been thinking about it and maybe it’s time that I leave.
It’s not his fault (or at least not completely) if he’s trained to think about the worst outcome whenever he’s faced with any situation.
“You’re right, that wouldn’t be exactly the easiest thing you could wish for. Especially now and especially with the current state of things. But... about the last part of it...”
“You mean the woman of my dreams who would... er, have me the way I am?” he answers, cringing at his own choice of words; his voice definitely reflects it.
“Yes. Well. I... I am hardly a woman, and definitely not the one of your dreams, but... about the last part... I would. I mean, not in the friendly sense.” Castiel looks like he’s cringing at his own choice of words too, but Dean thinks he understood and suddenly his heart is beating so fast and so loud he thinks he might faint.
“You... wait, do you mean that...”
“I can’t exactly remember when I realized what it was but... I’m... Dean, I’m in love with you, and before you ask, I’ve thought about it. And I’m sure. I would have never told you if I wasn’t... just, I know you couldn’t possibly... but... well, if you don’t we can just forget this conversation ever happened, really, I...”
It’s warm, but Castiel has visibly started shaking and that’s when everything just clicks.
He had been about to get there when Castiel had interrupted him earlier, but now he sees the whole picture clearly, and based on that dream... well, he probably already knew. Even if he hadn’t exactly realized the terms. After all, the whole point was that the random girl was just there for him and seemed to really love him for what he was and nothing else; and now he knows that he already had that person without realizing it, that he has had that person for a while actually, and that, fuck that, he’d really wouldn’t want anyone else.
It’s scary. It’s so scary that he just wants to run and think about it for the next couple of decades, but it isn’t a luxury he has now. Because if he does he has an idea that Castiel will think he doesn’t want it and then he’ll ruin the only chance he has at actually having it all, and it’s enough to get a grip on himself. Then he covers the hand Castiel still has on his shoulder with his own.
“You’re wrong about one thing.”
“... what do you mean?”
“I had a dream some time ago. Not much. It was the whole thing as I told you earlier. With a difference. When I got into the house, there was someone, but it wasn’t a random woman.”
“... was she someone real then?”
“It was someone real, yeah, but not a she. It was you.”
There’s a moment when Castiel looks at him like he’s sure that Dean is joking, but then the expression changes and Dean figures that nothing on his own face suggests he’s making fun of Castiel. And he isn’t, not one bit.
“It was me?”
“Yeah. Then I just... didn’t realize what it could mean. Now... well, I’ll be honest with you. Apart from that, there has been other stuff. I won’t go into detail, but... I’m not thinking about you in friendly terms anymore either. I haven’t for some time. I don’t know what it’s with me that you think is so hot or worth seeing, but... while sure as fuck you ain’t a woman, it seems like you fit the second point pretty well.” Dean is aware that his voice is barely more than a whisper, and then the hand not on his shoulder reaches his cheek forcing him to look at Castiel. And there’s such intensity mixed with hope mixed with sheer terror in there that Dean feels punched in the stomach.
“I just wish you could see yourself as I see you for five seconds,” Castiel blurts, and Dean doesn’t think he can take that stare any longer. “It’s just so unfair that you should even wonder what it is with you.”
“Shouldn’t I? Cas, you could find yourself a nice guy who wouldn’t give you half of the trouble I would. I’m not a good person, not really, and that’s just the first...”
”Do you really think that for me all that is to you is the trouble you’d give or what you did on the other side of the world years ago? And about that, if that’s what... what according to you doesn’t make you a good person... It doesn’t seem to me like you’re forgetting it.”
“I’ll fucking never forget that. And I wouldn’t even want to.”
“Don’t you get it? That is what makes you a good person. You’re punishing yourself for it way more than anyone else ever could. You don’t even try to justify yourself for anything. It might be the right thing that you don’t, it’s not my place to judge it, but it... it just doesn’t mean that you can’t have anything good now. Don’t you think that you might have paid enough of a price already? And if I have to be sincere, I’d wonder why of everyone who could show up in your dream it would be me, but...”
Dean’s hand clasps Castiel’s shoulder hard without even realizing it.
“Are you crazy? Do you seriously think that...”
