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Dean and Castiel are attempting, with limited success, to stroll through the bunker as if everything's normal. As if they're not caked head to toe in mud and soaked through with muddy water. They took their boots off by the door, but Sam gives them a filthy look as they nevertheless leave dirty trails on the floor just by crossing it.

“I'm guessing that creature gave you a hard time,” Sam says wryly.

“It was nothing we couldn't handle,” replies Cas, proudly. The two exchange a smile and Dean slings an arm over Castiel's shoulder without thinking, as they carry on walking further into the security of the bunker and towards the showers.

They've been on half a dozen hunts since Castiel was re-united with them, but this is the first one they've done without Sam. Sam is busy helping to try and make sense of Kevin's transcriptions of the angel tablet, as well as doing his best internet sleuthing to try and track down other fallen angels, who are still trying to find Castiel. With Ezekiel gone, Cas can finally stay at the bunker, and Dean doesn't want him to ever leave again. But Castiel was getting restless at the bunker, with all this angel talk, so Dean decided that it would do him some good to go on a hunt – tracking down and killing a creature that lived in the forest nearby which liked to snack on humans. That's the sort of thing that always makes Dean feel better, anyway.

Castiel does seem happy in this moment, with the thrill of having vanquished the creature. He's smiling from ear to ear, the smear of dirt across his cheek accentuating all the little crinkles that appear when he smiles. Happiness transforms Castiel – he holds himself differently, moves more lightly and with more enthusiasm, he seems inherently more alive than before. Castiel minus his grace tends to spend a worrying amount of time slumped forward in long, brooding silences. He gets depressed, Dean knows, and the best way Dean can see to help is to make sure that Castiel still feels useful, make sure they've got plenty to do, help Castiel to do some good in the world.

Saving people, hunting things.

It's only when they reach the door that Dean catches himself for having his arm still around Castiel's shoulders and pulls it away, though Cas doesn't give any reaction. It's not exactly the first time Dean has done it. Castiel opens the door to the shower room and flicks on the lights.

They're both warm and energised from the adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt. Neither of them feels tired after fighting and killing the creature – and there's an excited atmosphere between them that Dean can feel crackling like static in the air before a storm. He knows Castiel has as much energy as he does – and he feels like he could fight another creature right now, or go for a run, or...

Castiel meets Dean's eyes and then quickly shrugs off his jacket. The bunker's shower room has a bank of half a dozen showers, but it's never been necessary for two people to go in there at exactly the same time, before. “Oh so you're going first?” Dean challenges.

Castiel shrugs. “We could shower together.”

“Ha,” Dean's breath catches in his throat and his heart accelerates. “Why do you get to go first?”

Castiel smirks and takes off his plaid shirt, before peeling off the t-shirt he wears underneath, which is soaked through and clings to his skin. Castiel has no embarrassment at all, Dean's gaze lingers on the muscles of his chest and shoulders, and his slim waist. He's seen Castiel naked before, of course, but it's different now. Everything is just different now; something has changed between them, everything has changed between them, like they've shifted into another gear. Dean swallows hard and averts his eyes.

For something to do, Dean takes his jacket off, hanging it up. Castiel approaches and stands next to him, obviously too close, hanging up his own jacket on the very next hook, his shirts next to that.

Okay. Dean finds himself joining in, taking off his shirts quickly and dropping them on the bench. “You're not going first.”

“It appears that I am,” Castiel retorts, his hands on his belt, deftly unfastening his jeans.

“No,” Dean grabs his wrists to pull them away from the jeans, trying to ignore the spark of excitement at feeling the warmth of Castiel's bare skin in his hands.

Castiel laughs – actually laughs – and tries to free his arms, and Dean sort of lets him because this is Cas. Castiel playfully pushes Dean's chest so that he stumbles back until he hits the wall.

Dean's heart is beating faster now, with more than just the excitement of the hunt and this playful contest with Cas. Dean's eyes flick down over Castiel's body before his hands go to the fastenings of his own jeans, but Castiel stops him, pulls his hands away – and then he turns around, pushing his back into Dean's chest and – more alarmingly – his ass into Dean's crotch to pin him in place against the wall.

