Chapter Text
Dean stared, gazing up with a mixture of awe and horror. Those flaming meteors streaking through the sky, so many... They were angels, falling.
A few had passed close enough for him to see details, and he felt nausea twist in his stomach. For so long he'd wondered about Castiel's wings, fascinated by the very idea. He'd wanted very much to see them, even if it was just to glimpse their shadow again. It had blown his mind that first night in the barn, when Castiel had spread them wide to prove his claim of angeldom.
Well, he was seeing angel wings now, and he knew he'd be carrying this memory for the rest of his life, too. For these wings were burning, twisting and writhing as they were consumed by fire, no longer able to support their owners, who were falling helplessly to earth. God, was this happening to Castiel? Was one of those bright objects roaring down through the night sky actually his friend falling, burning? Oh god, he really was going to be sick.
But then Sam, who was tucked up against his side as they sat leaning against the front wheel of the Impala, made a noise he knew from experience to be a strangled scream. Dean's attention snapped back to Sam, and he clutched at him as Sam suddenly convulsed. Fear throttling him, Dean eased his brother to the ground, trying to keep him from damaging himself any further as he seized.
Shit, this was bad. He may have prevented Sam's immediate death, by stopping him from completing the ritual to close the Gates of Hell, but that didn't mean he was going to live, either. Sam was too far into the process, every step of which had changed him in ways Dean didn't understand. All he knew was that his brother was sick, hurting, damaged in ways that Castiel had told them even an angel couldn't heal.
A hospital would be just as useless, they couldn't heal mystical wounds either. But Sam was clearly not going to last long without help of some sort, and he'd already exhausted all the avenues of research he knew to pursue. Panic sank its claws deep into his gut as he held his brother, helplessness a now familiar and unwelcome weight, crushing him.
Finally, the seizures stopped, and Sam's long body relaxed. But then he moaned and turned onto his side, curling into a fetal position, arms wrapped around his middle against some terrible pain. He started shaking, and more breathless moans escaped as he panted, though he was clearly fighting to endure in silence.
That was it, Dean had to do something. Vaulting to his feet, he looked around wildly, his panicked mind scrambling for inspiration. His eyes fell upon the church, and everything in him went still. Dear god, he couldn't, not again. But looking back down at the writhing form of his pain-wracked brother, he knew he would. He was going to make another deal with a demon.
'C'mon Sammy, on your feet.' He pulled at Sam's arm, trying to get it over his shoulder to lever him upright. 'We've got to go back inside.'
'Leave me alone, Dean,' Sam moaned, teeth chattering. 'I'm a little busy right now. Can't a guy die in peace?'
'Nobody's dying tonight. No fuckin' way. I'm serious, move your ass!' Using the strength lent by fear, Dean hauled Sam upright, and all but carried his stumbling form up the steps of the church. He deposited his brother in a trembling heap just beyond the outer circle of the Devil's Trap that held the King of Hell.
Crowley met Dean's defiant glare with a smirk. He might be weakened and chained to a chair, but he knew he had the upper hand now. 'Hello, boys. Something I can do for you?' He looked down at Sam, 'Not looking so good there, Sammy-boy. What's the matter, don't you feel well?'
'Can it, Crowley,' Dean growled. 'He needs help and you know it. You need out of that chair, to get back to your kingdom before Abaddon takes it over. You heal Sam, we let you go, you leave us unharmed for at least a day. Deal?'
'Well now, it seems like there's room for some negotiation here. I have a reputation to maintain, after all...'
'Take it or leave it, Crowley. You'll be free, and you have the rest of our lives to hunt us down. It's a good deal, and you know it. Besides,' he leaned down to look Crowley straight in the eye, 'if Sam dies, I'll have nothing better to live for than to make you scream. I have a private dungeon where we can explore everything I learned about torture during 40 years in Hell. Would you really prefer to take that route, or are you gonna take the deal?'
Crowley scowled, knowing Dean would not hesitate to follow through on his threat. 'On one condition.' He nodded at Sam, 'I'll make the deal with him, not you. The day I deal with you, it's going to be something special. Count on it.'
Dean nodded, and tugged at Sam's shoulder. 'Come on, Sam, just a little further.' He dragged his barely conscious brother over next to the chair holding the demon, then freed one of Crowley's hands.
Crowley twisted a fist into Sam's shirt, and lifted him effortlessly up to eye level. Sam's eyes flared wide and his hands flew up defensively as Crowley laid one on him, a great smacking kiss on the lips. Pushing violently away, Sam sprawled back on the floor, and lay gazing up in open-mouthed shock at the grinning demon. Then his eyes narrowed and shot to his brother, as he heard a barely suppressed snigger from that direction.
Seeing a clearly healthier brother glaring at him, Dean lost it, the relief and joy too great to be contained. He laughed until tears came to his eyes, until he could barely breathe, until Sam got up from the floor and slugged him for dragging him into a deal with a demon.
Sam pointed a finger at his brother, who was rubbing a sore jaw but still snickering, 'We are going to have a long talk about this,' he promised. Then he turned back to Crowley, who raised an inquiring eyebrow and rattled his remaining shackles.
