“If anybody ever asks you about this, Cas, you lie. Got that? Lie.”
He doesn’t understand why Dean is so uncomfortable, or so insistent on untruth. Dean kisses other human beings almost constantly, and without the need for any sort of significant romantic attachment. Dean has no taboo relating to Castiel’s being an angel. Dean kissed Anna in his presence, even, with visible emotion. It’s a memory that Castiel finds intense and difficult.
Castiel just wants to understand the point of kissing.
“Cas? You with me?”
“And what are you going to do if somebody asks about this?”
“Good. Okay.” Dean lets out a little huff of breath and smooths his hands over his jeans. “Okay.”
Castiel watches Dean fidget and waits for instruction.
“Look, why don’t you just, uh, show me what I’m working with here?”
“Show you?” Castiel looks down at himself, then back to Dean, uncertain. When Dean doesn’t clarify, he starts to take off his coat.
“Whoa, whoa. Uh-uh, Casanova. Let’s leave that on.”
“You asked me to sh—”
“Yeah, Cas, I meant you should come kiss me so I can figure out why the hell we’re doing this.”
Castiel steps into what Dean frequently reminds him is Personal Space. He places his hands on Dean’s shoulders, looks him in the eye, and then presses his lips against Dean’s.
They are warm. Softer than he expects. The rest of Dean is very tense, but his lips are not. They are, in fact, very nice.
Castiel feels a small pang of sorrow when Dean pulls away. He feels worse when Dean starts laughing at him so hard he doubles over. There may, in fact, be tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.
“Jesus, Cas. Just,” Dean’s composure breaks again when he looks Castiel in the face. “I swear, man, I thought you were kidding. Holy shit, you are so not kidding.”
Kissing is apparently beyond him, but Castiel’s grasp on humiliation is suddenly quite expert.
“I should go.”
Dean grabs his sleeve.
Castiel pulls out of his grip, draws up to his full height, and scowls. He lets the air around them go electric just for a moment, and the lights flicker.
“Hey, whoa. Easy, tiger.” Dean’s posture is conciliatory but not submissive. “I didn’t mean it. It’s just you’re like, what, a billion years old or something and you don’t know how to kiss?”
“I’m an Angel of the Lord and a soldier of Heaven. At what point would I have prioritized the mechanics of coupling human oral cavities, Dean?”
He feels some measure of satisfaction when he sees Dean draw in at that.
“It was a foolish request anyway. I should not have asked.” Castiel turns away again and takes a step.
“Cas, wait. Come here.”
Dean, of course, does not wait for Castiel to turn and come back. He walks up and stands face-to-face with Castiel, close enough to give lie to his so-called Personal Space.
“You wanted to learn? Fine. Let’s get you taught. Okay?”
He sighs. “Okay.”
Dean cups the side of Castiel’s face. The tips of his fingers rest just behind his jaw, and the pad of his thumb brushes lightly at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. Dean’s other hand slips in under Castiel’s coat and jacket to rest on his hip. “Okay, first off, don’t just go kissing people out of nowhere, okay? Make sure they’re into it. Look ‘em in the eyes. If you’re close up like this, and they pull back, let it go. No matter what, just back off. You got me?”
“Yes.” Castiel swallows. His skin feels oddly tingly. He wonders if Dean has learned to control electricity when he wasn’t looking.
“Good.” Dean moves in closer, so that their bodies are touching in places. His grip on Cas’ hip tightens, and he teases a little with the fingertips on Cas’ jaw. “If they’re into it, you keep going. Sometimes that means you jump right in, but when you’ve got the time, it’s nice to kinda tease a little. Get close. Touch them. That kind of thing.”
The wisdom in this advice is evident, Castiel thinks, when he feels his own lips part involuntarily. His body feels lit up from the inside by the attention.
“The kissing part is where it all comes together, okay?” Dean murmurs, against Castiel’s neck, just below his ear. “Like, if someone wants to be rough, they’ll be rough with you. If they want to be gentle, they’ll be gentle. Start with just your lips and, uh, see where things go.”
Dean pulls back just enough to look Castiel in the eyes, then brushes his lips against Castiel’s. The touch is agonizing in its lightness, and Castiel can’t help but move into it, mimicking the motion against Dean’s mouth, light at first and then more intently when he doesn’t draw away.
When Dean’s hand slides back from Castiel’s cheek and into his hair the sensation is astonishing. It occurs to Castiel that perhaps he could reciprocate this contact, too. He puts an arm around Dean’s waist and drags his hand through Dean’s hair.
Castiel is delighted at the sound Dean makes because it’s a new sound, and not an angry one at all. It also seems to coincide with the arrival of Dean’s tongue to the proceedings. It’s absolutely counterintuitive that this should make him shiver, but it does.
He reciprocates cautiously, then more boldly, and by the time they finally separate, breathless, Dean’s expression is one of dishevelled, wide-eyed disbelief.
“Was that more acceptable?”
Dean nods. “Yeah, Cas. That was…that was definitely acceptable.” He steps back and looks away, his skin suddenly flushed. “You’re a natural, man. You keep that up, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Castiel allows himself a small flutter of pride at Dean’s praise. Only a small one, because pride is unseemly and dangerous, but he is relatively certain that being a natural kisser is a benign thing to be proud of.
“Thank you, Dean.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it.”
“Of course. And should the topic somehow arise in conversation, I will be certain to deny your involvement.”
Dean blinks at him, clearly baffled. “What?”
“You asked me to lie in the event that anybody asks me about this.”
“Oh. Right.” Dean clears his throat and sits down, arms crossed low over his lap. ”Yeah. You do that.”