Dean takes a sharp intake of breath and is temporarily frozen in place. He can't see Cas's face, but he's willing to bet that Cas knows exactly what he's doing to Dean right now – he's got his ass against Dean's crotch, after all, and no one is that oblivious. Dean finds himself just standing there as Castiel shifts against him, pushing the waistband of his jeans and underwear down over his hips, and Dean can feel the pressure of the gathered material rub hard against his crotch as Cas pushes it down.

Castiel then steps away, turning back around as he drops his jeans and underwear on the bench – and Dean quickly averts his eyes as he gets a glimpse of Castiel standing there completely naked, apart from his socks, his heart racing as he fiddles with the buckle of his own belt.

“Cas,” Dean gasps, his heart pounding in his chest, “remember what I told you about the importance of clothes around other people?”

“I can't shower wearing clothes, Dean,” Castiel says with a laugh, as if Dean is an fool.

Castiel pulls his socks off and Dean clenches his fists around his the material of his jeans and looks up, eyes scanning the ceiling and looking for something, anything, other that Cas to fixate on.

“I've been thinking,” Castiel says casually, and Dean tentatively approaches the bench again, trying to turn and face the wall so he can only see Cas in his peripheral vision. “If they could make showers with such good water pressure in 1958, or much earlier, why is it that the showers are so inadequate in so many of the motels we stay in now, in 2013?”

“Uh, good, um, question...” Dean fidgets with the material of his jeans and doesn't know what else to say or where to look.

Dean jumps then at the feel of Castiel's hand on the inside of his thigh, and Cas just sits there holding Dean's leg as if that's a perfectly normal thing that the two of them do. He looks up at Dean so Dean meets his eyes. Castiel looks away and smiles. “We could shower together,” he says again, gently removing his hand, and it means something different this time, or at least, the meaning this time is abundantly obvious.

Castiel gets up, then, quietly, grabbing his towel and going over to the shower stalls. Dean can tell, by the sound, that he's gone for the nearest one. So Dean will have to pass him. He definitely means together. Like, together together.

There's a silence, and Dean cautiously looks over his shoulder. Castiel is standing half-obscured by the wall of the nearest stall, and Dean's heart seems to leap into his throat and all the energy in his body drops straight down to pool between his legs even though he can't see all of Cas. Castiel's body all long lines of smooth tanned skin stained with dirt that has seeped in through his clothes, both by being in dirty water in the forest, and by being thrown on the ground and dragged through the mud a few times by the beast, and Dean can't keep his eyes off it, and he knows he's been staring too long and too obviously by the time he raises his gaze to Castiel's face. Cas is looking at him with a curious expression. “Are you joining me or not?” Cas asks, amused. As if this is funny

Dean widens his eyes and looks around the bathroom, as if afraid he's being observed by someone, but of course he isn't. “I, uh, well...” he trails off, and Castiel is still watching him.

Dean has no idea what the look on his face is in return – but has a worrying feeling that it's an awkward nervous smile, and he suddenly has no idea how to stand, where to look, what to do with his hands. Castiel keeps his eyes on Dean's the entire time, and when Dean finally meets his eyes again Castiel just smiles, pointedly leaving the shower curtain open, and disappearing into the stall.

Dean hears the water come on, and suddenly snaps back into awareness of the fact that he's still wearing his jeans. He pushes them down, underwear too, where they join the chaotic pile of muddy and discarded clothes that litter the bench.

A spark of doubt flashes in Dean's mind, which hadn't had a chance to make itself known while Castiel was still in his presence. Dean suddenly becomes aware of himself and what he's doing – and what he's about to do. Castiel, his best friend, is naked a few feet away under a stream of warm water, hands rubbing over his body to clean himself, and this knowledge alone is making Dean's cock throb with interest, half-hard already, and in the centre of his chest he feels a pull towards the shower. There's nothing his body wants more than to get in there with Cas, but his mind is racing. Is he really going to do this? Dean takes his socks off too, and can't think of a single damn reason why not.

His aversion to this is something deep-seated, built of shame and fear. For years, for most of his life, any feelings about guys were forced down, buried and ignored and Dean would distract himself with women and drinking and hunting until those feelings went away. But they always came back, just like Cas always comes back. And with Cas, the desire long ago became impossible to deny the existence of or ignore. He has too much going on with Cas, they're too close for Dean to just forget all about him – so Dean has to think about the guy. He thinks about Cas all the fucking time these days, and he's known for a while that he can't deny what it all means.

