Dean’s the one who answers the door when Hannah shows up at the bunker.
It takes him a moment to place her although he’s usually pretty good with faces, and for a second he thinks they invited her, because she’s carrying a plant and aren’t plants like, the go-to housewarming gift?
“Uh,” he’s still a bit wary about letting her in, “can I help you?”
“Yes,” she nods, glancing at the plant then back at Dean. “I- Well, we… have run into a predicament. I believe you may be able to assist us.”
She sounds so formal and serious and Dean fights a smile because it reminds him of Cas, all thesaurus words and Victorian phrases like ‘not of import’ that somehow worked with his stupid low voice and- Speaking of.
“Um, where’s… Cas?”
Hannah shoots the plant a pained look. “Castiel has been… compromised.”
Dean blinks. “Compromised.”
“Yes, he- We encountered a coven, of witches, a-and in the ensuing fight there was a, um, collision. And the following morning, I found him,” she raises the terra-cotta pot a little, “like this.”
Dean’s knee-jerk reaction to the story is that he doesn’t want to imagine the two of them waking up together in any degree of proximity, which- That is totally not the point. He squashes the thought - because, honestly, what the hell? - and instead takes the plant from her, cradling it despite himself. Hannah appears almost relieved to hand it over, and Dean thinks he can understand based on his previous run-ins with witches; they’re nuts.
“How do you know he didn’t just flap away?” he asks.
Hannah sighs. “His clothes were all left behind, and so were his shoes.”
“Alright, you better come inside,” Dean tells her. “My brother will help figure this out. I hope.”
◇ ◇ ◇
Sam looks at Dean, then Hannah, then at the plant, then clutches his coffee. “Wait, I don’t- He…”
“Yeah, Sammy, Cas is a plant now,” Dean grumbles. “C’mon, s’not like we haven’t seen weirder.”
They’re gathered in the library, sitting around the table with the plant (Cas) equidistant from each of them. Sam won’t stop spluttering, though, which seems to alarm Hannah a little bit, and sure, Dean gets why this would be upsetting, but the sooner they recover, the sooner they can figure out what kind of deep, cauldron shit they’re in and fix it. He tries to convey this entire message in a stern look he throws at Sam, and Sam, despite his botany-induced haze, catches on and grabs his laptop, gesturing for Hannah to sit closer so they can talk.
“I need you to give me all the details you can about this coven,” he says. Once Hannah nods and replies “Of course,” he turns to Dean again and adds, “We’ll have to take care of the- Cas, until I finish the research. So don’t forget to water him and don’t kill him, okay?”
“I know how to look after a plant,” Dean glares, pulling the pot back toward himself. Briefly, it feels like the plant is staring, with Cas’ trademark puppy dog eyes that are sad and accompanied by an odd head tilt.
That’s crazy, of course, even if Cas does stare a lot, yet something about it prompts Dean to touch a finger to one of the leaves. He isn’t sure what he expects from the contact, though it’s certainly not the plant moving and shivering in response. What’s more, the leaf then slowly around Dean's finger, and suddenly he’s holding ‘hands’ with a plant and- He doesn’t possess the coping mechanism for this.
“Hey, Cas,” he manages to say.
Sam and Hannah are blatantly staring when he looks up, and it’s like, for Pete’s sake. Enough with all the unwarranted staring. It doesn’t help that Sam says “Oh,” like he’s had an epiphany while typing lord knows what into his computer, and it really doesn’t help that Hannah quirks an eyebrow, because she’s a warrior of God and therefore whatever Sam came up with must be fucking riveting for her to be intrigued. And of course Dean wants to see what they’re looking at but Cas isn’t- Cas isn’t letting him go so, you know, what other option does he have except to stay in his seat.
So, yeah, due to Cas being a super needy plant, Dean misses Sam changing his search parameters from ‘house plants 101’ to ‘botanical love spells.’
◇ ◇ ◇
The next day includes a trip to the Home Depot, during which Dean buckles the seatbelt over Cas in the Impala. He figures spilt dirt would be like Cas’ pants falling off - probably - and either way they’re going to need plant food to maximize the, um, phloem activity.
Not that Dean browsed a bunch of botany blogs and took like, detailed notes or anything.
He flags down an employee once he’s inside the Garden Center, Cas tucked safely in the crook of his elbow.