“Dean. Almost all of my life, I just... didn’t do anything. I mean, I had a life, it was an easy one, I had my church and my faith and my family and I was happy with it. Then it turns out that I don’t fit a standard and suddenly I start disappointing everyone and keep on disappointing everyone just because of that until they leave or die and I just spend six months surviving before you come along. You... you never had it easy, you went into hell on earth voluntarily out of love for your brother, when the war started you didn’t just hide but you did something and everyone here is alive and as fine as it goes just because of you. If I could find something I ever did which is even remotely close to any of this...”
“Christ, you have no fucking idea, don’t you?”
Castiel tilts his head at him again and Dean just shakes his and stands up, bringing Castiel with him. He wishes he could say everything that is going through his head. He wishes he could say yeah, for one you did one thing at least, coming along, or maybe something else, but he has used up all of his talking for today and he never was one for words; he slowly, carefully cups Castiel’s cheek with his hand before leaning down and they’re an inch or two from touching when Castiel sighs and closes his eyes, his head leaning a bit forward. Dean closes the gap and they kiss. It’s just lips moving against lips, nothing more than that; Dean’s hands sneak around Castiel’s waist bringing him closer and Dean sighs into the kiss when hands cup his face on one side and his neck on the other. Their bodies are a perfect fit (he already knew that but now it’s a whole other thing) and he doesn’t think he has ever given such a chaste kiss in his whole life, and meanwhile there’s no thunder or explosions or the romantic soundtrack or anything else that in another world used to happen in movies, when the couple finally kisses in the end. It’s quiet, almost shy even, and it’s the best kiss of Dean’s life until now.
Castiel’s breathing is warm on his cheek when they part and when Dean opens his eyes Castiel is staring at him and he looks so happy, with his cheeks gaining a bit more color, that small smile there and he’s looking at him like that evening months ago; Dean’s heart skips a beat or two.
“That was... a whole other thing.”
“What do you mean?” Dean asks. That wasn’t exactly the comment he was expecting. Castiel looks at his left, seeming almost ashamed.
“I just... I only just kissed one other person and they pushed me away after two seconds. I’m s...”
“Don’t even try to apologize for that. Means I’ll just need to show you how things are done properly. What ‘bout it?”
Dean doesn’t wait for an answer and this time he kisses Castiel for real. He only meets a second of resistance before Castiel parts and gives him access and then oh, scratch it, this is the best kiss he’s ever had. There’s something in the way Castiel’s tongue moves almost frantically against his and about how warm he is, about how he lets Dean map every single bit of his mouth, about the way he melts against Dean that makes it different, that makes it fucking special even. Like there isn’t a part of himself that Castiel won’t give Dean if he only just asks. It’d make his head spin, if he wasn’t set on showing Castiel exactly how much he wants this. He aches for when they’ll make it back to the cabin and he feels a certain warmth spreading inside him if he thinks about all the ways he’s finally, finally going to touch Castiel like he wants to, like he has wanted since that dream; when the kiss ends, he’s breathless and then Castiel fucking beams at him and if he even had a lingering doubt about this, then it’s gone. If he was the reason when it took freaking eight months or something for Castiel to crank a honest to God smile then well, he still has an ace up his sleeve.
“Y’know what?”
“What?”
“I think we could actually get back to the cabin. No one’s around but... I’m kinda jonesing for some privacy here.”
“I think I can live with it.”
They part and start for the cabin, trying to walk around the crowd so that they don’t get sucked in; if at one point Dean consciously goes and grabs Castiel’s hand, he figures that it just means he’s in for good.
--
They get there without much trouble and after Dean locks the door, it isn’t long before they fall on the mattress, completely wrapped in each other. They just kiss, though; or better, they kiss a lot and feel each other as they do it, without taking their clothes off, and Dean can’t remember when it was the last time he was with someone and they just did this. Just kissing, maybe some groping here and there, mostly finding out how they taste like and nothing else; maybe in high school. Surely never later than that. Maybe. But he’s okay with this, he likes it, and anyway it’s also turning him on like crazy because each second that passes Castiel’s hands are firmer when they touch him and after ten minutes you couldn’t tell that the guy has never really done this before. Even though Dean isn’t forgetting that and well, he’s so going to give Castiel the fucking best night of his life. You can bet on it. You can really bet on it. For now, though, he will just relax and go along, also because sincerely? He isn’t in any kind of hurry. The world isn’t ending right in this moment and he wants to take this nice and slow and everything else that wouldn’t be with a random person. He wants Castiel to enjoy every fucking second of this, too, but considering the way hands are roaming across his arms or any part of him that they can reach... maybe he won’t have to work too much for that.
