Archive of Our Own

To put it mildly, Dean Winchester has had some stupid ideas throughout his lives.  This one, however, he was quite proud of.  It didn’t seem stupid at all.  He couldn’t think of a single repercussion.

All he had to do was lie.

Ever since Jack brought Castiel back from The Empty, the fully restored Seraph had been living with him, Sam and Eileen (the pair were only there part-time, other times electing to stay at    Eileen’s house) at the bunker.  Business as usual.  They’d done the occasional hunt, and although the frequency of monster activity had dwindled as of late, Dean wasn’t complaining.  Hell, Dean didn’t think anyone was complaining about that.  

Sure, Jack said he’d be hands-off, but the diminishing number of evil sons of bitches out there might say otherwise.  

The lack of hunts had given the foursome time to relax, watch movies, and make dinners where everybody sat down to eat (even Castiel would nibble here and there) without the looming threat of the next world-ending event.  

See?  Business as usual.

Except for the fact that Castiel told Dean he loved him right before he got sucked away into gooey dark nothing.  Yes, except for that.

And now Castiel was back.

Once Sam and Dean had defeated Chuck, the world went back to being normal (most importantly, populated), and Jack had assured the brothers that he would always be part of them, the two returned to the bunker only to find Castiel calmly sitting at the map table.

Maybe Jack was more hands-on after all. 

Throughout the course of way less than a week, Dean had thought he’d lost Castiel forever (again), not having five seconds to process that, much less time to process the fact that Castiel loved him and Dean hadn’t said anything back, to now, all of a sudden staring at the angel sitting primly in his trench coat.  

“You back for good this time?”  Dean asked once he’d descended the metal stairs, after a quick embrace with Castiel.

“Yes.  I am.”

“Alright,” Dean said as evenly as he could, willing the tears pricking his eyes not to come to further fruition.  He gave Castiel’s back a hearty slap as he made his way to the kitchen, “let’s have some beers, I think we’ve earned it.”

And that was all Dean had said about the return of Castiel.  Sam, of course, peppered him with questions over their celebratory beverages, but all Castiel could remember was one second he was protecting Dean from Billie, summoning The Empty, and the next thing he knew he was back at the bunker.  He didn’t wake like he did the last time he was in that realm and had no memory of it at all, but he said he could feel bits and pieces of Jack.  

Castiel prudently left out his love confession as he recounted the details he could to Sam.

Shortly thereafter, Sam got a text message from Eileen saying that she was fine, back like nothing had ever happened.

And that was that.  The four had been reunited roughly two months ago, and everything was back to business as usual.  

Well, business with more proximity than may seem safe or reasonable.  At least that was the goal.  So marginally closer than usual proximity would be where Dean let things begin.

To be clear, of course Dean loves Castiel.  He had no idea when that love began, but for him, it became clear during their time in Purgatory.   When Castiel had confessed his love, Dean did the only logical thing he could think of, which was clam the hell up and become effectively mute.  Even if Castiel hadn’t been taken by The Empty at that moment, Dean may still be mute right now, here in the present.  Dean may even still be in the same room, unmoving, possibly staring at a wall in the hopes it would give him encouragement on how to proceed.  

It was the simplest thing in the world, saying, “I love you,” back to the person who said it to you - especially when you felt that way too.  The problem was that Dean was still in the middle of an existential crisis, and things typically unfurled slower when in the midst of one.

Had Dean expected to fall in love with the dorky angel?  No.  Did Dean, after all his years of pining, ever think that Castiel would love him back?  No.  Was Dean gay?  No.  Dean wasn’t gay.  Over the years, he’d made peace (74%) with the fact he was bisexual, but he hadn’t felt the need to mention it to anyone.  It wasn’t like he was watching Dr. Sexy for the plot.  And when he allowed himself to be honest, Castiel was just hot - like stupidly fucking hot.  Ray Charles could see how hot Castiel was.  

The next layer of this existential crisis cake was the fact that Dean had never been with a man.  He rated this lower than the majority of his crises simply based on how hung up he was with Castiel and how gorgeous the man was, but if he let himself think about it too much, it would quickly rise to the top.  It was like an unrelenting evil see-saw - which he’d never had to fight before.  Was that just your simple salt and burn?  He didn’t know.

Yes, even though Castiel had told Dean that he loved him (though Dean hadn’t said it back), Dean was still scared shitless that he’d up and leave again.  But Castiel was happy, right?  The Empty wouldn’t have come unless Castiel had been truly happy, so maybe he wouldn’t leave.  

There were many instances of proof over the years that Castiel would leave.  Sure, he had his reasons, but Dean couldn’t have him leave again.  He truly believed he wouldn’t survive the next occasion the angel vanished without a goodbye.  Not this time.  And now that Castiel was powered back up to his original level of insanity, why the hell would he want to stay here anyway, love confession or not?  Happiness or not too, for that matter.  

Dean couldn’t say, “I love you,” out loud.  He knew how idiotic this was, and one day he hoped he’d be able to, but today simply was not that day.  When you’re dealing with someone who has more baggage and issues than Becky has Supernatural memorabilia, Dean felt as though he was allowed to take his time on this one.  He could start small.  And that’s exactly what he did.

The first thing Dean decided to do once everyone had gotten more or less settled (re-settled?) into the bunker was to let Castiel get as goddamn close to him as he wanted to.  Never again would Dean complain about personal space.  It took the angel roughly 0.040% of a day where he had reason to do so to realize this was acceptable.  They hadn’t all been back together for three full days yet when Dean chose to make lasagna.  It was a much longer process than simply making burgers, and he wanted the long, drawn-out meal to allow him time to linger in the kitchen. Clear his head, or fill it with thoughts to agonize over later. Sam was over at Eileen’s place (no shock there) so Dean figured he’d make a nice meal for everyone once the pair returned.

Either that, or he’d eat it all, then bake another pan.  He had options.

He barely had the noodles boiling when the object of his long desire walked into the kitchen.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, walking into the room clad in his usual suit and trench coat.  Jesus Christ, Dean had fallen in love with someone who dressed like an actuary.  At no point in time did any cover of Casa Erotica have a fucking actuary on it.

…. At no point in time did Casa Erotica have a dude on the cover either.  Well, maybe Gabriel’s cover did. 

“Heya Cas,” Dean replied, as he leaned back against the kitchen counter.  

Castiel joined Dean to his right, leaning in like fashion against the countertop, further away from the stove than Dean was, and inclined himself behind Dean to peer into the pot, causing Dean to lean a bit as well, but definitely not shy away from the contact.

“What are you making?” He asked, straightening up a bit but remaining every bit as nestled to Dean’s side.

“Lasagna.  Well, the start of it at least.  Figured whenever the hell Sammy and Eileen got home they’d probably be hungry, and this should last everyone for a few days.”

Turning slightly to his left, Castiel looked at Dean.  This close he could probably kiss his cheek if a light breeze were to hit him, but he kept a stationary resolve. Dean, on the other hand, was close to having a stroke.  Or a heart attack.  Or both.  

“Can I help?”

Castiel smelled like heaven.  Well, not HEAVEN-heaven, but Dean’s heaven.  Castiel smelled like the open road, right after a rainstorm pummeled it, and as soon as the sun shone on it, reflecting the images of dreams.   He was so close that Dean could have easily nuzzled his nose into Castiel’s royally unkempt hair, run his fingers through (or pulled…) the disheveled locks, which would hopefully increase the intoxicating scent.  Dean practiced restraint. He smelled like freedom, like an escape, a clean perfection that he wanted so much to not fuck up as he had done with everything else in his life.

Castiel smelled like home.

Him fucking this up was simply another layer on his seemingly never-ending crisis cake.  But he wasn’t even entertaining that thought now.  By the end of this Dean imagined he’d be a world-class baker of internal despair, self-hatred, second guesses, and the non-rising hope of a yeast any store in their right mind would refuse to sell.

“Yeah, absolutely - you got any idea how?”  Dean was unsure how he managed those words to come to pass audibly.  

“Well… no,” Castiel said with an air of fake reluctance, “but I feel quite confident you can show me.”  He then removed his trench coat and suit coat, draping them deftly against one of the kitchen chairs, and gave the sleeves of his white button-up a few rolls so as not to soil them.

Dean not only blue-screened at the visual, but the audio helped even less.  His composure was regained a few seconds later - a few seconds which should not have been necessary.

Castiel’s voice sounded like crushed gravel, but only after being soaked in whiskey by a chain-smoker, who absolutely deserved to do a podcast for the entire history of Casa Erotica.  Dean decided he would take every ounce of this entire endeavor as an excuse to touch the inhuman being he couldn’t bring himself to speak to honestly.  

Besides, don’t actions speak louder than words?  Who said that?  Who started that concept?  Somebody a hell of a lot smarter than Dean.  

After Dean drained the noodles and coated the lasagna pan with oil, he guided Castiel’s hands with his own for each noodle that was placed to be cooked.  The only words spoken were, “yeah… like this,” by Dean, at the beginning.  

The concept was easy enough that a mentally challenged chimpanzee could have emulated it, but Castiel let his hands be guided by Dean’s every single time.  The same went for each level of the sauce, meat, or cheese until the dish was done.

“How long do we bake this?” Castiel asked as he wiped his hands free of the mess on an old, threadbare kitchen towel.

Dean had temporarily forgotten what an oven was, or its purpose, but when he returned to himself he answered, “an hour - maybe an hour.  Or forty-five minutes,” he said while rubbing a hand at the back of his neck.  “Or ninety?  He shrugged.   “I don’t think it’s three hours.  Not overnight.  But probably an hour to start with.”

Castiel gave a slight tilt of his head in typical confusion, only moderately squinting his unnaturally blue eyes, apparently lost in how to properly cook lasagna.

It was then that Dean remembered to preheat the oven.  

***

Movie nights seemed to go similarly.  The Dean Cave had been furnished with two spacious sofas. They could easily seat three people apiece.   When Sam and Eileen were there, which was often - they did try to be there for movie nights - Castiel did seem to not sit as close to Dean, although it was far from a respectable amount of space if it were simply two best buds hanging out.  Even though Sam and Eileen were cuddled up as closely as possible, Castiel might have left three-quarters of an inch between himself and Dean.  

At most.  

Blessedly, neither Sam nor Eileen ever mentioned anything to Dean.  Hell, as far as they knew, it was just Castiel being Castiel and disregarding all societal norms.  Maybe Sam and Eileen didn’t even notice because at that point it was par for the course for Castiel to pay attention to absolutely no social cues given off by the people around him.

More to their credit, they never spoke of how close Castiel would get to Dean in any other situation when the two were in the same room, or more specifically when they were all researching lore or further warding on various occasions.  Castiel would purposefully move his chair to be as close to Dean as possible while they were nose deep in hundred-year-old books.  And to Dean’s credit, no matter who else was present in the light of day, he held to his new personal rule of, “the angel can get as close to me as he damn well pleases.”

One night, Sam was over at Eileen’s, and the last time Dean had seen Castiel he was somewhere in the bowels of the bunker cataloging Jack knows what sort of artifact - but yeah, let the badass angel do it, not any of the puny humans.

Dean hadn’t seen him in a couple of hours so he decided to put on The Treasure of the Sierra Madre .  

He hadn’t made it ten minutes in when Castiel sat down beside him, sans trench coat and suit coat, with his sleeves rolled up almost to the elbow.

Dean had never in his life considered forearms sexy, but after the lasagna incident where he completely forgot how to properly operate a stove, yes - Dean now found forearms sexy.  And Castiel was doing it again.  

“What are we watching, Dean?”  He asked as he gently stretched, then leaned back against the couch.  Well, most of the couch, partly against Dean’s left side.  Dean, being against the right arm of the sofa, had nowhere to go, and couldn’t exactly say that he minded.  

“We’re watching a western, Cas.”  Since Dean didn’t want to seem as though he were trying to get away from Castiel, or was uncomfortable, he let himself lean against his movie companion just a bit.

“I don’t know this one,” Castiel said.

Seriously?  Metatron literally downloaded all of the histories of movies and books into Castiel’s head.  Did he skip a film from 1948?  Well…. Castiel had died since receiving all of that knowledge, and now he was back.  But he certainly didn’t forget who Dean was.  Or, he knew exactly what he was watching and just decided he’d be the little shitbird he was.  Whatever, Dean could play along.

“ Treasure of the Sierra Madre , total classic, you’re gonna love it.”

About half an hour into the film, Castiel casually draped his hand on the inside of Dean’s knee.  Nothing gropey or over the top, just a slight placement.  Dean knew Castiel had heard the sharp intake of his breath.  It was unmistakable.  People on the International Space Station had heard it and were laughing too.  

Why did the damn angel have to smell so good?  What would it feel like if Dean ran his fingers over his stubble?  Dean took a deep breath, shoving the thoughts down harder than a lineman hits a tackling dummy.

Castiel acknowledged nothing and continued to watch the film, absentmindedly stroking his fingers along Dean’s knee on occasion.

Dean simply berated himself.  Right now it would be so easy to place his hand over the top of the ignorant Western watcher beside him, he could tell him he loved him, ask him to stay, he would literally do anything for this man, but he couldn’t.  He simply couldn’t voice the words.

Because Dean was the biggest chickenshit on the face of the planet - the ISS guys were still laughing.

John Winchester had certainly done him no favors growing up.  Dean was expected to show no emotion, and be the manliest man who ever manned in the face of men.  Women were to be loved and left, there was no place for a relationship or even a ten-minute attachment.  

The one time John had caught Dean sitting just a little too close to Lee Webb, John had told Lee it was time to go home, and once he and his son were alone, he proceeded to slap the shit out of Dean until he knew for all his life that being that close to a man wouldn’t be tolerated.

Dean had a lot of issues, none of which were close to being resolved.  

As soon as the movie ended, Dean told his companion he was going to bed.  It was only at that time that Castiel removed his hand and wished him good night. 

Lying in his bed, Dean told himself that tomorrow was the day.  He’d been formulating this plan for a while now, and it was going to work.  It had to work.  Since apparently Dean had trouble properly executing the English language most of the time, it was a no-brainer.  

10:48 p.m.  Sam: Hey, me and Eileen are going for a drive tomorrow - to somewhere. Then probably somewhere else.  News is dead, no hunts.  We’ll be in touch.

10:49 p.m.  Dean: Jack knows you deserve it.  Have a blast.

Text messages had never had such perfect timing.  

Operation: Lie Your Ass Off For The Greater Good would commence in the morning.

***

It wasn’t like Dean had to set an alarm to get up early.  He’d fallen asleep a little bit after 11:00, so waking up at 4:27 in the morning?  That was like an extra hour of sleep for him!  He was doing great.  

But he couldn’t let on he was doing amazingly, absolutely not.  He had to be the human embodiment of despair and hopelessness if this plan was going to work.

And it was.  He fucked up his hair to a degree that would challenge even Castiel’s, and rubbed his eyes a lot to make them red.  He was proud of his start.  

He purposely made way too much noise preparing the coffee, then sat at the little kitchen table and told himself to appear dejected, lost, and terribly sleep deprived.  He propped his elbows on the table and lowered his head into his hands.  That’d sell it.  It didn’t take long.

“Dean, are you okay?”

Dean pulled his head out of his hands and looked up to see Castiel wearing goddamn other clothes.  He was doing this from time to time, because Dean (oh did he regret this now) told the angel to take a load off, get out of his damn actuary uniform and relax.  

Right now Castiel was leaning against the door frame in a pair of entirely too thin gray sleep pants, and a t-shirt that appeared to have some orange juice logo on it from the 1960s if he had to guess.  Guy probably found it at a thrift store, he had a fondness for them.

“Not really,” Dean said.  That was true for both the lie and for his elevated heart rate, thanks to Castiel looking like the embodiment of walking sex.  He took a sip of his steaming black coffee and stared at the wall.  Walking Sex had a seat opposite him.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing Cas, don’t worry about it,” Dean answered to the wall.  He had to drag this out a little bit.  He couldn’t lay all his cards out.  Dean Winchester did not talk about his feelings, so if he were to do so straight out of the gate, there may be questions.

“I will worry about it, something is bothering you,” Castiel said, sitting straight with perfect posture.  “Tell me.”

“Maybe I just brewed the coffee wrong.  Probably grabbed a mug I didn’t want.”

“Dean… tell me,” he rumbled gently.

“I’m fine Cas, we’re aces,” Dean responded to the bitter brew below him.

“Where is Sam?  Would you prefer it if I went to get your brother?”

“Sammy ain’t here.  He and Eileen hit the road, probably won’t be back for a while.”

Castiel reached across the table and gently placed his hand on top of Dean’s.  “Well, then it’s just me.  Something is troubling you. Let me help you.”

Son of a bitch Dean looked up.  He looked up into Castiel’s eyes.  Did he have the courage to tell the truth then?  He thought about it.  He really did.  But being brave evaded him.  His hesitation only served to further sell the lie.

“It’s Michael, Cas,” Dean said with venom, “Apocalypse World Michael.”  He yanked his hand back from the angel, sitting stiffly against his chair as he clutched his coffee to his chest, and immediately felt regret for brashly cutting off physical contact, but this had to be sold.  Dean had to win at least four Oscars for this performance if it was going to go the way he wanted it to.

If Dean was being honest with himself, out of all the shit that had happened to him throughout his lives, Michael may have ranked a 3.7.  But for this to work, Michael had to be at the top of the worst things ever.

“He’s dead.  He’s gone.  He can’t hurt anyone,” he said slowly.

“You think I don’t know that?!  I saw it happen for fuck’s sake,” Dean spat out.

“Then what is it Dean, tell me.”

Dean paused for a long time, no longer ramrod straight in the chair, but now hunched over towards the floor, staring at a spot he reminded himself to clean later.  He did pride himself on keeping a clean bunker.

I’d like to thank the Academy………

“It’s the nightmares.  He’s still there,” he scoffed.  “You’d think after all the shit I’ve been through that this would’ve been the least of all of it, but no man,” Dean ran his hand over his face, setting the cup back onto the table, “it’s Michael.  It was the feeling of drowning.  Of not being in control, seeing nothing…  And there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it.”  He let out a sigh and chose the ceiling to stare at instead of the floor, constantly reminding himself to not appear comfortable.  To move.  To shuffle.  To seem agitated about life.  

“Dean….”  Castiel joined him in staring at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes fell back to the hunter.  

“Possession is never easy.  You know I let Lucifer take me, thinking it would be for the best.  And I too got fooled.  It was a very unpleasant experie—”

“Unpleasant experience!”  Dean barked.  “Yeah Cas, it was a really fucking unpleasant experience.  So we both got fucked.  We both have to live with these horrible memories of being used and manipulated against our wills.”  

Dean shot up out of his seat and began to pace the kitchen.  It was actually kind of for real.  How in the hell had he gotten so lucky?  

Don’t smile don’t smile don’t smile don’t smile don’t smile don’t smile and if you do keep your back to Castiel.

Things like this don’t happen to Dean Winchester.  It was way too perfect. He couldn’t believe it.  

“If there was anything I could do to lessen the fear and anger you are feeling, I would,” Castiel said behind him.

And it just got more perfect.  Of course, Castiel hated his time being possessed by Lucifer.  Dean was about to kill two birds with one stone.

Dean continued to pace for a bit, he’d only won two Oscars, and he was going for four.  Eventually, he sat back down across from Castiel.

“Our World’s Michael, the one who possessed Adam…. They were somehow okay with each other, yeah?  Seemed it to me at least.”

Castiel emitted a faint humming noise as he thought.

“Yes, I suppose they did.  They only had one another.  They seemed to come to an understanding, a sort of symbiosis if you will.”

Dean slapped his elbows back on the table and rested his hands on his head again.  He spoke to the table.  

“Did you really mean it Cas, when you said you’d do anything to help me out?”

“You know I did that’s not even a question,” he bit out, his voice sounding much lower than usual.

“Then possess me,” Dean said as he removed his head from his hands and laser-focused his gaze on the man in front of him.  “Possess me.”

Castiel stared at him for a long time, and Dean just let him.  He kept his eyes a bit wild and pleading, but gave him all the time he needed.  Third Oscar?

“You cannot be serious right now,” Castiel said after a few beats.