“This is a very nice species,” the guy, Brett, tells him kindly. He slides one of the leaves between his fingers, testing the texture. “Whoever bought it must’ve gone to a nursery. The condition is excel-”
The leaf shrivels in his hand.
Brett drops his hand in horror and Dean starts to shout “Oh, shit, Cas!” before realizing how crazy he sounds. He tries to backtrack but the damage is done, and Brett- Brett just looks really sad for him.
“Dude, I didn’t mean to hurt your, uh.”
“It’s fine,” Dean mumbles. He rubs the browned leaf, worried, because what if this had been one of Cas’ arms, or legs? Does it even translate that way? But then the leaf- Shit. The leaf turns green and waxy again from his touch, and Dean has no choice but to book it right on outta there because it definitely becomes awkward for everyone.
He does buy the food he was looking for from a local nursery later that afternoon, and effectively creeps out the staff of botanists by refusing to let them put their toxic hands on Cas’ leaves.
◇ ◇ ◇
Cole couldn’t be more done with him.
“Your boyfriend is a plant,” he states flatly over the phone. “Is that why you were such a dick? You’re a plaid-wearing hipster who dates plants?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dean snaps. Cole snorts. “Wait, how do you even know about this?”
“Sam sent me a Snapchat,” Cole says.
“Since when do you two-” Dean stops himself there; he officially lost the privilege to judge when he decided barhopping with Crowley in North Dakota was a good idea. “The curse is only temporary. I just need to make sure he doesn’t die before we find a cure.”
“You should sing to him.”
Dean chokes on his Heineken.
“I’m serious,” Cole continues blithely. “My kid did an experiment for science class where he had two identical plants and exposed only one of them to music. The plant that listened to music grew taller.”
“I don’t need Cas to get taller.”
“Yeah, but he’s your boyfriend, dipshit. The point is that he probably wants you to serenade him.”
“Mother trucker, we aren’t dating!” Dean growls. “Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
Cole laughs at him. “Does he know you’re this dramatic?” Dean should’ve guessed that he and Sam would be like two annoying ass peas in a pod. “Anyway, you can take my word for it on the music thing. How’s ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’? Or like, I dunno, if he’s the oblivious type you could always pick a song with ‘angel’ in the title. There’s plenty of those.”
“… How do you know that he’s-”
“Sam told me.”
Of course. “You don’t sound surprised.”
Cole sighs, deep and long-suffering. “You’ve pretty much ruined all surprises for me, man. Plus, it’s poetic justice. He’s an angel, you were a demon two weeks ago, and now you’re a human again but he’s a plant. It’s tragic, Winchester. So,” he sniffles, “tragic.”
Dean hangs up to the peal of Cole’s maniacal laugh, and then shoots a text to Sam telling him that he’s a gigantor-mouthed bitch for good measure. He slumps in his chair, sulks mightily at the wall, and yanks open his laptop to click on iTunes because- Just because, alright?
◇ ◇ ◇
“What are you doing?” Sam asks the following day. Dean merely scoffs because his brother can be really dumb sometimes.
“What does it look like?”
“You’re…” Sam squeaks. “You’re making Cas listen to music.”
“I’m not making him do anything,” Dean says. He adjust the volume on his speaker and sits back in his chair to wave at his iDock. “These are classics. I’m giving him a dose of culture.”
“He’s a plant.”
“Yeah, I know,” Dean retorts, “and I thought Cole was full of shit but according to the H.P.O.A., plants do grow better when you play music for them. Like babies.”
“… What is H.P.O.A.?”
“… It’s…” Dean shrugs.
“Dean, spit it out.”
“Ugh,” Dean groans. “It’s the House Plant Owners Association, okay? No, you- Shut your face.”
Sam is wheezing. “Oh my god.” He laughs so hard that he actually throws his head back, and with all that hair he resembles a hyperventilating lion. “I’m gonna make a playlist for you. I mean, for Cas. Oh my god.” It takes him five whole minutes to remove his huge Sasquatch ass from the room, and in the meantime Dean just sulks some more because that’s all he ever does now, apparently.
By nightfall, there’s a new playlist titled Dean <3 plant!Cas 4ever in his iTunes, but the worst part is when Hannah overhears “My Boyfriend” by Bubbles and says, “Oh, I see. Because Castiel has blue eyes.” Dean bangs his head against the wall, and Cas the Plant no joke leans toward him all “Dean” and worried-looking and the bottom line is that he needs to quit anthropomorphizing plants.