Whatever.
They’re both kneeling on the mattress when he slows things down and his lips leave Castiel’s in order to hover on the hollow of his neck. Dean feels Castiel shivering and files it for later. He has always loved taking his time with someone to find all the places that will make them moan, but lately? Not many chances, and now he’s determined to take this. He’s slow as he unbuttons Castiel’s light blue flannel, one which he got recently; Dean has this idea that Castiel considers it the best shirt he currently owns. Something gets caught in his throat forming a lump as he spends a few seconds observing things and realizes that Castiel has worn his only pair of jeans without any rips or holes and that he must have begged Jess for an extra turn with the showers because his hair is cleaner than it’d be if his last shower had been the regular one three days ago. His fingers almost shake as he pulls the flannel’s buttons open slowly and carefully, not wanting to ruin anything; he knows that Castiel is watching his hands and it’s just so intimate that his heart might burst, and they didn’t even start to do anything.
He gets rid of his own t-shirt when he’s done, not really minding that any attention; he moans lightly when Castiel’s fingers start tracing an old scar on his right side, another gift from Iraq and when Castiel’s stare reaches the relatively fresh ones on his left shoulder and hip he feels self-conscious for a second, not that Castiel hasn’t seen those enough when he changed his dressings. But then he comes forward and kisses the one on Dean’s shoulder and it does things to his stomach, things including a storm of butterflies dancing right there and other things for which he doesn’t even have a name. He takes his time when they finally lay down, he checks every inch of the body underneath him because well, this never was about physical appearance, not really, but now that he looks he actually notices that it isn’t just about the eyes. Castiel has quite the body, Dean thinks; well built, proportioned, maybe still too thin but definitely healthier than he was at the beginning, full pink lips which now are kind of swollen from all the kissing, such soft skin. He has never really noticed it before because Dean just never paid men that kind of attention, but maybe it’s better like this because the attraction isn’t there for the looks, though well, Dean isn’t going to complain about it one second.
Hell no.
He kisses his way down from Castiel’s mouth to his shoulder, biting lightly there in the hollow of Castiel’s neck again and there, he’s moaning again and Dean checks another point for himself. Found one place alright, or so it seems.
In the next twenty minutes, he finds out that he can check at least navel, ears and shoulders; whenever he barely touches there he gets small, greedy moans in return and did he already mention that Castiel’s voice is a turn-on in itself? At one point, though, it happens that for some reason Castiel’s lips find the inside of his wrist and Dean moans, loud, and seriously, he had thought he had known where he liked to be touched, but looks like he missed this. He thinks that there’s something wicked in the way Castiel smirks before kissing it again and slowly licking his way across his palm with the tip of his tongue, and Dean honest to God melts while he’s there on top of Castiel. He doesn’t know why isn’t Castiel just pushing him on the side because he isn’t holding his own weight at all, but then lips find his, a hand grabs at the short strands of his hair and Dean feels just so great that he doesn’t know what to do with it.
There’s nothing difficult in this. It’s comfortable and fairly easy and he isn’t feeling self-conscious at all and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he hasn’t been with anyone since Jo, and that was at least three months before January. He’ll admit that maybe it could have a bit to do with the fact that he isn’t thinking about the scarred parts of him, visible or not visible, which he’s always been way too self-conscious about in the last five years.
Whatever, scratch the issues that apparently are issues for him but not for Castiel. He’s getting hard here, really hard, and from what he feels, since there isn’t an inch of them that isn’t touching, Castiel has totally joined the club. He breaks the kiss slowly before his hands reach Castiel’s jeans and pull them down along with his underwear, and well, fuck, indeed Castiel is hard. So hard that there’s some pre-come leaking already and Dean’s own jeans suddenly feel way, way too tight, not that they didn’t feel that way before. He pushes them down and gets rid of them; before he can do anything, arms around his neck are bringing him forward.
