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Lucky Ones

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Steam rises from Cas's freshly made coffee, floating up in a swirling white mist. Leaning back against the kitchen counter, he stares out the French doors that lead to the back of the house. It's still dark out, he can't see further than the flood light illuminating the back porch, but he knows just what it'll look like when the sun comes up.

Sprawling hills full of wheat because Dean rented out the fields to a farmer down the road. Horses looking to be fed in the barn, needing to be groomed, new ones needing to be broken in, trained ones getting ready for auction or sale. Plus there are the chickens out at the chicken coop that need to be fed, their eggs collected.

Ten years of being married to Dean has left Cas well prepared for how things run around here, and how busy Dean will be today despite the importance of the date.

Glancing at the microwave clock, Cas smiles softly to himself and pours a mug full of black coffee just as Dean's footsteps clomp down the stairs. They're a well oiled machine in the morning.

He walks into the room, green eyes barely open, hair all disheveled, flannel rumpled. Even after all these years, Dean still takes his breath away with how gorgeous he is.

Sometimes Cas is immune to it, like when they're fighting, but even when they're not he sort of adjusts to it, and then every so often it smacks him right in the face again, how good-looking Dean is—how sweet, and funny, and loyal.

They don't say anything, Dean just walks over and takes his mug from Cas, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to Cas's lips. It's not even sexual in nature, just comfort. This is where they both belong, and in the still of the morning, they let themselves enjoy a few stolen moments before they'll part again.

Leaning against the counter beside Cas, Dean sighs quietly, the warmth of him seeping through the side of Cas's pajama bottoms and Henley. It's a serene, grounding, too brief time. Even the slowest sips of coffee eventually drain their cups.

Reluctantly, Dean sets his mug in the sink and stares at Cas balefully, but there will be more time to spend together later today.

“Go on,” Cas says, voice raspy as he hugs Dean close and breathes him in—the rich familiar scent of Irish Spring body wash and Old Spice deodorant filling his senses. “I'll see you this afternoon.”

Dean sighs again, and pulls Cas closer. “Yeah, okay.” He kisses the side of Cas's neck and then pulls away. “Love you.”

Smiling warmly, Cas trails his fingers over Dean's scruffy jaw and thumbs over his cheekbones. “Love you too. Now get going. I've got things to write.”

Laughing, Dean pecks him on the cheek and steps back. “When don't you?”

Cas shrugs, it's no secret that he loves to write. He'd majored in English at University—the hardest four years of his life because he spent the school year away from Dean, and now he's a best selling novelist. So yeah, he writes a lot. And his number one fan has always been the man standing right in front of him. “This one's almost done. I'm pretty sure you're gonna love it.”

Dean raises both eyebrows and grins. “Babe, I know I will.”

Warmth suffuses Cas's chest, and he can't resist kissing Dean one more time, slow and deep, with so many emotions coiling in his chest, the gold of his ring scraping over Dean's stubble. “Ugh,” he mumbles, leaning away so that he can look into Dean's eyes. “You better go before I drag you right back upstairs.”

Dean looks torn, cheeks turning pink, and his head tilting as he clearly considers whether there's enough time to get away with it, but then he seems to settle on no, which is just as well. They have plans for tonight.

“Alright,” Dean says, tone a little rougher than it was before. “I’ll get going.”

Dean heads to the front door, and Cas puts his own empty mug on the counter and follows him. Once Dean leaves, he'll get a refill.

After he pulls on his boots and laces them up, giving Cas a very much appreciated view of his spectacular ass, Dean straightens and turns around, winking when he catches Cas's gaze.

“Mmm,” Dean hums, leaning close enough that his lips brush Cas's cheek, his breath puffs against Cas's ear, even as his hand reaches back and closes around the door handle. “I'm gonna wreck you tonight.”

Arousal jolts straight down to Cas's groin, and he groans, tipping his head back. “You're an ass,” he breathes as Dean opens the door and ducks outside.