◇ ◇ ◇
Dean’s not sure if his spike in attentiveness is a symptom of his unorthodox childhood. They never had a dog or even a guinea pig; he had his hands full with taking care of Sam. Perhaps if he’d had that normality - a goldfish in a bowl at the very least - he wouldn’t be this adamant now about nurturing a plant in a windowless bunker.
He attributes it to his childhood, because if not, he’d have to deal with a whole bunch of sappy, romantic thoughts. That he’s in fact consumed with worry, that he might lose Cas before they find a cure. That the end to their years of tension could be brought upon by negligence and one missed watering.
He refuses to dwell on that.
Instead, he tries his absolute hardest to keep Cas alive, and if that means pestering Sam to pick up a lamp and talking to Cas so he won’t be bored… Well, if there’s anything that Dean is good at, babysitting is certainly one of them.
It starts out simply enough, just “Mornin’, Cas” and “Night, Cas” usually, but then it escalates to stuff like “Hey, Cas, I gotta go on a supply run but I won’t be long,” which is insane because when has he ever excused himself like that from Cas? Still, it’s comforting to an extent, knowing that Cas can’t fly off on a whim. He can leave without worrying whether Cas will be gone when he gets back, and Dean tries not to decipher why that reality might be putting such a lightness in his step.
He doesn’t confess any of these musings to Sam or Hannah, so of course he makes the grave mistake of dozing off during a Dr. Sexy marathon. Now, this wouldn’t be such a big deal under different circumstances, except it happens on the couch, in plain sight, and he’s curled around Cas like they’re spooning or cuddling. He jerks awake at a series of loud clicks from Sam’s phone camera, and even Hannah hides a laugh in her hand and declares, “This is cute.”
Dean snaps at them, grabs Cas, and stumbles off to his room and slams the door. He places Cas on the dresser by the lamp, and feels dirty like he’s put a whole lot of ‘sub’ in the ‘text’ or some shit.
◇ ◇ ◇
They still haven’t figured out how to change him back though.
“Don’t get me wrong, I like that you can’t give me any sass now” - the leaves bristle a little at this - “but I miss you. The actual you, not- Just, whatever… I miss you.”
If plants could smile, that’s what Cas would be doing right now, though he has a kind of synesthetic aura on top of all that. It smells warm and looks sweet, like that time when Dean asked him to never change. Dean feels an honest-to-god ache in his heart at the distant memory.
“I should’ve asked you to stay the last time you were here. I was- The way you described Hannah, it- I dunno, I thought you’d… I wanted to clarify but then you just… left.”
Cas sort of droops, triggering a completely different memory. Dean remembers a game of Sorry! and the upturned board, the scattered pieces. How Cas had looked when he yelled. It fucking sucks.
“Hey, I promise I’m not blaming you, alright? It’s just- I guess I miss how we used to go around together. And how you used to pop in all the time. I haven’t been startled in a while,” Dean chuckles. “Not that you turning into a plant didn’t accomplish that.”
Cas sways and looks rueful, and Dean can’t fathom how he’s imparting all these expressions without a real face. But maybe with Cas it wasn’t about words so much as presence and feeling jams and - and fine, boy melodrama. Dean laughs quietly, mostly at himself, and Cas brushes his leaves against the top of Dean’s hand, reassuring.
◇ ◇ ◇
After their talk, albeit one-sided, it’s as though a bit of the weight has faded from his shoulders. And although it’s still weird to be so attached to a plant - not to mention the curse is annoying as hell - Dean cruises on the feel-good aftermath and channels the energy into building a greenhouse.
It only has room for single occupancy, spacious enough for Cas to be comfortable. (Dean nearly blows a fuse or two right about here, while contemplating how to measure a plant’s level of comfort. That and the fact he’s seriously brainstorming and when in the world did he get so soft?)
Either way, he constructs the greenhouse, thirty-six by thirty-six and toasty inside, and once Cas ‘settles in’ with a contented stir and rustle of leaves, Dean feels ridiculous for noticing those subtleties and even more so at how happy he is.
“Let’s have you chill here while we do research.”
If Cas were still an angel, he’d hung up his wings, Dean thinks.
That being said, be cause nothing ever coasts smoothly for Dean, the awkwardness quickly returns and does so with a crippling vengeance.
Because one minute he’s cooking in the kitchen - and okay, singing to Cas - and then the next minute, Cas just blooms. As in, sprout flowers. (Shut up, Cole.)