Dean reaches the corner of the stall, his hand resting on the tiled partition to steady himself. He tries to convince himself to go in, to convince himself to let go of shame and fear. After all he and Cas have been through there's no fucking reason to be ashamed of his feelings for him, and Dean feels sort of angry with himself for ever feeling that way. And as for fear? This is new and unknown territory for Dean, this means that he has to face up to the fact that he does like guys – this one especially – and there will be no way he can lie to himself about being totally straight if he and Cas fucking shower together. So yeah, Dean's afraid. But hell, he faces down fear every day.

Dean steps around the corner and Castiel turns to look at him. Cas's behaviour before he got in the shower was a definite invitation, so he's not surprised to see Dean there, though there's a glint of something in his sapphire blue eyes which also resembles fear. It's a combination of uncertainty and exhilaration, and Castiel's gaze briefly flicks down before he licks his lips and turns away.

Dean steps into the stall, behind him, closing the shower curtain, shutting both of them into the confined and private space. Rivulets of water run down Castiel's back, tracking paths the colour of his skin amongst the grubby brown that stains him. Castiel has already washed his hair, and he steps under the jet of hot water to rinse it, running his fingers through it, his back still to Dean as if he's not there – but Dean can see that Cas is carrying a tension in his body that means he's anticipating something.

Dean picks up a bottle of shower gel from the wire shelf in the corner, surprised to see that his hands are shaking. He and Castiel have done a lot of staring at each other over the years, but physically they've never so much as kissed, and hardly even touched outside of helping each other up or caring for each other when injured. Well – there was the hug in Purgatory, and a couple of hugs since Castiel came back which went on rather too long and involved rather too much intimate hair-stroking and back rubbing to be something that takes place between two guys who are just friends – but this, nevertheless, is so very different. This is a huge step up. This changes everything. This still feels like a dream.

Dean pours the cool shower gel into his right hand, carefully setting the bottle down again afterwards. He hesitates, before bringing his hand to Castiel's shoulder – and he feels Cas tense up under him, taking a deep breath as Dean spreads the slick substance over his back, using both hands to spread it across his shoulder-blades. Dean finds himself breathing heavily now, as his hands slip and slide easily over Castiel's skin, Cas's body warm and firm under his hands. The shower gel lathers up and bubbles cascade down Castiel's back, perfectly tracking every contour of his skin, every bump of bone and bulge of muscle until they slip over the swell of his ass and then down his legs. Dean's hands follow them as far as the small of Castiel's back but venture no lower. The water below them is brown with the dirt, and Dean allows himself to be excited by the fact that that means they have a lot more cleaning up to do.

Dean's hands wander back up Castiel's body, rinsing off the gel under the stream of warm water. Dean always finds himself slightly surprised when he sees how fit and strong Cas really is. All Castiel's clothes – even the new ones he picked out to buy – are slightly too big for him and don't show off the physique he's got under there, the firm muscles, the athletic build. Just because he's not an angel anymore doesn't make him useless or weak, and Dean really hopes that Cas knows that as his hands work down over the muscles of Castiel's arms, rubbing dirt off his skin.

Some of the water ends up on Dean, but he hasn't stepped directly under the shower head yet, as this really would bring him close to Cas. Castiel decides to turn round then, and firmly takes hold of Dean's shoulders, guiding Dean around to switch places with him. Dean determinedly avoids looking down, meeting Castiel's eyes for a moment but he can't think, can't read Cas's expression, too overwhelmed by the fact that this is happening. As Dean backs under the shower head, water rushes against the back of his neck, flowing down his back as well as over his shoulders and chest, and he can already feel how the force of the jet of hot water is rinsing the dirt from his skin.

Dean compliantly lets Castiel turn him round to face the wall, the one with the shower controls. Castiel seems more confident than Dean imagined he would be – but then again he never really imagined that Cas would be the one to initiate things either, and yet here they are. Having Castiel's hands on him, turning him around, deciding where and how Dean should stand – all that is doing more for Dean than he ever anticipated, and he nervously clenches his hand into a fist, longing to touch himself. He has an erection now, heavy between his legs, demanding attention – and hell, it's not like it would be the first time of Dean touching himself thinking about Cas. He's been doing that for months already, indulging himself in his private fantasies in ways he hasn't yet been able to indulge himself in real life. But that, of course, is all about to change, already has changed, because this is happening.

