Dean should have known that something was off when, stepping into Castiel’s room, he noticed that there was a small window just behind the bed. Maybe he wasn't paying close enough attention on account of the angel curled up on the bed watching Netflix, his monstrosity of a tan coat and suit absent in favor of sweatpants and one of Dean's old shirts. Cas was distracting. So the window occurred to Dean as strange only halfway across the room, and by then it was already too late.
They were underground. There weren't any damn windows.
The door snapped shut behind him like it was possessed, or as if flung by a very angry ghost. It wasn’t even the first time this kind of thing had happened to Dean, so he wasn't that surprised. Still, they hadn't had any trouble with the bunker since that one time when the door to the garage had completely disappeared for two weeks, and it had taken almost three days for he and Sam to realise it had happened in the first place.
This could just be the bunker playing up again. Sure, it could also be something more sinister, like a ghost or a witch trapped in a box or...well, anything, really, but Dean's best bet was on bunker related mishap.
As he slumped down on the edge of the bed, Dean fished out his mobile and texted his brother.
-sos trapped in cass’s room, ask the bunker wtf this time when you get home. catching up on stranger things -
Cas wasn’t watching Stranger Things . Actually it sounded to Dean like he was watching Dance Moms based on the screeching coming from his TV, but that was easily enough fixed. Cas always took his suggestions seriously, no matter that he occasionally struggled with the historical accuracy of some of the things Dean insisted he watched.
He couldn't complain about the eighties, though.
Sam texted back just after Castiel said, “I don't understand. Are they really expecting us to believe that ten year olds on bicycles outran those vans? That seems unlikely.”
-home. dealing with your bunker issue.-
It was only a matter of time now. About when Castiel hummed out the realisation that the show was combining the POVs from different horror tropes, Sam sent an update.
-dude, you are so not going to like this.-
-spit it out, sammy-
-the bunker says it's pissed off with you and cas dancing around each other. you're locked in until it's satisfied your relationship has changed. apparently it’s sick of cass watching hallmark movies and pretending not to cry. and it says it knows all about your secret tattoo, too. you have a secret tattoo?-
Dean stared. He stared at the text for so long that the episode was over when he looked up again, and he frankly had no idea what had happened. How had they got away from the vans? Dean didn’t know.
And this was a joke. It had to be, right? Some prank Sam was pulling. There was no way the bunker gave a shit what was going on between he and Castiel.
-don't bullshit me sam. obviously you know I have a tattoo, and it's just part of whatever this prank of yours is. did you lock the door?-
-seriously, dean, it wasn't me-
Dean knew that, really, because Sam couldn’t have installed a window while he wasn't looking. Still, the idea of the bunker playing matchmaker between them gave him the heebies.
Silent, Dean pulled his knees towards his chest, staring blankly at the television and taking none of it in. This was crazy. A beep from his phone alerted him to a new text from Sam.
-so what’s it a tattoo of? did you get cass's name? angel wings? dude, is it on your ass, is that why I haven't seen it?-
Dean put his phone on mute and tossed it onto the nightstand. He had no idea how he was going to deal with this. There was a reason why all his pining for Cas was done through long looks and mixtapes. The idea of actually trying to commit himself, especially to someone who really mattered to him, seemed like a disaster in the making.
Dean really liked Cas, loved him even, but he screwed up things with the people he made that jump with all the time. When it came to relationships, Dean knew that the moment he took that next step it would all be over, and when it came to Cas in particular, Dean couldn't stand to lose him. Not for the sake of a week where they had something good before Dean went and fucked it up as he inevitably would.
Not with Cas. He’d sworn it to himself a long time ago, not that Castiel made it any easier to deal with it when he went and said things like “I love you”, and just went ahead and put it right out there where nobody could take it back.
At least a secret tattoo was, well, secret. Or as secret as you could keep something from an angel anyway. If the bunker had its way, Dean had to guess that it wouldn't be a secret for that much longer.