“The hell I’m not!”  Dean laughed, slapping his hands on the table and then hurling them into the air completely for dramatic effect.  “C’mon Cas, we both have shit memories, awful, terrible, fucked up memories of our possessions.  Adam and Michael made it work.  That means it’s not impossible.”

“You would never allow this, not after everything you went through.”

For this, Dean built up every last ounce of resolve he had.  The lie, the truth, the entirety, the love – and he poured it out for all it was worth.  

“Castiel, Angel of the Lord, I give you full consent to possess me.  If you need anything else, the answer is, ‘yes,’ and I’ll sign any documents you need me to, or whatever….” Dean said as he grasped onto Castiel’s hands like they were a lifeline.

“You know I trust you with my life, so why not?  Maybe it’ll make us both feel a little better. Please, Cas.”  

Dean hoped the last part would be the fourth Oscar.  He stared into Castiel’s blue abyss eyes and poured all of the pleadings across that he could, only squeezing his hands tighter.  Dean was not one to beg, but at this point, he was getting pretty damn close and wouldn’t feel even a little bit ashamed.  

Dean had his hands formed as if they were both papers winning over Castiel’s rocks.  Slowly, the future possessor flexed his hands a bit and rotated them so that he was able to interlace his fingers with his possessee, never letting his gaze drop from the other man’s eyes.

“Okay, Dean.  Okay,” Castiel said soothingly with a squeeze of both hands, “I will possess you if that is what you truly want.  We should probably go to my room.”

Dean could only nod in the affirmative.  

Castiel let go of one hand but kept the remaining one clasped to Dean’s, leading him out of the kitchen and into his room.  

For his part, Dean managed to act relatively human and shove the white noise in his brain down from a twelve to a three, internally gleeful to be guided forward by the man he loved.  

He’d pulled it off, he’d done it.  

***

Castiel sat on the bed and motioned for Dean to sit in the chair.  

“Before I do this, do you have any questions or ground rules?”  Castiel asked.

“Uhh…” Dean mumbled sitting down, “could you avoid reading my mind?”

“Of course Dean, what else?”  Castiel said it evenly and with so much patience and understanding, it made Dean’s heart melt a little bit.

If Castiel were to read Dean’s mind, he’d know everything immediately.  Sure, this ruse would be a lot easier if Dean could just come out and tell the angel he loved him, but Dean was an idiot and a coward.  Besides, he’d like to keep Castiel close to him for a while as well, to feel comfortable in the fact he wouldn’t be going anywhere and would just be with him.  Mind reading could come later, but not immediately.  Dean really wanted to enjoy this.

Dean shrugged, “that’s it.”

“Pardon me?”  His usual even calmness waivered a bit.

“That’s it man, all I got.  Past that, make yourself at home.”

Castiel looked at Dean a bit poleaxed, but laid down on the bed despite his confusion.  “Come here Dean, sit beside me.”

Dean was going to hyperventilate, but to hell with it, Castiel could fix him later so it wasn’t that big of a deal.  He made his way to the bed and sat down.

“Last chance to back out,” Castiel said, taking Dean’s hand.  He didn’t say it with much sincerity as he stared into green eyes that had made their decision long ago, and Dean hoped he was already kind of on board with it.

“No way in hell Cas, light me up.”  Dean squeezed Castiel’s hand until the angel released their grasp, reaching up until he gently cupped Dean’s face.

“Lean towards me and shut your eyes,” Castiel ordered in a tone that held no alternatives.

Dean hoped and prayed that his sharp intake of breath at the commanding directive didn’t dissuade Castiel from what he was going to do. Dean would bend and fall to his knees at the timbre the Soldier of Heaven used, he would literally do anything the angel asked.  He knew he was weak for how assertive Castiel was and he couldn’t even find it in himself to question or care.  He wanted it, and a part of him already accepted that the Seraph knew it too.  

Unsurprisingly, Dean obeyed.

Even with his eyes closed, Dean could easily tell the room was being ignited by Castiel’s grace.  Dean felt the hand that had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition settle back into its rightful place onto his shoulder where the precious scar remained, albeit slightly faded, a feather-light touch on his lips from the soft pair belonging to the man in front of him, and gently gasped.  It wasn’t exactly a kiss, just a momentary reminder that Castiel was about to possess him, best Dean could guess.  He felt the cool rush of grace enter him, and it felt nothing like when Michael had possessed him.  It was kind, slow, and searching.  Even a bit hesitant.  

Dean could feel Castiel’s hand slip from that blessed permanent imprint and heard him lie back down on the bed.  When Dean opened his eyes, Castiel appeared like he was simply sleeping, nothing more, nothing less.

“Cas…..” Dean couldn’t feel anything inside of him, no zips or zaps or tingles.  “Cas,” he said again a bit louder, reaching down to cup his face, but he got no response as he let his hand slide down to the shoulder, squeezing it slightly.  Had it even worked?  If Dean could house Michael he could surely house Castiel.  No offense to the vastly superior Seraph versus the asshat of an Archangel, in Dean’s opinion.  

“CAS!”  Dean became moderately panicked at this point.  Standing up like he’d been shot out of a canon, he began frantically patting his chest trying to feel or wake the angel, even though he knew that was pointless.

Hello, Dean.

“Son of a bitch, Cas!  Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!  Are you okay?”  The familiar purr of Castiel’s deep voice inside his head nearly brought him to tears.

Yes, I’m fine.

Dean sat on the bed, head in his hands and trying to normalize his breath as the relief washed over him.

“Are you sure you’re fine?  You seem… well, small.  Barely-there and far away. I don’t know what you seem like actually.  I can’t even feel you.”

I assure you, I’m here Dean.  Castiel sounded sheepish almost.

Dean chuckled a little, “are you holding back on me?”

Perhaps.  I don’t wish to be overly invasive.  

“No… no way man, that wasn’t the deal!  I said to make yourself at home, so damnit Cas, you stretch the fuck out, do you hear me?  Grab all the space you need, capiche?”

Are you sure?

“Yes!  Do it!”  Dean shouted this as he stood, looking at Castiel’s body, which was still a bit weird since nobody was home, but he felt as though he got his point across.

And Castiel did.  It felt as though cool water coursed throughout his entire body, leaving pulses of static electricity in its wake, then going from cool to warm.  He felt assurances and promises, comfort and strength.  He felt as though he was growing to be the size of the Chrysler Building with all of the resolve and stability that rushed through him.  

“Holy shit!”  Dean barely managed to get out as he caught his breath.  “Cas….” he steadied himself a bit, hands placed on the nearest wall he could find, “yeah.  Okay.  That’s more like it.”  He could definitely feel Castiel now, the power and confidence surged through him, as did the love.

Are you alright?  Castiel sounded much stronger inside him now.  Closer.  Self-assured.  

“I feel like I could run twelve marathons, what the hell did you just do?”

I simply did what you said.  Stretched out a bit.  You are, of course, in full control of everything, I merely made myself at home.   Damn, he sounded smug.

Dean smiled and shook his head.  He turned back around to look at Castiel’s body one more time, not even realizing he was walking towards it until he was sitting on the bed again, gently positioning the other man’s hands to rest over his stomach.  He grabbed some of the blankets on the further side near the wall and gently draped them over the resting figure in front of him.

Dean, my body won’t get cold.  Castiel said this warmly.

“Shut up, I know that,” he said, still arranging the dusty rose-colored blanket, smoothing down the lines.  He let his hand come to rest on Castiel’s chest.  “So, uh…. How long can your body stay like this?  I mean, how much time do we have, well - ‘together’ like this?”  He hoped that didn’t come out as pathetically as it sounded.

I left some grace inside my body.  It isn’t much, but it doesn’t need to be.  It could keep my body in stasis like that for… years, I suppose.   So tell me, Dean, truly.  How do you feel?

“Are you kidding me?!  I’m walking around with an angel inside me that’s not tryin’ to kill me - Cas this is awesome!  I feel great, let’s go do something.”

Dean was almost about to flip the light off and close the door when he thought better of it.  He walked back to Castiel’s ancient writing desk and grabbed a pen, angling the legal pad towards him.  Once he wrote down what he needed to, he carefully set it on top of Castiel’s chest and patted it a couple of times for good measure.

I AM NOT DEAD.  TAKING A VACATION - POSSESSION STYLE!  IT WAS CONSENSUAL.  IF YOU NEED ME CALL DEAN.

You can’t be serious.

“Of course I’m serious, besides, that’s hilarious,” Dean said, now feeling much better about flipping the light out and closing the door.

So you mean to tell me that you wouldn’t be bothered if Sam or Eileen were to find out?

“Hell no!  Now, c’mon Cas, what are we doing today?”

Between the long, drawn-out talk in the kitchen, and getting used to their new arrangement, the hours of the early morning had gone by in a flash as it was nearing noon at this point.  Dean was walking around the map room with no real direction or plan, swinging his arms and stretching his legs, feeling as though he’d been given a new body, or possibly a new lease on life.

Well, I was going to go through the herbs and reagents needed for spells and warding.  Granted, we seem to be needing them less and less, but I do not wish to be caught unprepared.  

“Sounds good to me, take the wheel,” Dean said happily, clapping his hands together a few times.

You mean…. Castiel drifted off, not finishing his sentence.

“Yes Cas, I mean take over.  I don’t know what’s down there, I don’t know what we need, and I’d probably summon Cthulhu if I knocked one bottle into another.  This is your specialty.  So c’mon, let’s go, take me over.  I’ll be the annoying guy riding shotgun.”  Dean found it nearly impossible to keep the excitement out of his voice so he didn’t even try.  

Very well. 

Dean would be lying if he said he felt zero percent hesitation about the takeover.  Michael really had done a number on him, but this wasn’t about Michael.  This was about Dean being a moron who couldn’t tell the man he loved that he loved him - out loud, anyway.  

Instead of being forcibly shoved in a flooded trunk with the lid slammed shut on him, Dean simply felt as though he was slowly slipping into warm water, with all the care and gentleness that could be afforded to him.  Michael had kept him literally in the dark, Dean couldn’t see anything most of the time, but this time his vision remained perfect, never faltering, not even blinking.  His watery transition was almost instantaneous, though it was so relaxing it felt much longer.  One second he was in control of his body, and the next he wasn’t, no fear, no drowning, no claustrophobia, only comfort.

Castiel began walking through the bunker’s hallways and staircases until arriving at the huge room that housed various herbs, reagents, and anything else anyone could ever think of that might be required of a spell or a ward.

Holy shit I can’t even believe this is happening.  This is amazing.  I’m not even doing anything!  Wait - can you hear me?  I can hear me, I think.  Am I in your head now?  Wait - it’s my head.  No… it’s OUR head.  I’m walking and I’m not walking!  Cas pick up that bottle!  I want to pick something up without picking anything up!

Castiel chuckled, “which bottle would you like to not pick up?”

The one with the wormwood!  Dude, you sound like me!

“Of course I sound like you, I’m currently possessing you.”  Castiel did as Dean requested.

I can see everything!  I didn’t pick up that bottle!  I didn’t see much of anything with Michael.  I was basically just in darkness.  Until he built the bar in my head to keep me docile, but before that, all I did was scream into blackness.  Dean was a bit shocked at the honesty that seeped out of him.

“Dean…” Castiel said softly, replacing the wormwood where he’d found it.  “I give you my word I would never do anything like that to you.  I truly cannot even believe you’re allowing me this.”  He was silent for a moment, walking to the far end of the room where he gathered a pad of paper and a pen.  

“When I possessed Jimmy,” he began after a while, “it’s not like I had conversations with the man.  Yes, he was very devout and gave his full consent, but I was a robot back then.  I took his consent and kept him at peace. I’m quite happy about the fact this is now my body, my permanent body, and that Jimmy is free, but this,” he said while writing down a current amount for the Rose Hips they had on hand, “for this I want you constantly here.  I don’t want you in a dream state, I want you with me, at my side seeing everything I see.”

Well, I think it’d be real hard to get rid of me at the moment since you’re the one in charge and neither of us wanna go anywhere. Dean chuckled a bit - or at least he thought he did.  It sounded like he did.

Let’s just hang out and catalog herbs and… the fuck - is that Incubus Blood???

“Yes Dean, it’s used in some of the lesser-known summoning spells.

Gross Cas, that’s gross.

Maybe an hour went by.  Five hours might have gone by.  Dean didn’t know and he didn’t care either.  He was warm and cradled within a body that was his own, but that he was far from in control of, and he couldn’t find it in him to care at all.  He was more relaxed than he’d been in years.  

Hey Cas?  Can we feel….. Each other’s emotions?  I know I said no mind reading, and I know you shut that one down - but… emotions?  Can I feel yours?

Castiel smiled and hummed to himself as he sat down one jar and picked up another one.  “I gave you my word that I wouldn’t read your thoughts, and I held to that.  Now, I can pick up on your emotions, and you mine, and I knew that going into this.  Fleeting emotions can be a bit harder to pick up on, depending on the severity.   But Dean, I promise you, I didn’t fail to mention it to trick you, I would never do that.  It’s just that…” he noted an herb amount on his paper and sat it down, giving Dean his full attention. 

“Dean, this kind of perception, to the very best of my knowledge, may take months.  Or even years.  It’s barely been over three hours.  If I had even had the slightest inkling this would happen so soon I would have told you.  Please, know that I was not trying to deceive you because I would ne—-”

Cas, c’mon.  Dean didn’t even feel bad about the interruption.  You’ve told me more than once we share a ‘profound bond’ - if it was ever gonna happen to two people this fast, it’d be us.  Besides, I was just wondering.  I’m pretty good right now, but I felt another good.  A ‘not me’ good.  So if it ain’t me, it’s you.  And I think you feel happy.  I don’t know.  I was just askin’......I can’t even explain it and I thought I’d sound crazy to bring it up.  But since you pretty much confirmed it, at least I know I’m not going insane.

“No Dean, you are not going insane.  I am very happy right now, and you,” he said slowly with a bit of mirth to his voice, “you seem quite content to me.  Incredibly relaxed.  You haven’t been in control for hours and yet you don’t seem to mind at all,” he finished, picking up the next container.

Yeah, Cas.  I’m good.  I’m real good.  You could go through this whole fucking room and I don’t think I’d give a rat's ass.  I’d just stay cuddled up where I am and watch you do it.

Holy shit Dean had used the word “cuddled.”  If it were possible in his current state to facepalm himself, he would.  But he couldn’t.  He simply pushed the embarrassment down and hoped Castiel didn’t notice.  Although as Dean was quickly finding out, it was miles easier to “talk” to the angel this way, honesty just seemed to pour out of him.  

Castiel seemed to ignore Dean’s quick infusion of embarrassment and then frowned at his latest jar of whatever.

What’s that?

“Drosera Peruensis.”

I’ll give you five dollars for English.

“It’s a carnivorous plant originally native to Peru.  It can be found in a few other locations, but Peru is the easiest place to get it.   It’s used in a variety of cleansing spells.”

Well, it looks like we have none left.

“That is correct,” Castiel agreed, noting the paper and setting the mostly empty jar back on the shelf.  

You’re back up to full power yeah?  I mean Jack did you a solid and set you back to when I first met you?  Full-on badass Seraphim, yeah?

“Yes,” Castiel said reluctantly.

So just go get some more.

“Dean…” Castiel rubbed the bridge of his nose in an entirely too human display of frustration, “I would.  Typically.  But I’m not in my body.  I’m in yours.  You didn’t sign up for this.  I do not wish to use you as I would any other vessel, I can’t think of you like that - I won’t.”

I absolutely signed the fuck up for this!  I asked for it and I consented.  Use me.  Dean meant that so very much.

“I… I know it won’t harm you.  You were strong enough to be Michael’s Sword, you can house me.  You can travel as any angel, or any archangel can.  I feel as though it would be wrong to just fly you where I need to be on a whim.”

Tell ya what, Cas.  If you don’t take us to Peru, here’s what’s going to happen.  First of all, I’m going to regain FULL CONTROL of my own body WITHOUT expelling you, you’re stuck with me for a while because I like this and I’m not giving you up.  

Dear lord had he actually said that?  Of course he had said that.  The best course of action now was to continue with his rant and toss out empty threats.

Do I know how to do that?  Hell no of course I don’t, but I’ll do it.  Then, after I get control back, I’ll fly our asses to Peru.  I have even less of an idea how to do that, but fuck it, it took us three hours to feel each other’s emotions, so you really wanna take bets on how long it’ll take me to fly to South America?  This is a battle you don’t want any part of Cas, because I’ll do it too.  Wait until I get control.  I mean seriously, what’s the wor—--

Dean had never experienced flight, or teleportation when being used by Michael.  He had been essentially blind.  This time, he saw colors.  Shapes?  No, he didn’t think they were shapes.  But they were definitely colors.  Landscapes?  No, there wasn’t time to focus on them. Or maybe?  He wasn’t entirely sure.  It was like someone took a kaleidoscope and hurled it into a centrifuge then strapped it to a rocket.  He could only process what felt like a second anyway.

“Welcome to Peru,” Castiel said resolutely as he walked them across a dry and scrub-filled desert landscape marked with jagged rock outcroppings.

HA!  I win!!!!

“Actually, I win.  Had you somehow gotten control back - which I will happily teach you and encourage you to practice later - you would have either flown us to the bottom of the ocean, a part of Guam… or the moon.  This outcome was safer for both of us.”

Dean enjoyed walking through the unfamiliar terrain for a while as Castiel looked around for a bright pink carnivorous flower.  Castiel held his eyes to the horizon and the scene in front of him as much as he could for Dean’s benefit but kept alert for his plant on the ground. 

“There, that should be enough for a while,” he said as he pulled up what he needed, his hand hovering over the empty hole he’d left in the earth.

Dude, are you regrowing the plant?!

“Of course I am.  It would be rude not to.”

Once Castiel was satisfied with his repopulation, the morphed pair returned home.

***

Castiel carefully hung the plants upside-down to dry from the ceiling of the spell room, through Dean’s body.  Once he felt that they were in a good enough position, he slowly began to exit.

“I think it’s time you had lunch. Actually, it’s probably closer to dinner now.  I have spent entirely too many hours controlling you.  I know that you will be hungry.”

Gimme a break, Cas.  You know I won’t have to eat!  I’m a friggin’ angel right now!  

Castiel sighed as a small smile appeared on their face.  “Yes, you are correct.  If that were the way you wanted this to go, you would not have to eat.  But Dean, I will not take that away from you, not when you are in charge.  You love to cook and enjoy food.  It is time that I return you to ‘the driver’s seat,’ as you would say.”  And of course, he made air quotes with their body.

Well alright, I’m sold.  But what about you?  You say that I can still enjoy the food and I don’t doubt that, but will you still taste nothing but molecules or what?

“If you permit me, I can enjoy the taste and texture via your sensations.”

Then enjoy away!  I told you already, we’re in this together. 

“Thank you, Dean, I would like that.”

On the way out of the herb room, Castiel seemed as if he was going to walk into a wall but began to slow the closer he got.

“Dean, I’m going to position you to face this wall.  Well, mostly the door frame.”  He took their right hand about chest high and placed it on the wall, their left hand he had to grip the door frame.  “My transition of control back to you should be easy enough, but still, I’d like to make it as comfortable as possible until you get fully used to it.  I want to make sure that you can steady yourself if need be.  Should you become light-headed, I would like for you to have something to hold on to.  There are times the feelings can be intense so just grip this tightly if it becomes too much,” he instructed with the faintest air of sensuality in his voice, making their left hand squeeze the door frame a bit harder than was necessary.

Jesus CHRIST Cas!  Do you even hear yourself?  Are you actually aware of the words coming out of your mouth?

Dean Winchester was apparently scheduled to die partially between a door frame leading to a room with dried herbs.  This was his fate.  He wondered if he had time to accurately describe what he’d like on his tombstone while entirely inappropriate fantasies filled his mind….

“I know exactly what I’m saying, and technically, for what it’s worth, I believe it’s your mouth, but I am not opposed to sharing it.”

If those words had come out in Castiel’s voice rather than Dean’s voice, he would have one hundred percent been dead.  No coming back from that.  He only had about two seconds to rationalize this thought before Castiel gave up his control and returned it fully to Dean.  

Dean knew for a fact he hadn’t died this much in one day since a very specific Tuesday in 2008. 

The transition was fast this time, not like the first time Castiel had possessed him.  Dean stumbled a bit and was grateful he’d been given something to lean against.