Castiel picks up the shampoo, pours some of it onto his hand and then brings it up to Dean's head. Dean tilts his head back as he feels Castiel's fingers massage the shampoo into his scalp, and just being touched anywhere feels fucking incredible right now, and Dean enjoys the feeling of fingers running through his hair in particular. When Cas is done Dean moves forward so that the water rushes directly over his head, washing the shampoo out. He expects Castiel's hands to return to his hair, but they don't. Instead, Dean jumps slightly when he feels Castiel's hands low on his waist, just above his ass and subtly slipping down. Dean's breath comes in short pants as he realises that the way Cas is touching him doesn't even fit in with the pretence of washing him – and then laughs at himself internally for half-maintaining the belief before that washing each other in the shower could just be something that good friends do for each other. Dean imagines Castiel standing behind him, looking him over, admiring his ass, and then runs his hand through his hair to get rid of the shampoo, and for something to do, because he feels like he's going crazy with the excited and needy desire of all this.

Castiel lets go of Dean suddenly as if he just realised what he was doing, and at Dean's side he sees Cas's hand reach for the bottle of shower gel, copying Dean's actions from before. Dean realises just how exhilarating he finds this; just standing here unable to see what Castiel is doing, awaiting his actions. A myriad of chaotic half-formed thoughts and desires rush to mind featuring blindfolds and Castiel being behind him and Dean patiently waiting for Cas to touch him way more intimately than this – but at that Dean just swallows hard and surreptitiously presses the heel of his hand to his cock to try and relieve some of the pressure, because he's getting so far ahead of himself. Dean turns the temperature of the water up ever so slightly, and the surge of heat feels awesome against his skin, cleansing.

Castiel's hands are on his back then, massaging the gel into his skin and spreading it over his shoulder blades and down his sides. Castiel does it more slowly than Dean did it, and more firmly, his fingers squeezing the flesh of Dean's back as he presses his thumbs into Dean's skin, massaging him, rubbing his skin hard enough to get it truly clean. Dean has an absurd flicker of doubt that maybe Cas really does think that's all this is, that they're just showering together to get clean, but that doubt disappears completely with what Castiel does next.

Castiel's hands rub the gel into his sides, straying further and further forwards until he steps closer, his hands sliding around Dean's waist to his stomach, and then Dean can feel the warm press of Castiel's body against his back, including the hard line of Castiel's dick against his ass and fuck that should not feel as good as it does, but Dean's own erection gives a painfully hard throb in response. He can feel Castiel's cheek against his neck, mouth pressed lightly to the skin of Dean's shoulder as his arms wrap around Dean more tightly.

A faint sound of pleasure escapes Dean's throat, but through the pounding of the water Dean doesn't know whether Cas hears it. Castiel's hands slide up to the centre of Dean's chest and, holding him firmly, guide him to shuffle backwards just slightly, so that the jet of water misses most of Dean's body and hits his stomach and his groin, which feels pretty fucking nice, actually.

Castiel picks up the shower gel again and tips some more of it into his hand, and this time of course Dean can see exactly what Castiel's hands are doing so decides to watch as Castiel spreads the gel out over the top of Dean's chest. Cas works his way down Dean's ribcage to his stomach again in a way that is deliberately sensual, his fingers slowing down over Dean's nipples to apply pressure to them, even circling one of them with his fingertip.

The confined environment has become almost too hot, too filled with steam, and Dean can hardly breathe between his moans as he lets Castiel wash the shower gel off, dimly remembering that he's the one with the experience here, so he should probably be one taking the lead with Cas. But Castiel isn't shy and unsure the way Dean imagined he might be – and Dean has always liked women who knew what they were doing, knew what they wanted...

This is all a lot to think about and perhaps Castiel can sense Dean's apprehension, because his arms uncoil from Dean's waist and he takes a step back – the loss of contact leaving Dean feeling cold compared to how he was before.

Dean turns to face him and Castiel looks back at him curiously, utterly unabashed and without embarrassment, though he appears concerned that he might have crossed a line, head cocked slightly to one side, lips parted. Dean reaches out to take hold of him by his upper arms, pulling him closer and turning to the side so they both stand under the shower together, facing each other in the hot stream of water. Dean pulls him closer until he feels Cas's thigh against the tip of his cock which makes his breath hitch – and Castiel's eyes temporarily fall closed as the space between them disappears, pressed chest-to-chest, their erections nestled close together between their legs.