Sam sighed, and picked the lock for the handcuffs up from the floor where Dean had dropped it. He stood for a moment just looking at the demon with resigned regret. He'd come so close, he'd almost gotten through to Crowley, almost cured him. Defeat was a bitter taste in Sam's mouth as he bent down to release Crowley, freeing him to resume his wicked ways. 'I'm sorry,' he said, feeling that he'd failed the man beneath the demonic corruption, 'I wish things had turned out differently.'
Surprisingly, Crowley didn't make one of his trademark smart-mouthed comebacks. He just looked solemnly up at Sam, and waited until he'd backed away to stand up. Sam reached down and pried up a loose bit of red-painted wood, breaking the circle that held Crowley captive. 'Some other time, Sam,' Crowley said, and vanished.
'How do you feel?', Dean asked.
'Like I could eat a horse, then sleep for a week, but otherwise fine,' Sam told him.
Dean's shoulders slumped in relief. 'Thank god. Now maybe we can get back to the other crisis.'
Reminded, Sam stiffened with alarm and looked toward the door. 'Right, the angels! What the hell is up with that?'
'I don't know, but Cas was talking about shutting up heaven. I just figured the angels would be locked in, not out.'
'Maybe something went wrong. Where is Castiel?'
'I really wish I knew.'
Dean poked at his meal, but couldn't work up any enthusiasm for it. Kevin had already finished, and gone back to browsing through the massive Men of Letters archives. Across the table, Sam was still shoveling down food at a tremendous rate, which pleased Dean to see. Sam's body hadn't been able to tolerate much in the way of sustenance during the past weeks, and he'd lost a lot of weight. His appetite was clearly back now, though, and he was making up for lost time.
Finally reaching the point where he felt full, Sam leaned back in his chair and luxuriated in the sense of well-being that came from inhabiting a healthy body. He watched Dean fidget, taking out his phone to check for messages for the dozenth time since they'd sat down to eat. Sam could see him willing Cas to call.
'You could go look for him,' Sam suggested.
'Look where?' Dean didn't even try to pretend he didn't know who Sam was talking about. 'Where would I even start?'
'I don't know. We saw a couple of angels come down near the church, you could try to find them. Maybe they know what happened up there.'
'Yeah, I suppose.' Dean pushed to his feet. 'Better than just sitting here, anyway. You'll be okay?'
'I'm fine, Dean. You've been watching me like a hawk for the past two days. I'd say it's a safe bet that I'm not going to relapse or anything. I'm still tired, but the need for food and sleep is easing, and I'm getting steadily stronger. Another couple of days and I should be back in fighting trim.'
Dean blew out a breath, 'Okay then. Call if you need me. I'll let you know if I learn anything.' He took out his phone to check it one last time, and startled badly when it rang in his hand. He fumbled it, cursing, and barely managed to avoid dropping it. Pathetically grateful that he'd not lost the call, he answered and held the phone to his ear. 'Cas, is that you?'
'Yes, Dean.'
'Jesus, Cas! Where have you been? Are you okay?'
'I...,' he stopped, cleared his throat. 'I've been better.'
'Cas, did you, um, you know... fall? Are you human now?'
Castiel sighed, 'It would seem so, yes.'
'Aw, hell. I'm sorry, man. Tell me where you are, I'll come get you.'
'I'm just outside a Biggerson's, the one we went to that time...'
'Yeah, yeah!', Dean cut him off, 'And that waitress was totally hitting on you, and you were completely oblivious.' Dean was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. He'd been making himself nuts, worrying about Cas, and to hear his voice made something inside him light up with joy. 'Stay put, I can be there in an hour.'
Dean looked to Sam, who waved him away, 'Go on, I told you, I'm fine. In fact, I'm going back to bed.' He tossed an apple and a bottle of water to Dean, 'Here, Cas hasn't got any money and it probably hasn't occurred to him yet that he has to eat now.'
The idea that Cas wasn't taking care of himself sent a flash of worry/fear through Dean. The urgency he felt to get to Cas increased. He turned and headed for the exit to the bunker.
Sam called after him, 'Say hi to Cas for me, and don't wake me when you get home.'
Dean's hands clenched and unclenched on the steering wheel as he drove. God, he was nervous! It felt as though something had been coming to a head between him and Castiel for a long time now, and a vast change loomed, like an imminent lighting strike.
Had it really only been a few days since he'd sat in a bar with Castiel, nearly numb with despair at the idea that Cas would soon be gone for good? Castiel had planned to shut the Gates of Heaven, with himself on the other side. Dean had done his best to be supportive, knowing his friend was trying to do what was best for everyone, but the thought of never seeing Castiel again? It had been slowly breaking him.
Looking back, Dean realized that he'd been having more-than-just-friendly feelings for Castiel for a long time now. It had been easy to ignore, because more-than had never seemed like any kind of real possibility, for two reasons. First, Castiel was in a male vessel, and Dean had always considered himself to be strictly straight. Second, hello, Angel-of-the-freaking-Lord! Heaven surely did not condone carnality, especially between members of the same sex, and certainly not for angels.
But one of those assumptions had been blown to bits in that very bar. The Cupid they'd been hoping to intercept had put two guys together, right in front of them. Dean had been stunned. Heaven was not only okay with gay relationships, it actually took action to facilitate them? Dean hadn't really had time to process that little revelation just then, but while waiting for Sam to recover, that fact had kept pushing itself back into his consciousness.