“Damn Cas, that was a pretty good idea,” he said, straightening out as he made their way to the kitchen.

Which one would that be?  Me gently pushing you into a door frame?  Yes, I’ll agree with you on that.  Now, let’s go make lunch.

Dean wondered if Castiel could tell that his pulse was hovering around 150.  The angel had never been so bold and brash with his words, ever.  And now Dean could hear his voice again in his head and that wasn’t helping matters at all.  This fucking multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent had been holding back on him.  Well, so was Dean, and that was nobody’s fault but his own.  He’d just have to kick it up a notch - if he grew the balls for it.  And yeah, he could eat now that he was himself again.

Maybe this possession was just as brilliant of an idea as Dean had first thought it to be.  Castiel hadn't once dropped innuendos like this when he was in his body, but now?  Damn, Dean was looking forward to this.

***

Dean had decided to make them BLT’s, which Castiel said that he greatly enjoyed the texture of.  Once all of the dishes were washed and put away, Dean headed towards the Dean Cave.

“Why am I tired?”

Dean.  I could give you the full experience of being a ‘vessel,’ but that is truly the last thing I wish to do to you.  I don’t want you to not experience normal human things during this time such as being tired or eating.  I won’t take that away from you unless you ask it of me, and then I will.  I want you to be as fully ‘you’ during this as you can.  

The way Castiel cared for Dean warmed his heart.  The angel would truly do anything for him, and Dean felt the same in return.  How had he gotten so lucky?  Dean smiled without saying anything, and he was grateful that Castiel chose not to comment on what he could most certainly feel.

“Alright then let’s go watch a movie.  You can pick.”

***

Dean browsed the DVDs for a while until Castiel told him to stop, choosing Mannequin .  Dean said absolutely nothing about this as he sat down on the sofa getting settled.  It certainly wouldn’t have been Dean’s choice, but he said Castiel could pick, and pick he did.

“Hey, uh…” Dean began, the movie not even ten minutes in, “if you take control of me right now, will I lose the chill, relaxed feeling I have going on?”

Of course not.  I told you that I would let you retain as much of you as I can during this.

“Okay, then take over.”

There was silence as Dean stretched out.  Far too much silence for his liking, but he let it linger.  He didn’t feel an absence of Castiel exactly, he was still there, but he felt a slight emptiness.   Dean could wait him out.

Why do you want this?

“Because I do, okay?” He said eventually.    “Damnit Cas…” He rolled their head back onto the armrest of the couch.  “Makes me feel safe. Warm,” he said as he readjusted his shoulders again, not for the first or fourth time today.  “I just… do.”

Dean didn’t even know all the language, vocabulary, or reasoning he wanted it, all he knew was that he did.  More than anything.  A rush of comfort that was both warm and cool embraced him, as he lost track of his limbs and himself; the only things that remained were his consciousness and sense of ease.

“Better?”  Castiel asked.

Much.  Thanks.  

Castiel only readjusted them a bit as he got their body comfortable to his liking as the movie continued.

Dean started cracking up when, “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now,” began playing.  

“I don’t get it - is this scene supposed to be humorous?  It doesn’t seem humorous.”

No Cas, it’s not.  Hey, do you remember way back when Eve created all those hybrid monsters, and I named them Jefferson Starships?

“Yes.”

That’s the name of the band!  Dean was cackling.  I think they were just called ‘Starship’ at this point or something.  Some legal issue?  Shit, I can’t remember.  They sure as fuck weren’t Jefferson Airplane.  They were Jefferson Starship, and that’s who’s singing this song!

Dean’s laugh was infectious, and Castiel couldn't help but join in.  “I never understood why you gave them that name, other than your justification that they were, ‘horrible and hard to kill.’  Seeing as how I do not care for this particular song, and let’s say that they continued to make music after its release, I fully stand behind your decision to name the monsters Jefferson Starships.”

That only made Dean laugh more.  

***

Castiel returned control after the film, and Dean walked them slowly and sleepily back to his room, where he took off his shirt and jeans without even thinking.  All he knew was that he felt happiness and contentment - obviously from him, but from Castiel too.  Nothing else mattered past that.

After he brushed their teeth, he made their way underneath the sheet and blanket to get comfortable, and then Dean froze.  

“Oh man, I didn’t think this through.  I didn’t even think this through a little bit,” he said, chuckling a bit to himself as he placed the palms of their hands to their forehead.

As Dean continued to giggle to himself, he could feel the warmth of energy fade.

I thought that sleeping may be uncomfortable for you.  As much as I have enjoyed our time together, I take no offense to this, It was never my intention to-

“Cas wait what are you saying,’ Dean said, jerking their hands from his face, and slamming them down to the covers.

Dean, it's alright.  I don’t wish to make this awkward.  I’m perfectly fine to reinhabit my body and if you like, we can return to this arrangement in the morning.

Though much has happened throughout the day to make Dean’s breathing increase, this was by far the most rapid it had been.  This was an inhalation and exhalation born of fear.  He didn’t even realize he was sweating and grasping at the sheets loosely tossed on his chest.

I can see you are in distress.  I will leave.

“Castiel you son of a bitch!  Don’t you DARE un— unpossess me!” Dean yelled, holding his hands over his chest as if that would somehow stop the angel from vacating.  “I swear if you leave Cas, I’ll go into your room and beat the shit out of you, and I won’t even feel bad about it.  Don’t, Cas,” he said as his voice faltered, all the fight gone, the yell falling to a whisper, “please - don’t,” Dean said softly hugging himself.

Seconds or minutes passed until Dean finally felt a warm current of reassurance pass through him.

It seems I may have read the situation wrong.  I’m still here, I haven’t left.  You simply said that you hadn’t thought this through, and I surmised you didn’t wish for me to be here when you slept.  I apologize.  I should have asked what you meant first.  Dean, what did you mean?

Dean released a humorless chuckle laced with an almost imperceptible sob he did his best to hide.

“I meant I didn’t think it through for YOU, you jackass. I sleep, you don’t.  If I pass the fuck out what the hell are you supposed to do, huh?  Just lay here and be bored out of your mind? I’ve already given you full consent, yeah?”

Yes.

“Can you take back over once I’m asleep?  Like, take over and I stay asleep, and you go read or do whatever it is that you do so you aren’t bored to tears, staring at a wall while I’m out of it?”

I can Dean.  Or I can choose to sleep, much the same way I choose to eat.  I don’t have to do either, but if I wish to, I can.  Would it be alright with you if I, too…. Slept with you some nights?

“Yeah, that’d be more than fine.”  Something else he’d managed to say out loud.  Baby steps.  “But just to make it clear, I hadn’t thought it out for you - for how you’d feel, okay?  Not me - you.”  He began rubbing his chest again.

The pair rested together for quite some time, long enough Castiel thought that Dean might have finally fallen asleep.

I promise I will not leave until you ask me to.  Castiel said this softly, almost in a whisper.

“Then I’m never letting you go.  Well….” Dean yawned, rolling onto his side as he continued his half coherent mumbles, “I will when I want to touch you enough.  Or miss touching you.  I haven’t really done that.  I mean I have,” he said, grabbing some of the blankets and pulling them towards him in a haphazard fashion. 

“I’ve hugged you and hugs.  Or hugs.  I mean you’ve hugged me.  I hugged you!

Dean hugged himself and smiled.

“There have hugs.  Shoulda done that more.  Fuck you smell good do you know that?  Damnit I can’t smell now.  You…”  Dean snorted and laughed as he buried his face half in the pillow, his words nearly becoming unintelligible with the half-asleep state he was in.  ”Your hair is a mess.  I miss your hair.  Do you own a comb?  Wait, do you know what a comb is?  No don’t find out please don’t find out a comb that’d suck.  Your hair is so fucked up.  I love it.  I should put my fingers in your hair. That’s just make it worse. Yeah, I’m doing that tomorrow no you’d be you again and not in me I’ll do it later. But I am.”

Dean didn’t cease amusing himself over this, snickering lightly, he pulled another pillow into his chest as he continued to resettle himself back to the near dream state he was almost in until Castiel spoke to him.  

“Cas just take me.  Okay?  Please.  I’m tired.   Take me.”

Dean felt comfort the likes he’d never felt in his entire life as he melted into the power of transference warming him entirely.

“I’ve got you, Dean, rest.”

Thanks, Cas.

For Castiel’s part, he didn’t reply.  Not responding to Dean’s halfway catatonic, damn near completely asleep word volcano was the most restraint the angel had practiced in his millennia being alive.  But he couldn't respond.  Mostly because Dean wouldn’t remember it if he did.  But also, because he was too overcome with joy to even know how to form words.  So he simply imparted his grace to Dean and allowed him to sleep peacefully.  

***

In the following days, Dean and Castiel fell into a comfortable rhythm.  They spent their time reading books and watching television, swapping who was in control as the occasion called for it.   Dean continued his workouts in the bunker’s gym, swearing Castiel to secrecy to never tell Sam.  He started venturing down to the workout space after everything became normal again.  Dean wasn’t hunting nearly as much as he used to, and he still loved pie.  He had to rebalance his lack of physical activity so he didn’t become the size of the Impala.  Sam was so wrapped up with Eileen he hadn’t noticed at all, and Castiel had no reason to go down there, so it was easy for Dean to keep that his own little secret.  Besides, Dean was quite satisfied with the results thus far.

Castiel was proud of Dean and gave his word he’d never tell Sam.  One particular day at the gym wasn’t really a workout, Dean was just feeling stupid.  He wanted to see how much he could lift with the help of the Seraphim.  The answer was at least the entire weight rack.  

Showers were a rather simple affair.  Dean asked Castiel not to look - but said it with all the conviction of a brand new AA member turning down a drink. He did ask him to stick around so they could still talk.  Dean couldn’t give two fucks if Castiel chose to look, but knowing him, he’d stick to his word and avert his eyes.  Well, maybe…

Dean checked in with Sam before he started cooking breakfast.  He and Eileen were in Vermont for absolutely no reason other than the fact they felt like it and the state existed.  He let Sam know that all he and Castiel were doing was hanging out and watching movies.  He left out the possession.  If they came home they could find out then.  Past that, each brother relished in the happiness of the other, and they said their goodbyes for now via text.  They were both safe and happy, and that’s all that mattered.

Currently, Dean had just finished cooking pancakes and bacon and the fused pair were seated at the table eating when Dean couldn't take the annoyance anymore.

“Okay Cas, something’s back there.  I KNOW something’s back there but I can’t see it,” he said exasperatedly, “I can feel it too damnit, and it’s bugging the shit out of me.”  He kept turning his head to look at his back, quite clearly finding nothing, but trying nonetheless.

What can you feel, Dean?

“I don’t know man, something .  Something is around my shoulder blades.  I’d say it’s your wings, but there’s no way in hell.  I mean I can’t see them, so they aren’t there.  But… there’s a badass fucking angel inside me, right?”

Technically, yes… but unfortunately for me, I am only inside of you as much as can physically be allowed right now by the rules and parameters currently set in place by our possession agreement.  But please, continue your train of thought.

“Fucking hell Cas,” he finally managed to squeak out after nearly choking on a pancake, “you have no filter.  No filter at all.”  Dean took a large sip of coffee and then moved to the sink to wash up the rest of the dishes.

“Anyway, I can’t see wings, but the more I’ve been paying attention to the sensation, I mean yeah I guess that’s where they’d be, but they aren’t there.”

That’s because I keep them physically in another plane of existence.  

“What the hell do you do that for?”  Once the last of the dishes were in the drying rack, Dean leaned against the counter, futilely patting his back once again trying to feel something that wasn’t there.

Because they are large and tend to get in the way of most things.

Dean stopped searching for the invisible as he turned back towards the sink, steadying himself on the edge of the counter as he held the Formica in a death grip.

“Castiel….” Dean was trying to regulate his breathing as he realized what he only hoped was possible, “are you saying that you can make your wings…. Here?  Can you bring them here?  Or… pop them into this plane?”

Of course, Dean.  Are you okay?

“Yep… yeah…” he replied breathlessly, trying not to have a stroke due to sheer excitement.  “I mean, would that be cool with you?  Would you mind?  Would it hurt?  How much grace would you use?  Is it too personal for me to see your wings?  Can you do it while I’m in the driver’s seat or do you have to be in full control?  Can I ACTUALLY see them?  Like real wings?  Or are they see-through?  Do you have feathers?  You do, don’t you?  I mean…… can I?”  He still remembered being awestruck at seeing the shadow of Castiel’s wings cast upon an old barn so many years ago.

Castiel attempted to hide his laughter at Dean’s exuberant glee but failed miserably.

The kitchen is a bit cramped, why don’t you go into the map room where there’s plenty of space.

Dean ran.

He stopped his sprint at the most open part of the room, then began to straighten out his jeans and flannel like he was about to meet the president.

“Honestly Cas, is this too personal?  Is it too much of an ask?  Shit man, I hope I didn’t offend you.  Is it going to tire you out?  Is there anything I can–”

FOOSH ! 

The disturbance of air brought on by the addition of wings in the room whipped at Dean’s hair and clothing only momentarily.  He looked behind him to his left, to his right, then repeated both movements several times, speechless.  He couldn’t hide the “kid on Christmas” grin on his face and didn’t care.  He tried to reach out and touch one of the nearly iridescent black wings, but they were too far behind him.  Each wing had to be at least five feet long, and Dean was unable to comprehend what he was looking at.

“Holy.  Fucking.  Shit.”  That was all Dean managed after a couple of minutes, his mouth in a gaping smile of awe.  “Cas…. they’re– they’re beautiful.  I can’t….” And he couldn’t.  That’s all he could say for now.

Thank you, Dean.  To answer a few of your earlier questions, no, this doesn’t hurt me at all.  Nor does it hurt you, although if it did for some reason, I doubt you’d be able to form the words to tell me right now.  There is hardly any grace expended either making them visible or tucking them away.  Mostly, Dean, nothing is too personal to share with you, I’m happy to do this anytime you wish.

“Can… can I touch one?”

Of course.  If you can move them.  The amount of smugness in his voice was a twelve on a scale from one to ten.

“Challenge accepted asshat,” he laughed out.

Dean attempted to move the wings.  He jumped up and down, twisted from side to side, attempted what might have been a poorly executed backbend, jumped up and down again because it worked so well the first time, bent over, twisted a bit more, and finally gave up.

“Why won’t they move, damnit!  What the hell am I supposed to do, become a friggin’ Jedi and move them with my mind or some shit?”

They’ll move.  They’re part of your body now.  Just like your arms or your legs.  They’re simply another appendage you have control over.  Just move them.

Dean continued to try.  Nothing happened.

“I’ve never had wings before, how the hell am I supposed to know how to move them?!”

Let me give you a bit of assistance.

Dean felt someone press their fingers into a specific location on either side of his shoulder blades, then turned around so fast he knocked a few books off the map table with a wing.

“What the fuck was that,” he yelled out, fists raised, “Cas there’s somebody here.  Ah shit bunker’s haunted - again.  Cas!  Who the hell is here, can you sense anyone?”

That was me, Dean.  I’ll do it again.  He did.

“How the hell did you do that?” Dean asked, his breaths beginning to normalize.  He leaned over a bit with his hands on his knees, grateful he didn’t have to hunt down a ghost in his own home.

Grace.  It can do a lot of things.  For example, I can touch you without actually being here.  Anything from a point in the right direction to… a lot more.  For now, though, let’s concentrate on where I just touched your shoulder blades.

“Filter Cas, filter,” Dean chuckled, hoping to Jack he didn’t actually decide to use a filter.  

Dean had a pretty good idea Castiel had realized he could say whatever the hell he wanted to and was simply letting Dean set the pace.  The damn hyper-vigilant angel probably figured out the whole Michael thing was a ruse within twenty minutes and had chosen not to care.  

The part-time hunter had gotten a little better over the past couple of months, and especially over the past few days, but even he knew he was still a chickenshit coward who couldn’t use words.  Still, his possession idea just kept getting better and better each day, and he regretted nothing.  Hell, this was the best time Dean’s had since… probably ever.  

He knew he was dancing around fully voicing his feelings for Castiel because he was basically a panic-stricken child.  Although it was comforting to know that there was no way in hell the angel didn’t reciprocate them.  So for the time being they could continue the slow back and forth, not rushing, not hurrying anything, just enjoying the ride.  Still, Dean would bet Baby that if he were to ask Castiel to return to his body because he wanted to make out, there would be no hesitation and he’d be ready to go the second Dean walked in the door, most likely already loosening his backward tie. 

Dean really had to get past himself. He was working on it.  He was so grateful that Castiel was letting him take the time that he needed, and doing it the only way he knew how.  Dean supposed that he was additionally grateful for the various colorful phrases Mr. I Have No Filter chose to toss in from time to time.  Yes, Castiel said that he loved him, but knowing even just a little bit of what was going on in that head of his was starting to make Dean bolder.  Had he used his words yet?  Not really, but he was getting there.  

The emotionally stunted toddler tried to flex, feel, or do ANYTHING to the locations on his shoulder that Castiel had touched.  He knew at this point he probably looked constipated, but he kept trying anyway.

“UGH!  This ain’t working Cas.  Can you… can you take over a part of me?  Man, I’m trying to use muscles that I’ve never used for wings I’ve never had.  I got no idea how this is supposed to feel.  Can you take over the wings, or the shoulders, just so I can feel how it’s supposed to?”

Yes.  We’ll go slowly.

Dean felt like he was using a rowing machine that wasn’t there, but the wings were moving.  The single rowing machine was now replaced by two rowing machines which, if they were real, would be at his sides as the wings change position.  Castiel deliberately went through every move he could think of so that Dean could feel how his muscle groups changed when he wanted the wings to go in a different direction.  

That should be a decent beginning.  I’m giving you full control back, try it for yourself.

“Here goes nothing,” Dean said, as he attempted to bring the wings forward.  That was all he’d wanted to do so far.  When Castiel had done it for him, he couldn’t bring himself to touch the wings, because he hadn’t been the one who’d moved them, so he didn’t think he’d earned it yet, but now that he was actually moving the wings, jittery with slightly stilted movements, he still thought it polite to ask first.

Very good Dean.

“Thanks,” he replied, still concentrating on moving the wings even more forward, almost to the point where they appeared to be wrapping around him.  “Can I…. I mean, would it be too weird if I touched one?”

Not at all.  Go ahead.

Of all the times to use a filter, that was the opportunity he picked.  Dean had left him with a beautiful opening and he didn’t even take it.  Instead of dwelling on what was handed to Castiel on a silver platter and then turned down, he gently ran his fingers through a wing.

“Cas,” he breathed out, “this has got to be the softest thing I’ve ever touched in my life.  Silk isn’t this soft.  Velvet isn’t this soft.  Hell, there’s nothing I can think of that’s this soft,” he continued reverently, now running both of his hands through the wings.  He felt what he thought was a soft, pleasurable rumble from within him, and wondered if this felt good to Castiel.  He certainly didn’t stop.  “Damn, I could do this for hours,” he said mindlessly while still combing his fingers through inky black feathers.

I would happily let you touch me for hours.

Aaaaaaand he’s back.

“It’s on my to-do list,” Dean replied without thinking.  He resolved to completely ignore that, continuing to move the wings in all the directions he could instead of dwelling on what in the actual fuck he just said out loud.  Blessedly Castiel didn’t comment, which definitely helped Dean not to have an emotional meltdown of epic proportions.  But on the bright side, he’d used some words, and he was a little proud of that.  

You’re doing very well.

“Thanks,” he said absently, still mesmerized with the wings that he’d kind of gotten control of.  “Question for ya Cas…”

Go ahead.

“Does it hurt you to put them back into the other plane?  If it doesn’t, and it’s not a problem, is there any way you could tuck them away just for maybe five minutes?  I want them back - I really want them back, but you’re right, they’re huge, and I just need a few minutes, is that okay?”

Of course .   And with that, the wings were gone.

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said.  With a sound he would never admit to being damn near close to an overly-delighted squeak, he took off down the halls of the bunker.  He ran and ran until he finally got to a skinny vertical ladder, then he began to climb.

Hurling open the hatch, Dean couldn’t contain his excitement as he walked to one end of the top of the roof.  He was more worried about aliens spotting them up here than an actual human.  He truly loved how remote the bunker was.  Well, maybe the ISS guys who were laughing at him earlier might be able to see him, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care.  