Cas had been sitting all snugly in his greenhouse; Dean had moved the entire thing into the kitchen before cooking. It may have just been the temperature and the greenhouse doing its job, but Dean still jumps a foot in the air, dried pasta flinging all over the tiled floor. Meanwhile, Cas, the little green shit is practically preening, leaning in like he can’t get enough of AC/DC. More specifically, AC/DC sung in Dean Winchester’s dulcet tones and Sam won’t lock up his honking moose laugh.
Hannah, on the other hand, just grabs the water spray and starts to mist. Dean smiles at her gratefully and thinks that yes, she’s clearly an angel, though it’s revealed within the next two minutes that it’s all an innocent façade.
“They’re blue, Dean,” she says, pointing at the petals. “Blue. Imagine that.”
Dean takes everything back. Including the water spray.
After that, he keeps Cas close to him at all hours; not that he doesn’t trust the other two but he wants to be nearby in case more strange plant things transpire.
And they do because the universe hates him.
Oh, do they ever. (He kind of hates everything.)
Whereas Cas used to react badly only to strangers, now he full-on wilts when anyone besides Dean tries to touch him. It’s unnerving and wrongly flattering and Dean becomes consumed with nurturing the hell out of Cas. Sam whines that the way to Dean’s heart is through blatant ego-stroking; Dean just asks whether he thinks Cas’ leaves are midnight green (which indicates good health) or amazon green (which means excellent health).
‘Heard the singing knocked up your boyfriend,’ Cole writes via text. “Maybe you’re a wizard now or something. Make an honest plant out of him, Dean-o.’
Dean resists the urge to smash his phone.
◇ ◇ ◇
“I’ve read everything I could find on botanical witchcraft,” Sam says a week later, “but I’m getting nowhere with it, Dean. I think we’re dealing with some pretty mischievous witches here. Maybe a younger coven that’s having too much fun piloting its powers.”
“There’s gotta be a way to reverse him though,” Dean argues. “I mean, all spells have a ‘just kidding’ lever, right? He can’t stay like this forever, man.”
“I know,” Sam sighs, and he looks tired and frustrated and Dean feels bad for acting like he’s the only one who cares about Cas. “Hannah and I could try going back to the coven. She remembers where it was so it might be smart to move the research there, see what we find.”
“Yeah,” Dean says, tired too. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He stares at Cas, who’s perched on the table, and feels a pang of guilt at his own powerlessness. Damn witches.
“Dean?” Sam calls to him softly.
Dean grunts, still focused on Cas.
“Dean,” Sam calls again, and this time Dean blurts, “What, Samantha?”
Sam just gawks at him. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at your dumb face.”
Sam rolls his eyes.
“No, I mean, why are you touching-” He’s beet red. “Stop rubbing him like that!”
Dean follows Sam’s gaze to his right, to Cas, notices the leaf being pressed between his thumb and forefinger. He’s been doing it a lot ever since azalea53 posted the article about house plants and human contact, so he shrugs off Sam’s perverted, mind-in-the-gutter concern.
“Don’t be gross, Sammy, I’m just doin’ what’s best for the science-”
Cas sprays a bundle of pollen into the air.
The room falls silent for three extremely long seconds, and “Holy shit” is all Sam manages to say before he sneezes twice, his whole body shuddering from the force.
“That’s never… I…”
“Um, so. Tomorrow, we’ll- Yeah, okay.” Sam all but flies out the door.
Dean stays behind, although he’s frozen to his chair so it’s not like he really has a choice. He stares at Cas’ leaves until they curl inward like he’s sheepish, and Dean feels absolutely crazy when he says, “I’m… Shit, I’m sorry I took- Well, at least you won’t be a plant virgin? I guess? Yeah, I’m sorry.”
He taps at a flower as a gesture of- Oh, who the fuck knows. Post-coital reconciliation (Christ). Cas hesitates (He’s a plant. He’s a plant. He’s a plant.), but eventually wraps a leaf around Dean’s finger and holds it tight. It seems acceptance enough and Dean has to take what he can get - though he already kinda did, albeit accidentally, and this is why Sam always sighs and calls him twelve.
◇ ◇ ◇
He doesn’t get a chance to follow up on Castiel the morning after, and Jesus, it’s a pretty rare moment when he feels like an irredeemable asshat. Not that it was intentional - Jody had asked for their help with a relatively easy salt and burn in Sioux Falls - but he leaves explicit care instructions with Hannah at the door and gets so restless on the drive that Sam snaps at him.
