As the cabin came into view, Dean had an epiphany. This was where his life was going to change.
The tires crunched over the gravel as the Impala crawled forward down the curving path, sunlight shining through the criss-crossing tree branches above them and decorating the old road like so many splotches of paint. It had been almost half an hour since they'd even seen asphalt, and he could barely remember what it felt like to drive across a smooth surface at all.
His poor baby was going to have rocks stuck in her treads for weeks.
He rolled down his window, and the scent of grass and wood and fresh air wafted in, crisp and gentle, so different from the hot scent of highway and the bitter, re-circulated air that flowed through the A/C vents. He couldn't hear any other cars here – no sirens or horns or the whisper of tires on the road. It was just birdsongs and wind, and the crunch of the gravel below them.
"So that's it, huh?" he asked. Castiel didn't turn, just hummed his affirmation.
"You don't sound all that impressed," Cas told him after a pause, and now Dean laughed. No, he couldn't say that he was quite impressed, but he didn't think he was meant to be anyway. It was a little place, tucked back off the beaten trail, and it showed its age. But Dean liked it.
"Were you hoping I'd be?" He was smiling. "It's not supposed to be impressive, is it? It's supposed to be...I don't know, cozy." He pulled up near the steps, tugging the parking brake up with a forceful click and plucking the keys from the ignition. He started to move to get out of the car, but he paused instead, and just looked at the place.
It was old and worn, and looked like it had popped up in the middle of the trees and overgrown grass all on its own instead of being built there. It had a certain dignity to it, with its sloped slate roof and its dirty windows. It was welcoming in a way, like an old dog or a well-worn pair of jeans, not the kind of place that was made for making first impressions, but rather for making lasting ones.
The thought made Dean's stomach do an awkward little flip, and he tried to ignore it, because it felt almost nervous. And he refused to be nervous. He was not an awkward, fumbling, pimply freshman going for his first kiss. Nervous had been scratched out of his vocabulary years ago.
"Dean...are you alright?" Cas asked, and it took Dean a moment to even realize that he was even speaking to him. "You're being quiet. It's...strange for you." Now he was frowning, his brow creasing like he was turning things over and over in his mind. "Was it something I said?"
It was half a joke, and Dean forced himself to smile, then felt it come more naturally. "No. I'm just thinking."
Now Cas smiled back, and Dean's own got just that bit easier to slip into. "About what?" Cas asked.
Dean shook his head and got out of the car, standing and stretching his legs. "We should get our stuff out of the car. I'll get your bags if you get mine."
It was warm and humid out, and the air felt heavy with the promise of rain, but the clouds overhead had yet to let loose a single drop, and it made Dean feel like he was being smothered. He was sweating as he pulled the duffel bags out of the back seat and set them on the gravel by his sneakers, the slam of the Impala's car door rattling her frame as he did.
Castiel straightened his back and listened to the cicadas as Dean groaned. "It's fucking hot. This place doesn't have air conditioning, does it?"
Shit. "We packed fans, at least. Right?"
Castiel held up one of the desk fans they'd shoved in the back seat as an afterthought when the weather report had called for temperatures in the upper nineties for most of the week. "Three," he said. He swiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. "There's a lake. We could swim."
"You say swim. I hear skinny dip." Dean smirked, and Castiel nudged him with his free elbow as he lifted his backpack onto his shoulders.
"Come on," Cas urged. "Help me get all this inside. Then we can talk about your fantasies." He shot him his own little smirk before carrying what he could up the steps of the porch and unlocking the front door. That tiny smile was a powerful little thing, and Dean's stomach did another damn flip. This time, it wasn't from nerves.
The strangest feeling rolled over him as he stepped inside, like this place was so old that it was somehow alive, or at the very least, somehow more than just some old cabin stuck in the middle of nowhere. It was almost creepy, but with the sunlight streaming through the windows and Cas leading him inside, what might have been eerie turned warm and welcoming instead.
The screen door slammed behind him, breaking him out of his train of thought, and he dumped his things on the couch in the living room. It was an old, scratchy thing with sagging springs and a color that blended with the aging wood around it. There was a fireplace at the far end of the room, surrounded by gray stone that looked worn and faded but sturdy; Dean ran a hand over it, finding it cold against his palm, and he lingered there to savor the feeling of it. He doubted they'd be getting much use out of it now. Sitting around a fire was the last thing he wanted to do in this heat.
"Where's the bathroom?" Dean asked, turning as Cas dropped his bags just inside the kitchen across from the living room. "I've had to take a piss since I-70."