He hated this. If there was anything he hated about hunting, it was inevitably dealing with shit like this, stuff that just didn't happen to normal people. Magic made him feel trapped, and it had a hell of a way of going after him emotionally, like it was keyed up to specifically fuck with him that way.
Castiel finally seemed to notice something was wrong when Dean started grinding his teeth loudly.
“Dean? Did you find out what the bunker wanted?”
“Don't worry about it,” Dean said, not wanting to explain it to Cas. “Sam’s handling it.”
Maybe if he made out it was his idea it wouldn't feel so much like they were being forced into it. This was...it was just so important. Dean didn’t want it to be something that either of them were coerced into doing. If he’d ever intended to change the nature of his relationship with Castiel then it was supposed to be a mutual choice. A choice, not this .
So, damn it, he’d do everything he could to make sure that Cas didn't feel like it was his duty to make out to escape the room. He didn’t want this to just be a curse breaking exercise, because if Dean had just had the balls to do it earlier, they’d have been doing this a hell of a lot sooner.
It wasn’t fair, but when was his life ever fair?
Dean repositioned himself awkwardly, first with his legs stuck out straight, trying to look casual, then slightly curled in toward Castiel. When he rearranged his body once more and slung one arm across the angel’s shoulder instead, Castiel twisted to look at him, his expression one of blatant confusion.
“Are you ill?”
“I’m just trying to get comfortable,” Dean muttered, his face heating.
“Did it work?”
Dean was stunned by the odd question, and gave his head the slightest shake. “No. I mean. I am comfortable but I’m not… I’m trying to do something here and it’s not working out.”
“I can help,” Castiel suggested.
“I really hope so,” Dean murmured, trying to keep it under his breath regardless of the angel’s spectacular super hearing. “Look, man. I just.... I want to…”
“Watch something else?”
“Er. No, not what I was thinking. I’m good with this.” The episode had autoplayed into the next, and Dean had no idea what was going on; nor did he care. In all the scenarios he’d imagined this happening, it hadn’t been like this. He had to make it up as he went along, and somehow that made it that much more terrifying.
Cas was still looking at him in confusion. Dean knew he needed to tell Cas what he wanted, but it didn’t make it easier that the angel was explicitly waiting for his answer, now.
“I want to make out.”
“The bunker seems to have other ideas,” Castiel told him.
“Not--not leave, Cas. I mean while we’re trapped in here. I want to make out .”
“Whatever you want,” Castiel agreed, fondly, with such clear obliviousness that Dean knew he had no idea what he was asking to do.
“It means…” Dean rolled his eyes, feeling his frustration bubbling, and dropped his arm away from the back of Cas’ neck. “It means I want to kiss you.”
Sometimes it was like Cas said these things just to make Dean exasperated, and therefore push him to say things quickly that he might otherwise have lingered over. But that didn’t mean Cas looked any less stunned when it was explained to him, his eyes going wide with surprise.
“Kiss you. Do I have to explain that bit too?”
“No, I… I understand. I just...don’t understand why you’d want to do it with me.”
Dean chewed on his lip, unsure how to answer. How was he supposed to explain how long he’d been into Castiel, and what all those ridiculous little gestures had really meant? He’d screwed it up so bad over the years - they both had - but Cas seemed genuinely confused that Dean would want to kiss him at all which, well, it didn’t exactly bode well.
Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed. “Dean, you’re… You’re interested in women.”
“That’s right, I am. In women plural.”
“Women is already a plural,” Cas stated. “And I’m not a woman.”
Dean ground his teeth a little harder. When it came down to it he was into men too. Into man singular, actually, at this particular moment. It sucked having to explain it.
“You’re not even really a man,” Dean sighed. “Wasn’t that one of the first things you ever told me?”
“But I’m wearing a male body. It’s masculine. It smells male, it had testes and a penis, and…”
Dean couldn’t bear it any more. He put his hand straight over Castiel’s mouth and glared at him. “Dude, I happen to like the way you smell. And if you say ‘testes’ or ‘penis’ again, you and I are gonna have a bit of a falling out. Okay?”