“Mhm,” Dean agrees, walking backwards down the porch steps, “and I'm all yours, baby.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms but a smile tugs at his lips. “Tell Benny and Jo I say hi, and I'm sorry they have to put up with you all day.”

Chuckling, Dean finally turns around and heads toward his truck. “Have a good day, Cas.”

“You too.”

With that, Dean climbs in his truck, and after a last wave, he turns it around before he drives down the gravel drive back toward where the largest barn is. With a fond smile on his face, Cas watches Dean's tail lights fade before he shuts the door and heads back to the kitchen. He has work to do.


"Oh my God, Dean,” Jo groans, slumping against the fence beside him. “Just quit mooning, put us all out of your misery, and go the hell home already.”

Crossing his arms and tearing his gaze away from the direction of the house, Dean gives her a dirty look. “I—hey! I am not mooning.”

“Are too! And it's gross. Back me up, Benny,” she demands.

Benny shrugs a shoulder and offers Dean a wry smile, gently patting the large black horse beside him. “Sorry, boss. Gotta side with Jo on this one.”

“I can’t just—”

“Dean!” Jo exclaims. “We got this. You know we can handle it for one damn day, man. So go already.”

She’s got a damn good point—they can handle it for a day. Probably could for longer than that too if Dean didn’t have control issues a mile wide. Dean’s shoulders slump a little as he gives in, it’s not like this is where he really wants to be right now anyway.

Not today and not when Cas is waiting at home for him. His lips tug up into a smile, and Jo’s face breaks out into a grin like she already knows she’s won.

“Okay,” he says and Jo pumps her fist. “You guys handle things here. I’m gonna go—”

“Spare me the details!” Jo shrieks, laughing and covering her ears.

Dean rolls his eyes at her and grins. “Shut up. I was gonna say I’m gonna go home.”

They both wish him a happy anniversary as he leaves, and Dean thanks them before he climbs into his cab, the whole thing feeling totally surreal. Driving up to the house it just seems more and more incredible that this is his life.

He owns that big house with the wide wrap around porch and inside of it, his husband, his best friend, is waiting for him. He parks out front and gets out of the truck, staring up at the office window where Cas usually works. Sunlight reflects off the glass, and Dean breathes a slow breath.

Cas is everything Dean’s ever wanted, and he wouldn’t change a moment of their lives together. From the over the top way he’d admitted he was in love with Cas, to eloping the week before Cas had to leave for university, through those four long years where they’d switched off on visiting each other while Cas went through college.

Dean working for his dad, and taking odd jobs whenever he could to save up. How this place’d been so run down when he bought it that it was hardly liveable and working every spare moment he’d had to make it into a home with some help from his parents and Sam.

He bites his lip, remembering the disbelief, surprise, and joy on Cas’s face when Dean’d brought him here the first time, finally home from university for good.

“You’re kidding,” he’d said, wide blue eyes so bright in the sunset. “How did you—Dean, you’re pulling my leg, right?”

Shaking his head, Dean had tugged him closer by the hips. “Not kiddin’, Cas. It’s ours. Do you like it?”

Cas’s eyes’d gone all soft, and then he’d grabbed Dean’s face and kissed him so achingly sweet. “Are you serious? Of course I love it!”

He’s pulled out of his reminiscing by the creak of the screen door opening—he really oughta oil that. Cas steps out onto the porch, and smiles at him. “Hey, cowboy. You’re back early.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, walking the distance from his car to the stairs, and then jogging up them. He’s kinda sweaty and dirty, but Cas never seems to care, even actually enjoys it for some reason, so Dean steps close to him, pulls him into a kiss that’s equal parts affection and need. “Missed you.”

Shrewdly, Cas examines his face. “Jo sent you home, didn’t she?”

Laughing, Dean drops his head to Cas’s shoulder, hugging him a little tighter. “Maybe,” he mumbles.