“Whip ‘em out Cas!”

FOOSH!

Dean brought the wings forwards easier than last time, running his fingers through some of the longer feathers.  “Your wings are fucking gorgeous.”

He didn’t know what he picked up on exactly from Castiel - was it… pride?  Bashfulness?  He couldn’t be sure, because it was certainly there for a moment, and gone within seconds.  

Thank you.   Castiel said it quietly.  Although... I’m quite curious as to what you want to do.

“I’m gonna jump off the roof,” he said as he took off running.

Dean was stopped as quickly as he started, finding himself completely at a loss for all mobility, until his body returned to a normal standing position, none of which was his doing.

Damnit Cas!  You give me control back right now!

“I will do no such thing.  I know that I said you would constantly be the one who calls the shots, but not on this.  No.”

That’s not fair!  So what if I break my legs, you could just fix me!  It wouldn’t matter!  Cas don’t make me beg.

“Dean,” he said, drawing the name out just a little, “as much as I would love to hear you beg, now is not the time for it.  You aren’t jumping off the roof.”

Once he managed to regain his wits, he continued.  Son of a bitch!  You STILL haven’t taught me how to take control back.  Just give it back to me, right now!  I’ll deal with the consequences later.

“First of all, what you feel, I feel, and I am not in the mood to feel broken legs.  I imagine you’ve noticed, and that does go both ways.  Second, let me phrase this in a way that you will perhaps better understand,” Castiel said, sighing, “And to make sure you properly understand me, I won’t be using your voice to do so, I’ll be using my own, to get rid of any doubts.  

Dean didn’t even know this was possible, but when Castiel spoke, the words didn’t come out of Dean’s mouth.  Hell, his mouth didn’t even move.  Yet he heard them crystal clear in Castiel’s voice

I am shutting this shit down right fucking now.  You WILL NOT jump off of the roof.

Castiel had used his badass smitey angel voice. And he had cursed, which he rarely did.   It was then Dean was overly grateful he wasn’t in control of his body because the physical reaction at hearing the angry Seraph like that would have been impossible to hide.  He was one hundred percent certain that Castiel could feel exactly what that was doing to him because hearing those words in that tone hit Dean like a freight train.

Okay, I’m not jumping off the roof.   He didn’t even have a body yet he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.  But I’m going to need you to explain how the hell you just did that.

I simply thought the words instead of speaking them through you.  Were we to go out in public with you having control, you could do the same.  Just think to me with the same power that you pray to me, and you won’t have to speak out loud.  As a bonus, people won’t think you’re talking to yourself.

Okay well, that’s awesome, but I’m still pissed you won’t let me jump off the roof.

“How about a compromise?”  Castiel had returned to speaking through Dean.

I’m listening.

“I’ll jump off the roof for you, and if you can fly back up on your own, then I’ll think about letting you jump off the next time.”

What the hell are you waiting for?!

Castiel took off at a dead sprint, hurtling himself towards the far end of the roof.  With about ten or so feet to go, his wings beat down something fierce and he lept roughly twenty feet into the air, guided by powerful angelic feathers.  A few more beats and they were even higher, then he allowed them to slowly glide back down to the earth, landing gently in the field behind the bunker.

As Castiel walked back towards their home, Dean didn’t speak.  He didn’t make a noise at all for the entire journey back.

“Dean?  Are you alright?  I didn’t frighten you did I?”

Sorry.  I forgot what words were and how to use them.  That was the single most awesome thing I have ever experienced!!  Do you have any idea at all how amazing you are?  Jesus Cas, that was insane!

The angel blushed and Dean knew it.  He could feel how strongly pleased and equally embarrassed he was, so of course he continued in the hopes of making it worse.

You are literally the most badass creature on the face of the planet!  We just flew OFF A ROOF- and you did that.  It was all you man!!  You fly us to Peru, or anywhere else we need to be.  You hurl us off rooftops.  You’ve healed me and Sam more times than I can count.  You’ll go toe to toe with any monster out there and kick their ass!  Cas, once I fly us back to the roof, we’re gonna have some beers and celebrate just how great you are.

Castiel chose not to comment, and only returned control back to Dean.

“Hey!  I didn’t fall over this time!”  A barely noticeable stumble, but that was still progress.

I’m very proud of you for that.  And… thank you.  For your kind words.  

“Meant every damn one of ‘em too,” and he had.  Dean was shocked he strung together two sentences.  Hell, it may have even been three!  Him somehow saying all of that “out loud” was on par with a salamander getting into Harvard.  

Well, Dean, the way to libations lies at the top of the roof.  How about you take us to them?

“Can’t wait,” Dean said confidently, and he jumped up and flapped his wings for all he was worth.

To his credit, he made it two and a half feet in the air, which probably would have only been about a foot had he not had wings.

“Uhh….” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “let’s try that again…”

Two and a half feet.

“So, Cas…” he began, pacing in the overly tall grass, “you got any tips man?”

Just fly, Dean.  You wanted to jump off the roof not even fifteen minutes ago.  Simply get us back up there, and we can go have beers together. No, wait, I’m sorry - I said that when you got us back up there I would let you jump off the roof as well.  Can’t forget that.  Please, keep going.

“There is so much fucking cockiness rolling off you right now I may DROWN you jerkoff.  Are you gonna help me or not?”

Hmm…. flap harder.  Condescension was something else Dean would be drowning in.

“Alright you dick, I will!”  Dean began flapping his newly acquired jet-black extensions for all he was worth.  Without jumping, he made it three feet off the ground, with about five seconds of hang time, and he counted that as a fucking breakthrough.  “I floated you asshole!  I floated!”

Yes, and it was very impressive.  He sounded adorably bored.

“Damnit Cas!”  He brought the wings forward and looked at them, “alright guys, I know this is my problem, it’s not yours, but I’m asking here,” he continued, stroking a few feathers, “just help me out a little okay?  Maybe if I got a running start…….”

Dean ran about twenty feet from the bunker and took off, leaping just like Castiel had, using muscles he’d certainly used before, but not to actually control wings.  Wings were new. 

Five feet.

“That’s clearly an advancement!  Son of a bitch that’s some serious growth,” he said, panting.  “I’m gonna try that again, maybe run out a little further.”

I will agree that you are improving.  You’re doing very well at fully utilizing them.  You have much better control.

This time there was no snark in his voice, he seemed proud.  

He kept trying for roughly ninety minutes, with ten feet vertically being his personal best.  Nowhere close to the roof, but it was better than he’d started.

Dean drew his wings in close and towards the front so as not to hurt them, or especially not to get them dirty, and sat down, cradling some of them in his arms affectionately.  

“Cas?”  He was completely drained.  “I don’t think I’m gonna make it to the roof today.”

It’s not for a lack of trying.  You have had arms and legs since the day you were born.  You have had wings for a few hours.  I commend you on what you’ve managed to achieve today.

“Ha!  Well, it wasn’t much,” he said, gently running his fingers through some feathers, sounding a bit dejected.  

Would you mind if I again took control of your shoulders?

“Go for it.”

Alright, stand up for me.  Now, you’re going to be the one to guide us.  How you position and angle your body will help us get to the roof, I’ll just be moving the limbs you aren’t used to yet.

“Yeah,” Dean said a bit more confidently, getting to his feet, “yeah man go for it.”

Castiel took them off, and with a slight bit of help by Dean, they made it to the roof.  He was fully aware that the cocky winged creature had probably done roughly ninety-five percent of the work, but it was still nice that he included Dean.

Go back to the end of the roof……  Castiel couldn’t actually roll his eyes, but Dean felt it all the same.  

“Seriously?”  He was already speed walking towards the back, unable to keep the grin off his face in the setting sun.

Yes Dean, seriously.  There is no way on this earth I would let you jump off the roof being completely in control, but with me in control of the wings, no harm will come to you.  I would never allow that.  Now, for when you will jump.  Get as close to the edge as you possibly can.  The last step you take is the one that you jump on, do you understand?

“I do,” he breathlessly replied, unable to contain his excitement.

Go.

Dean ran with everything in him, gaining speed with every footfall.  He hit the last bit of the roof and never questioned his safety for a second as he jumped like his boots had been power loaded with springs, and gained roughly forty feet in the air, none of which were his actual doing, but it felt amazing regardless.  He wasn’t even embarrassed by the “whoop!” noise that bellowed from his lungs.  

Lean forward NOW .  Make yourself as parallel to the ground as possible.

Dean immediately did as he was told, basically becoming a plank, and was rewarded with a glide spanning at least a hundred feet over the deserted fields.  Safety, trust, and exhilaration coursed through him as well as his driver as they drifted together in complete contentment.

Upright now, Castiel instructed, with a massive flap of his wings.

The passenger promptly got himself as erect as he could, as a few more gentle pulses of wings landed him gently to safety.  

“Cas….” Dean eventually said, bringing prayer-like fashioned hands to his face as he covered his mouth and nose, casually attempting to rub away tears of joy.  “I don’t know if I have words for how amazing that was.”

You don’t need them.  I can feel it.  

“Likewise angel… Likewise,” he replied, deeply concentrating to bring his new appendages forwards unsuccessfully.  He tried a few more times, each resulting in the same failure.  

“Oh,” he finally said, “you still have control of them, that’s why I can’t move them,” he said a bit despondently.  

I’m not making you walk this entire way back.  I’m flying us there.  That being said, whenever you want them, they’re yours.  All you have to do is ask, whether it’s in your body, or from mine - whenever I return to it.  And before you interrupt me because I can feel it and know you’re about to - stop.  Stop right now.  I will stay with you like this as long as you want me to.  I am happy, Dean.  I am so very happy.

He took a few deep breaths, not trusting what his voice would sound like if he made it audible.  “Alright man, take us home.” A whisper was all he could muster without allowing the vocal tidal wave of emotions to come crashing through as well.  Didn’t matter, he knew the pilot felt them anyway.

***

Dean walked them back to the kitchen, sans wings, as he attempted to stretch his back out some.  

I can heal that for you if you’d like.  You’ve done a lot of work today.

“Nah, I got a better idea,” Dean said, grabbing three beers out of the refrigerator.  Instead of sitting down at the table, he headed towards the showers, passing them too, and began to run a bath in one of the huge tubs the bunker housed.

“I think I’ve earned this,” he said, grabbing the Epsom Salt off a shelf and pouring some into the tub as it filled.

I agree.

Dean sat the salt back where it had come from, and then grabbed a bottle of what he assumed belonged to Eileen, but for all he knew it was Sam’s.  

“Not a word Cas,” he said, pouring the lavender bubble bath into the tub, “not a single word.”

Of course, Dean.  I will file away the fact that you like bubble baths in the same location as I’ve filed you working out.  If I ever catch you eating kale of your own volition, I won’t be able to keep that to myself.  You have been warned.

Dean chuckled lightly as he poured probably too much bubble bath in, and after replacing it, began to take his clothes off.  He’d told Castiel to “close his eyes” only once, the first time he took a shower after being possessed.  And even that time he hadn’t said it with much force, he’d just said it briefly then got in the shower.  It’s not like he’d warned the angel every time he was about to get naked, that could come off as being rude.

Settling down into the old, deep tub, letting himself become overrun with heat and bubbles, Dean let out a sign.  “Yeah, this is exactly what I needed.”  He opened a beer and had a generous gulp, then raised it into the air.  “This one’s for you Cas, for being awesome.  For having wings.  For not letting me break my legs.  For taking us flying.  Cheers, man,” he said as he took another swig.

Thank you.  I plan on fully cheers-ing you back in the future.  

A grin slowly made its way onto Dean’s face, and he was finding it impossible to make it go away.  “So, Cas… how’d you know what I was doing?  I could be wrong, but didn’t I ask you to not look when I’m in the shower or changing clothes?  I really thought I mentioned that,” he said playfully.

You did.  You never said anything about a bathtub though.

That technicality-loving fuck didn’t even sound embarrassed.

“Fair point, fair point…”  Dean had another sip of his beer, still unable to wipe the grin off his face.  

So how do your shoulders feel?

“They’re sore as hell and I love it.  I worked for that, damnit, and we’re going to do it again.”

You do remember the bunker isn’t haunted, correct?

“Random, but yeah, I now know the bunker isn’t haunted.”

Good, sit up for me some.

“No idea where this is going but I’m on board.”  Dean had said that out loud.  He blamed the beer for it.  Half shrugging to himself, he hurled the empty bottle into the trash can and opened another, immediately enjoying some.  

The fingers that weren’t fingers that weren’t even actually there began to massage his shoulders.  They felt like hands, but Dean knew nothing was there.  They didn’t start gently either.  

“Fuck….” Dean breathed out, letting his head drop to his chest.

Too much?   Castiel sounded a bit apprehensive, which was typically unlike him.

“Not even close.”  What in the hell had gotten into him?!  Maybe the bubble bath was laced with drugs.  

Castiel hummed happily to himself without response.  Assisted by Grace, he continued to massage and loosen the muscles of Dean’s overworked back for a solid ten minutes.  

You can go ahead and lean back now.

“Damn Cas, you’re magic,” he said, lowering himself back into the bubbles which may or may not be leaving him void of a filter of his own.  “That felt amazing.”

I am glad I could make you feel better.  I’m happy to do that anytime, without - or with - my body.  

“Should I put that one on my to-do list as well?”  Dean chuckled slightly, finishing off a beer.

Please do.

Shaking his head amusedly, Dean pulled up the plug on the bathtub and made his way to the showers to rinse off.  The damn grin was back and he wondered if he’d ever get rid of it.  

***

After having some leftovers for dinner, the pair was halfway through Predator - Dean had obviously chosen the movie tonight.

Would you stand up for me a moment, please?

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, getting off the couch.  

A bit further out, if you would, keep your back to the sofa.  Just one more step.  There.

“Okay, now what?”  Dean realized he had recently gotten into the habit of doing whatever the hell Castiel wanted him to do without questioning anything.  But since everything had always ended well, he wasn’t too terribly concerned about where his most recent uninformed decision would lead him.  

FOOSH!

“Whoa!  Okay, hello again wings,” he wanted immediately to bring them forward to touch them but found he couldn’t.  “.... wings that I have no control over.”

You can lie back down on the sofa now.

“What?!?  No!  I’m not going to lay on your wings!  That’s just… rude.  That’s rude, right?  Anyway, won’t it hurt you?”

Of course, it’s not rude, not when I want you to do it.  And no, it won’t hurt me at all.  Castiel was slowly, gently wrapping the wings around Dean as he continued.  Do you know how you were just laying on your side before I asked you to get up?  Do that again.  

“Okay….” Dean agreed eventually.  He went to lay back down as gingerly as he could, properly laying on Castiel’s left wing.  “Are you SURE this doesn’t hurt you?  I feel so bad about this I’m laying on YOUR WING.”

It truly doesn’t hurt.  It would be like you using your own arm as a pillow to lay on.  I promise you, it doesn’t hurt me.  They’re quite tough.

“If you say so.”  As he gently allowed himself to settle and snuggle into a wing, Castiel’s right wing draped itself over Dean like a living blanket.  He wrapped an arm around it and brought it closer to his chest.  “I take it back, I take it all back.  This is awesome and needs to happen more,” he said delightedly, happily stroking his fingers through feathers.

I’ll make sure it does.

True to his word, he did, and when Dean finally made it to bed, he drifted off to sleep surrounded by feathers that held him tight.

***

It had only been a few days, but at this point, Dean was used to waking up… elsewhere or anywhere.  He didn’t mind.

This morning he awoke softly with his eyes coming to focus on some ancient tome that was absolutely not in English.  Enochian?  Yeah, he was pretty sure it was Enochian.

Mornin’ Sunshine!   Waking up comforted within the control of Castiel was one of the best feelings he’d ever experienced.

“Hello, Dean,” the angel responded affectionately, flipping a brittle page in the book.

Did you make yourself coffee?  Good on ya!   Dean began to take in his surroundings.  

“No, that cup is for you,” he said kindly as his gaze went towards the steaming mug of pitch-black goodness

Thanks Cas…   This was said with only a mild seasoning of reluctance.  The Seraph hadn’t given him control back.   In the past, any time Dean had woken up, Castiel immediately returned control back to Dean.  

So… I’d love to have a sip, it looks great….

“Well then, go ahead.  Take the mug of coffee,” Castiel said indifferently, flipping yet another dust-covered page.  

Fine - game on.

Dean gave it his all, seriously trying to reach the delicious battery acid that awaited him.  He knew it would be a perfect brew, he’d told the angel how he liked his coffee ages ago, and the man kindly committed it to memory. For all of his effort, Castiel’s hands only faltered, halfway shaking - once.

Cas - I have no idea how to do this.  You gotta help me out here man.  Please?

“I will do my best,” Castiel replied, closing the old tome and setting it on the table.  “It’s not an exact science, but you know how you feel differently when you simply speak to me, versus praying?”

Yeah.

“Imagine that physically, on that same level.  You want the coffee - and I know you do - so just try to take over one part at a time, here,” he said, raising his arm.  “Imagine the arm I currently have control of is actually mine, and you want it back, so try to envision yourself reaching through it, like it was a glove.  You want to fill the entire space and make it yours like you’re filling it completely with you, getting rid of me.”

Last thing I want is rid of you, but I’ll give it a shot.

Dean focused on his right arm, pretending he was sliding a glove on.  Pouring all of his thoughts and power into that one appendage.  After roughly thirty seconds, he’d done it.

Holy shit Cas, I have the coffee!  

Castiel only responded with his left hand, giving Dean a thumb’s up.  

Oh son of a bitch it took me nearly a minute to get control of ONE ARM.  Awesome….

“It will come in practice,” Castiel chuckled.  “I imagine a strong motivator would be to fully take me over and get to your coffee.  I’ll just wait here then.”

True to his word, Castiel waited patiently for roughly fifteen minutes until Dean had gotten complete control of his body back, constantly encouraged by his winged coach who offered multiple new tips and tricks.  

Well done, Dean.

“And you even put it in a stainless steel mug,” Dean said, taking his first delicious sip of motor oil.  

I didn’t know how long it would take and didn’t wish for your coffee to become cold.

“I don’t know if you meant that kindly, or if you knew it’d take a hell of a long time for me to figure this shit out.”

I simply kept my options open.  Why don’t you have some more coffee and stretch a bit, then you can revert control back to me.  

Dean did as he was told.

Why don’t we try the reverse? Castiel said after Dean had finished a good portion of his coffee.  Instead of imagining yourself growing large and filling up your body, picture the opposite.  I’d like you to conceptualize your shrinking down to the size of a pinprick.  You can do it slowly, limb by limb as if you were drawing in on yourself.  I suppose the long and the short of it would be you envisioning yourself simply giving up your control to me.

“I would give you anything you asked for,” Dean said under his breath.  

He then proceeded to have a mini panic attack.

“Ah fuck I said that out loud.  Son of a bitch I said that out loud too!”  He buried his quickly reddening face in his hands, then began to pace.

Castiel laughed softly.

Would you like me to pretend I didn’t hear that?  

“No…..”  He admitted timidly.

Alright then, I heard it.  I liked it.  For now, why don’t we just start with you giving me control?

“Yeah, I have no problem with you controlling m— damnit Cas what the fuck did you put in this coffee?!?” 

Dean sat down.  

Castiel laughed full on this time.

I assure you I put nothing in your coffee.  There is no ‘angel mojo’ affecting you either.  It’s possible our possession time together, short as it’s been, has merely allowed you to speak… more honestly?

“Yeah, we’ll go with that,” Dean chuckled weakly as he stood, walking around some.  “For now, disappearing and shrinking down the size of an atom really shouldn’t be that hard for me, so let’s keep working as I picture the earth opening up and swallowing me whole.”

His transference of control was nearly instantaneous.  

“Shit……” Castiel said, shocked.  “I was not expecting that.”

Dean couldn’t contain the rolls of laughter that bellowed out of him, contained as he was.  He still felt them and could barely catch his breath.  

What can I say?  I guess I just prefer to give myself over to you fully, you know, completely opening up for you.  I like you in control.  And yeah, I’m fully aware I just said that.

Castiel sat down.  Speechless.  Had Dean been in control of his body, the world’s cockiest grin would have appeared on his face, because he’d finally managed to shut that sexual innuendo-loving angel up.  Additionally, he’d grown some balls and said what he wanted to.