He made sure Cas properly understood before he let his mouth go, and then he bent forward and caught the other man’s mouth in his own.
His kiss was hard and claiming at first, making a point as much as anything else just to prove that he could kiss Castiel, that he wanted to and so he’d just do it. The mouth he pressed his lips against didn’t complain, but Cas didn’t kiss him back, either, and Dean pulled back a moment later, confused, and swiftly beginning to fear incoming rejection.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to kiss men,” Castiel answered, blithely.
Dean did a double take. “What?”
“I based my...my understanding of sexuality? It grew from watching you and Sam. I’m not sure what to make of this new paradigm.”
Dean stared. This wasn’t the kind of rejection he’d expected. “ What ?”
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be attracted to you, Dean.”
“If you’re supposed to be… Cas, do you even watch TV? You’re not… You can’t base who you are on what you think you’re supposed to be. You just are . Like...you’re an angel, but you’re not the same as all those other angels, and that’s okay. You’re you, but it doesn’t make you any less. You don’t have to fit in with the rules and be something you’re not, it’s just gonna make you unhappy.”
“This is a lot to take in, Dean.”
Dean worried his lip, then shook his head, letting a little more space grow between them.
“Are you attracted to me, Cas? Not are you supposed to be , but are you ?”
Dean blinked when no answer was particularly forthcoming. He’d been so sure Cas would just say ‘yes.’ “Buddy…”
“Attraction suggests I’m just drawn to you physically. That isn’t…” Castiel averted his eyes, licking his lips again and again in a way that drew Dean’s dogged attention down to his mouth. “But I don’t think it would make any difference to me what you looked like on the outside, Dean. I love you wholly, not just the parts of you.”
Okay, so that beat “you have great shoulders, do me.”
“You love me?”
“I love you. Do you love me too?”
Dean stared, unable to wrangle his words. In the face of outright love, of adoration like Castiel’s obviously was, Dean felt somehow unworthy. “Jesus, Cas…”
“I was honest with you, Dean, I think it’s only fair that you are also truthful about your feelings with me.”
“This has come out of nowhere, though, hasn’t it? I can’t just…” He was in over his head, no doubt about it. This wasn’t how he’d hoped this would be. It hadn’t even been how he expected the next ten minutes to go when he’d decided to just go for it , since if he didn’t they’d never get out of this room, and he’d probably have to pee into the beer bottle he’d brought in with him. This was the least humiliating option.
But tell Cas he loved him too, when he was looking at him with those big blue eyes full of desperate affection? It was almost too much.
“You kissed me,” Castiel reminded him, softly. “I’d like to think you did that because you loved me, and not for some ulterior motive.” The angel’s brow furrowed. “Unless you were taking our capture as an opportunity to get in my pants. I understand that it’s common for teenage boys to subvert the intention of horror movies in order to gain sexual gratification…”
Cas had to be fucking with him, Dean decided. He hadn’t put on Stranger Things just so he could get Cas to make out with him.
“No, I swear that’s not it. I--” Dean sighed, then pushed through the words quickly. Better out than in. “I love you too.”
It didn’t seem so scary once he’d said it. Like the kiss, which now Dean had started was all he wanted to get back to, with the added bonus that it would totally shut Cas up.
“That’s okay, then,” Castiel mused. “I suppose we can make out now.”
“ Thank God ,” Dean breathed, relieved. A second later he was crashing back against Castiel, kissing him hard and being extra relieved when the angel’s lips parted and he exhaled a soft moan into Dean’s mouth. It was Heaven . After everything Cas had put him through, he was just so grateful to get back into the urgent, eager kissing, so much so that he was genuinely surprised when he felt Cas’ hands spread against the bare skin of his chest and realized that his shirt had been unbuttoned with such light touches that he hadn’t even noticed.