And now, oh god, now Castiel was no longer an angel. Despite all his issues with Heaven, and his contempt for angels in general and certain not-so-angelic angels in particular, Dean still harbored a sense of awe when it came to Castiel. He recalled again that night in the barn, when he'd seen the shadow of wide-spread wings as thunder rolled and lightning flashed. He'd felt himself a tiny, insignificant creature, doing his best not to quail in the face of a power both mighty and pure. He'd since come to feel comfortable in Cas' presence, but his very nature had always given Dean a sense of can't-touch-this that he'd felt helpless to overcome.
And, of course, Dean had been in denial that he'd even wanted to touch anything. Desperate for the approval of a barely-there father, Dean had moulded himself into the man he thought his father wanted him to be. John, he was certain, would have never been okay with the idea that one of his sons was gay, or even bisexual. So Dean had built a macho, womanizing personality, and convinced himself that this was who he was.
But John had been gone for a long time, and Dean had lived through some majorly life-changing events; that sort of thing tended to help you to know yourself. There'd been clues, of course. He'd blushed and been unable to maintain eye contact when he first met Dr. Sexy, in that TV-land dreamscape of Gabriel's. And let's face it, he'd had a bit of a fanboy crush on the debonair Eliot Ness.
He'd been true to his promise to Sam, he'd given the apple-pie life an honest effort. Living with Lisa and Ben had been pretty sweet, though he'd had a hard time appreciating it while struggling with the weight of horror, guilt, and despair, unable to stop thinking of Sam locked in the pit with Michael and Lucifer. Lisa had been wonderful, so caring and compassionate, and he'd tried his best to return her affections. But though he'd loved her, and they'd shared a bed for months, they'd only had sex a few times. Those few had been slow and tender, more a sharing of comfort than anything else. But there'd been no passion, no fire, between them. His body had known better than his brain, that it hadn't been right.
And he'd missed Cas, really missed him, during those months of trying to live a normal life. And when he'd been separated from Castiel in Purgatory, he'd been out of his mind with worry. He'd searched relentlessly, and when he'd finally found him, he'd hugged Cas tight, overwhelmed with emotion. It was then that he began to suspect that he was in love with his angel.
They'd been separated again, and when they'd been reunited in that motel room, he'd been wary and upset, not knowing how Castiel had gotten out after Dean had failed to free him from Purgatory. He'd been trying to keep his distance, but when Cas had emerged from the bathroom, all cleaned up and looking like his old self, Dean had been consumed by an insane urge to throw himself at the angel. He'd sat paralyzed, having to fight with everything in him to overcome the impulse. It had passed, but left him shaken and disturbed. After that, the dreams had started, the sweaty, oh-so-inappropriate dreams.
Considering the current state of his nerves, Dean was pretty sure he'd given up on fighting his attraction for Castiel. The thing that was setting butterflies to wing in his stomach, was that he had no idea how Castiel felt about him. Oh, he knew Cas felt them to have a 'profound bond', but what did that really mean to an angel? He figured that Castiel must love him in some sense, what with all he'd given up for Dean. His feelings had been strong enough to break Naomi's mind control when she'd ordered Cas to kill him. But would he be disgusted, if Dean showed an interest beyond brotherly affection? He'd seemed happy, when he was living with that woman during his period of amnesia. Oh holy gods, was he technically still married to her?
Deciding to back-burner these crazy-making ideas for now, Dean turned his mind to more immediate issues. His friend needed him right now. Castiel had some huge adjustments ahead of him, learning how to cope with being human. He might have lived as one when he thought he was Emmanuel, but he'd still been an angel; he hadn't actually needed food, drink, sleep or sex. The needs of a human body were bound to be a revelation to Castiel, and he was probably not going to be happy about having to cope with them. It would be hugely selfish of Dean to pressure him, maybe making him too uncomfortable to lean on Dean when he most needed to do so.
Yes, Dean would wait, and hopefully he'd be able to pick up some clues as to how Cas felt about him, from his behavior. After all, they'd be living together in close proximity now, and he had an excuse to spend lots of time with Cas, teaching him stuff. So, he'd have ample opportunity for observation; conclusions to follow.
Dean pulled into the Biggerson's parking lot, and saw his angel standing beneath a street lamp. Ex-angel now, he reminded himself, though Cas looked as remote and regal as ever. Dean pulled up beside him, and Castiel wearily lowered himself into the passenger seat.
Now Dean could see the difference in him, and he was suddenly reminded of Purgatory!Cas. Not that he was as grimy, but he was clearly exhausted and sporting a 2-day growth of beard. God help him, Dean thought the stubble made him look dangerous, and sexy. Castiel also smelled of road dust and sweat. Cas had never really smelled like anything before, and Dean felt his heart lurch in his chest.
'Hey, Cas,' he said softly. 'It's good to see you.'
'Hello, Dean. Thank you for coming.'
'Of course! I'd have come sooner, if you'd called to let me know where you were. What the hell happened?' As he spoke, he turned the car around, and headed back the way he'd come.