“Mhm,” Cas hums, palms rubbing over Dean’s back. “I bet she got sick of you quietly pouting.”

Pulling back, Dean glares at him. “There was no pouting.”

Cas just smirks. “If you say so.”

“Just say you missed me too, already.”

“I thought that was a given but if you must know I did miss you.”

“Good.”

Later that night evening Dean pours Cas a bath and makes him promise to wait upstairs while he sets up for their date. Sure, they could've gone somewhere fancy or had a party—it's their ten year anniversary after all—but Dean knows Cas has always preferred a night in.

So he goes to work; he cooks a complicated pasta dish that he watches a YouTube video to make, puts garlic bread in the oven, sets the dining room table up with candles and the fancy china his mom gave them. He dims the lights, and when it's all ready to go, he wanders up to their bedroom to get Cas.

Dean finds him sprawled out on their bed in black jeans and a white button up, watching the small TV on their dresser. His hair's still a little wet, curling damply behind his ears, and he looks so damn perfect that it takes nearly all of Dean's effort not to climb on that bed with him and forget all about the meal he just painstakingly prepared.

Cas's smirk when Dean raises his gaze to look at his face says he knows exactly what Dean's thinking about. “Ready for me?” he asks.

“Mhm. Better hurry up or I'll change my mind about lettin’ you outta bed,” Dean informs him.

Cas slowly bites down on his bottom lip and stretches, back arching, arms splayed out above his head as his legs fall apart. A wicked grin replaces his smirk, and Dean groans even though he knows he's being played. Adding insult to injury, Cas lets out this tiny whimper of a sound as he relaxes into the bed. “Mmm. Okay, I'll get up.”

Dean shoots him a glare, adjusting himself in his nice dark wash jeans. “You're a tease, y’know that?”

“You've mentioned it once or twice,” Cas says, purposely brushing against him as he walks past.

Arousal heats Dean's cheeks, sparks in his gut, and he reaches out and tugs Cas backward until he's flush against him, his back to Dean's front, one of Dean's arms banded around his waist, his other hand cupping Cas's hip, thumbing the sharp line of his pelvis.

For a second he just tilts his head down and noses the spot behind Cas's ear, inhaling the scent of Cas's fresh minty shampoo and letting his exhale send a shiver down Cas's spine. Then he sucks a soft kiss there, tonguing sensitive skin, and Cas instinctively grinds back against him as he pants.

“Dean,” his voice comes out hitched and breathy and it's almost as dirty as the way he presses back against the swell of Dean's cock, hot enough that Dean hates pulling away.

“What? I'm not allowed to play too?” Dean teases, letting Cas go and earning himself a borderline pissed glance over Cas's shoulder for not holding on. He pats Cas's ass and watches the look in his eyes morph toward desire. “C’mon. Dinner's gonna get cold and I promise we'll get back to this later.”

“I am hungry,” Cas admits, finally leaving the bedroom, and Dean follows him down the hall, then down into the dining room.

He pulls Cas's chair out for him even though Cas fondly rolls his eyes. Then he goes and fetches the food. The candlelight, the conversation, and the fact that dinner turned out great makes Dean feel like he did good. Cas looks happy, but this is just the start of their night.

Once he's cleared the plates, he tells Cas to go grab a sweater, and then he ducks into the downstairs bathroom and brushes his teeth before he grabs the present he got Cas from the very back of the top shelf in the pantry and tucks it into the inside pocket of the leather jacket hanging on the hook by the front door.

He just gets his arms in the sleeves when Cas comes back downstairs. His cheeks are a little pink, and he looks so damn good that Dean just has to kiss him before they go.

They take the Impala at Cas's request. “You don't get to drive it as much as you used to,” he says softly, “and I miss it too.”

It's a bit of a drive to where they're headed, and the sun’s fading fast, but Dean wants it to be dark out when they get there anyway.