Castiel opens his eyes again to look at Dean as if for some sort of cue, but Dean is just standing there, his hands still around Castiel's upper arms, holding him in place.

One of Castiel's hands settles on Dean's hip while the other comes up to cup the side of his face. Dean closes his eyes and relaxes into the touch. He wants this, god, he needs this more than he's ever needed anything, but there's still a part of him that has his doubts. This will mean something; this will change things between himself and Castiel. It's a possibility that the newly human Castiel is just curious, just wants to get off and thinks that Dean is hot and happens to be present, that he's not going through the same chaos of emotions as Dean right now. They should probably talk about this, shouldn't they? What does this mean to you? How does this make you feel? All that sort of crap.

Dean opens his eyes to see Castiel's just centimetres from his own. Something passes between them, unspoken, and they don't need to talk. The way Castiel's gaze is fixed on him now conveys more than he ever could with words, it's a silent I love you, I need you, and something even more all-encompassing than that.

We've never even kissed, Dean realises. He blinks a couple of times as if coming out of a trance, and brings one hand up to the back of Castiel's head, cradling it, breathing heavily. Fuck, we've never even kissed.

Castiel licks his lips but now looks as nervous as Dean feels, his gaze darting away furtively and then back again, searching Dean's eyes for something. There's barely any space between them, and it shouldn't be so hard to close the distance, but somehow the gulf seems impassable. Dean has waited for this for so long, looked at those full pink lips so many fucking times and thought so much about kissing Castiel that the entire concept has taken on an air of unreality; it exists only as unobtainable fantasy, as Castiel himself is an unobtainable fantasy.

Except he isn't. Castiel is here in his arms and shows no signs of leaving. He's real, he's Dean's, and Dean is his. Dean bites his lip and, just for the moment, pulls Castiel into a closer hug rather than kiss him, and they stand there cheek-to-cheek. Castiel's arms wrap around Dean and he splays his hands over Dean's back, holding him close. It's only then that Dean realises how excited Castiel really is, how fast his breathing is, and if Dean slides his hand down a little he can feel the pulse racing in Castiel's neck, fast and frantic.

Dean tangles his fingers in Castiel's hair again, holding his head still as Dean turns to the side. He plants a kiss on Castiel's temple, drags his lips over Castiel's cheek and hears an excited little breath in his ear in response. He kisses Castiel on the cheek, the stubble scratchy against his lips, which Dean likes more than he ever thought he would because this is Cas and Dean likes everything about Cas right now. Unhurried, Dean slides his lips along Castiel's cheekbone, pressing a couple more firm kisses to his skin, until he presses one at the corner of Castiel's mouth. He feels Castiel tense in his hands, turning to the side insistently, and then Dean can feel those lips sliding over his, closing against his in a kiss. A jolt goes through Dean's body and he's pretty sure he whimpers into the long-awaited kiss, but he doesn't care. Castiel's hands grasp at his back as he kisses Dean and Dean kisses him, holding him close, and Dean feels even hotter, feeling a fire roar deep within him that no amount of water could put out.

In Castiel's eagerness and inexperience he kisses a little too hard, but Dean doesn't even care – he just parts his lips and flicks his tongue out, Castiel readily meeting it with his own. Castiel pushes his tongue into Dean's mouth and Dean swirls his own tongue around it, stroking it, which makes Castiel pull away for a fraction of a second to gasp, immediately leaning in to kiss Dean again, the moan rising in Castiel's throat vibrating into him. Dean decides it's his turn then, and takes it slower, gentler, as if demonstrating for Cas how to do it. He licks his way into Castiel's mouth, running along his lower lip and then tracing the steep upward curve of the top one, exploring Castiel's mouth this way, learning what he responds to, learning him.

By the time Dean stops and pulls back just slightly, Castiel's lips are flushed and his eyes are closed. He's breathing heavily and Dean can still feel the hard swell of Cas's dick next to his own. Dean slides his right hand down Castiel's chest, pausing at the nipple to take it between his fingers, rolling it between them and circling it with his thumb. Castiel moans softly and opens his eyes; though they remain half-lidded, dark with lust and need. Dean smiles at him, growing in confidence, silently promising Castiel that he's going to take care of him, going to give him everything he wants, everything he needs.