“I was kind of waiting for that,” Castiel whispers, and while it was so low and freaking hot that Dean thinks he might just save himself the hard work and come now, he also realizes that Castiel hadn’t been looking at him. He has been whispering that straight into his left ear and that’s it, that’s just it. Dean knows they won’t get to do anything too fancy tonight, he doesn’t have anything which could pass for lube at hand (fine, there’s gun oil but he isn’t never going to use it during sex, or sex with Castiel anyway; it just feels wrong on any possible level) and he isn’t going to risk anything (that same feeling tells him he wants something better than spit here), but it doesn’t mean anything. There’ll be time for that, or at least that’s what he wants to believe.
He takes his time. He kisses his way down from Castiel’s lips to his navel all over again, stopping by whenever he finds a spot worth paying more attention to; he can’t help feeling pleased when Castiel suddenly bucks up against him the second Dean’s tongue brushes along one of his nipples while Dean’s hand is teasing the other, or when he reaches below the navel and Castiel’s fingers grip his hair so hard that it almost hurts the second Dean’s mouth is on Castiel’s cock. Almost hurts, though, and it’s the good kind, and so Dean just takes a small breath, thinks about all the times a girl went down on him (because hey, first times for everyone here it seems) and about what he had liked about it; then he just stops thinking and the moan he gets when he finally takes Castiel’s cock into his mouth? Best sound ever. Hell yes.
He takes things slowly mostly because he needs to get acquainted with this himself and also because he doesn’t want it to be over too soon. He experimentally starts to move his head up and down, flickers his tongue a couple of times there at the base (he remembers seeing stars once and from Castiel’s reaction and the way his hips thrust up? Works for Castiel too) and at a point he has to grip Castiel’s hips with his hands or otherwise he won’t stand even remotely still. He can just sense when Castiel is about to come and then he decides it’s too soon; he kind of feels awful for a second when he moves away and Castiel groans in what is obvious displeasure, but Dean shuts him up with a kiss and he thinks about Castiel probably tasting himself on his mouth and... well, fuck, that’s another whole level of hot for today.
He moves slowly as they kiss until his own erection is rubbing against Castiel’s and it feels so good, so much, as Castiel mirrors his motions (and while he isn’t exactly on time with Dean and there’s uncertainty in the way he moves it still feels fucking good); Dean would just do this until both of them come but then Castiel’s hand reaches down and wraps around the both of them. Dean lets out a choked sound and as Castiel keeps on stroking with his fingers Dean just can’t bring himself to form a half-coherent thought. It feels good, no, scratch it, amazing, and then his hand reaches Castiel’s down there and they look at each other exactly at the same second. Castiel’s eyes are impossibly wide, all blue, clouded with such desire that Dean would find it almost unbearable, if he was still thinking coherent thoughts. Which is so not happening right now. Totally not. He blurts a garbled sentence that definitely contains at least fuck, Cas and Jesus so fucking good (he can’t guarantee about the rest) before he comes and Castiel comes with him. Dean doesn’t know if what was getting him off was his own orgasm building or the sight of Castiel’s face lost in pure bliss and the fact that they came at the same moment and against each other. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he just wants to laugh against Castiel’s shoulder until he doesn’t have it in him anymore; he can’t help it and he does, and then he realizes Castiel is doing it too and yes is the only word going through his head.
They’re both completely spent after, but Dean can’t seem to keep his hands off Castiel and Castiel can’t either. They just lay there, still touching each other, the sheet barely covering their legs (and Dean thinks he really needs to wash it tomorrow. Hell, they’ll need to wash sheets a lot more often. Not that he minds). Castiel is still smiling at him and Dean is sure his expression can’t be too different. Hell, he feels weird knowing that he’s probably glowing there, it has been so much time since he had a reason to, but he won’t try to help it just because of that.
“Woah,” he mouths after a while, “either you’re a natural or that wasn’t your first time.”
Castiel looks at him like he isn’t exactly believing him. “What?”
“Exactly,” Dean whispers as he leans closer and places a kiss right there on lips which are way, way swollen, “what,” he keeps on after placing another, “I said,” he finishes letting his head drop on his pillow. His hand rests there on Castiel’s neck, though. He just doesn’t want to take that off.
“Jesus,” Castiel whispers then, and Dean can’t help raising an eyebrow.
“Wouldn’t that be kind of blasphemous?” he asks, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. Castiel shrugs and shakes his head.
“Hardly. Or well, that might just be my very humble opinion, but I’m pretty sure He doesn’t mind if someone mentions His name when said someone is happy.”