“This about last night?” Sam wheedles beside him. “Dean, you’re not even looking at the road!”
“Don’t criticize my driving,” Dean bites back, then sighs after a beat. “Yeah, it’s about last night.”
He can see Sam smile out the corner of one eye.
“Dean, you know I won’t care who you decide to love, whether that be a plant. I’ll still support you.”
Dean shoots him a dark look. “I hate you so much.”
Sam laughs and stretches his legs, instantly messy like a gigantic octopus. “Really, though, it was a matter of time. I don’t know how much more I can stomach of you guys making goo-goo eyes at each other.”
“We do not make-” Dean stops short, because objectively speaking, Sam and his vast forehead aren’t totally wrong.
“I’ll spare you the ‘I told you so,’” Sam says smugly, taking a sip from his tumbler of tea mulch. Who even brings tea to a hunt anyway? Apparently his nosy, know-it-all brother.
“Just help me gank whatever’s bothering Jody and we’re heading back home. Got it? In and out.”
“Got it,” Sam grins widely, and Dean hides his own with a theatrical cough.
◇ ◇ ◇
They do make it back in record time, within forty-eight hours, both exhausted, running mostly on caffeine. Sam checks in with Hannah on the research she’s been doing, and they agree to take a drive out to the coven first thing tomorrow.
Dean listens in for the first few minutes before hightailing to the greenhouse inside the war room. He barks a little laugh at the sight of Cas, whose stem - or one of them - now has a blue ribbon knotted around it like a tie.
“Nice touch,” he tells him fondly, tapping the fabric as if to clarify.
Cas turns minutely toward Dean, somehow draping him in a soft wave of warmth. Like he’s saying I missed you, Dean and offering that smile of his that reaches his eyes. Dean misses that beautiful blue and hears himself talk before he thinks it through.
“Can’t wait to see you, man,” he takes the plant out, holding up to eye level like it’s a tiny kitten. “Don’t make me say it again though,” he adds a bit shyly before carrying Cas down the hallway to his room.
He sets Cas down on his bedside table and sinks down on his mattress, glad to be home.
“Guess no trips to the botanical gardens any time soon, huh?”
He could swear that the plant shrugs in pure exasperation.
◇ ◇ ◇
In a somewhat logical turn of events, the plant is replaced with Cas by the next morning. Except since the universe is cruel and unrelenting, Cas is naked on the floor and leaning sluggishly on the bedside table.
Dean hastily throws a blanket over his lower half, thinks he should probably wake him and check to make sure the spell really wore off. He can’t help but notice, though, that Cas looks… It’s so horrendously inappropriate but Cas looks good. Great, even. He’s never paid that kind of attention to his friend before, but last night with the, you know, and right now with the skin and the sleek muscles and the arms and- Two sedentary weeks did not do him any bad, is what Dean’s saying.
“Hey. Cas,” he says after some more shameless ogling. “Cas, c’mon, wake up.”
He prods at Cas’ shoulder and swallows when the angel stirs, feeling his breath catch at the sleepy smile, at the rumbly “Dean” that he’s missed so god damn much.
“Welcome back,” he adds weakly, because did Cas always have such disheveled sex hair or has he been blind for the past six years? (He assumes the latter.)
“Wow, it…” Cas blinks down at his hands. “It’s nice to have opposable thumbs again.”
Dean laughs despite himself, recalls that this is what he likes best about Cas, no matter what. “Yeah, I bet. So, uh, do you want some breakfast or…?”
“Yes. Please. I’ve been famished since the, uh, after you…”
“Right,” Dean finishes for him, heat creeping all across his neck. “I can- I’ll make- Eggs okay?”
Cas smiles, ducking his head. It’s frighteningly endearing. “Eggs would be great, Dean.”
“Good.” Dean rises from the bed and walks to his dresser for a change of clothes, which he then hands to Cas, who accepts them with a blush staining his cheeks. “Come to the kitchen when you’re dressed,” Dean adds. “Sam and Hannah will want to know that you’re back.”
“Of course,” Cas tugs on a shirt and nods happily. Dean tries not to stare at how fantastic Cas looks in grey.