Dean slides his hand down further, over Castiel's taut stomach, down to the sharp jut of his hip bone. Dean swallows hard as he thinks about the reality of the situation, that he's going to touch another man's cock which is not something that he's ever wanted to admit to wanting, but right now, he wants it more than anything, more even than he wants Cas to touch him. Dean watches Castiel's face as he slips his hand lower over the damp curls of hair, the side of Dean's hand just grazing against his length. Castiel closes his eyes and he draws in a deep breath, waiting for more. Dean bites his lip and finally slides his palm over Castiel's dick, wrapping his fingers around it, letting it fill his hand. Castiel whimpers and opens his eyes just slightly, watching Dean intently. Dean glances down and adjusts his grip, properly looking at Castiel's dick for the first time. The head is flushed pink between Dean's thumb and forefinger, and when Dean rubs his thumb over it a bead of pre-come leaks out, the water of the shower washing it away. Dean watches his own hand as he slowly works Castiel's cock from base to tip, getting used to the way it feels in his hand, realising that he actually really likes the way it feels, and more than that, he loves what it's doing to Cas.

Castiel wraps one arm tightly around Dean's shoulders and insistently grabs Dean's jaw with the other, pulling him in for a kiss, messy and urgent and oh so hot – because now Cas is really turned on, and he knows what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. He takes Dean a little by surprise as he pushes Dean up against the wall, the coolness of the tiles pressed against Dean's back coming as shock to him. Castiel pins him there with his left forearm against Dean's chest, left hand still resting against the side of Dean's face – but Castiel is looking down now, at Dean's own erection which hangs heavy and aching between his legs.

Castiel reaches down to touch tentatively, trailing the pads of his fingers up and down Dean's shaft lightly a few times, which sends little shocks up and down Dean's spine and makes him need more. Cas meets Dean's eyes when he takes Dean's cock into his hand, loosely moving his fist up and down.

Cas...” Dean tips his head back and lets it hit the wall, and when he feels Castiel's mouth on the column of his throat he gives a strangled gasp of surprise and pleasure. Castiel kisses and sucks his way down to Dean's collar bone, mouthing at his skin, flicking his tongue out. Fuck, you're a dark horse, Cas... Dean thinks, though he doesn't feel nearly articulate enough to say it.

Dean tips his head forward again to see Castiel watching him rapturously, and then Dean looks down between them. He guides Castiel to stand closer, close enough that he can line up their cocks side by side, pressing them together. Castiel experimentally moves his hips and slides his length against Dean's, which makes his eyes fall closed and a moan spill from his lips. Dean is starting to feel light-headed and even a little dizzy – due to the heat and the steam and how overwhelmed he feels to be finally be doing this with Castiel, feeling Cas's dick sliding against his own in the tunnel that they make with their hands.

They experiment with this for a time, losing themselves in their movements against each other, and their kisses. Dean kisses Castiel's neck, exploring all the sensitive areas, learning that the spot behind Castiel's ear gets the best reaction, Castiel arching his body against Dean and moaning in his ear. Castiel doesn't hold back on the noise, it probably wouldn't occur to him to do so, so Dean doesn't hold back either, letting Castiel know exactly how good he feels, holding him close, rocking his hips in time with him in easy movements.

When Dean can tell that Castiel is getting close, he wants to give Castiel the feeling of a hand tight around his cock, devoted to getting him off. He wants to be able to watch Castiel come, see the look on his face, hear the sound he makes. Dean moves so they're just separate enough again to give that to each other, Castiel's hand stroking Dean's cock quickly, tightening around him on the upstroke.

There's only so much one can learn by observation and mimicry, and Dean had been able to tell from Castiel's kiss that he'd not done that much before – but this? This Castiel has done before to himself, Dean can tell, because he's good at it. Really good. Castiel has been a human for a few months now, and a man's got needs after all. Dean imagines Castiel touching himself, in the shower, in bed – and he wonders what Cas thinks about, whether he thinks about Dean, about this–

Dean takes a sharp breath and moans as he feels his climax building in the pit of his stomach. Castiel whimpers and leans heavily against Dean, his face against Dean's shoulder, and Dean feels rather than hears Castiel say something against his skin.