“Why don’t you just keep practicing Dean,” Castiel said a few minutes later.  “In our current state, you will now need to take control back, which I know isn’t your position of choice. It’s quite pleasing to know you prefer me on top.”

You fucker!  Damnit!

Both men enjoyed the charged levity of the situation, each one nearly in stitches, but eventually Dean did keep practicing taking and relinquishing control for a couple of hours until he felt very comfortable with either transition.

***

After a workout and a shower, Dean headed them to his room where he began to stuff his trusty duffle full of clothes.  

Are we going somewhere?

“Yep.”  Once he’d finished packing, he made his way to the kitchen where he loaded the old green cooler full of beer and ice and headed towards the garage.  

Alright, where are we going?

Dean loaded up the trunk with all they’d need, and as he shut it, he said, “I have no idea.”

He tossed his keys high in the air, immediately relinquishing all control, and by the time they fell back down, Castiel caught them.

“You can’t be fucking serious,” the angel finally managed to say.

Breathless laughter was the only response he got for a while.  Once Dean regained his composure, he said, I wasn’t kidding about not knowing where we were going.  C’mon Cas, let’s hit the road.  Go for a drive.  I don’t care where we end up.

Castiel gently got into the driver’s seat, shutting the door as he patted the steering wheel.  “I feel very honored right now.”

You should!  Hell, first I let you possess me, then I let you drive Baby - who knows what’ll be next!

“I can think of a few things.  How about west?  Would you like to go west, Dean?”

I’ll go anywhere with you.  Time to kick the tires and light the fires!

“I don’t know what that means, so I’ll just take us to Highway 70 without assaulting Baby, or engulfing your car in flames.”

They’d been on the road a couple of hours, listening to music and chatting idly, when the phone rang.  

“It’s Sam.”

Ha!  Answer it.  If he and Eileen have made it home this is going to be hilarious.

“Very well…..” Castiel picked up the phone.  “Hello, Sam.”

“Dean what the hell!?  I come home to a comatose angel with a note on his chest and—- wait.  Cas?”

“Yes, Sam.  This is Castiel.  Well, currently.”

“So you mean Dean actually let you possess him?!”  Sam sounded incredulous.  

“He did.”

“Where are you guys?”

“We’re currently traveling west,  I’m nearing Colby, Kansas at the moment.”

“HE LET YOU DRIVE THE IMPALA?”

“He did.  I began the road trip, and am still driving.”

“Is… uh….,” Sam faltered, “is Dean saying anything right now?”

“Not at the moment, no.  He can obviously hear our conversation, and it seems all he can do right now is laugh.  He’s laughing a lot right now.  Would you like to speak with him once he regains himself?”

“Yeah, Cas, I’d like that.”

“Dean, Sam would like to speak with you, although I imagine you know that.”

I know, I know.  After a few more chuckles, Dean said, okay I think I’m good.  Dean took control back.

“Hiya Sammy!  How was Vermont?”

“That’s the first thing you say to me, jerk?  You’re currently being possessed by Cas and THAT’S your greeting?”

“Well,” Dean said, “yeah.  Did you have a good time, bitch?”

“Yeah.  We had a good time.  Now… back to, uh….” Sam took a deep breath, “Dean is there any way we could have this conversation between just us?”

I take no offense to this, I’ll give you privacy.  I promise you I’m not leaving your body, so just pray to me and I’ll return when you want me back.

“O– okay Cas…..  Bye?  Yeah, I guess bye.”

“Is he gone?”

“Yeah Sam, he’s gone.  I can’t feel him at all,” Dean said sadly.  

“Great, so I’ll start the conversation again, like I did the first time, what the hell Dean?!”

Well, it was funny when it began, just like Dean had thought it would be, but now all of the humor had been sucked out.  “I um… I….”  He really didn’t know how to start this.

“Okay let me help you out a little bit, whose idea was the possession?”  There was no anger in his tone, only concern. 

“It was mine.”

“WHY?  What on earth would make you ask Cas to possess you?”

Dean stared blankly at the flat, open road before him.  He couldn’t feel even a spark of Castiel, so he knew he wasn’t listening, but getting the words out to his brother was almost just as hard.

“Because I wanted him to.”

“Alright,” Sam said calmly, “how long has he been there?”

“Eh, a little over a week.”

“Seriously Dean?  You’re going to have to give me a little more - give me something, anything!  I don’t understand.”

“Damnit Sam, I already told you, I asked him to because I wanted him to.  It’s been a really good week,” he muttered out meekly.  

“So you mean he hasn’t gone back to his body once since this started?”

“Nope.”

Silence filled the line both ways for a while, but the connection remained.

“You know you really suck using actual words, you do know that, right Dean?”  Sam’s tone was gentle.

“Fully aware.”

“I’m not blind.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Dean bit out.

“It means….” Sam sighed, “it means I’ve seen how you two are around each other since we’ve all been back.  Long before that too.  So has Eileen.  Neither of us mentioned it because we thought you’d finally gotten your head out of your ass, but it seems it’s still partially stuck.  We thought you two idiots actually got together.”

“He’s possessing me.  That’s…  pretty fucking together,” Dean eventually said.  His head was spinning with what Sam had just told him, so he wisely decided to pull over and park on the nearly deserted highway.  He got out of the car and paced around it.

“Only in a technical sense.  Have you talked to him?”

“We’ve talked this whole time,” Dean said, finally coming to a rest and sitting on the trunk.

“Dean, you know what I mean.”

“I’m working on it.  Anyway, let’s back up a little bit.  First of all, I’m not driving anymore, I pulled over so I wouldn’t wreck.  Second,” he stared up at the cloudless sky, not having a damn idea how to phrase this.  “How’d you know?  Or what’d you see?  How’d Eileen known?  Fuck was it that obvious?  Shit…..” 

“Dean I’ve known for years, literal YEARS.  I never said anything because you never really had time to do anything about it.  Or one of you would die.  Or there was another apocalypse.  But Jesus Dean, anyone could see you’re in love with Cas.  And you have to know he loves you back.”

“Sammy I’m gonna say this once, because I never want to say it again, or think about it.  Yeah, I know he loves me, that was the last thing he said to me before The Empty took him, and I didn’t say it back.  I couldn’t.  Fuck,” he trailed off, pacing again.  “I still can’t fucking say it, I’m an emotional mess, Cas is a dude - god, dad fucked me over on that one, and that’s only part of half of the issues I have.”  Dean had started talking, and now it seemed he was unable to stop.

“I can’t use words, so I asked him to possess me.  Made up a whole lie, told him I was having nightmares about Apocalypse World Michael, and asked if he’d possess me for a while so I could get over the bad dreams and maybe have a good memory of a possession.  God, I’m a fucking wimp.”

“Give me a break, Dean,” Sam said after some time passed, needing a bit to process all he’d heard.  “Who cares if Cas is a dude, I know for a fact you don’t watch Dr. Sexy for the plot.  Nobody cares if you like guys.  Nobody cares if you like girls.  Nobody cares if you like both.  Past that,” Sam thought for a bit, “is the possession helping?” He asked warmly.

How had he gotten so lucky to have a brother like Sam?  He’d never know, but he’d go to hell for him twelve more times if he had to.  “Yeah, it is,” he chuckled a bit.  “Nobody’s brought up love or shit like that, but we’ve definitely gotten closer.  It’s been great.”

“So what the hell have you two done for the past week?”

“Watched movies, cooked, hung out.  Oh, did you know he can bring his actual wings into this plane?  We jumped off the roof and flew a lot.”

“YOU DID FUCKING WHAT?”

Dean choke-laughed for a while.  “Yeah, I can fly.  I mean, not well, Cas still mostly controls the wings, but I can fly.”

“I am so jealous.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this jealous in my entire life.  But - anyway… if this is the way you need to go about telling Cas you love him, then do it.  But you know he already knows, right?  Based on all the possession lore I’ve read about, and especially seeing our world’s Michael and Adam together, not in love but how in sync they were, Cas can feel all of your emotions.”

“Eh, I kinda figured.”  Damn his brother for being such a book-smart nerd.  ”I still can’t say it, but I’m working on it.  We can feel each other's emotions.  Cas said that took like… months or years to happen, but for us, it was about three hours.  Then he noticed you were out of some weird herb from Peru and flew us there to get more.”

“YOU WENT TO PERU?”

“Just to restock the herb - or plant - or whatever the fuck it was - you’re welcome.”

“Wow Dean, wow.  Okay… so to recap, you’re safe, Cas is safe.  You’re basically a functional mute who has more issues than we have books, but you’re working on it.  And are close to Colorado, that about cover it?”

“Good recap Sammy.”

“Do whatever it is you need to, take as much time as you need to.  Let me hear from you now and then, okay?’

“Thanks man.  And that goes both ways.  You and Eileen sticking around the bunker for a while or are you headed back out?”

“Caught wind of Rugaru that may be in Louisiana.  So we’re gonna stay here today and then probably head out tomorrow.  And if it’s not a Rugaru, Eileen has always wanted to see New Orleans.  And if it is a Rugaru, we’ll kill it and then go to New Orleans.  It’s a win-win.”

“Be safe Sam, we’ll talk soon.”

“We will - good luck using words, jerk.”

“Bye, bitch.”

“Later.”

Dean ended the call and rested his head against the top of the car, reeling from the conversation he’d just had.  Sam knew.  Sam had known for years and never said anything.  Sam didn’t care that Dean was in love with a man.  All he wanted was for Dean to be happy.

That settled it, he was going to buy Sam a cart full of kale whenever he got back.  Kale and oats or something.  And all the other health crap he wanted.

“Castiel,” Dean prayed softly, rubbing his chest a little, “Castiel please come back to me.”

Suddenly he no longer felt empty.  He felt the soft buzz of warmth and energy he had become so used to in the past week.  It had only been twenty minutes, but upon its return, Dean had no idea how much he had achingly missed it.

I’m here, Dean .

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.  “Good, that’s…. I - that’s good.  Missed feeling you.”  

That sentiment is incredibly mutual. How was your conversation with Sam?

“It was… it was a talk.  Everything’s fine.”

Just going off of past history, I imagine he questioned your motives towards possession.  What did you tell him?

“Same thing I told you.  Apocalypse World Michael, yadda yadda yadda.  The end.  Were you secretly listening in? ” Dean said briskly.

I give you my word, I was not, I only found this was an appropriate time to ask you honestly.  

There was no judgment or hostility in his words, only love and a true sense of caring.  

You know, for hating your last experience so much, and going off your only reason for this possession, you’ve barely brought up Michael at all.  I thought you’d need to talk about it more. Yet so far you’ve just been having a good time.  

The amount of fake innocence pouring off the angel’s coy words could have filled The Hoover Dam.

“First of all I’ve been having a GREAT time, thank you very much, and second…. shut up, Cas,” Dean said smiling.  “Don’t bullshit a professional bullshitter.  So I wanted you with me for a while?  So what?  That so much to ask?” He pointlessly questioned as he opened the trunk and grabbed a beer, taking a grateful swig.

You know I won’t allow you to drive yourself now.  

“Don’t care, you started this road trip, you can keep us going.”

Very well.  And no, Dean, it’s not too much to ask.  It’s nothing.  And it’s also everything, to me at least.  You do know you could have just come out and asked me for no other reason than simply wanting it, right?

Dean continued to drink the beer like he’d found water after being in the desert for a week.  

“Didn’t think you’d do it,” he said later.  

I would do anything for you, you know that.  So why did you want this?

The first beer hadn’t made it - a second followed.  “I…” Dean had a greedy gulp, “I just wanted you close,” he paced for a bit until he finally found a stump near the woods to sit on.  “You were back and - I just wanted you, here.  Close.  Fuck I don’t know,” he rambled, running a hand through his hair.  “I thought if I had you inside me, you wouldn’t leave again, wouldn’t get hurt because I wouldn’t let you.  I could keep you safe.  Here.  Cas, I—”  Too many emotions choked his words off.  When he felt the tears begin to fall he didn’t bother trying to hide what his angel knew was always there.  

He couldn’t finish, but he knew Castiel understood. Knew he could feel it for all that he was worth.  

I will never leave you.  If you want, we don’t ever have to hunt again.  We could live out our days anywhere we wish without giving the monsters of the world a second thought.  We could be happier than you ever dreamed of.  I would let you house me until the end of time if that’s what you truly desired.  Or I could return to my body at some point.  You could have me back within seconds, all you need to do is ask.  Dean, you can ask me anything, or tell me anything.  Please, tell me, what do you want?

“You.  I want you, Cas.  You’re all I want.”  Dean could not fully comprehend what he had just said out loud and to the world.  He fought off the panic that was threatening to overtake him by downing the rest of the beer like he was a freshman in college, attempting to get himself under a form of control.  

You have me. You know that.  You’ve always had me. And even though it goes without saying, You’re all I want too.

Honesty had come at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere Kansas, sitting on a stump, but that was as good a place as any for it to manifest.  Dean stood up and walked back to the car.  

“We’ll get you back to your body eventually, but for now, where the hell were you going?”  Dean asked as he climbed back into the car, still in disbelief at what had just transpired. There was no way he could continue to give voice to the heavy and the weighted, and he knew Castiel wouldn’t fault him for it either. He put the keys in the ignition and lost all sense of himself.

“What you just said, about keeping me safe?”  Castiel said this like an overbearing parent.   “Wanting me safe and with you?  I want the same things for you.  So that means I’m in control and I’m still driving.  You just chugged two beers, although I suppose I should be marginally thanking your quick infusion of liquid courage.  It was nice to hear that.”

Told you I’m working on it.  Get a few more beers in me, you might get some more.

“Don’t tempt me, Dean.  I once drank an entire liquor store.  I’ll do it again,” Castiel barked out with a grin, getting them back onto the highway.  

I believe you.  I still have no idea where we’re headed.  Wait - does it even matter?  Nah, not really.  Just drive, angel.

“Whatever you want,” Castiel said with a mirthful laugh.

The sober one continued their journey another couple of hours until they ended up in the tiny town of Limon, Colorado.  It had a diner and The Ivy Leaf Motel.  That was good enough for them.  

***

After a dinner of surprisingly delicious burgers, Dean got them settled into their room as the sun was giving up its reign for the day.  

“You know what,” Dean asked, soaping himself up in the shower later.

What’s that?

“I never let you drive the Impala before today, did I?”

No.  This was my first time driving your car.

“Sorry about that,” he said, turning around so he could wash the shampoo out of his hair.  “Drive it home if you want.  Drive it when we get home.  Hell, I’ll even ride shotgun on the rare occasion, and I’ll try really hard not to yell at you while you drive, how’s that sound?”

I’m worried about your mental health.

Dean laughed while he shut the water off, blindly groping around for a towel until he felt his hand being guided down and to the left, at which point he found the towel.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, finally wiping the water out of his eyes, stepping out of the shower as he toweled off.

What Dean, what did you think?

“Did you ever look away while I was in the shower?”  After Dean was dry, he was about to wrap the towel around him as he went into the bedroom, but soon realized it was most likely pointless, so he hung it over the shower curtain rod and went in search of pajamas naked and uncaring.  He’d closed the room curtains earlier, close enough.

Did it ever occur to you that I merely sensed you couldn’t find the towel, so I gave you a little nudge in the right direction?

“You ain't answering the question, Cas,” he said as he got dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants, not bothering with a shirt.  The motel room’s air conditioner was probably manufactured when Eisenhower was in office, and even set on max, the temperature in the room was hovering around 78°.  

You’re right.  I’m not.

“Pompous fuckin’ angel,” Dean grumbled to himself, finding it impossible to keep the amusement from his tone.  

***

They’d been laying in bed for a while, watching some baking show on The Food Network, when Dean suddenly became aware that he couldn’t feel his left hand.

“Cas am I having a stroke  Or a heart attack?  I can’t feel my left hand, or my left arm for that matter,” he said in a rush, mildly panicked.  

No, you’re perfectly fine, I’m just borrowing it for a moment.

If Castiel could control his shoulders, then of course he could control his arm.  He could literally control any part of him he wanted to.  Dean’s pulse shot back up to 150 where it had been about a week ago when the angel had gently pushed him into a door frame.  About fifty different thoughts ran through his brain at warp speed.  Ideas he had absolutely no business thinking of were popping up like wildfires and he couldn’t stop them.  Nor could he stop how fast his breathing was becoming.

Dean. I will stop right now if you want me to.  Castiel had picked up on the fact that Dean was close to passing out.  Would you like me to return control of your arm?  Past that, you know you can take it from me, whenever you want.

“No.” It was barely a whisper, but he certainly didn’t hesitate to give his answer.

Castiel took his newly controlled hand, and interlaced it with Dean’s other hand, bringing them both to rest on Dean’s stomach.

“You….” Dean attempted to normalize himself, “you wanted to hold my hand?”  Technically, yes - Dean was holding his own hand, but he could only feel one of them.  Castiel gently swept his thumb back and forth against Dean’s skin for a moment before he spoke again, and it truly felt as if someone else was touching Dean with care.  He felt like an idiot, all Castiel wanted to do was hold his hand.  

Yes, I did.  Is this alright?

“Of course, Cas, yeah, this is good.”  His mind began to slow, and he gave a quick, gentle squeeze to the hand he lacked all control of.  He thought it was trippy as hell that he couldn’t feel it, but knew the angel could.  

As he was attempting to get his breathing and heart rate back under control, he almost started to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but caught himself, instead watching people on the television run frantically around a kitchen.  What in the hell did he think Castiel was going to do?  Go straight for his dick?  It was then, at that very moment, that all semblance of composure went out the window.

Dean couldn’t help it, the mere thought of that visual made him gasp, clamping his hand down onto Castiel’s as he shut his eyes.  A thick desire washed over him and he knew it would be impossible for the angel not to feel it.  One simple thought had, in essence, undone Dean Winchester, and there was no way he could play it off as anything else, especially since his body was quickly beginning to respond to all that his mind was picturing.  

Dean… 

If it was possible for an incorporeal being, who didn’t need to breathe in the first place, to somehow sound breathless as he spoke, then this was that time.  

Talk to me.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.  “Read my mind,” Dean said quietly, running his fingers along the back of Castiel’s hand.

No, not for this.  

Castiel unclasped his hand from Dean’s, and brought it to his mouth, running his fingers lightly between his lips.  

For this, I’m going to need you to use your words. Talk to me. 

Unable to help himself, Dean kissed the fingers tracing back and forth patterns on his lips.  A thumb purposely began to tug his lower lip as the rest of the fingers caressed his cheek. Dean tried and failed to suppress a whimper.  

Keep your eyes closed, it will feel more real.  But I’m still going to need you to talk to me.

“It is real Cas because it’s you.  I know it’s you.  It’s real,” he somehow got out trying his best not to take one of Castiel’s fingers into his mouth.

Well, yes, it’s real.  It is me, and I’m touching you, I still would like to know how you want me to proceed, if at all.

The sound of pots and pans clattering rang out from the television, and Dean said the first thing that came to mind.  “Turn the TV off.”

Since Dean had been told to keep his eyes closed, he did.  He heard something that sounded like an electrical hiss and a light crack, but the television did indeed stop making noises.  He doubted Castiel had used a remote, opting to let his Grace do it for him.  If he had fried the old model LG in the process, who cared, he’d turned the damn thing off.  

Words.

Castiel danced careful and curious fingers along Dean’s neck, running them timidly down his bare chest until they joined with Dean’s hand again.

“Cas… please…” And there it was, Dean had begged.  

Dean Winchester, tell me what you want.  Right.  Now.

That was an order.  That had definitely been an order given to him in the most, “I used to command my own Garrison of Heaven,” voice ever, and Dean was close to losing it over how hot Castiel had just sounded.

Castiel began running his hand up Dean’s right arm, in the exact opposite direction Dean wanted him to go.  With the blood he had remaining in his brain, Dean grasped his left wrist and shoved it down to the waistband of his pants, summoning the only two words he could form after being issued the sexy as hell edict.  

“Touch me,” he managed to get out raggedly.  

That was all the angel needed.  Without hesitation, he began palming Dean’s erection over the top of his pants.  Unabashedly, Dean let out a groan he’d been holding in since this whole thing began, pushing his hips upwards to further encourage Castiel.  He was definitely encouraged and began gripping Dean a little harder.  