◇ ◇ ◇
Sam and Hannah, as expected, are delighted to see Cas sans leaves and flowers and pollen. Dean’s attempts to shut Sam up about the pollen prove pathetically futile all too quickly, and that renders poor Cas about seven different shades of pink. It’s terrible and adorable and Dean is overcome with this, this feverish longing to kiss him stupid and senseless. He then spends the rest of the meal glaring into his eggs, confused, and he’s unsure if what he feels is relief when Cas touches his shoulder and looks worried, like he’s always been.
Because Cas has always worried, since the beginning, always hovering, always protective, saying things like “I’ll watch over you” that now feel warm and safe, rather than stifling. It also occurs to Dean that it took Cas turning into a plant for him to reciprocate the effort, even a little, and he feels like shit for it, for being so selfish, for wasting time.
“Dean, are you sure you’re alright?”
Cas’ blue eyes are focused and concerned, and their vibrancy reminds Dean of the flowers.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replies. “Just thinking.”
Cas nods but looks unconvinced. “If you say so, Dean. But I’m no longer a, um, botanical species, so… If you’d like to talk, I could- I could talk with you, this time. I would like that, if you’d… share your burdens with me.”
And Dean feels hot, not from finally recognizing that Cas is handsome or sexy or a catch or whatever, but because Cas cares, and gives, and acts as though Dean isn’t broken, isn’t worthless. Dean’s under no illusion that he’ll see himself the way Cas does, but he wonders now for the first time ever if he could respond in kind anyway, to give the love he won’t grant himself to Cas.
So he says “I’d like that too” and Cas’ face lights up like a Christmas tree. And it dawns on Dean that he’d already fallen in love, just needed the right push (and spell) to realize it.
Sam grins at them across the table, triumphant. Hannah’s smile is smaller but she takes very, very serene, contented sips of her coffee.
◇ ◇ ◇
That night, Dean runs into Cas in the hallway, both of them clutching their toothbrushes and towels. Cas’ lips are wet and the tips of Dean’s hair are damp, and they stare at each other until Dean’s had enough and says, “You should, um. You could sleep in my room, if you want?”
Cas’ eyes widen, then soften, and it’s beautiful. “Okay,” he answers quietly, and that’s all Dean needs to hear.
He waits until they’re in his bedroom to say, “I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thank you,” Cas murmurs. “It was inconvenient but not as terrible as I would’ve imagined.”
“You liked the music, huh?”
“I did,” Cas admits with a laugh, “but above all, I enjoyed… your company the most.”
“Well, that- It was sort of unavoidable. I mean, you- You like, wilted when it wasn’t me touch- When I wasn’t holding- When it wasn’t me.”
“Yes,” Cas confirms solemnly. “I suppose it was unavoidable.” He steps forward, slowly, as if to gauge Dean’s reaction, and reaches out to rest a tentative hand on Dean’s waist. “I don’t believe I thanked you for taking care of me,” he smiles.
“Um,” Dean says, and his voice cracks, just slightly. “You’re welcome but, really, it’s not like it was a trial or any-”
Cas kisses him.
It’s so gentle, light pressure at first, and Cas’ lips are chapped yet soft and incredibly warm. He’s almost hesitant to deepen it, afraid impatience might would ruin the tenderness, but Dean makes the leap because he wants Cas to feel good and want him back.
“Dean,” Cas murmurs, hands broad and roaming, pulling him close. They glide to Dean’s neck, one cupping the back of his head, and Dean sighs at the delicious friction of Cas’ stubble, raspy and dragging against his own as they move.
His fingers find the patch of skin beneath Cas’ shirt, and Cas presses forward when Dean touches him there, explorative and soft. His hands are in Dean’s hair now, his mouth gasping into their kiss, and Dean, taking advantage, slips his tongue between those open, pliant lips.
The minute it happens, Cas melts, groaning low in his throat and pushing back, hot and desperate. He eventually pulls off, just enough to bite Dean’s bottom lip, playfully sweet, and Dean has never been kissed like this in his entire life, electricity thrumming through his body, through his veins. It’s all he can do to swallow the noises Cas is making, hold them close to his heart as they warm his cheeks and curl his toes.
“Man, I am… I am so relieved you’re not a plant anymore.”
Cas laughs and kisses him again.
“Although,” Dean breathes the next time they break apart, “that whole thing with the pollen was tremendously interesting.”
“Well,” Cas hums, eyes gone dark and seriously hot as hell, “I’m sure there’s a human equivalent we could try for.”
“Oh, trust me, there is,” Dean grins, and pulls Cas down onto the bed.