“Cas?” Dean runs his fingers through Castiel's hair, and Cas stands up straight, opening his eyes to meet Dean's and crowding him against the wall until he presses his forehead against Dean's.

“I said...” Castiel pants, with his eyes closed, “...faster.”

Dean complies, stroking Castiel's dick faster, and gripping tighter too for good measure. Castiel moans and gasps something, the movements of his own hand on Dean's cock stuttering as he gets closer. “Fuck,” Castiel swears, for the first time that Dean's ever heard. They get into a new rhythm together, their breathing fast but in time, foreheads pressed together, and Dean can see Castiel losing it, screwing his eyes tight shut, gasping Dean's name, louder and louder until he pants, “Ah– Dean!” and comes with a breathy, wordless noise. Dean works his cock until he's completely spent, his come splashed over Dean's stomach, washed away by the water from the shower.

Castiel takes a moment to get his breath back and compose himself, opening his eyes blearily. He blinks at Dean and Dean sees Cas look at him almost dreamily, as if Dean is the most beautiful sight he has ever laid eyes on and he's temporarily overwhelmed by it. Dean's breath catches in his throat and he watches as Castiel looks down. His long fingers are still wrapped around Dean's cock, and he starts to move again, slowly at first. Dean soon gets back into it, with a whole new level of appreciation for Cas's hands, and he soon gets close again. He pulls Castiel in close, letting Cas rest his weight against him. Dean's lips find Castiel's and kiss him hard before he has to stop, his balls tightening and his climax rushing closer and closer, on the edge of breaking over him like the crest of a wave. He presses his face to Castiel's hair as the pressure builds and wants to say something like fuck yes Cas, you're so fucking good at this Cas, I love you Cas, but he only manages the “Cas,” part, letting it rush out amongst other wordless incoherent moans as the tension finally breaks, and in a heady rush of pleasure he comes hard and messily into Castiel's hand.

They remain still for a moment, breathing heavily and holding each other as they come down from the high under the steady stream of hot water. How long they must have been in the shower for now, Dean has no idea, but he still feels like he could stay there forever.

Despite how sated and satisfied Dean feels there's a nervous energy too; now that the urge has been satisfied – now that it's over – now what?

Castiel moves away from Dean to stand up straight, and meets his eyes with a nervous little smile which lights up his face, makes him look younger, so full of life. Dean breaks into a grin and reaches out to cup the side of his face. He's so fucking cute, Dean thinks to himself, pulling Cas in to give him a kiss on the lips, and it seems so easy now, so obvious. Castiel reciprocates, and for a moment they stand there under the water, exchanging light, lazy kisses.

They part and quietly finish washing themselves, helping to get each other clean until the water that runs down the drain is clear. By the time Dean turns the water off the pads of his fingers are wrinkled, and the amount of steam in the room has become ridiculous, as Dean sees the mirrors totally clouded over as Castiel pulls back the curtain and steps out.

Once they've dried off, Dean wraps a towel round his waist, though he isn't sure why he bothers considering what he and Castiel just did – and Cas copies him, which makes Dean smile.

“Dean, I–”

“Cas,” Dean interrupts, and goes over to him. He cups both sides of Castiel's face in his hands. “I know.”

Castiel smiles and moves closer, his hands on Dean's waist, sliding round to his back. “I would, uh, like it if we did this again,” Castiel says with that combination of shyness and open honesty unique to him. “This was a combination of two of my favourite human experiences.”

Dean can't help but burst out into laughter, letting go of Castiel's face and pulling him into a hug. “Me too, Cas,” he says against Castiel's hair. “Me too.”

Castiel's arms tighten around Dean's back and they stand there together, and it's easy, so much easier than Dean ever imagined it could be for them. “Are you tired?” Castiel asks, though he doesn't wait for an answer before he suggests, “We could go to bed together.”

Dean can't say anything, but he draws back far enough to be able to look at Cas again, and Cas's eyes are curious, searching Dean's, trying to see whether he wants that, whether he feels the same. “We could,” Dean manages finally, suddenly feeling the need to repeat it, to confirm it, to make it real. “We can. We should have – we should've done this a long time ago.”

“I know,” Castiel says simply, closing his eyes and kissing Dean.