Castiel grimaced, and slumped in his seat. 'I am a great fool. Metatron led me to believe that we were performing a ritual that would close the Gates of Heaven, but that was never his intention. He wished only to exact his revenge, and he used me to do it. He stole my Grace as the final component in a great working that expelled all angels from Heaven. Once again, I am the cause of great suffering amongst my brethren. I have been struggling with the shame of it, these past days. That is why I did not call.'
'That douchebag! I knew there was something off about that guy.' He glanced at the morose figure of his friend, 'Don't beat yourself up Cas, we all get played sometimes. This is his doing, not yours.'
'You are kind to say it, but I feel that I should have known. I should have done something to stop him.'
'20-20 hindsight, it's a bitch. But it's not a crime to be gullible, to trust where you shouldn't. In fact, it's pretty damn human.'
'I don't know how to be human.'
'Didn't you live as one, when you were being Emmanuel? You'd lost your memory, you didn't know you weren't human, then.'
'I did not know what I was, but it was clear that I was in some way different. Daphne quickly realized that, when I showed no interest in the food and drink she offered me, yet I did not weaken. She was a devout woman, and I believe she sensed something of my true nature. She chose the name Emmanuel for me. It means 'God is with us'.'
'Oh. Well, that's okay. We'll help you deal with being human, until we find a way to get your mojo back. Think of it as an adventure - eating, sleeping, fucking, everything - being truly embodied now, it's all new to you. Damn, I might be a little bit envious.'
'You can have it.'
Dean laughed, 'You sound more human already.' He reached into the back, and passed Castiel the small bag holding the food and water. 'Are you hungry, thirsty? How have you been coping?'
Castiel uncapped the bottle of water, and lifting it to his lips, he drank greedily until he'd downed the contents. Watching from the corner of his eye, Dean felt a little guilty that he'd only brought the one, and a little turned on by Cas' evident enjoyment of the refreshing liquid.
'I had no money for food, but water is freely available from bathroom taps. It seems an inefficient system, to frequently have to ingest it, only to be required to eliminate it a short time afterward. I was very uncomfortable before I realized what the pressure in my abdomen indicated.'
Dean grinned at the disgruntled tone, 'Yeah, well, that's just one of the many joys of being human. You'll get used to it, and there are plenty of things that are more fun to ingest than water. Try the apple. It's not as good as it would be in a pie, but let's start you off slow.'
Castiel looked at the apple dubiously, then took a tentative bite. Dean glanced over when he heard the slow, juicy crunch, and grinned again at the surprised look on Castiel's face. Chewing slowly, savoring the flavor bursting on his tongue, Castiel closed his eyes and moaned with delight.
Dean lost his grin and jerked his eyes back to the road as the erotic sound shot tingles down his spine, straight to his dick. He held his breath as Cas took a second bite, and sure enough, he groaned again, soft and low. Sweat broke out on Dean's brow, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Damn, how many bites did it take to eat an apple? This teaching Cas to be human thing might turn out to be considerably more of a trial than Dean had anticipated.
The bunker was quiet when they came in. Sam had gone off to bed, and presumably Kevin had too. Castiel had visited the bunker before, but Dean was feeling nervous again, now that he was here to stay. Cas needed a home, he needed their help, and Dean wanted him to feel welcome.
Dean ushered a docile Castiel inside, all but babbling to fill the silence. 'We've got plenty of rooms, I'll make up a bed for you. I can find you a pair of sweats or something to sleep in, I'm sure you're tired. And you'll be wanting a shower, come on, it's this way.'
Castiel trailed after him, passively following without a word. Dean turned down the corridor to the living quarters, passed Sam's closed door and headed for a room at the far end of the hall, next door to his. He went inside and flipped on the light, wishing he had something better to offer than the bare and uninviting room. 'We'll personalize the place some, when you figure out what you want. But the beds are pretty comfy, and I'm right in the next room, if you need anything.'
Castiel seemed to snap out of a trance at that, 'You're leaving?'
'I'm just going to get you some clothes, bedding, towels, that sort of thing. You can hop in the shower, get cleaned up. You'll feel loads better, I swear.'
Cas looked at him dubiously, but obediently went into the bathroom. Dean heard the water come on in the shower, and turned to fetch the promised items. He hoped that Castiel knew enough about being human to handle the hygiene stuff without someone holding his hand, because damn, talk about your uncomfortable conversations.
Dean left a clean towel on the toilet seat, carefully keeping his eyes averted as he passed in front of the running shower. He was doing his best not to think of how very naked Castiel was, just beyond that opaque curtain, but the blush riding his cheeks proved his failure. He picked up the discarded pile of clothes, gently running a hand over the folded, familiar trenchcoat. He left a clean t-shirt, sweat pants, and a still-in-the-package pair of boxers on the counter by the sink. Then he went back into the room to make up the bed.
Dean was just smoothing the quilt back into place when he heard the thud of a falling body come from the bathroom. Alarmed, he flung open the door and found Castiel on his hands and knees on the floor. Clearly, he'd tripped getting out of the tub, and gone down hard. Without thinking, Dean rushed forward, falling to his knees beside him and reaching out to grasp his shoulders. 'Damn, Cas, you okay?'