“Are you?” Dean asks, suddenly regretting the question, but then two soft lips meet his for a couple of seconds and well, that might be an answer.
”Saying that I am would be an understatement.”
“Are you really convinced of your humble opinion? I just, you must be the first person I meet putting it that way.”
“As of this moment, I’m pretty sure that if I ever needed a proof that He’s there and that He doesn’t hate me, this is it. So no, I don’t think He minds.” Castiel’s fingers thread in Dean’s hair once, then twice, and Dean can’t help leaning into the touch. “Also, I can’t imagine how could He ever despise something like this, if He loves us all.”
“So what, no crisis of faith going on here?”
“The contrary, Dean. The contrary,” Castiel answers before kissing him senseless again, and while Dean isn’t there, never was and will never be, the answer warms him up. He has never felt so happy on someone else’s behalf since Sam and Jess hooked up, but now he does and knowing that he has a role in all of that doesn’t freak him out at all. He closes his eyes, not an inch of space between him and Castiel, and his sleep is dreamless for once.
--
He doesn’t have a single doubt about what it is, if he still had any, when he wakes up the next morning and for once Castiel was the one still sleeping. He can admit that he hadn’t just wanted to put a name to it, but when he opens his eyes and he realizes that there are arms around his waist, lips against the hollow of his neck and that his own hands are carding through Castiel’s hair, and that Castiel looks like there’s no other place in the world where he’d rather be...
He’s just too tired to beat around the bush and he has been through too many things to make an issue of the fact that until last month guys didn’t do a thing for him in that sense. He’s in love, not a crush or a fling or anything else. It should scare the fuck out of him. He just lays down again, pulls the sheet over them both and clings tighter.
He doesn’t tell Castiel, though. Not then. He tells him two weeks later, when after a supply run Dean manages to trade cigarettes for three boxes full of packets of oil. Before handing them to Chuck and Ellen, he hides fifteen in his jacket and he doesn’t miss the way Castiel’s eyes glint when he takes a couple of them out of his pocket after dinner.
So they’re there on his bed, Castiel’s legs are hooked around his waist and Dean’s fingers are sticky with oil as he grips Castiel’s hips and pushes in slowly, so incredibly slowly, even if he has taken care to slick the both of them as much and as thoroughly as he could. His hands shake slightly and he’s sure that Castiel’s fingers are leaving bruises on his shoulders, they’re gripping so hard, but he doesn’t care because he’s overwhelmed enough and he really doesn’t give a damn about bruises. He hadn’t planned on talking at all, Dean never was one for much sex talking (or at least he hasn’t been for a while, mostly because he didn’t have much he could say apart from the usual things you say while fucking someone), but when he gives the first push and Castiel just thrusts up against him looking like every fucking prayer of his has been answered right this moment he just loses it. He kisses Castiel as he starts going faster, trying not to be too rough or too harsh or anything that could ruin this, and he hadn’t really meant to start talking and actually say sensed things, more or less; he surely hadn’t planned on saying I love you so fucking much in between kisses right when he was on the verge of coming, but then Castiel opens his eyes almost in shock and Dean knows he was wrong. Now the guy looks like every fucking prayer of his has been answered and it’s too much, too much and Dean comes three seconds after Castiel does, Castiel’s head buried against his shoulder and Dean’s hand stroking Castiel’s cock. When it’s done and Castiel looks at him like that again, Dean realizes he could say anything, like sorry but it was the heat of the moment, or that he could say nothing at all.
“I meant that,” is what comes out of his mouth instead. Castiel smiles against his lips as he answers right back at you.
--
The next week, he tells Sam. Or better, he tells Sam and Jess since he found them together and hey, it wasn’t like he was gonna hide it from one or the other. She isn’t legally family just because people don’t get married these days, so yeah. He goes and tells the both of them.
It goes like this.
Dean sits in front of them, looking at the sleeve of his jacket like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Sam raises an eyebrow in Jess’ direction. She raises an eyebrow in his. They turn to look at him as they sit on the other side, obviously holding hands under the table around which they’re all sitting. Dean swallows and stares at the both of them; they look freaked out on his behalf. Well, he’s nervous as fuck here and he figures that Sam can’t remember the last time he was nervous in front of him. Jess probably never saw him nervous.