Cas was skipping bases. Not really the definition of making out, but he could definitely go with it. Besides, his mouth was soft and pliant, and the needy little sounds he got in return as he curled his fingers into the short hairs at the back of Castiel’s neck were more than enough reward. Cas crooned , and Dean guided him closer, tilted their bodies into each other’s spaces and slotted his mouth keenly against Castiel’s, swallowing any more sounds he made and pressing his tongue against the other man’s.
It felt really good. It was, for the most part, such a relief to know that they weren’t misunderstanding each other wholly, that Dean’s affections hadn’t hit a brick wall in Castiel’s lack of desire for him. Cas wanted him too, loved him , even, and there was nothing better than that, nothing more satisfying than kissing someone who really felt something that Dean had been so terribly afraid to let back into his life for so long.
It always ended bad. With Cas he had to figure that they’d already confronted the worst that life could throw at them. There was no question about it.
Dean made a sound of surprise when, suddenly, Cas caught hold of his hips and dragged him off the pillow he was leaning on, knocked him onto his back and then swung a leg over his hips. It was unexpected--mostly because Dean had never been with anyone who knew so blatantly what they wanted and had the strength to just take it. But Cas was surprising him a whole heap with being into this in the first place, and Dean wasn’t about to complain.
Blunt teeth caught Dean’s bottom lip as Cas pulled away, only letting go when Dean had stretched to his limit to move after him. He dropped his head back onto the mattress and stared up at Cas, feeling his need thrumming in his racing pulse, and all of that desire heading resoundingly south.
“You like it on top, huh?”
“Does it make any difference?” Cas asked, cocking his head to one side. “Would you prefer to be on top, Dean?”
“I got no problems. This way round, that way round, upside down, underwater, I don’t care.”
“You still need to breathe, Dean, I think sex underwater would be inadvisable.”
Dean was still floating along on the idea that they were going to kiss for an hour or so and then the bunker would let them free and… Well, he didn’t know what would happen after that. Things would be irreparably changed with Cas either way, and judging by the positions they were in and how much they both seemed to like it, Dean doubted that was such a bad thing.
But sex? The word was out there now. Cas wanted to have sex with him. Right now. And possibly also upside down.
“Can we just do it the right way up for now? I’ll practice the breathing thing, and we can come back to underwater later, how about it?”
The lewd image of sharing a hot tub with Cas while the angel went down on him flickered immediately across his mind’s eye, and Dean swallowed hard, his cock giving another urgent twitch. He was overheating in his clothes, that was for sure.
“Perhaps we could do that later?” Castiel suggested, drawing Dean’s attention back up from between his aching thighs.
“Oral sex underwater. That is how you were imagining me, isn’t it? I could do that.”
“We’d have to install a tub big enough for both of us, first. And when’d you start reading my mind?”
“When you made it clear that maintaining personal space with you is no longer an issue. Lovers don’t keep secrets from each other--or at least they oughtn’t to. That’s what caused all the problems on Doctor Sexy, after all.”
“You watched Doctor Sexy, Cas?”
Castiel smiled and bent forward, hovering right over Dean again with his nose an inch away.
“You like it. I work very hard to stay familiar with the things you enjoy, Dean, and I found the storylines quite intoxicating. Doctor Sexy’s not-quite-ex-wife coming to his hospital, and of course that whole story with the heart transplant patient…”
Under any other circumstance Dean would have been all over an in depth conversation about Doctor Sexy’s plot, but at this point in time his mind was on something else entirely. He reached down and squeezed Castiel’s hips with both his hands.
“Not to be a pushy bottom, buddy, but unless you’re planning to put on cowboy boots right now, let’s talk about TV some other time, huh? Especially when there’s other things you could be doing with your mouth.”