Castiel shot him a look eloquent with pain and humiliation. 'My foot did not rise as high as I commanded it to, and it failed to clear the edge of the bathtub. I did not react in time to prevent a fall.'
Dean helped him to sit back on his haunches, though he was blushing furiously again at being so close to a yes, very naked indeed and also gleaming wet, Castiel. He spoke firmly to a portion of his anatomy that was not supposed to be reacting with such enthusiasm to that fact.
'That's something you'll have to learn to allow for; when a human body gets tired, it doesn't react the same. It gets slower, weaker, harder to control until it eventually gives out on you altogether. How long has it been since you slept?'
With Dean's assistance, Castiel got up. 'I have not, I do not sleep.' He picked up the towel and began to dry off.
Dean handed him the boxer shorts, careful to keep his eyes above waist level. 'Whaddya mean, you don't sleep? It's been days since The Fall, haven't you gone down at all?'
'No. Mostly, I walked.' He hissed with pain as he stepped carefully into the underwear, drawing Dean's attention to his feet.
'Holy mother of crap! Look at what you've done to yourself.' Dean pushed down on his shoulders, indicating that he should sit on the toilet seat. 'Stay there, I'll get the first aid kit. How were you not limping with all those broken blisters?' He rushed out of the room before Castiel could answer.
He returned quickly, and sat himself at Castiel's feet, gently lifting one into his lap to administer to it. He was as careful as he could be, but he knew he had to be hurting his friend, and his heart ached that Castiel's introduction to being human was going so poorly. He tried to divert Castiel's attention from what he was doing, by asking questions.
'You used to sleep, didn't you, when you were living with Daphne? You were married, you shared a bed, you didn't just lie awake next to her all night, did you?'
'I did not share her bed, nor were we truly married. She insisted that we perpetuate that subterfuge, to protect me from those who would take advantage of my healing abilities.' He gasped a little, heartily wishing he had those back as Dean smoothed antibiotic cream over a particularly painful spot before applying a bandage.
'Without my memory, I was innocent, ignorant of the evils of the world. Daphne took it upon herself to act as my protector. When she cut herself chopping vegetables, I automatically healed her, and she realized that I would be mobbed by the needy if controls were not put in place. She wished us to pretend to be husband and wife, so that she could claim some authority before those who wished to get past her, to me.'
'Oh,' Dean said, hoping that his profound relief at this little revelation didn't show on his face. Holy shit, did that mean that Castiel was still a virgin? 'I, ah, I guess I can understand that. I'm glad she was there to take care of you.'
'She was very kind. Much as you are being, right now.'
Dean blushed again, his unruly mind immediately jumping to the stupid conclusion that Castiel was thinking of him like a wife. God, he was losing it. He was still horribly conscious that his head was at the level of Castiel's lap, and that Cas was wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Handling Cas' feet was also getting to him. What was it about bare feet that was so damned sexy? And how the hell was he going to stand up without Cas noticing what had become a prominent erection?
'Well, you can sleep as long as you want now. It's quiet and safe here, you know how well protected this place is.'
Castiel had been watching Dean administer to his feet, but now he looked away, uncomfortable. 'I would prefer not to.'
'To not what? Sleep?' Finished, Dean put Castiel's second foot back on the floor and looked up at him. 'You don't really have a choice there, buddy. You're human now, and the body has needs. Sooner or later, it will take over and you'll sleep, like it or not. But why fight it? It feels great to sleep when you're tired, and you must be exhausted.'
Castiel reluctantly met Dean's eyes once more, 'To sleep is to lose consciousness, and I find that a fearful thing. I have always been aware, Dean. Surrendering to sleep feels like surrendering to death. I am afraid to not-be.' He hung his head, shamed to admit to this weakness.
Dean stared up at him, stunned. It hadn't occurred to him that Castiel would see it that way, but it suddenly made sense. Humans spent a large portion of their first years on the planet sleeping; it was natural to them, and a great comfort. But Castiel had never needed to sleep, had never had to surrender control to such an extent. Dean swallowed as he realized how scary such a prospect was, especially for a being who'd always been so powerful.
'Wow, yeah, I guess it would feel that way. Huh.' Castiel looked up, gratitude shining in his eyes at Dean's lack of judgement. 'It's really not so bad though, you'll get the hang of it. Really, you just have to relax, and it will happen all on its own. And you're not aware of the time you spend asleep, so it's like you shut your eyes and it's night, open them and it's morning. Easy as pie.'
Castiel snorted, 'How is it everything comes back to pie with you?'
Dean grinned and stood up, holding the first aid kit in front of him. 'That's the way, Cas. Keep a sense of humor, and you can get through anything.' He turned and led the way out of the bathroom. 'Come on, let's get you tucked in nice and cozy, and you'll be out like a light in no time.'
Castiel reluctantly followed, but only stood by the bed instead of getting into it. 'I am very tired, but I do not think I will be able to sleep. I do not feel at all relaxed.'
'Well, there are ways around that too,' Dean chuckled. 'Just spank the monkey around a little, and the post-orgasmic low will drag you right under.'
Castiel frowned at him in confusion, 'Spank the monkey? What monkey, and why would I wish to strike it?'