“I have, uh, something to tell you. Both. Whatever.”
“... okay,” Sam answers, still looking not exactly convinced.
“Sure,” Jess adds. “Hey, it’s nothing bad, right?”
“Bad? No. Not really. But. Uh. You might freak out. I’m freaked out myself.”
“That was blatant,” Sam answers. Now he’s rolling his eyes. Typical Sam bitchface. Dean is at least thankful that Sam is still able to do that, even if it’s highly annoying.
“Shut the fuck up. Well. It’s. It’s that...” Dean doesn’t know why he’s behaving like a thirteen year old girl bringing her first boyfriend to meet her parents. Jesus. Especially because Sam is so not his dad, but well, he’s the only family he has left and well. He’s technically talking about his first... no. Not going there. Not fucking ever. Yeah.
“Oh, whatever. It’s, uh, me and Cas.”
“What’s with him, he’s moving out?” Sam asks, suddenly looking worried. Jess looks worried too. What?.
“No! Far from that. Er. Me and Cas, we... we’re... together.”
There. Said it. Wasn’t too hard. Now the only problem is the reaction. Sam just keeps on staring at him.
“You mean together as in... together together?”
“I mean together as in together together, yes.”
“And this, since when?” Jess asks, suddenly looking very smug. Dean isn’t liking this.
“Is that important?” he answers, not exactly getting the point.
“It’s very important,” she says, and her tone doesn’t suggest otherwise.
“Uh. Last month, more or less? It was the end of August. What does this...”
“I knew it!” Jess shouts beaming, while Sam just looks resigned.
“Sammy, the fuck does this mean?”
“I owe her all my chocolate rations for a month now, dammit. I was sure you weren’t going to cave until January.”
“You had a bet going on?” Dean shouts, not knowing if he feels enraged or relieved.
“Yeah,” Jess answers, still unable to stop grinning. “We both agreed it was totally going to happen, but he was sure you were both going to wait until January because it’d have been a sort of anniversary and you both seemed like the type while I was sure you were totally going to be all over each other a lot before.”
“Since when is this going on?”
“Er,” Sam answers almost embarrassed, “since that time there was a free cabin and the both of you looked like you desperately needed an excuse for someone else to have it. That was pretty obvious. So, who was the first?”
“Him,” Dean answers, and then Sam chuckles and Dean glares at him again. “What now?”
“Sorry. I won this one. I mean, I was sure you would have never taken the first step. She said it was gonna be you, but...”
“Sam, seriously. You... do you have a problem with it? Because if you do...”
Sam stands up, comes at his side and grabs Dean’s elbow and looks at him like he’s a complete idiot. Also the fact that Sam is way taller than he is probably contributes to the fact that Dean is feeling pretty small at the moment.
“No, not really. Or well. Fine. Maybe betting on that for a while helped it, and the fact that you’re suddenly liking guys out of nowhere does freak me out, some, and if it had happened, I don’t know, last February, I would have been way more perplexed about this, but... well. It’s been a lot and I guess you had, er, time to get to know each other. Or something. And while he’s totally not the kind of person I figured you’d go for... Dean, he’s good for you. He really is.”
“... what?”
“Come on, you think I haven’t noticed? Since he’s been around he has managed to accomplish everything that stuff they prescribed you back then failed to accomplish. You’re getting some sleep, you haven’t had a mood swing in ages when before you were lucky if it was once every two months, I guess you haven’t taken much care of yourself as usual but I’m pretty sure he took care of you alright, after that stunt with Gordon you stopped going anywhere near suicidal...”
“Hey, I never...”
“Dean, shut up. You’ve been risking your neck since before the truce. Don’t try to say you haven’t.” Sam pauses and Dean notices that Jess left the room. Jesus, does this mean that now they’re heaving a freaking heart-to-heart?
“Anyway. Can I be honest with you?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Okay. Dean, since... since you had that... I can’t even find a word to express its idiocy... since you had to fucking enroll and since you came back... You’ve been a mess. All the time. I know you don’t need me to tell you, but I have to make my point. Actually, the only time when I was thinking you were starting to be more like yourself was when we set the camp up. Then I just realized that it was because you were still adjusted to the war mindset, but whatever. Isn’t the point. The point is that the last time I saw you being happy was before dad died. And don’t think that I haven’t seen you trying.”