It seemed to take a beat, but understanding dawned in Castiel’s expression just a moment later, and the angel brushed his palm across Dean’s cheek before moving down his body, surprisingly fluid and eager considering he’d never done this before. Still, Dean couldn’t watch for long, not when he was splayed out on his back and warm lips were cascading across his belly, making him groan, his muscles trembling. Dean could feel warmth spread all the way up from his chest to his cheeks as he flushed, but it was the blood that rushed elsewhere which drew his entire focus, particularly as Castiel stripped him down to the knees without any kind of socialized preamble. He was just suddenly mostly nude and standing proud, the head of his cock glistening with precome, purpling when Cas’ fist curled tight around the thick base.
Dean only managed the slightest glance before he found himself arching again, helpless. It had just been so long, he told himself, it wouldn’t have mattered if anyone had grabbed him at this point, he would probably have instantly had an erection either way. But this was Cas, and even in his abject fear of what could come when this was all over, Dean had to admit that it was good because it was Cas. It was special, and he desperately wanted to make the best he could of it.
Forcing his eyes back open, Dean curled forward, grabbing his cushions awkwardly and pulling them beneath him. In all honesty, he usually found it embarrassing to look the other person in the eye when they blew him, but he wanted to see Castiel do it. That was sort of half of the joy of it.
“Are you comfortable?” Castiel asked, his mouth millimeters away from the head of his cock. “Ready?”
“Yes. Yes please, Cas. I was born ready.”
Soft, eager lips parted all the way, and Castiel enveloped the glans without so much as touching it, tightening his lips around the shaft. As he did, the heat of his tongue unfurled under the leaking tip, sending electric shocks of pleasure up and down Dean’s spine. He twisted and groaned and silently thanked God for the pillows behind him, because watching Castiel do that and feeling it at the same time was better than witnessing an actual miracle. His blue eyes were almost completely lidded, dark lashes fluttering across his cheeks, the pink of his lips bright against the heat of his erection, and long, elegant fingers gripped Dean’s hip bones, holding on tight to keep Dean from raising them off the bed.
The pillows kept him from giving up on seeing anything else, which meant he was able to watch, transfixed, as Cas slid down the rest of the way, swallowing around the head as it reached the apex in order that the tip popped past the back of his throat and settled inside him. Every single inch. Cas took every inch , and Dean knew it had maybe happened once in his life, but he’d forgotten how good it could feel, the muscles of Cas’ throat milking the head while blue eyes unfurled to look curiously up at him again.
Oh right, he was making some really embarrassing sounds. Dying wildebeest sounds. Not that that was so surprising; people died during sex all the time, and Dean could well expect that a blowjob like this one really could kill him.
If anything could, right? It’d be ironic to survive three apocalypses and die in the bedroom, but on the other hand it’d be incredibly rock and roll. He might even wholly embrace it.
It could have been minutes or hours of Dean just pawing at Cas’ hair and them staring into each other’s eyes. Dean had slipped so deeply into the sensual zone that it didn’t really matter how long it had been, but he still felt bitter disappointment when Cas slid off him, bobbing his head and lapping along the drool slick length of his shaft as he retreated. Dean felt like ooze, and he could only make a sad sound of complaint as Castiel rolled off the bed and moved to the nightstand. He hadn’t even come! What kind of fresh cruelty was this?
“I’m just getting something,” Castiel told him. “Be patient.”
Dean shook his head mutely. Why should he be patient? He’d been patient for such a long time, and now he was being told that angelic blowjobs really were a thing and he had to wait for Cas to finish him off? It seemed dreadfully unfair.
But Cas returned to the bed after fetching whatever it was he was after, and once he’d tugged off Dean’s pants he moved back between Dean’s legs, making him hope for the briefest moment that he’d get right back into his abandoned sucking. It didn’t quite go that way.
Castiel pushed his knees upward, angling his body into the space between Dean’s thighs with frightening focus. Dean was too stunned to complain, eyes flying wide as Cas crumpled him like a sheet of paper, practically folding him in half, his legs swung wildly to either side of Cas’ broad arms.
But Cas didn’t wait. He pushed one slippery, wet finger inside him before Dean could connect Cas’ trip to the nightstand, the vulnerable position he was in and the warm scent of pumpkin pie spice. Seriously. Pumpkin pie spice lube ? What next!