“You said,'' Dean panted, a minute or an hour later, “you said if I broke my legs, you’d feel it too.” Castiel continued to squeeze and stroke, eliciting sounds of pleasure out of Dean, making him momentarily lose his train of thought.  “Please Cas, please tell me you can feel this.”

Of course I can feel your pleasure, every last nerve - it’s intoxicating.  He sounded just as out of it as Dean did.

“So is your voice.”  And it was.  It must have dropped an octave and Dean couldn’t get enough of it. 

What else do you want, Dean?  What else can I do to you - to us - to make us feel good?

“Whatever the fuck you want to,” he said through clenched teeth, grinding himself further into Castiel’s hand.  

I’m taking control of your right arm now.

“Do it,” he consented, blissed out of his mind.  

Castiel hooked both of his thumbs under Dean’s pants, lifting the fabric just a bit before he waited.

He didn’t have to wait long.  Dean lifted his back as Castiel gently pushed the pants down, Dean leaning forward to help, never once opening his eyes.  He began to lay back down as he felt a hand on his chest encouraging him towards the bed again, slowly working up his neck to return to his lips.  Dean had just begun to plant kisses on the fingers when Castiel’s left hand returned south, grasping around his dick that was no longer hidden underneath clothing.

“Fuck!” Dean half screamed as his back arched up from the bed, head digging back into the pillow.  He thought about clenching his fists into the covers, but it only remained a thought, as he didn’t have control of his arms.    

Dean gave in to what he’d wanted to do earlier as he lightly tongued, and sucked one of Castiel’s fingers into his mouth.  Dean heard a groan resonate in his head as the stroking he felt elsewhere momentarily faltered.  This simply emboldened him to give the finger a gentle nip, then suck a little harder.  

Reciprocity is a fun game.  Castiel resumed rhythmically pumping Dean’s dick in his hand while adding another finger into his mouth, and then another, which the human sucked on eagerly.  Once Dean seemed lost enough in passion, Castiel extracted his fingers from his mouth, ceasing movement on his other hand as well.  He gave Dean a moment to breathe before he took his freshly spit-slicked hand and placed it anew around his cock.

“Cas - I’m not going to last,” he pushed out before he began kissing a new set of fingers, repeating Castiel’s name like a prayer.

I don’t want you to last, I want you to come for me.  

His wants sounded like a growl, and with a few twists of Castiel’s hand around the head of his shaft, Dean lost himself to the man in charge.  He didn’t know if he screamed or was silent, if he opened his eyes, or continued to see the blinding stars he began with as he did as he was instructed.  All he knew was that he wasn’t alone.  Elsewhere in his mind was a voice that wasn’t his, repeating a name that was.  

As Dean’s breath attempted to normalize, he felt a cool breeze sweep across his stomach.  He knew for a fact it wasn’t the Eisenhower-era cooling unit and was confused only momentarily until he no longer felt sticky.

“Cas… you didn’t.  Did you just…..” 

Of course I did .  

Castiel hooked his thumbs around the back of Dean’s pajama pants, and Dean rose so that they could be pulled back to their original level, covering him again.  Once he was as clothed as he’d been when they began the evening, he felt control being given back to both of his arms.  

“You Graced us clean?!”

I killed a television set earlier, why is it so hard to imagine I can also clean up ejaculate.  

Thank Jack that Dean had full control of his arms back, because his hands immediately flew up to his face, covering it.  “Cas, you can’t…” he began.  And apparently, a beginning was all he had.  “I can’t even finish that sentence.”  That’s when the laughter started.  Laughter that was good, and needed, and hit all the way down to the soul.

“You know what, never mind.  You phrase sentences any way you damn well please. I don’t give a shit.  Just don’t ever change,” he kept laughing as he took his arms and hugged them around himself.  Which wasn’t for his benefit, and Castiel knew it.

Sit up for me.  Sit up nice and tall, and then lean over as far as you can.

“Whatever you want,” Dean said, still laughing as he leaned towards the edge of the bed as far as he could.

FOOSH!

The wings had erupted mostly forward, so no lamps or alarm clocks were harmed in this manifestation.  

“Yeah, that’ll work.  Just wrap me up.”

That is all I want to do.  Truly, Dean.  If you’ll permit me, I just want to hold you.  I gave you back control of all that I could, but I’d like to keep the use of your shoulder muscles and the wings if that’s alright with you.

“Of course it is,” he said, lying back down gently.  As soon as his head hit the pillows, a feathery blackness covered him completely.  Dean didn’t care how much hotter it made him, he simply grabbed a few of the longer feathers and pulled the wings even closer.  

Dean?

As Castiel absently stroked some of his feathers across Dean’s chest, he sounded small.  Shy.  Not at all how he usually carried himself.

Was what we did… alright?  Was it pleasurable?  Was it wanted?  Did I do anything you didn’t–

“Cas.  Stop.”  He pulled as much of the wings as he could into his arms, cradling them to his chest.  “Yes - the answer to all of it is yes.  We’ve been side-stepping around this for over a week, and past that we’ve probably been thinking about it for years unless I’m a little off on the math.”

I assure you, you aren’t.

“And there ya go,” Dean said, laughing a little.  “Probably not the most conventional or normal way for two people to finally get together, but it worked out pretty well anyway, I think.  If I wasn’t such a damn coward, no doubt I could’ve just left you in your body for it - but I am.”

You are not a coward, Dean.  You simply do things in your own way, and on your own time.  Personally, inviting me to possess you was a very bold first move.  Despite the endless innuendos I tossed around, it was still you who essentially ‘manned up,’ and began this.  

Dean had never thought of it that way, but it made him feel a little better.  “Yeah man, you seriously have no filter.  Like none at all.  I know I said this not five minutes ago, but don’t ever change,” he said as he lifted a feather to his lips, kissing it.  “So, uhh…. For you,” now it was his turn to sound shy.  “Was that okay?  Did it at least feel good, not even having a body?”

Yes.  It felt phenomenal.  I do hope we can share this again in the future.  Either together like we are now or in another sense of together.

“I definitely want more of this.  We’re gonna get you back to your body pretty soon here.  I think the road trip did us both good,” he said yawning, rolling onto his side a little.  

It absolutely did.  Sleep.  Are we headed back home tomorrow?

“I’d like to, but there’s no rush.  I’m not bothering with an alarm, and we can go back to that little diner for breakfast and hit the road whenever.”

Then that’s what we’ll do .  

***

After a shower that was a lot longer, and a lot more gratifying than either party was initially anticipating when the water was first turned on, Dean gathered up what little he’d brought and stuffed everything back in the duffle.  

Dean was settled in a booth at the diner, happily sipping his coffee and looking over the highly aged, moderately sticky menu.

Sweet or savory?

I say why not both.   Wait - holy shit, Cas!  I did it!  I totally just thought answered you!  And it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself either!  This is awesome.

I concur.  

A minute or two later, the waitress returned.  “So what’ll ya have, hon?”  She’d probably been saying that for the past thirty years, give or take, yet somehow she’d managed to keep the kindness and sincerity in her voice.

“Scrambled eggs, a side of bacon, a side of sausage, and a short stack of pancakes,” he said, still beaming about, well, everything as he handed the menu back.

“Comin’ up shortly,” she replied as she tucked the menu underneath her arm.  “Sweetie, I gotta know, what’s got you in such a good mood today?”

“Spent the night with an angel,” he said cheerfully with a shit-eating grin, enjoying his newly topped off coffee.

Oh for fuck’s sake Dean……..

Dean immediately proceeded to choke on his coffee.

“Darlin’ you okay?  Here, have some extra napkins,” she said, sounding moderately concerned as she grabbed some off the counter behind her.

“Yep, I’m fine, s’all good, coffee’s hot!  Hot!  Real hot.  Tasty!  Hot.” he said trying to hide the fact he was still basically gagging.  To his relief, the waitress left.  

Don’t make me kick your feathery ass when we’re back home!  

I’d like to see you try.

Bring it!  I’d put up a hell of a fight against you.

Please, I’d have you pinned to the floor within seconds, and the only time you’d get mad would be when I let you back up.

That shut Dean up.  “Fuck….  You win,” he said softly into his coffee.

Castiel only hummed happily.  

***

Dean drove them back home with the windows down and the radio cranked.  He was half tempted to let Castiel fly them and the Impala back to save about five hours, but it was a beautiful day, so he didn’t waste it.  Dean obviously wanted the angel back in his own body for a multitude of reasons, but he still wasn’t a hundred percent ready to give him up, not quite yet.  So he savored the drive.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t re-house him any time he damn well pleased, but still, he wasn’t equipped for that now.

Once they were home again, Dean left the cooler in the car for later and only grabbed the duffel, heading towards the kitchen.  They hadn’t seen Sam’s car, so he was obviously on his way south to the maybe-maybe-not Rugaru hunt.  He tossed the duffle onto the counter, opened the fridge, and grabbed two beers.  Sitting at the table, he sat his own beer down, and then slid the second towards the empty chair.  

“I don’t have to say it, do I?”  He prayed to any god he’d ever met that he didn’t have to form the words.

Say what?  That you expel me?

“Yeah…. that.  Do I have to make an official statement before you can return to your body?  Or can you just go, without me having to say anything out loud?  I don’t wanna say it.”  He fiddled with the beer cap, not opening it yet.

No, Dean, you don’t have to.  I don’t require a forcible expulsion.  Instead, just tell me what you’d like.

“I’d like to have a beer with you.  YOU you.  Cas. In the flesh.”

Then that’s what we’ll do.  Close your eyes for me, just long enough for me to leave.  

Dean did as he was told, the kitchen illuminating even with closed lids, and he felt all the warmth, the sparks, the energy, and the love leave him.  Castiel was gone.  He opened his eyes to the waiting beer and had never felt so empty in his life. At least he knew it wouldn’t be for long.  

Only moments later, Castiel walked into the kitchen, wearing the same gray sleep pants and orange juice shirt, and had a seat at the table, keeping a folded piece of paper in his lap.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, smiling warmly at the man opposite him.

“Hiya, Cas.  Fuck it’s good to see you.”  So much had happened in such a little amount of time, and Dean was having trouble keeping all the emotions inside upon seeing his angel right there, sitting at the same table he was.  Sniffling once, he went to open his beer and held it out, waiting for Castiel to open his own.

“What shall we toast to?”  Castiel asked, unscrewing the cap of his beer.

“Us.  Simple enough, right?”

“It’s perfect,” he replied, clinking Dean’s glass with his own.  

After taking their first sip, Dean inclined his head to Castiel’s lap.  “What’s the paper?”

“Oh….” he replied flatly, unfolding it and handing it to Dean.  “Sam was kind enough to replace your note with one of his own.”

DEAR DICKHEADS - WE’LL BE GONE AT LEAST A WEEK, AND IF YOU TWO IDIOTS DON’T MAKE DAMN GOOD USE OF YOUR TIME TOGETHER WHENEVER CAS GETS HIS BODY BACK, WE’RE KICKING YOU OUT OF THE BUNKER.

Luckily Dean had no liquid in his mouth so at least he didn’t choke this time when he began laughing his ass off.  

“What would you like to do today?”  He asked once Dean got his breathing back under control.  While he contemplated his options, Castiel reached across the table, gently taking Dean’s hand in his own.  

“I want more of that,” Dean sighed, closing his eyes and squeezing the angel tightly.  “Yeah, I want more of that.”  He opened his eyes again, staring at the insanely blue eyes that were fixed on his own.  “But I’d like a shower first, get some clean clothes.  Past that I don’t care.  We can take a cooler of beer up to the roof, watch a movie, go to a bar and play pool, we can index books we’ve never even touched in this damn place, Cas, I don’t give a shit, I just want to be close to you.  Tell you what,” he said, as he drew Castiel’s hand to his lips giving it a lingering kiss, ”let me get clean, then you can decide for us.  Whatever you want, sound good to– wait —”  Dean allowed himself a few seconds to freak out before speaking again.

“Am I allowed to do that?  Shit.  That’s your actual hand,” he said, gripping and shaking Castiel’s hand in front of the angel’s face, just in case he wasn’t aware it was his, “not my hand that you’re controlling.  Fuck, did I screw up?  No - wait - I can do that, right?  Crap.”  He stared at the tabletop, awash in confusion, or what he thought was confusion, only leading to more confusion.

Castiel didn’t allow him to spew his meltdown further, so he stopped him by bringing Dean’s own hand to his lips, and kissing it in return.

“Yes, Dean - you are allowed to do that.  You are allowed to do anything you want to me.”

Dean really didn’t need to hear that.

“I’d offer to join you in the shower, but I’m not going to push my luck or make you freak out further,” he laughed, kissing Dean’s fingers again.  “Go get clean, I’ll find something for us to watch.”

Dean simply stared blankly at him for a few seconds, because yeah, he was considering telling the angel to strip and head to the showers.  He was concurrently thinking about freaking out,  but he was stronger than that.  Besides, he’d freaked out enough throughout his lives. 

“So yeah, not right now - but rain check on that shower sometime later?”  Dean asked as he stood up, running his fingers along Castiel’s arm.

“I accept your rain check.”

***

Dean spent an inordinate amount of time in the shower, but not for the reasons that anyone who knew him would think.  If there was even the slightest chance in hell he was going to get laid tonight, then he had to be clean.  Once more, as if it was on repeat today, he tried not to freak out.  Victory loves preparation, and Dean was going to be as ready and clean as humanly possible.  

Nope, nope - he was preparing to have anal sex and he absolutely freaked out.

But it was Cas.  The guy he’d been in love with for years, and almost without thinking had nearly dragged into the shower not ten minutes ago.  The same guy who’d also dragged him out of hell. That guy.  

And so what if Dean had Googled, “how to best prepare for anal,” who cared?  Dean didn’t care.  Well, actually he did - a lot - because he needed to know.  He somehow doubted he’d have to walk Castiel through it, the dude had been watching humanity for millennia, chances were damn good he’d probably witnessed a lot of gay sex.  For all he knew the angel had done some Googling of his own since so many desires and feelings had finally come to light.  Hell, he’d woken up one morning in bed with the guy erratically fumbling with his laptop, probably sensing Dean waking up inside him, until he got it back to a site about bees - Dean didn’t inquire as to what his previous area of interest was.  Point was he wasn’t concerned with Castiel’s lack of sexual experience.  

It was the right call not to invite him to shower, Dean had work to do.

Wait, why had he just assumed he’d be the bottom?  Probably because Castiel had gently pushed him into a goddamn door frame and his brain had short-circuited at the thought, damn near demanding the angel return to his body and shove him into a wall for real.  So… yeah, that was probably why he’d assumed he’d bottom.  

And various other interactions the two had conversed about in the recent past.  

Also, if he was being honest with himself, he wanted it.  He’d never even had it and he wanted it from Castiel so much it nearly made his head spin.

Focus!  He was about to fall over in the shower at the mere thought of finally getting his angel. 

On the other hand, what if Castiel didn’t want to have sex tonight?  That was probably one of the stupidest thoughts he’d ever allowed to enter his brain.  Dean gave voice to a small snort-laugh and finished his ministrations.  

***

Dean was a mixture of (a) excited beyond words and (b) a complete fucking mental disaster.  Was it fifty/fifty?  Nah, it was probably more like eighty/twenty - eighty being in favor of excitement.  He thought…

He needed a beer.  That was the only thing he was sure of.  After he got dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants, he made his way to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door and– 

There was no beer.  

Why was there no beer?  There had been beer.  He knew there had been beer.

“Out here, Dean….” 

Castiel’s voice came from what sounded like the Dean Cave area, so he shut the fridge door and headed that way.  

He was greeted by Castiel lounging happily against the end of one of the plush sofas, beverage in hand, and his old green cooler loaded with ice and beer.  

Dean smiled.  “Okay I know I wasn’t in the shower that long, where’d you get all the ice?”

“Gas station.  I didn’t exactly drive, but there’s ice now,” he said innocently.  Well, innocently enough.

“Cas, you’re awesome,” he said, as he sat closely next to the angel and grabbed a beer.  Dean was also done heeding to personal space.  “What are we watching?”

“I thought we could continue watching Frasier .  It’s entertaining, humorous, and doesn’t require much brainpower.”

“Perfect.”

They hadn’t even finished the first episode and Dean was entertaining the thought of crawling into Castiel’s lap.  Seeing as how he hadn’t even kissed him yet, Dean tried to reign his mind in a little bit.  Or he could pull Castiel onto him and have a lap full of angel.  Or he could just dump all the ice in the cooler over his head.  That was most likely the better of all these ideas.  What the hell were they watching again?  Ellen ?  Gunsmoke ?  Frasier.   That’s what it was.

The second episode came with a second beer, and if a piece of ice had frozen onto the outside of the bottle then so be it, Dean would let it melt onto his hand praying it cooled down the rest of him.  He had a huge gulp and sat the bottle on the floor, attempting to concentrate on the bright colors and moving pictures ahead of him.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered into his ear, “you are very loud.”  He began running his nose through Dean’s hair, breathing his scent in.

“I haven’t said anything.”  Gasping, he was shocked he was able to say that .  Damn how long had he been out of it?

“The amount of want and need radiating off of you is nearly deafening. I don’t need to possess you to feel emotions as strongly as yours,” he began placing kisses on Dean’s hair and around the nape of his neck as his left hand gingerly made its way up Dean’s chest, causing the human to release an almost imperceptible moan.  “You probably didn’t even notice I turned the television set off, your eyes have been closed for a while,” he continued to kiss down to Dean’s collar bone, “however I somehow doubt it was from fatigue.”

Dean had never felt stubble against his cheek or his neck before - obviously - which only reinforced the fact he was about to lose himself to a man.  This was a thought that barely lasted a millisecond, as all doubts, fears, and dumbass ideations went straight (but not too straight)  out the window. The sweet friction it caused left him wanting more.  His only hope was that he’d have what appeared to be rug burn the following day.

That was it - Dean was sunk.  He turned towards Castiel and finally ran his right hand through the most beautiful bird’s nest of hair he’d ever seen, so he thought it prudent to add his other hand into the mix as well - just so he got the full experience.  

“Oh god…” Dean exhaled, pressing his forehead to the beautiful creature in front of him.  He had absolutely no self-discipline, but he did at least have manners.  “Cas, can I,” he trailed off, not even knowing where to start.

“I already told you,” Castiel tenderly reminded him, sitting up, looking at him fully.  “Anything.”

“That goes both ways.”  Dean was barely able to get the sentence out before he kissed the angel with a complete lack of restraint.  

He had dreamed and fantasized about Castiel’s lips for entirely too long and now they were his. They were so soft, so full, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to taste them.  He wanted to taste every last inch of Castiel’s body, but he could hold back a little and at least start with his lips.  As soon as Dean darted his exploring tongue out to test his partner’s reaction, he was met in kind.  That first, small taste of what he had yearned for for so long might as well have been somebody’s first hit of heroin and he was gone.  After a while, his lips started to tingle from the stubble and Dean felt drunk.

To his long-suffering relief, he finally knew what Castiel tasted like.  He tasted like a mixture of perfect sweetness… honey, and much like he smelled - fresh, and an escapist's wet dream.   Dean put his hands on either side of Castiel’s face, enjoying the feel of stubble on his palms and fingers, but just touching it didn’t seem to be enough.  He began kissing down Castiel’s cheek, resting briefly to nip and suckle at his earlobe, causing a gasp to push out of the angel.  He definitely needed to hear more of those, so his journey south continued as he licked and sucked at Castiel’s pulse point, while the other man dug his fingers into Dean’s hips, leaning his head back to expose more skin to hopefully be used.  

Dean continued to lap up every piece of exposed flesh he could put his mouth on, nearly tearing his shirt collar with the force he tugged it to taste what was currently covered, but he still needed more; he dug his fingers into Castiel’s shoulders in a manner that was far from tame.  Dean needed him to know he meant full business as he laid down on the sofa, pulling the angel on top of him as he scooted up the couch to make room for their legs.  To his delight, the former Soldier of Heaven was a quick study.  Castiel forcefully pushed a knee in between Dean’s legs to nestle himself in between them.  