"Just down the hall," Castiel said, going that way as he spoke. "Over here. I'll get the cooler out of the trunk while you're in there."
The bathroom was down the hallway from the kitchen, in the back corner of the cabin. Across from it was what Dean assumed was the bedroom, and Dean only got a glimpse of it before he grunted out a quick, "Sounds good," and slammed the door right in Castiel's face. Maybe it was rude, but he had to piss like a racehorse, and he could worry about his manners later.
"You're welcome," Castiel said through the door, and Dean could hear the smile behind the downright audible eye roll. At least Cas wasn't taking it personally.
When he was done and washed up – the water never got more than lukewarm, but he splashed some onto his sweaty face anyway – he side-stepped across the hall and peeked through the opposite door.
Cas hadn't given him the grand tour of his old family cabin yet, but Dean had figured this would be the bedroom, and he was right. It was dim now with the curtains blocking the sunlight from streaming in through the two large windows on the far wall, but when he moved them aside, the room was flooded with brightness. He cracked the window open to let in a breeze and sighed when the fresh air cooled the water beaded on his cheeks.
The bed was bare now, but it was more than comfortable when he sat down on the edge. When they got some sheets on it, it was sure to be inviting, maybe even cozy, and Dean was looking forward to spending his mornings sleeping in and eating breakfast propped against the headboard.
He ran a hand across the surface of the mattress, wondering what it would be like to have Castiel here with him. He'd find out soon enough, he supposed. After all, this was likely where it was going to happen.
Where they were going to...
He looked back at the carved headboard, the feathered wings extending from its center like they were reaching to embrace him. This was where he was going to offer up his...virginity?
The thought very nearly made him laugh.
The word sounded odd, almost ridiculous. He hadn't counted himself as a virgin since he was sixteen and his third date with Sarah Marowitz had ended with the two of them alone in her bedroom while her parents went to swing-dancing class, and that had been almost three years ago. But what else could he call it? It wasn't going to be his first time, exactly. It was far from even being his first time with Cas, if he counted everything else they'd ever done, but it was uncharted territory anyway, and for the first time in a very long time, he was the one without a road map.
It didn't scare him, really. It wasn't fear that he felt. Fear made him nauseous and antsy. It was the antithesis of desire. Some poet had probably said that at some point, somewhere in a dusty old book for Dean to read along the way and then file it far back in his mind. But whether it was a paraphrase from a high school English textbook or the result of his own brain deciding to wax poetic for one reason or another, it was still just as true.
If Dean were scared, he wouldn't want it. And he did want it. Badly.
Specifically, he wanted Cas.
So much so that he was willing to give him his – Dean refused to say the V-word again – give him something he'd never given to anyone else.
Was it possible to be scared of something and still want it, Dean wondered, or was he just being indecisive?
"You're doing it again." Cas was leaning on the door frame, his hands in his jeans pockets, eyebrow arched and a sheen of sweat gleaming on his brow. Dean licked his lips.
"Thinking. You've been doing that a lot lately."
Dean shrugged. "It's just hot. Thinking doesn't make my temperature spike." He took a look around the room, eyes pausing on the ceiling fan above their heads. That would come in handy later. When he looked back down, Cas was stepping toward him.
"It's strange, being back here. It seems...smaller than I remember." He sat on the edge of the mattress, beside him, their thighs brushing. "And quiet. Very quiet."
"Quiet is fine. Hell, quiet is fuckin' nice." He took a breath, inhaling the dust and the scent of the woods drifting in through the open window. "I could use some quiet."
"Then I'm glad we're here." Cas was smiling at him, and it made Dean's stomach do that weird flipping thing again.
Dean nudged him. "You're gonna get sick of me," he said. "Just the two of us, all alone, far from civilization for five whole days..." His voice trailed off, and Cas raised an eyebrow at him. Dean could have sworn the guy was insinuating something, especially given that damn smirk of his. "Pervert."
"You said it, not me."
He leaned close, because it felt like the right thing to do at the moment, and because he wanted to wipe that little smile away. Cas made a little noise – maybe it was from surprise, or maybe it was just a happy little hum – and moved to accommodate him, lips pliable and soft, head tilted just right so that his nose was out of the way. His jaw was peppered with a few days' worth of stubble, and it scratched at Dean's skin, but he'd gotten used to that by now. Hell, he'd gotten to like it a long time ago.
They parted, and Dean's tongue darted out to lick the taste of him off his lips, almost without him realizing. "You're being awfully affectionate," Cas said, and Dean laughed. Maybe the endorphin rush from the kiss was making him a little giddy.