Now, though, there was a finger up his ass, and Dean hadn’t been expecting anything like this. So much for tenderly making out. This was neither making out nor tender. Dean bit his lip as Cas drove his digit in that much deeper, twisting with his wrist to gain the last inch and earning a grunt from Dean. It was the most bizarre sensation he’d ever felt, not yet good but promising . Dean had had fingers up his ass before. Not that fears of prostate cancer were high on his checklist of things which could kill him, but there had been the odd adventurous lover, crazy nights of sex which Dean was at once blown away by and desperate to forget.
This was different. Cas was leaning up into his space, hot and almost nose to nose with him as he explored with first one and then two fingers. He caught Dean’s mouth in the slightest brush of a kiss before drawing back to push the third in, and Dean could feel the angel’s scrutiny, as though he were doing his very best to memorize Dean’s face as he was stretched open. By three fingers, though, Dean couldn’t care less what he looked like, breathing hard through the sensation of Castiel’s fingers moving inside him.
By the time Cas’ clever fingers popped free, Dean was just about ready to beg the other man to fuck him, nevermind that sex hadn’t been on the table when they started.
“In the video I saw, they turned the other man over,” Cas began, warily.
“Porn? You watched gay porn?”
“It seemed prudent to know how,” Cas suggested, shyly.
“Prudent,” Dean repeated.
“And it was on your computer already.”
Something caught in Dean’s throat. Well, there was that. So much for all his projected heteronormativity, and Castiel’s pretense that he was going along with it.
“I think we can do it face to face, Cas. I mean, unless you don’t think you can do it…”
The challenge seemed to do the trick. Cas reached down between them - not that Dean had any hope of seeing with Castiel’s nose right next to his own - and momentarily he was easing his slippery fingers out, nudging the tip of his cock into place before slipping the digits free. There was no pause, nor hesitation. The second there was space, Castiel replaced his fingers with his dick, pushing the head inside, then following through with rigid determination, making them both groan in discomfort.
It was exactly what Dean needed . It was perfect . Somehow Cas’ cock filled him in ways he’d never been filled before, ways that fingers wouldn’t have been capable of doing. The width of him pressing out in every direction at once, the length of him pressing deeper. Where Cas’ fingers were three or four inches at best, his cock encroached deeper still, and Dean locked his jaw to keep from making any more obscene noises, and failed at he groaned through his bared teeth.
“Is it okay?” Cas asked. He looked as rattled as Dean felt, thoroughly flush, his pupils blown. Dean had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
“Feels great. But I think it feels better if you move, Cas. You gotta move.”
Dean didn’t really feel ready. He didn’t feel like he’d ever be completely ready, actually, not with so much of Cas’ dick filling him up, but if Castiel didn’t move then he knew he’d be on this precipice forever, afraid of going over the edge. To get the good stuff, the really good stuff, sometimes it meant enduring a whole hell of a lot of pain first; a whole hell of a lot of misunderstandings, and fights, and torture, and messed up feelings.
If he’d have just jumped off that ledge sooner, they could have been doing this years ago. He could have had this. He could always have had this.
When Dean reached for his phone so he could check the time, a number of text alerts were waiting for him. In increased hysterics, Sam conveyed his communications with the bunker, then began to ask why Dean wasn’t replying. Only one text message came close to the truth.
-you and cass are banging in there aren’t you? lol. seriously man txt me back-
Another text read:
-gone to get help, something tells me we need a witch to break this spell-
There was an odd creaking sound off beyond the bed. Dean rubbed at his eyes and sat up, Cas stirring beside him, and the blanket draped over them slipped off Dean’s hip, revealing his blue jay tattoo.
At the end of the bed the door to the hallway was open. Sam was speechless, visibly horrified.
Rowena, beside him, just smiled keenly. “ Nice tattoo . Room for one more, boys?”