He wasn’t exactly sure when it had happened, but Dean’s shame had obviously died a horrible death at some point in the past week.  Taking into account long years of unresolved sexual tension with the man who was currently on top of him, Dean didn’t mourn the passing at all.  He gave in to what he wanted and opened his legs further, nearly wrapping the one nearest the back of the couch around Castiel’s waist, inviting him closer.  Proximity rewarded Dean with feeling Castiel’s erection rubbing up against his own, and there was no force on earth, heaven, or hell that could have contained the unabashed noise that escaped him as his head snapped back, interrupting a passionate kiss.  

“Cas… Cas I need you…. Please baby,” he barely got out in a desperate whine, clawing at Castiel’s shoulders.   Dean didn’t even know what exactly he needed, only that it was more.  Dean felt as though there was a hungry ache in him at the moment that would never be filled.  

“I’ve got you, Dean.”

When he looked back up at him, the angelic creature grinned predatorily, gripped the back of Dean’s hair, and attached himself like a leech to Dean’s throat.  For good measure, Castiel also ground himself back down on Dean’s crotch.  

“Cas!” Dean groaned, and he couldn’t help himself, he raked his nails down Castiel’s clothed back and didn’t even bother stopping until he was able to take his ass cheeks into his hands.  Not surprisingly, they were just as firm and muscular as he expected, which wasn’t a shock because the thin gray sleep pants didn’t leave a lot to the imagination.  His squeeze wasn’t exactly hesitant, but he also wasn’t trying to juice an unwieldy, obstinate orange either.  Still, the sound it elicited from Castiel was enough for Dean to know it wasn’t a mistake on his part.  

Castiel pushed his fingers underneath Dean’s top, then dragged them up to his bare chest only momentarily before returning to the hem of his shirt, grasping it in a fist.  “This needs to go. Away.  Now.” he grunted, obviously angered with all manufactured clothing in general.

There it was again, another order issued in the no-quarter, absolutely demanding angel voice, and Dean folded faster than a cheap lawn chair.  

He knew he had two choices: either he would help Castiel get the shirt off, or… have the offending textile smote off him holy-style and possibly lose two layers of skin.  

He’d only sat up an inch when he felt Castiel begin to shove the disdainful fabric upwards, so Dean lifted his arms as the top half of his clothing was whisked off of him, hurled somewhere out of sight.  

Castiel was back on him within seconds, worshiping and tasting all of the new skin underneath him.  Dean’s hands went from fisting themselves into the angel’s hair to scratching and pulling at the only shirt remaining.  It seemed as though Dean had also grown a hatred for mass-produced outerwear.  He kept pulling the damn thing up as Castiel continued to kiss down his chest, only stopping for Dean to rip the stupid piece of fabric from his body.  

Dean wrapped his hands around Castiel’s muscled shoulders and pushed him off of him for just a moment, interrupting his kisses.  Before the angel could even register concern on his face, wondering why he had been stopped, Dean said, “I just… I just need to see you like this,” and began gingerly running his fingers up and down Castiel’s chest.  Dean was only used to the softness of women, which was the exact opposite of the form above him.  The man he was lying beneath had hard angles, beautifully formed muscles, and a smattering of chest hair, nothing Dean had experienced before.  He had a sneaking suspicion that he would be ruined for anyone else as he let his fingers tightly knead into the most provocative hip bones he’d ever seen in his life.

“Fuck you’re hot, Cas.”  Dean’s filter had met the same fate as his shame.

Castiel gave a slightly bashful smile and lowered his head a bit, Dean still idolizing every part of newly exposed tanned skin he could get his hands on, working his way back up to that splendidly stubbled face, yanking it down for a harsh kiss.  

Finally, Dean got skin-to-skin contact, and he relished it.  He pawed, searched, and clawed at Castiel’s back, each movement seeming to make the angel grind against him harder.  Their breathing intensified with each kiss, which showed every sign of becoming sloppier and more desperate.  This needed to be moved.  All of this warranted a new location because as each heated second passed, Dean was certain his discipline wouldn’t last much longer, and he very much had other things he wanted to do before he or Castiel exploded.  

“Bed, Cas,” Dean barely whispered as he kissed Castiel's temples.  “Please, bed now.”

“Whose bed would you prefer?”  Dean looked up at the Seraph and somehow his eyes had gotten even bluer.  He wouldn’t exactly say they were glowing, but they may as well have been right there on the precipice.  Castiel looked down at him as if Dean were something precious while he stroked his fingers down the side of his face.

Dean stole a gentle kiss because he could.  “Mine, it’s gotta be mine.  It’s in the middle of the room.  Yours is against a wall - won’t work.”

Castiel cocked his head to the side adorably, but instead of confusion showing on his face, a grin appeared.  “Oh I am incredibly intrigued,” he purred, gingerly rolling off Dean as he got to his feet, reaching a hand out.  “Shall we?”

Dean fully allowed himself to be jerked off the sofa with a force that might have shot him clear through the wall had Castiel not stopped him in his tracks, crashing their lips together.  The pair clumsily made their way down the hallway to the bedrooms, groping and grasping at every opportunity, until Dean decided he needed a break from ambulation and shoved his partner into a wall.  Not exactly a door frame, but close enough, turnabout was fair play.

Hopefully, if it went the way he’d fantasized about, this would be the only time Dean was in control pushing against the angel, grinding against him giving them both the friction they craved and needed, so he seized the opportunity as he licked, sucked, and bit the top of Castiel’s shoulders, causing the most pornographic noises Dean had ever heard to be voiced.

“Dean,” Castiel shockingly managed to utter, “I believe you mentioned something about a bed.”

“Yep.  Bed.  Let’s go.”

In an act of surprising control, both men pulled apart and walked hurriedly and mostly normal to Dean’s bedroom.  

Dean didn’t bother turning on any lights, the hallway was more or less illuminated well enough, and as the two got closer to the bed, it seemed Castiel was going to lay them down on their sides, which Dean was having none of.  He rotated them in a not so subtle manner so that he was sure he’d land on his back.

“Hmmm…. Is this the position you wish to be in?” Castiel asked as he suggestively ran his fingers along the waistband of Dean’s sweatpants.  

That man’s voice was eroticism personified and it was a miracle Dean didn’t come right there.

“Yeah, it is,” he said confidently, crawling onto the bed as he moved up towards the pillows.  

Castiel didn’t require a formal hand-written invitation as he stalked his way back to where he’d been only moments ago, resettling himself in between Dean’s open, waiting legs.  He took his time working back to Dean’s lips, stopping briefly to run his tongue over a nipple.  The sound he made begged an encore, so Castiel began to tease, suck, and nip at the nub of flesh, while Dean’s fingers made fists into the angel’s hair.  

The reunification of lips brought with it the realignment of erections, allowing gasps and groans to float across the room as breathing appeared briefly in between kisses.  

When his brain granted him fleeting moments of clarity, Dean had remembered why he wanted Castiel in his bed.  

“Wings,” Dean breathed out, kissing below the other man’s ear, “Cas I want your wings.”

FOOSH!

Castiel propped his elbows up so that he could look at the man below him gazing upward.  “Better?”  He asked.  His wings gracefully spanned the bed, hanging off lowly at the sides, not impeded by anything.  “I can see why you wanted your bed for this,” he said mischievously, smirking as he puffed his wings.   

Dean reached around the powerful Seraph’s back, digging his fingers into the base of the wings at the top.  “You’re gorgeous Cas,” he said, tugging and running his fingers through feathers.  He let his hands wander lower as he pulled Castiel back down for a kiss.  

Much to his dismay, not long after he’d begun his adoration of the stunning midnight plumage, Castiel sat up again as Dean’s hands trailed lower.  “Dean, stop - please, just for a moment, all I ask, then they’re yours again.”

Dean felt all of the world’s air brakes being used at that moment and froze.  

“Fuck Cas, shit - should I not have asked for that?” He immediately removed his hands from Castiel’s wings and placed them onto the sides of his face.  “I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry,” he implored, kissing the man’s cheeks, forehead, nose, anything he could, “you can put them away I’m so–”

“Dean, I want nothing more than for you to manhandle my wings, I promise you, but…” he trailed off, not looking Dean in the eyes anymore, “but if you’ll remember, I’m not human and, well… I just need to tell you something so that you won’t, um… freak out?”  He shrugged meekly and returned his gaze to the man he loved, looking a tad embarrassed.

This caused Dean to smile.  “Okay, first of all, no shit you aren’t human, doesn’t make you any less hot - probably makes you hotter.  And if you haven’t noticed I got a thing for your wings,” he laughed, stroking feathers he could.  Castiel had asked him to stop while his fingers were at the base of his wings on his back, so he guessed the feathers close to him were okay to touch. The angel filled out his wings a bit in an adorable mixture of pride and bashfulness brushing them over Dean’s face.  

“And second, what on earth would I freak out about?  If it’s a part of you I’m all in,” he said as he kissed Castiel’s soft quills.  

“Alright then,” the inhuman began, “at the base of my wings, near my lower back, are… well, they’ll feel like small mounds….”  Dean found his reluctance precious.

“Got it - mounds.  Cool,” he stroked Castiel’s cheek.  “What are they?  Will I hurt them?  I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

“No,” he said, further explaining, “you won’t hurt me.  They’re oil glands.  Because I have wings - and feathers.  Were you to press on them, they would secrete oil.  That oil is used to keep my feathers in good shape, it allows them not to dry out.”  He was trying to sound as clinical as possible, but the fact that he was still marginally flustered remained.  The additional matter that both men were still grinding against each other,  albeit much slower than how this began, but losing none of the desire, never faltered. 

“Ooookaaaay,” Dean said slowly.  He’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t a little bit intrigued by this.  “So oil glands.  Makes sense.  Do you… want me to avoid them?  I will.”

Castiel let out a little bit of a chuckle, averting his eyes once again.  “I’ve been preening my feathers for so long, I am quite used to getting the oil on my own, it is what it is - a job.  Like you brushing your teeth.  Just something that one does.  That being said, I have been told that when another angel preens your wings for you, well, not just any angel, a partner, it can be…. Sensitive?  Pleasurable?  I am not sure, that was something I never experienced, but I had… heard it.  I’ve only ever taken care of my own wings,” he finally managed to get out, wings twitching here and there as he did.  

Dean’s heart rate was hovering around 150 again.  If he stroked out, Castiel could just bring him back, fuck it.

“So what you’re telling me,” he began, running his fingers down his angel’s feathers, slowly getting closer to the base at the top, “is that if I were to say… stimulate your oil glands, it’d feel really good?”  He had never been this turned on in his life.

“Yes Dean, that is what I’m saying, but I at least had to warn you, or bring to your attention that they were there, and if you chose not to touch them because they were too… foreign, or alien, then I wouldn’t be offended in the least.  You would not hurt my feelings, I just wanted you to know.”

Dean’s fingers continued ghosting gently over the base of Castiel’s wings, their journey downwards achingly slow, causing the angel to shudder.  His campaign south came to its end when he found two modest mounds of flesh.  As tenderly and delicately as he could, he let his fingers dance small circles around the glands, making Castiel tremble, audibly sighing. Dean gingerly placed kisses on the top of the angel’s drooping head as he widened his legs to make the man above him more comfortable.  It was clear Castiel was lost in pleasure, having wrapped his arms underneath and around Dean’s own, gripping tightly at his shoulders.  

“What happens if I press harder,” Dean asked seductively, finding it both achingly arousing and funny as hell how far gone Castiel was with just the lightest of touches.

The heavenly being slowly raised his head and locked his steely, resolve-laden eyes with Dean’s.  “Do it and find out,” he challenged.  

Castiel’s eyes were actually glowing now.  Not like before when Dean hadn’t been sure, because they were absolutely one hundred percent glowing.  Not harshly, but it was plain as day to see the faint illumination of light.  

Dean Winchester didn’t back down from anything, and that included directives issued from insanely blissed-out angels who were currently writhing on top of him.  

Dean pushed harder.

The sound that came out of Castiel’s mouth could not have been human, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the fact Dean was currently pleasuring a Seraphim.  His wings thrashed violently, causing various objects in Dean’s bedroom to be thrown to places unknown.  If the light behind the angel’s eyes was at a two earlier, they’d just slammed into a ten.  Dean continued his assault, massaging and squeezing Castiel’s oil glands as the angel pushed up onto his hands, back arching, lost to the world in titillation.  

Feeling the warm liquid glide over his fingers, it was as if someone had melted satin and poured it onto Dean’s hands.  

In a near frenzy of lust, Dean reached underneath his left leg as he forcefully sat up, grabbed behind Castiel’s right knee, and pulled.  The Seraph took the hint and got his legs underneath him as Dean more or less crawled onto his lap wrapping his legs around him again.  Dean made it a point to push his cock as hard as he could into the other man’s because he truly wanted to see him lose it.  

One hand Dean placed on Castiel’s face, bringing them back together for a bruising kiss, the other went immediately back to an oil gland, feeling the soft liquid again pour slightly over his fingers.  Wings beat fiercely around the pair, only heightening the arousal of the moment.  

Somewhere in the wake of still enjoying the sexiest damn makeout session of his lives, Dean realized his hand was slick with oil and he should definitely put that to good use.  He began to slow their kisses gradually until they came to an eventual halt, and he leaned back a few inches.  

Dean felt nervous for the first time tonight, sliding slightly off of Castiel’s lap, as he took one of the tied drawstrings to his gray sleep pants in his hand, tilted his head to look fully at the angel, and waited, asking the question with his eyes.  The desire to touch him was a crushing weight on his chest, and although Castiel had repeated, “anything” on multiple occasions, Dean felt this was still a line you got consent for before crossing.  

Castiel smiled and nodded.  

Dean took his time undoing the knot, peppering kisses to his angel’s cheek.  “Cas I want to touch you so damn bad,” he whispered as he loosened the waistband with reverence.  

“Then I invite you to reach into my pants so you can discover the achingly hard, dripping mess you have reduced me to.”

“Holy fucking hell Cas, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Dean grunted out as he once again clenched his fists into the world’s most dangerously arousing hip bones he’d ever seen.

It was then Dean briefly wondered if he’d actually survive this encounter with his beautiful creature.  It’d be a hell of a way to go. 

Castiel seized the back of Dean’s neck in a strong hand, pulling the man close so that he could growl into his ear.  “And I would bring you back each and every time, just so I could watch you fall apart beneath me again and again.”

After recovering from the words that damn near killed him, almost sent him over the edge, drove him out of his mind, and caused him to forget where he was entirely, Dean vigorously got a fistful of Castiel’s hair in his hand to force him back only to clash their lips together as his other hand returned with complete abandon to Castiel’s lower back, having lost a good deal of the oil to fabric, and deeply pressed on a gland. Dean continued to pull Castiel’s hair as he then affixed his mouth to the angel’s throat as that thrilling, distantly familiar inhuman sound returned.  His wings forcefully flapped a bit until Dean removed his hand, and with some of his control coming back to him, lovingly reached into the front of Castiel’s pants and confidently wrapped his hand fully around his cock.  

The pair groaned adrift in pleasure, as the angel lowered his head to Dean’s shoulder, wings wrapping around him as he dug his fingers into Dean’s back, some of their early slowness returning.  At that moment, his brain managed to formulate the random thought that he was going to be covered in bruises.  Bruises that he would flat out refuse to let Castiel heal.  

Dean’s hand forcefully glided up and down Castiel’s thick shaft with something akin to veneration and worship.  He never thought this day would happen, the entire fantasy basically a pipe dream as far as he was concerned, yet here they were, together, and Dean couldn’t believe his luck as he was finally able to stroke his partner.  

It was then feeling simply wasn’t good enough, Dean had to see.  He looked down and was entranced by how his hand looked around Castiel’s cock.  It was leaking precome profusely and it was at that moment Dean experienced the full realization of his desires.  He harshly scooted himself back on the bed, and leaned down, unable to resist the temptation of what his angel might taste like.  

He looked upwards to Castiel only for a moment, finding him in both a state of shock and a state of being utterly overcome by desire, before he ran his tongue along his partner's leaking cock, lapping up every last bit of excitement that had managed to seep out.  Dean groaned as he relished the salt and musk flavor, which was also mixed with sweetness.  Dean imagined that had to be Castiel’s own oil.  Still, he needed more, so he wrapped his lips around the head and sucked Castiel into his mouth.

“Fuck Dean!” Castiel shouted as he dug his fingers into the back of his human’s hair.

That sensation went straight to Dean’s dick and made him suck his angel further into his mouth.  

Yep, Dean was sucking a dick right now.  There was indeed a penis in his mouth - and he fucking loved it.  What he loved even more were the utterly depraved noises Castiel was making. How an angel managed to sound like that he’d never know. This emboldened Dean further to take him as far down as he could without gagging.  His partner was delicious and Dean couldn’t get enough, so he continued to slowly bob up and down driving Castiel further into bliss. 

He could hear Castiel’s breathing become increasingly ragged, and as much as he was enjoying himself, Dean was far from ready for all of this to end.  He began slowly kissing up Castiel’s stomach, which the angel apparently took offense to.  It would seem that Dean’s sluggish ascent was not on par with the pace the Seraph would prefer, as he dug his hands into Dean’s arms and yanked him back up for a bruising kiss.  

“Dean,” Castiel groaned in between kisses, “I want to touch you now,” he said, reaching back to coat his hand in oil.

When Castiel had snatched Dean back topside to his mouth, his sweats had slid down to his thighs, most likely aided with all of his other movements, and Dean was thankful friction had made the job easier for him in ditching his unwanted pants.

“Yeah Cas, yeah I want that too,” he said, returning his hand to Castiel’s hardened length in answer.

The second Castiel finally touched Dean’s dick, for the first time with his own hand, Dean had to remind himself what breathing was.  “Fuck you feel good,” he raggedly spat out, head rolling backward as he closed his eyes to the ceiling. 

“I will give you pleasure in any way that you want, however you will allow me,” Castiel answered breathlessly, “All you have to do is tell me.”  His lips took full advantage of Dean’s exposed throat, tasting all that he could with his mouth as he pulled the man closer.  

As the pair continued to languidly stroke and squeeze one another in tandem, placing lips to any exposed flesh within reach for what seemed like a blissful eternity, Dean then decided to take a page out of Jim Morrison’s playbook: the time to hesitate is through.  He pulled himself from Castiel’s lips and looked at him dead on as he placed his hands on the other’s legs.  

“I want you inside me.”  The statement left no room for questions.

The radiance of Castiel’s eyes had faded some throughout their mutually delicious masturbation session, but now it returned in full force.  Even with the brilliant blue glow, Dean could still see that the angel’s pupils were completely lust-blown.  And then they were closed.

Castiel let out a shuddering breath, slowly guiding his hands up Dean’s oil and sweat-slicked body until they came to rest at the back of his neck, where he pulled the man into him sweetly, foreheads resting against one another.  “Yes, I can do that.”  He sounded completely fucking wrecked, and that only served to turn Dean on even more.  

Dean returned his hands to rest upon his partner’s sinfully delightful stubble.  “Good,” he said, kissing the man harshly and repeatedly, “take me apart,” he moaned, only partially muffled in between the meeting of lips, “Castiel, I want you buried so deep inside me I can’t see straight.”

“Fuck…” the angel growled out, his wings snapping sharply to his sides as his hands dug themselves into his soon to be lover’s ass.  

Castiel’s head angled away from his partner’s, towards the bottom of the bed, arching his back, and he seemed to be breathing deeply, possibly to compose himself, while his human ran his hands devotedly up and down the man’s chest.  Dean knew they were both on the verge of complete immolation so a short time-out may be wisely warranted.  For an unknown amount of time, each one as soothingly as possible ran their fingers up and down the other’s arms, resting and rolling their heads together in various positions.  

The angel eventually stood up assuredly and let his pants fall to the ground.  

“Holy shit!” Dean exclaimed.  Castiel quickly looked at Dean questioningly, until a smile began to form on the face of the only (barely) clothed man remaining.

“Sorry - nope, not sorry.  Holy shit Cas, you are insanely good looking.”  Dean drank in the winged beauty before him, wrought with lean muscles, and briefly thought about burning the stupid trench coat that had hidden all of this deliciousness for years.

Castiel smiled playfully as he crawled back onto the bed naked.  With the most benign fingers he could manage, which weren’t much, he pulled Dean’s pants the rest of the way off him, shoving them onto the floor as he hungrily looked over his partner in kind.