"I'm always affectionate," he said. "Maybe this place is just getting to me. In a good way, I mean." He took another glance around the room. The walls were wood, bare and rough, but paintings of birds and other animals hung on them, all around. "It's a nice place."
"It's always been," Cas agreed with a nod. "I haven't been here in a long time."
Dean stood, going over to one of the paintings and looking it over. It was oil, and he could make out the brushstrokes as he looked closer. The subject was an owl of some kind, with pristine white and gray feathers and an elegant, rounded head. "It's a snowy owl," Cas piped up behind him, still sitting on the edge of the bed. "My sister did it."
Dean hadn't pegged Anna for the artistic type, but he "hmm'ed" softly and dropped the comment before he made it. "Guess your parents knew a good decorating opportunity when they saw it."
"Dean." Cas' tone has gone from casual to firm out of nowhere, and Dean couldn't help but whirl around to see what the hell's the cause. Cas was still sitting on the bed, but his posture was practically military-grade straight now, and his brow pinched as he frowned. "What are you thinking about?"
"What are you thinking about?" Dean asked with a nervous little laugh. "Dude, you look like you're constipated."
"Something's weighing on you," Cas said, and he finally stood. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter. Nothing's wrong, Cas. It's just hot as balls, alright? I don't do well with heat. And it was a long drive. I'm all stiff..." He rubbed his neck, to prove his point. Cas knew damn well that he could handle a long drive without blinking an eye. He'd driven over two state lines the day he'd gotten his drivers' license for crying out loud.
It was hot, though. Dean hadn't been lying about that. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck and slipped past the collar of his T-shirt, making him squirm.
Cas was still looking at him with that damn piercing gaze, like he was trying to see through him. Finally though, he sighed, his shoulders rolling forward. "It is hot," he agreed, and Dean felt something clench in his gut as Cas ducked his head, staring at the floor. But he was looking up not a moment later, and now he was smiling that little familiar barely-there smile of his. "The sooner we get those fans set up, the sooner you can cool off."
He was halfway out the door before Dean called, "I still say skinny dipping would be better," and he couldn't deny that he swelled with pride when Cas laughed from around the corner.
It was fucking hot.
Dean was sweating so bad by the time they got the last of their stuff into the cabin that his shirt was sticking to him in all the worst places, and he was starting to chafe something awful. "How the fuck do you stand this heat?" he groaned as he flopped down on the couch, plugging in the desk fan he'd grabbed into the nearest socket and putting it on the highest setting.
He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the cool breezy bliss until Cas plopped down on the cushion beside him, smelling fresh as a damn flower. "It's supposed to be this hot all week, I think," he said.
"How are you not sweltering, man?" Dean asked him, opening his eye a crack to peek. Cas shrugged.
"I am hot. But I guess I don't mind it so much." He reached up to wipe sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, and Dean had to smirk as he did. Cas' T-shirt was cut lower than his own, and sweat had gathered in the hallow of his neck just under his collar. "What?"
"Nothing," Dean said, still smirking as he moved closer. He got a good whiff of sweat and musk mixed with the dusty smell of the cabin and the scent of grass from outside, and he was kissing along the side of Castiel's neck before he even knew what he was doing with himself.
"We still have to...have to move the food from the...cooler..." His voice was strained already. A few passes of his mouth over Cas' neck always did the trick.
"Already moved everything out of the car." They dipped back onto the couch, settling horizontal against the scratchy cushions. "We deserve a break."
"I doubt this will do anything to help you cool off..."
Dean sat up, reached over for the fan on the coffee table and moved it closer to them until he could feel the breeze again. "Nah...but you said yourself you don't mind the heat so much. I can adapt. 'Sides..." He smirked down at Cas, unable to keep from smiling at that rebellious hair of his that was already sticking up every which way against the pillow. "This is a hell of an opportunity, isn't it? Just the two of us...all alone...no brothers or sisters or parents..." He leaned down to nip at Cas' jaw, drinking in his little moan. "We could be as loud as we want...I doubt the cicadas would mind."
Cas just hummed, and Dean took it as a yes because his legs parted to let him settle further against his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him in close. Castiel's fingers tangled in his short hair, his tongue darting out against his lips, and sure, Dean was gross and sweaty and he sure didn't smell like roses, but Cas didn't seem to care. He closed his eyes and ignored the shirt sticking to his back, just lost himself in the slide of his body against Castiel's.