Dean rolled his eyes, mostly at himself for forgetting and using colloquial terms with clueless Castiel. 'Masturbation, dude. You get off, and the release relaxes you, big-time.'
Now it was Castiel's turn to blush. 'Oh. I, ah, I don't know how to do that either.'
And Dean was back to stunned. How could Castiel have inhabited a body, or well, vessel all this time, and not have explored it a little? Although, he supposed he could understand not feeling free to do so while the original owner was still at home, in there somewhere. But Jimmy had been gone since Castiel had been resurrected after Lucifer had blown him apart; that body had been all Castiel's for quite some time.
Dean's thoughts were thoroughly derailed by Castiel's next question. 'Maybe, you could show me?'
'Uh,' was the sound he made, feeling as if Castiel had just punched all the breath from his body. 'That's uh, kind of a private thing, you know?' But clearly he didn't, or he wouldn't be asking, duh. 'I mean, normally you don't, with another guy especially, it's just not...' Coherence seemed to be beyond him, given that most of the blood that was supposed to be feeding his brain had gone stampeding south.
'Never mind, Dean. I understand. I will find some other way to relax. I have heard that warm milk can be helpful. Do you have any milk?'
Dean didn't answer. He was frozen in place as his mind and body fought a brief but brutal war. He didn't want to take advantage of his friend, who was in a vulnerable state. But having Cas actually ask for what he so wanted to give was threatening to short-circuit his brain. How the hell was he supposed to resist?
Castiel was staring at him quizzically, and then he did it. He cocked his head in that adorable way, and spoke his name, 'Dean?'
Dean's brain shut down, and his body took over. He took the two steps that brought him up to Castiel, put one hand on his bare shoulder and the other behind his neck, and pulled him in until their lips met. Castiel gasped and shuddered, but didn't pull away. Dean licked at his slightly parted lips, and when they opened further, he slipped the former angel some tongue.
Castiel swayed forward, his arms going around Dean to clutch at the back of his shirt. With a little hum of enthusiasm, he tried to copy Dean's moves, bringing his own tongue into play. It was Dean's turn to shudder as he felt Cas harden against his stomach. He couldn't help but roll his own hips forward, pushing his arousal up against Castiel's. Even with the thick material of his jeans between them, Dean was amazed at how good that felt.
It was also weird to be kissing someone with stubble on their face. Oddly enough, he didn't find that off-putting, either; it was just a new and interesting sensation. Encouraged, Dean deepened the kiss, leading Cas, teaching him. Very quickly, Castiel's small noises turned to outright moans, and enthusiasm trended toward desperation. Dean broke away, gasping for air. Damn, but Cas learned fast. His uninhibited response was driving Dean wild. Castiel whimpered, and tried to draw Dean back for more kisses, but he held back. Barely.
'Cas. Cas, look at me.' He waited until those blue eyes were focused on his own. 'Is this what you want? Are you sure?'
A big, happy smile transformed Castiel's face, startling Dean, who couldn't recall ever seeing such a look on him before. 'Yes, Dean. I have always wanted this. I have always wanted you.'
Dean swallowed, humbled and touched. He vowed to make it good for his angel, and Cas would always be that to him, human or not. He stepped back, and took Castiel's hand. 'Come on, let's go to my room.' He grabbed the single pillow from the bed in passing, hoping that Castiel would be staying with him for the night.
Castiel didn't resist, following him into the hallway, and then the room next door. Dean let Cas walk past him, then locked the door behind them. The absolute last thing he wanted tonight was for his cock-blocking little brother to walk in on them at utterly the wrong moment. He silently thanked the builders of the bunker for their foresight in making the rooms pretty much soundproof. That degree of privacy was a real boon to men living in such close quarters. Castiel had already proven fairly vocal, and he really, really wanted to see what other sounds he could get him to make.
Cas wasn't playing shy, he'd gone straight to the bed, turned back the sheets, and crawled in. Eager to join him, Dean quickly stripped off his own clothing. He hesitated over removing his boxer-briefs, but decided fuck it, and dropped them as well. He stood at the side of the bed, fully naked and fully aroused, and watched Castiel for any sign of hesitation. He swore he could feel the heat of the gaze that moved over him, and thought he'd go up in flames when Cas' mouth dropped open slightly, and he licked those gorgeous lips.
Dean got onto the bed, and stretched out beside Castiel. He leaned in to kiss him, but stopped in sudden trepidation when Cas put a hand to his chest.
'Dean, if you would permit, I would like to explore your body. I have watched over you for so long, but I have never been able to touch you as I wished. May I touch you, Dean?'
Not trusting his voice, Dean merely nodded, then laid flat on his back. Every muscle taut with anticipation, his heart thudding in his chest, he waited to see what Castiel would do. He was already so hard, his dick stretched smooth and long over his abdomen, leaking pre-come. He wondered if Cas would touch him there, and had to close his eyes briefly as lust surged through him.
Castiel propped himself up on one arm and faced Dean, a serious expression on his face. He reached over with his free hand, and laid gentle fingertips on Dean's forearm. Even that small, simple touch sent an electrical charge through Dean, as if Cas' now-mortal form still held the power of his angelic origin. Cas slid his hand further forward, so that more of it was in contact with Dean's flesh. Shivers raced up Dean's arm, and gooseflesh broke out all over his body. He swallowed thickly, anticipation tightening his body still further.