“You are spectacular.  I cannot believe you are mine.” Castiel said boldly, unable to keep himself from licking his lips. 

“Have been for a while, sweetheart,” Dean said, unabashedly grinning like a fool.  

With an invitation that had most likely already been extended years ago, Castiel crawled forwards slowly into Dean’s open legs, pausing briefly to suck, either tenderly or roughly, all over his thighs.  He slowed down the higher he got, bringing his climb to a brief halt as he hovered above Dean’s twitching length.  

Dean, who probably should have been embarrassed at the noises he was making but didn’t give a single fuck, saw the angel look up slowly to meet his gaze with near flaming blue eyes, grinning slightly as he wrapped his hand around the base of him, bringing it flush with his lips, and lick the quickly dribbling precome off the tip of Dean’s cockhead, not once losing eye contact. 

With the ability to only form various strings of limited vowels, Dean did his damndest to keep his eyes laser-focused on Castiel, but all that trying ostensibly went up in flames when the angel took Dean’s dick into his mouth right down to the root, completely disregarding the point where it hit the back of his throat and only pushed further.  

“Fuck!  Cas!”  Dean’s head snapped so far back into the pillow he wondered if he’d just paralyzed himself, but seeing as how Castiel had to hold his hips down, he was pretty sure he was okay.  

The angel continued to bury his fingers into Dean’s sides holding him down as he sucked agonizingly slowly up and down Dean’s cock relentlessly until he simply kissed the head one last time, and continued running his tongue up Dean’s chest.  As he kept inching and licking his way up his beautiful human, Castiel purposefully put his right hand against the back of Dean’s left knee, pushing the man’s legs open even wider.  

“Oh god yes, Cas,” he bit out as he buried his hands in the angel’s hair pulling him closer until his climb to the top ended and he reunited his mouth with Dean’s.  

“Lube,” Castiel whispered into Dean’s ear, running his tongue around the cartilage.  

“It’s on your back, angel,” Dean said as he fisted roughly into Castiel’s feathers, plunging his tongue into the other man’s mouth.

Castiel let himself get lost in the kiss momentarily.  “It pleases me greatly that you prefer mine to something artificial,” he said as he gave Dean a wink.  

“I told you earlier, if it’s a part of you, then I’m all in,” Dean ran his fingers along his partner’s stubble for the hundredth time as Castiel sat up a bit, reaching his left hand behind him and sighed as he gathered oil.

Dean stared up at this inhuman being, still unable to believe what he was seeing.  Here he was, lucky enough finally have HIS angel in his bed - he couldn’t even control the big, stupid grin that appeared on his face as he placed his hands on Castiel’s chest, running them up and down with reverence.  

“What…. ?” Castiel asked quietly, placing a dry hand on top of one of Dean’s.

“I have wanted you for so long.”  

Castiel removed his hand from Dean’s and returned it behind the man’s left knee, kindly shoving the leg backward as he leaned himself over Dean.  With feather-light touches, Castiel began to circle his oil-slicked fingers around Dean’s rim.

“Then let’s not wait any more,” Castiel said, adding slow, delicate pressure with his fingers while he placed kisses along Dean’s jaw.

There was no fear, no hesitation, and no second guesses running through Dean’s mind.  There might have been a tinge of regret as he wondered why the hell he hadn’t spurred this on sooner, but that didn’t matter either, he had the man he loved in his bed.  He ran his fingers through the utter catastrophe that was Castiel’s hair as he let himself succumb to feelings and sensations he’d never experienced before.  His Seraph was being so painstakingly slow and gentle with him, only circling around his entrance with gradual pressure.  Dean pressed kisses to his partner as his breathing increased, finding it harder and harder to keep himself restrained.

“Cas, inside… please,” Dean rasped, rocking his hips towards Castiel’s fingers.  

His angel recoated his fingers in oil and returned them quickly, and without warning or preamble, slid his index finger up to the first knuckle inside Dean’s hole, slowly stretching the tight ring of muscle in teasing circles, causing the human to ramble partially coherent expletives.  

Dean’s cock ached, but he didn’t dare stroke himself, instead he laid a hand over himself to feel just a bit of friction as he did his damndest to grind down onto the blessed intrusion Castiel had finally given him.  

Castiel wrapped Dean’s leg around his waist so he could have his other hand free, running it up Dean’s neck, holding tightly to the short hairs at the base of his neck.  “Do you want more, Dean?”  He asked while sucking a bruising mark onto Dean’s neck?

“I want this,” Dean said raggedly as he took Castiel’s dick in his hand, stroking it possibly a bit rougher than normal, paying extra attention to the tip as he rubbed the precome around the head, causing the angel to moan as he finished sliding a single finger fully inside Dean.

“But you’re huge, so yeah,” Dean chuckled lightly, relishing the full finger, as he continued stroking the man above him, “I’ll take more fingers first.”

Castiel scooted a little bit lower, kissing down Dean’s chest as he did.  Dean mourned closeness and loss of contact briefly until the angel’s wings framed his face, and it was only then that Dean realized Castiel had simply gotten himself at a better angle, because he then felt two fingers slip inside of him, slowly stretching and scissoring him open further.  

Dean never tensed, and he’d never felt pain.  He wondered if he would earlier, but he’d somehow known that wasn’t even a possibility, not with how gentle and slow Castiel was being with him.  The oil was also better than any lube on the planet, so that probably helped too.  Dean was grasping and fingering and kissing all available feathers as he was being lovingly opened when he noticed Castiel crook his two fingers in a slight curling motion, and the last thought that entered Dean’s mind before he screamed was that he had to let go of Castiel’s wings for fear he’d tear out plumes.  

“Cas… CAS!  Jesus FUCK what the hell do it again,” Dean gasped out brokenly, fisting the blanket into his hands hoping like hell he didn’t pass out from pleasure. Why hadn’t he dragged this motherfucker into his bed years ago? Dean was an idiot, but he was really looking forward to making up for his dumbassery.

Castiel let loose a wicked laugh, running his hand over Dean’s erection briefly, then back down underneath his thigh, pushing it backward hard, opening his legs up even wider.  “Happily.”

Dean’s vision whited out as he yelled praises to Castiel.  “Cas, please, PLEASE, if I pass out from how good this feels you bring me back.  You bring me right the fuck back do you hear me?”

“Oh my sweet man, you aren’t going anywhere,” he said as he slowly extracted his fingers.

“Cas….” Dean whined.  He knew it sounded pathetic, and he also knew he didn’t care.

Castiel acquired more oil and quickly returned his hand.  “I won’t have you in pain, only pleasure.  Do you feel stretched enough for a third finger?”  He asked, once again circling Dean’s widening hole.

“Yes,” Dean said rapidly, “absolutely yes.” Castiel was still seated on his knees between Dean’s legs, preparing him excruciatingly slowly.  All Dean could reach were feathers, which he exalted, so he kissed each one he could as Castiel entered him again.  

Dean felt so amazingly full as he continued to be spread, and he found it nearly impossible to keep his hips from constantly thrusting, begging for more.  He truly thought this would feel… well, not this good.  He had no idea what it would feel like, but he was hoping for good.  He got fucking amazing instead.  Castiel obviously picked up on his begging and slowly extracted his fingers.  This time Dean chose not to vocally object to their loss, he knew he was going to be getting a much better replacement.  

As he reached beside Dean for an unused pillow, Dean saw the faintest blue glow surround his angel’s hand, then vanish.  That polite bastard mojo’d his hand clean before grabbing a pillow.  Dean was so gone on him.  

“Lift up for me,” Castiel said, tapping Dean’s hip.  As his partner did, Castiel slid the pillow underneath Dean’s ass, positioning it until he was satisfied.  “Thank you, Dean.  Better angle.”

The angel reached his left hand around him once more and pushed into an oil gland so hard he groaned, causing Dean to palm his aching erection just from watching this man.  His lust only grew tenfold as Castiel began slowly coating his dick as he moved forward, once again pushing Dean’s right leg back to his chest.

“Yes?”

“So much yes… Angels and their need for consent,” he laughed softly as he stroked feathers.  

Castiel smiled, lowering his head, and angled his length towards Dean’s entrance.  He began making slow circles with his head around the rim, causing Dean to moan, bucking his hips in small movements, and then finally, gradually, he eased the tip inside.

That was definitely more than three fingers, and Dean hissed at the burn.

“Dean, I will stop, I will pull out ri—”

“Castiel don’t you dare stop,” he said through clenched teeth, looking into blue eyes that illuminated the angel’s holy face in divine perfection.  “Just keep going, slowly….” 

He did as the beautiful human underneath him instructed, as lovingly as possible, until he bottomed out. He leaned over until he reached Dean’s lips, kissing them softly as he cupped his face, unable to control the shuddering words of praise that escaped him in both English and Enochian, resolutely holding himself in check despite his insane urge to thrust.  He would give Dean as long as he needed to adjust to the feeling.

“Cas…” Dean eked out, placing kisses to any part of the angel he could reach, “I…” and he was having great difficulty forming words.  This was a foreign fullness he had never expected but had still craved so badly from his angel.  “You…” He was up to three words.  He buried his hands roughly at the base of Castiel’s wings, pulling the man on top of him down, thrusting his own hips up.  A noise that was pure ecstasy, that came out in a near delirious sounding sob erupted from him, and it was at that moment Dean knew he had to recapture that feeling.

Dean pushed up on the Seraph’s chest roughly, but only lifted him an inch or two, all that was needed so that he could look into his stunning inhuman eyes.

“I need you to move,” he said in no uncertain terms, thrusting his hips again.  “Please.”

Taking orders was something the former Soldier of Heaven was quite used to.  He was also taught to never question the orders he was given, and that plea coming from Dean was one hundred percent a directive he was not going to ignore.  

Castiel began a slow rhythm, curiously searching at first. Dean was already deliciously used to the feeling of being so stretched, but adding friction could come gradually. 

Gradually meant roughly a few minutes in Dean’s mind, as he was on the verge of losing his own. Clearly, Castiel was as well, if their mutual groans of pleasures were any indication.  The initial shock of something he’d never felt in his life barely lasted a hair’s breadth.  It occurred to him that he’d already whined, he’d definitely already begged and pleaded.  Had he outright demanded?  Probably not, and if he had, he’d ended it with a very kind, “please.”  The heat building low in his stomach was close to going nuclear and he was flooded with perfection. That electric sensation was only doubled when he looked up at the stunning man on top of him in a state of unbridled ecstasy, still kissing him and caressing his face every chance he got, and Dean could no longer hold his tongue.

“Harder, Castiel… I want you to fuck me harder.”  He didn’t even feel ashamed and he loved it.  

The look that the angel gave him seemed to be taking him apart piece by piece as he straightened his back and sat up.  A hungry leer formed on his face.  “I put you back together once, I can do it again,” he snarled, pushing both of Dean’s legs back onto his chest.  

That was the only warning Dean got as lost himself in what he had wanted for years. The pair were assaulted in a way that they had craved for far too long as hands, feathers, and much more important body parts slammed together.  

As the wind and the blue iridescent glow in the room picked up, Dean, completely consumed in euphoria, was only brought back to the present when he heard his name being repeated like a pious chant.  He had no idea how much time had passed, five minutes, a year, millennia?  

“Dean….” Castiel choked out, “I’m close.”  His eyes were on fire.

“Then touch me, please,” Dean begged, “push me over the edge with you.”  

Castiel released his hold on one of Dean’s legs and wrapped his hand around his erection and began to stroke him, possibly twice, maybe three times, until every muscle in Dean’s body clenched and the man lost himself to the animalistic noises he emitted, lost the room, lost all sense of time, but never lost focus on his angel.  Dean’s orgasm was what pushed Castiel to his, and Dean could feel his release inside of him.  

Perhaps it was inside the room, there was a chance it was elsewhere, but Dean thought he heard the distant sound of glass breaking.  None of that mattered as he watched the creature on top of himself consumed by bliss.  The familiar inhuman noise returned, and Dean finally recognized it as Castiel’s true voice.  Unlike his time at the Phillip’s joint, it didn’t hurt his ears at all, it sounded like ethereal music now.  Dean gazed in awe as Castiel rode the final waves of his orgasm, wings stretched majestically for all they were worth.   Dean reached up to him, pulling him down gently until he was resting on his chest, absolutely spent - just as Dean was.

Dean kissed the top of Castiel’s head, lovingly stroking his feathers, wrapped in both wings and a sense of complete and total contentment.  He had never felt such peach, such calm, such happiness, suc—

“Ooooh…”  Dean moaned out, unable to help his hips bucking as Castiel slipped out of him, brushing over everything sensitive to the millionth degree. 

“Dean,” Castiel said as he snapped his head up to look at the man.  “Are you okay?”

“Oh I’m better than okay, just a little overstimulated - in a good way,” he said as he pulled Castiel the remainder of the way up so he could reaffix his mouth to his.  

The pair continued to lazily kiss until Dean finally broke the silence.  “I think we need a shower.”  The amount of wing oil and bodily fluids they were covered in made the Exxon Valdez oil spill look tame.

Dean felt a quick cool breeze pass over them as Castiel rolled off of him just a bit and began stroking his chest.

“Do we?”  He asked coyly.  

“You mojo’d us clean again!” Dean looked down to inspect himself when he realized he couldn’t see anything.  He found it hilarious it took him so long to notice the room was pitch black.

“Uh…. Cas?  Where’d the lights go?”

“I believe that may be my fault,” Castiel said reticently.  “I…. it’s possible that when I orgasmed I… blew out all the lightbulbs in the bunker.  I’m not sorry.  I’ll fix them.” Dean could feel his hand move slightly, followed by a faint blue flash as he heard shifting shards of broken glass, and then the lamp in the corner illuminated softly, bathing the pair in a warm yellow glow. 

The intimacy and sweetness Dean was feeling only seconds ago vanished immediately as he fell into a fit of laughter.  Castiel propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him, stroking his face, basking in the moment.  He couldn’t help laughing either.

Dean collected himself and gazed up at his angel as he ran his fingers through his hair - shocked that he still could considering it should be nothing but tangles at this point.  His wings were tucked neatly behind his back and Dean was thrilled he hadn’t put them away yet.  

Castiel leaned down to kiss Dean on the forehead.  “Was that okay, Dean?”  He asked as he rubbed his nose along Dean’s hairline.

Dean pulled away sharply.  “Okay?  OKAY?  That was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.  No, it wasn’t okay.  It was fucking mind-blowing,” he said smiling as he yanked Castiel into a kiss.  “What about you,” he asked once they’d broken apart, “was it ‘okay’ for you?”  Dean couldn’t stop smiling.  He may never at this point.

“I’d like to use your answer, if I may,” he said cheerfully, gazing down Dean’s body.  His smile soon morphed into a frown as he took in all of the scratches and quickly forming bruises he’d left on the man, and began to move a hand towards his hip.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean barked out.  “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and you can stop right now.”

“But Dean… I’ve left marks all over you.”  

Dean gestured to Castiel’s body.  “And I’ve done the same to you!  Don’t even think about healing me, this is amazing, I’m going to be sore for days, and it’s gonna be awesome.”

“Oh….” Castiel hummed happily.  “Very well then.”

“I think I’m gonna hit the bathroom, get ready for bed,” Dean said slightly hesitantly.  He raised his hand to Castiel’s face and again felt that utterly addictive stubble.  “Will you, uhh…  Will you stay?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he responded, giving Dean a quick kiss.  

Dean smiled and got out of the bed, looking back at Castiel, and was immediately ripped from his revelry.  

“Oh shit!”  He reached down to the bed where he’d been laying and picked up a feather.  “Oh my god,” he said horrified as he crawled towards Castiel, apologetically stroking his wings.  “Angel I am so sorry, fuck!”  He could already feel the tears start priming at the corners of his eyes.   

“Dean,” Castiel said warmly as he sat up, fluffing his wings out.  “Feathers fall out.  It doesn’t hurt.  Just think of it as you would your hair.  Now, correct me if I’m wrong,” he said seductively, “but I’m pretty sure I pulled your hair tonight as much as you tugged on my wings, yes?  So I would imagine you have….” He pretended to do math in his head as he stroked Dean’s hair, “probably lost at least three hairs?”

“Damn Cas, okay - point made,” he said chuckling, still composing himself a bit.  “Still,” he shrugged, “I’m sorry.”  He started to hand the feather back to Castiel.

Castiel stopped Dean’s hand, pushing it and the feather into Dean’s chest.  “Keep it.  I highly doubt it will be the only one you get, you can start a collection.  Now, go get ready for bed, I’ll be here when you get back.”

***

Later, once Dean had gone through his bedtime ritual, he was laying in Castiel’s arms and wings, his head resting comfortably on his chest.  The angel had fixed the bunker’s lights earlier, so there was no need for Dean to worry about recreating a classic scene from Die Hard when he went to the bathroom.  

They lay in comfortable silence, Castiel running his fingers through Dean’s hair, Dean running his fingers through Castiel’s feathers.  

“Cas….?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You gotta know I love you too, right?  I love you so fucking much. Sorry it took me so long to say it, but you know right?”  Dean kissed Castiel’s chest, then sort of buried his face in it.

“I do.  I’m sorry I dropped that on you when I thought I’d never see you again.  Looking back on it, that was low of me, but I had to do it to save you, for The Empty to come.  Don’t feel bad for not saying anything back at the time, you had a lot going on then.  But I saw it in your eyes, Dean,” Castiel said, stroking his hands along Dean’s back, “I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that you loved me back, I’ve known it every day since my return, and I still know now.”

Dean clung fiercely to Castiel, probably hard enough to leave a new set of bruises, but he didn’t care.  “Cas you can’t leave me again, I can't handle it.  We can’t keep putting ourselves into dumbass, life-threatening situations anymore. We’ve cheated death more than our fair share, and right now things are good man, they’re real good.”  He loosened his grip a little bit so that he could prop himself up, looking directly into the eyes of the man he loved.  “I can’t lose you.”

“And you won’t.  I told you earlier that we never had to hunt again, and we could go anywhere we wish.  We could live the most boring life you could ever dream of,” he assured, stroking Dean’s face.  “Where do you want to go, Dean?”

Dean thought about this for a while as he occasionally turned his face into Castiel’s hand to kiss his palm.

“Remember when you came to me in my dream, and I was sitting on a dock?”

“Of course.”

“Some cabin.  Somewhere.  With a lake and a dock,” he said, scooting up to kiss Castiel.  “I don’t give a shit what state it’s in, but we can start there.  Some cabin on some lake.”

“I can work with that, but it can wait.  For now, how about we sleep?”

“Sleep sounds amazing.”  

Dean reached over to turn the bedside lamp off, then snuggled back down facing his angel, feeling a wing drape over him.  

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

***

As Sam and Eileen pulled into the garage, they saw the Impala was there.  Parking, Sam looked to Eileen, “I swear, heads are going to roll if those two haven’t gotten together.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon,” she responded as she shrugged.  

The pair slowly walked down the hall until Sam stopped, cocking his head slightly, listening to distant voices, and… was that a horse?

“What?”  Eileen signed.

“I think…” he mouthed, “I think it’s an episode of Gunsmoke…” 

Curiosity got the better of the pair as they continued to follow sounds of the old western towards the dimly lit Dean Cave.  It was quiet except for the television.

Sam got a devilish grin on his face and signed, “I’m just gonna peek.”  

Eileen smacked him as he walked towards one of the sofas and peered over the top, before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth.  Sam started jumping up and down as softly as could, hand still clamped firmly in place.  He motioned to Eileen to come closer like he was flagging down an overhead airplane after being marooned on an island for a month.  The instant she saw what Sam had seen, she had the same reaction and began pumping her fists in the air.

On the couch below them, Castiel lay on his back, eyes closed, with Dean nestled face down on top of him in between the angel's legs, cocooned within midnight wings.  Each man was dressed in a pair of old pajamas that looked as though they had been put through the damn ringer.  

Sam and Eileen continued their silent celebration a few more seconds, until Eileen finally managed to sign, “okay, one more look….”

They once again peered over the back of the sofa only to be greeted by a pair of bright blue eyes looking up at them.  Castiel simply smiled, rubbing soft circles on a sleeping Dean’s back.  He gave them a wink as he waved upwards to them with a wing, before closing his eyes and wrapping Dean up in his feathers, placing a soft kiss to the top of his head.