Cas chuckles when it becomes clear just where Dean's taking him. “The water tower?”

“What?” Dean sends him a smirk. “It's romantic.”

“You’re aware they painted it over, right?” Cas asks, amusement threading through his words.

“Duh,” Dean says pulling off the dirt road and into the field in front of it. “But we know what's under that coat of paint, and that's all that matters.”

Cutting the engine, Dean chews on his lip and reaches into his pocket. “I didn't really know what to get you,” he confesses. “Ten years is sorta a big deal … and there wasn't anything that seemed good enough, y’know?”

“Dean, dinner and driving me out here? It's already more than enough. You did an amazing job planning this.”

It's funny how Cas can still make his heart flutter and pound like he's eighteen instead of twenty-eight. “I’ve always known that I'm the lucky one,” Dean tells him. “You're so smart, and talented, and you're gorgeous. You write amazing books, and you watch dumb TV shows with me. You make me lunch most days even though you don't have to, and you put up with all the long hours I pull. You love me even when I'm sure I don't deserve it … Cas, you're incredible.”

Dean takes a shaky breath and reaches for Cas's hands. The car's too dark to make out much about the expression on Cas's face other than that he's watching Dean intently. “The past ten years have been even better than I could've hoped for. Things were hard there for a while, but God, I'm so happy with you, you gotta know that. I just—I love you.”

The words are barely out of Dean's mouth before Cas pulls him into a kiss, and it's deep, and it's full of so much love that Dean melts into it.

Too soon, Cas pulls away. “Do you know what I thought about the entire time I was gone? Every night when I was lying in my dorm room twin-size bed, wrapped up in whatever hoodie I swiped from your floor on my last visit, and missing you?”

“I—”

“I thought about how lucky I was to have you waiting for me. You always sell yourself short, but you're smart too. You're funny, and generous, and so damn sweet that you painted a water tower and told the whole town you loved me. You built a home for us. There's nothing you could do to deserve my love, Dean, because it's not about deserving it or not. My love for you is just a fact of life. My heart beats, and I love you. That's just how it is.”

The warmth and certainty in Cas's voice spreads through Dean's chest and he's gotta do something to lighten the mood before he does somethin’ stupid like crying. “Gettin’ all poetic on me, Cas? You know that turns me on.”

Cas chuckles, and the tension in Dean's shoulders releases. “Hardly.”

Dean wipes his free hand over his mouth, and with the other one he hands Cas his gift. “Anyway, here.”

As Cas takes the package, and Dean fishes his phone out of his pocket, turns on the flashlight so that Cas'll be able to see what he's opening.

Peeling away the plain blue wrapping paper, Cas reveals a 4x6 picture frame. It's a deep cherrywood, and Dean's sure it'll look perfect on the black nightstand by Cas's side of the bed. Inside of it is an old article from the local paper with the headline, 'Teen Paints Water Tower’ and it features a grainy black and white image of said water tower with Dean's declaration painted on it.

Cas smooths his thumb over the glass, and he stares at it for long enough that Dean starts getting nervous. What if he hates it?

“Get in the backseat,” Cas demands, finally looking up at Dean with dark eyes.

“Uh—what?”

“Get in the backseat, now,” Cas reiterates, voice commanding enough that Dean scrambles to get his seat belt undone. “Your actual present is at home, but there's something I want to give you right now.”

Dean's brain takes a minute to catch up, but when it does, “Shit. Yeah, okay. Fuck.”

He's out his door and crawling into the back of the car as fast as he can. The second they're both in, with the doors closed, Cas climbs into his lap, knees on either side of Dean's thighs.

His hands in the top of Dean's hair force his head back, and then Cas kisses him, hot and demanding. Cas bites at Dean's bottom lip, and sucks the sting of it into a tingle of pleasure. Dean's dick flattens up, straining a little more against his jeans with every swirl of Cas's tongue, and when Cas pushes his hips forward, seeking contact, the hard press of his cock against Dean's belly jolts lust in a simmering arc straight to Dean's groin.