Slowly, Castiel moved his hand along Dean's arm, fingers sliding over the smooth, tight muscle of the bicep, then along the curve of the shoulder. Dean, feeling suddenly weak as pleasure washed through him, let his head drop back into the soft cushion of the pillow.
Castiel's hand followed the line of the collarbone, then closed briefly over Dean's throat. Dean swallowed, feeling his Adam's apple bob against Cas' palm. Cas reached up to cup Dean's jaw, and ran a thumb over his lips, leaving them tingling. Cas carded gentle fingers through the short hair at Dean's temple, then fingertips traced the curve of his ear. Dean was unable to stop a shiver as, in passing, those warm, strong fingers caressed the sensitive spot behind his ear.
Castiel's hand travelled downward then, along the neck, then came to rest on Dean's chest, over his heart. Dean became suddenly aware of his heartbeat, which had picked up the pace. His breathing had become erratic too, and he was hyper-aware of how both caused his chest to move beneath that questing hand.
Cas spread his fingers, and one brushed over Dean's nipple. Dean jerked and gasped, jolted by the sudden spike of pleasure. He felt his dick pulse, bobbing with eagerness for a similar touch. He couldn't believe how turned on he was. The innocence inherent in the way Cas touched him was electrifying, he felt like it was his own first time again.
Finding Dean's reaction curious, Castiel now deliberately brushed his fingers over the same nipple. A fine trembling began in Dean's muscles, as he fought to hold himself still. Cas moved his hand to the other nipple, and Dean had to grip the sheets, the urge to writhe strengthening.
'Are you all right, Dean?', Castiel asked. 'You are shaking.'
'Don't worry about it, Cas,' Dean told him, surprised by how husky his voice had grown. 'It just means you're turning me on.'
Cas nodded, and still watching him with that oh-so-serious expression, continued to explore Dean's body. He ran his hand along Dean's side, fingers passing over the smooth bump of ribs, and Dean did involuntarily flinch away. He was ticklish, dammit!
After a brief hesitation, Cas returned to touching his chest, then began to move downward again. Dean's stomach muscles tightened, popping his six-pack for Cas' fingers to savor. Dean was panting now, nearly twitching with anticipation as Cas neared his swollen dick. He was rock hard, as if by swelling big enough his cock could reach the touch it so craved.
Cas ran his hand along Dean's abdomen, but to one side, avoiding direct contact with his penis. His fingers brushed a hip, and Dean's head thrashed on the pillow. 'Please,' he croaked, 'please, Cas. Touch me.'
As if he'd been awaiting permission, Cas brought his hand up to hover directly over Dean's dick. Dean held his breath, then lost it in a rush as Cas gently, so gently settled his fingers over the shaft. He ran a light but reverent touch along the length, learning its textures. Dean realized something in that moment. Castiel had no idea how to touch an erect penis, and being in a male body, that was something he really should know. But, he'd been human for mere days, and clearly hadn't gotten around to exploring his body fully.
It was obvious that Castiel was a virgin, but the extent of his innocence was a revelation, and somehow massively erotic. Just then, Cas folded his hand around Dean's dick, and gripped him tight. Dean's whole body seized, arching off the bed as he thrust upward into Castiel's fist. He grabbed Cas' wrist, and held him still as he waited for his muscles to let go, to let him fall back onto the bed.
'Dean?', Castiel asked, a note of concern in his voice.
'Don't move, Cas, for Christ's sake. If you move, I'm gonna go off like a rocket.'
'Does it not usually require much more stimulation?' Castiel said, 'It certainly seemed so, when I saw you pleasure yourself some nights, as I watched over you.'
Cas had watched him? While he...? God! Dean's body seized again, even though Cas had remained unmoving. He trembled on the very verge of orgasm, unbearably aroused. When the spasm passed he collapsed back to the bed, gasping and shaking. Remembering what Dean had done to himself, Cas tightened his grip, and slid his hand upward. Dean cried out, and helplessly thrust upward. Cas' hand had picked up slickness from the pre-come drooling from Dean's dick, and now slid easily down the shaft again.
'Cas, god, Cas!', Dean yelled, pistoning into Cas' hand. This time, when he arched in seizure, hot jets of come pumped out to paint his stomach and chest. He didn't see, his head was pushed hard into the pillow, eyes rolled back. His brain whited out, blasted by pleasure.
When Dean returned to himself, he felt weak and shaky, his limbs leaden. He couldn't remember when he'd ever come so hard. He opened his eyes to see Castiel intently watching him, his features drawn fine with tension.
'That was a very interesting experience, Dean. Thank you for sharing it with me.' His voice was at least an octave lower than usual, and full of gravel.
Dean smiled, slow and sensual. 'Oh, we're not done, Cas. Now it's your turn.' He almost chuckled at the way Castiel's eyes widened and darkened, pupils blown with lust. His worry that Cas might not be into men was dispelled by the massive tent in the front of his boxer shorts.