He doesn’t exactly say what is it, but Dean gets it alright. Trying to be a sort-of-adjusted person, he figures. Or maybe settle down.
“And believe me, there isn’t anything you deserve more than someone that is good for you and that can make you happy. Sometimes I kind of felt bad for, well...”
“Are you an idiot? You know that...”
“Yeah, I know, but still. Now, I think that it’s pretty much evident that he’s good for you. Point is, does he make you happy?” Sam asks, looking at Dean like this is the most important conversation they’ll ever have. Maybe he has a point.
“Yes,” he answers without even thinking about it.
“Then I don’t care if he’s a man, a woman or whatever.”
Dean almost wants to cry. Dammit. He’s getting too soft. He shakes his head, biting his lip.
“Christ, Sam. This just... seems too good. Or too good at once. Things sucked for years and now I don’t even have to explain you why I suddenly like men?”
“Oh, give me a break. Like I give a damn about that. And, why can’t you just believe that good things do happen once in a while?”
“Jesus Christ, that’s what he fucking told me the second day.”
“Then he obviously knows better than you do.”
“Bitch, shut up.”
Dean knows what comes next. He doesn’t even fight it.
He lets Sam hug him for exactly twenty seconds (he hugs back for fifteen of said twenty seconds). Then he storms out of the door where he finds, unsurprisingly, Jess congratulating herself with Castiel. She sort of blushes and rushes back into the house. Castiel looks at Dean half-smiling and Dean sort of wants to kiss him right here and now.
“I take it went well?”
“Yeah. It went better than well.”
“That’s good,” Castiel answers, and he looks sincerely glad even if there’s a sort of sadness about him and well, of course there would be. At least Dean has some family with whom he can share the news. Well. It’s not like it won’t be common knowledge within two weeks. And since Chuck is just walking by... perfect occasion, he thinks.
He waits for Chuck to be in a position where he can see them, then he grabs Castiel’s hand and starts walking slowly and without a care towards their cabin. Jesus Christ, he’d have never done this a year ago, with anyone. He just doesn’t do this kinda thing anymore.
Or maybe he didn’t, since it seems like he’s doing it just fucking fine and Castiel is squeezing his hand back. He’s probably doing something right here. It feels good.
--
He catches Sam and Castiel talking one night. Or better, he’s about to open the cabin’s door when he hears Sam’s voice and he stops there. He knows he shouldn’t, but it’s too tempting.
“I just, don’t get me wrong here because I’m totally on board with it, but can I ask you a very blunt question?”
“Of course. It’s about Dean, right?”
“Yeah. It’s... just... for you I mean. Is it really... you know, serious? I wouldn’t want to...”
“Sam. Stop staring at the ground. It’s alright to ask that, really. In your position, I’d have done it too. Anyway, serious wouldn’t exactly make justice to what I feel for him but... yes, it is. Sam, I’m in love with him. I have been for months at this point. And while sometimes I just feel like it’s too much of a good thing and I can’t even fathom how it was that I was graced to have met him at all, I’m not going to pack and try my luck elsewhere. It’s not like I actually could, as much as I wish I could say otherwise, but that’s not the point. There’s... no other place I’d rather be.”
“Christ, I don’t think I’ve heard anyone say that about Dean in ages.”
There’s tangible relief in Sam’s voice though. Dean doesn’t know if he should feel enraged because Sam totally didn’t have the right or if he should feel touched.
“Believe me, in my case it’s literal. But it’s not because I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. He just... the idea of never meeting him makes me feel miserable. And he’s just, such a great person, and it pains me that he can’t even begin to see how much.”
“Jesus, I was losing hope to ever hear someone say that about him lately. I mean, I know, but that’s not about me. It just seemed like... whatever. Cas, really...”
Dean doesn’t hear the rest because he can’t allow Sam to find him outside if he decides he needs to get out. Most of anything, he has realized that there was something stinging in his eyes and when he’s far enough and reaches up to his face, his fingers are wet.
Fuck. He can’t remember the last time he...
Well. It was just a couple of tears. Nothing more. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt and takes five minutes to get a fucking grip. Thankfully no one saw him.
When he gets back to the cabin Sam is gone and if Castiel notices that there’s something grateful in the way Dean kisses him, he doesn’t mention it.
Part V