Groaning, he grips at Cas, hands dragging over Cas's shoulders, down his back until he's grabbing Cas's ass, encouraging him to rut forward. Cas pants and gasps against Dean's mouth, labored and sexy.

Getting their clothes off is awkward and more than once someone gets elbowed or almost knocked over. By the time they're naked, Dean's breathless and so turned on that he's bursting with the need to make Cas feel good.

“How do you want this, baby?” he asks, voice pitched low and rough. “Want me to jerk you off, or blow you?”

Cas's tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he looks down at Dean from where he's perched across his thighs again. “Want you to fuck me.”

Low in his throat, Dean groans, images of Cas sinking down around him hot and wet flashing behind his eyes. “Sweetheart, I didn't bring lube, I thought we'd make it home.”

There's a dirty smile on Cas's lips when he leans in close, the stubble on his cheek scraping against Dean's. He doesn't talk, just lets his hot damp breath tickle in Dean's ear as he guides Dean's palm from his hip back around to his ass, into the crack and down until his fingertips brush smooth silicone.

The air rushes out of Dean's lungs on a moan. Cas wore a plug. Cas got himself ready for this at some point before they left the house. He's gonna get to fuck his husband in his favorite car on their anniversary. It's like Christmas and his birthday and every other holiday rolled into one and Dean's so on board with this. “Fuck, Cas.”

“There's a sample pack of lube in my jeans,” Cas replies.

He manhandles Dean over to the far side of the car, out of the way, and finds his jeans, handing over the lube before discarding them. Cas turns around and arranges himself so that he's got one knee wedged against the back of the seat, his other foot on the floorboards, bent over with his ass in the air, forearms braced against the door, and Dean's thoughts short circuit.

God, that's his husband spread out for him like that in his car, looking like the hottest kind of sex and Dean reverently runs his hands over the curve of Cas's ass as he gets up onto his knees behind him. He has to bend over awkwardly to keep from banging his head on the roof, but it's not their first rodeo in this car.

“Fuck, you're so hot, Cas,” Dean says, just the hint of a breathless whine in his voice. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart.”

“Quit staring and c’mon then,” Cas replies, tone challenging.

Dean squeezes the muscles beneath his palms and Cas pushes back into it. Carefully, Dean tugs out the plug, sets it down on the seat beneath Cas for now.

He trails his fingers over Cas's slippery rim, forcing a gasp from Cas's lips, and he's just gotta feel. Two of his fingers twist in easy, and Cas moans, arching into the press of them.  He's so damn hot inside that Dean's cock bobs. “You're always so tight for me, Cas. So fucking good.”

“Dean,” Cas's voice is pleading and sandpaper rough. His vocabulary when they do it this way always winds up limited to Dean, and yes, and wordless vocalizations.

When he's the one fucking Dean, the mouth on him would give a sailor a run for his money, but like this? He gets overwhelmed by sensation, and Dean gets off on the fact that he's the only one who gets to do that to Cas. He's the only person who can reduce Cas's extensive vocabulary to this.

“Look so good, baby,” Dean says, fingers sliding in and out, slow, purposely grazing Cas's prostate with the tips on every pass.

He keeps it up for a while, teasing both of them with the idea of more before the need in his gut grows too big to deny. He withdraws his fingers and fumbles for the packet of lube he’d dropped on the seat.

His fingertips brush foil and he grins. It takes him a few seconds of slippery struggling to tear it open, but then he slicks himself up with a few pumps of his fist, letting out a groan, staring at Cas in the dark, and then he shifts forward on his knees a little.

He slides the head of his cock between Cas's cheeks, and guides it down with a hand wrapped around the base until it's right where they both want it. Then he pauses, and waits for it.