'Lose the underwear, dude,' he told him, and laying back, Castiel complied. Dean sat up, and reached to his beside table for Kleenex and lube. He wiped the worst of the mess off his chest, and put the lube near to hand. Then he lay on his left side, and leaned over Castiel. Cas was already breathing hard, and his dick was a glorious sight to see. Long, hard, and thick, it was a prime specimen. From the pre-come beading its head, it was also dearly in need of some attention.
Dean felt a thrilling sense of power, along with a daunting awareness of responsibility. He was about to give an angel his first time. And that's how he still thought of Castiel, regardless of the state of his Grace. There was an ancient and powerful being still resident behind those eyes, and Dean was irresistably drawn to him.
In a way, this was Dean's first time too, since he'd not been with a man before. At least, knowing what he liked himself, he should be able to pleasure Cas. He'd stick to the simple stuff this time around, and if all went well, they'd figure out the rest together. God, he really hoped Cas was gonna like this, he already wanted there to be a next time, and a next, and many more.
He began by mirroring Castiel's moves with him. He ran his hand up the arm nearest to him, over the shoulder, and up the neck. He could feel Castiel's pulse throbbing in his throat. Putting his hand behind Cas' head, he broke the pattern, leaning down to touch his lips to Cas'. Cas inhaled sharply, and Dean angled his head, pressing his lips more firmly to Cas' parted ones. He flicked his tongue along Cas' lips, and Cas automatically opened his mouth wider. Accepting the invitation, Dean thrust his tongue into Cas' mouth.
Castiel moaned and raised his head, his own hand coming up to press against the back of Dean's. Dean explored Cas' mouth, and shuddered with renewed passion as Cas enthusiastically kissed him back.
Dean kept up the kiss, but moved his hand down to Castiel's chest. Gently, he raked his fingernails over one of Cas' nipples, and thrilled at the convulsive jerk. Pulling back, he lowered his head, and licked at the other nipple. Cas' head thudded back onto the pillow, and he gasped for air; now he was the one shaking.
'Dean?' Cas asked, sounding both bewildered and desperate. He raised his head and shoulders off the bed, and looked about ready to bolt.
Dean lifted his head, and looked deep into Castiel's impossibly blue eyes. 'Don't fight it, Cas. Just let it come. I've got you.' Dean was humbled by the trust in those eyes as Cas nodded, and let himself fall back. Dean found the lube, and poured some into his right hand. He rubbed his hands together, getting his fingers slick and warm.
Then, needing to see his reaction, Dean kept his eyes on Cas' face as he blindly reached down and found Cas' dick. Closing it in his fist, he was treated to the sight of Castiel feeling the first true shock of lust.
'Dean!', Castiel shouted, and flailed for something to hang onto. He grabbed onto the arm Dean was using to support himself, and fisted the sheet in his other hand. Dean gave Cas' dick one slow pump, and Cas arched upward, muscles straining. Dean thought the sight of a desperate Cas to be one of the best of his life.
Dean circled the head of Cas' penis, then passed his thumb over the slit. Castiel writhed under him, not knowing how to process the impossibly intense sensations. Dean slid his hand back down the shaft, and Cas automatically thrust up into his fist. 'Dean, ahhh!'
Dean set a rhythm, pumping upward, circling the head, gripping tight, and sliding down. Castiel was gasping, almost sobbing, thrusting helplessly in time with Dean's strokes. His head thrashed back and forth, sweat standing out on his brow. Dean picked up the pace, and Cas' mouth opened, a scream strangling in his throat.
'Let go, Cas,' Dean urged. 'Come for me.' As if responding to a command, Castiel thrust hard, his whole body rising off the bed, and yelled 'Deeean!!'. Dean felt the pulsations in Cas' dick, as his body released in violent surges. Dean gently stroked him through it, knowing from experience when to stop and let go.
Cas collapsed into a trembling heap, his arm falling away from Dean as his strength drained with the waning of his first-ever orgasm. Stunned blue eyes met Dean's, and unable to resist, Dean leaned in and kissed him again, slowly and tenderly this time. Castiel sighed with pleasure, and his body relaxed, sinking back into the bed.
'Be right back,' Dean murmured, and got up to fetch a warm washcloth. He returned to find Cas hovering at the edge of sleep, but still not quite able to let go. With tender care, Dean cleaned away the evidence of their activity, then got back into bed beside him.
'Sleep is nothing to fear, Cas', he told the desperately tired man. 'It's a pleasure, too. You just have to let it take you over, like an orgasm. That was good, right?' Cas nodded slowly, like even that small motion was almost too much effort for him.
'How about I watch over you for a change?', he offered, opening his arms in invitation. Cas eagerly rolled over, snuggling into Dean, pillowing his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean closed his arms around him, and felt Cas relax under the gentle pressure of the hug. Cas' blue eyes, blurry with fatigue, met his. 'Thank you, Dean. For everything.' Then he laid his head down on Dean's shoulder again, and within two breaths was fast asleep.
Dean lay there, reveling in the trust that Cas had accorded him, the gift of intimacy. How had he come to be so lucky? No way he was worthy of this amazing being's regard, but for some unknowable reason, Castiel loved him. And, he now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, he loved Cas. Smiling, he pressed a kiss to the top of that beloved, dark-haired head and whispered, 'Rest, my angel.'