For a second it's just their breaths echoing in the sultry air that's gathering in the car, steaming it up. Cas looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowed. “Dean, if you—mmm.”

Sliding in all the way, Dean groans Cas's name, and Cas just grinds back, like he wants Dean inside him as far as he can possibly get him. “Fuck, Cas.”

Dean winds up draped over Cas's back, one arm braced against the seatback, his other palm on the window for leverage. He rolls his hips smooth and slow, drawing out a bit and pushing back in. Little sounds escaping both of them with each fluid drag of his cock inside of Cas. God, Cas feels fucking amazing around him.

It doesn't stay slow for long, not with Cas panting and moaning beneath him, bucking back into every thrust. Dean fucks into him harder, biting kisses into the side of his neck and his shoulder that are gonna leave marks.

It's fast and frantic, Dean's heart slamming against his ribs, his stomach and thigh muscles straining from the awkward position, but it’s still so damn good.

Heat rapidly builds in Dean's groin, everything feels like it's tightening, his balls drawing up, and he's so damn close. Wedging his arm down between Cas and the seat back, he gets his hand around Cas's hard cock—slick with precome and sweat, the glide is easy and Cas grunts his name.

Dean slows his thrusts a little bit in a desperate bid to hold off his orgasm just a little longer. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he coaxes, voice low in the way he knows turns Cas to putty in his hands. “Wanna feel you come for me.”

“Yes, Dean … mmm …  ah, yes,” Cas's voice is wrecked, and so fucking hot that a fevered burst of arousal surges through Dean in dizzying intensity.

He shoves in deep, fucking him while he does his best to jerk Cas off at the same time. It's harder than it normally would be in the cramped space—and that's his saving grace in the end, the extra concentration that he requires staves off his climax just long enough for him to feel Cas tensing around him.

“Dean,” Cas calls out, voice sounding like it's been torn from his throat.

Cas trembles beneath him, and Dean's whole body goes white hot. Sticky warmth spills over Dean's hand and drips down his wrist, and fuck, Cas came. Dean stops holding back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants under his breath, everything narrowing down to the feeling of Cas tight and wet and burning hot around his throbbing cock.

God, he loves this feeling, loves Cas, loves—

“I'm—Cas, I … unh,” Dean grits out, teeth clenching, and then he's coming, flooding Cas with his release and sliding through the extra slickness as he keeps fucking him through his climax until he's shaking and sensitive with aftershocks.

For a while they just stay like that, both of them catching their breaths as they come down, Dean softening inside Cas.

Skin tacky with sweat, Dean finally lifts up a little and slips out of Cas as he drops a kiss to his shoulder. “Fuck, that was awesome.”

“Mmm,” Cas agrees, sounding blissed out and hazy.

Satisfaction about how well-fucked he sounds rolls through Dean's gut. He loves that even after all this time he can still make Cas come so hard that he can't form words for minutes after.

Cas doesn't really bother to move when Dean grabs his own t-shirt off the floor and cleans them up. He looks like he could happily sleep that way, and Dean knows Cas has slept in weirder positions, but he's not gonna let his husband wake up with a crick in his neck and a cramping calf if he can help it.

So he prods Cas into sitting up and lazily dressing. Once they're fully clothed, Dean shirtless under his jacket, he kisses the tired smile on Cas's lips and loves the way Cas responds, cupping Dean's cheeks and kissing him back so softly.

Finally Dean sighs. “Well, I brought you out here to look at the stars too, but honestly I'd rather be home in bed with you right about now. Unless you still wanna do that?”

Smiling faintly, Cas shakes his head. “Nah, let's go home. If we get a second wind we can always sit on the back porch swing and watch them.”

And that—that’s a damn tempting thought. No matter what Cas says, Dean's firmly aware that he's the lucky one.

But as they climb into the front seat and Cas cuddles up to his side, looking so content and comfortable that it makes warmth well up in Dean's chest, he can sort of admit that maybe they're both kinda lucky.