There was no anxiety here. He felt like an idiot for ever letting it get to him in the first place. There was something about kissing Cas that always made him feel like there were years tension built up behind a dam, despite the fact that they'd been together for months now. He never felt like he'd had enough of him.
He could stay here forever, just like this.
It wasn't until he felt something tickle the knuckle of his right hand that he started to come back to the world around him. His palm was pressed against the arm of the couch, his other hand pinned under Cas' shoulder, but there was definitely something, a tiny prickling sensation against the back of his fingers. Like something was...crawling on his skin...
He looked up, just for a moment, and it took him all of half a second to process BUGFUCKINGBUGGODDAMNCREEPYCRAWLYBUG before he was hurling himself backwards, up and off of Cas, arm flailing out to the side as he let out what had to be the most undignified cry of his life. It took the vague shape of something along the lines of, "What the ever loving shit is that?" but he couldn't be entirely sure.
He pulled his hand close to his chest – the fucking thing gone now – and tried to pretend he hadn't just been reduced to a stereotypical fifties housewife who'd just found a mouse in her pristine Pleasantville kitchen. "What the hell was that about?" Cas asked him, and all he could do was try and catch his breath and force out, "I thought...bug...on my...my hand..."
But Cas wasn't looking at him anymore; he was staring down at the floor, and then he was leaning down and reaching for something and-
"Christ, get that fucking thing away from me!"
"It's not going to hurt you, Dean," Cas said. "It's just a little millipede." It was crawling over Cas' fingers, much the same way it had been taking a stroll across Dean's before he'd flung it unceremoniously across the room. It looked a lot smaller now that he got a good long look at it.
Cas smiled at him – the bastard looked like he was trying very hard not to let it show – brow furrowing. "I didn't think you were scared of bugs."
"I'm not scared of bugs!" Dean spat. "I just want some warning before they're on me." He sighed, wiping sweat off his brow and staring at the ugly sofa cushion. "Can you just get rid of it?"
"Alright, alright," Cas said as he stood. "You'll have to get used to them though. They're everywhere around here."
"I know," Dean said, not caring that Cas couldn't hear him as he took the damn thing out to the door and put it down in the grass by the porch. He was not pouting. He was not. Dean Winchester did not pout, and he certainly wasn't afraid of bugs. Who wanted a damn creepy-crawler thinking that it could walk all over their skin with its hundreds of tiny little legs?
"Shut up," he said when Cas sat down again.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it. I could hear you. You're a damn loud thinker."
Cas leaned over and kissed him on the nose. Dean refused to let him break his resolve, and he frowned even harder. "I thought you said I could be as loud as I wanted out here," Cas said.
Dean nodded his head to one side, lazily. Cas did have a point. And he was definitely not about to start complaining about that.
The mood was gone though, at least for now. And first thing was first; they had to finish unpacking. And hopefully put some sheets on that bed.
Cas took the coolers and the food while Dean tasked himself with making the bed and getting all the toiletries into the bathroom. He started with the latter, leaving their toothbrushes side by side in a little cup on the lip of the sink, stacking all their soap and the like neatly by the shower, and making sure they had toilet paper at the ready.
He'd forgotten his own shampoo, and resigned himself to using Castiel's and smelling like cucumber and melon for the week. It wasn't so bad; he happened to like the scent, but it was likely only because he usually got a good whiff of it whenever they were making out or snuggled up close in bed or on the couch. He had a matching conditioner too, which Dean usually didn't bother with, but he just might for this week. There was no point in messing up the shampoo to conditioner ratio of Cas' bottles, after all.
He didn't spare a second glance at their toothbrushes sitting nestled up against one another until he was on his way to get started with the bedroom. It should have held some sort of meaning, prompted thoughts of domesticity, meals cooked together in a tiny kitchen, and a shared mortgage, or something along those lines anyway. But Dean didn't like to over-analyze. It did make him smile, though.
He also noticed before he left that Cas had forgotten his toothpaste. It made him feel better about the shampoo at least. They could share for the week. He just hoped Cas liked cinnamon flavored Crest.
Cas had borrowed sheets and a comforter from his brother, since he didn't have any queen-sized bedclothes of his own and using his parents' just seemed wrong somehow, if this week had as much in store as Dean had in mind for it. The sheets were mint green and the comforter a deep midnight blue, and by the time Dean had wrestled the fitted bottom sheet into submission and tucked the top one under the foot of the mattress, he was so close to boiling that he couldn't resist the urge to splay out on top of them and revel in the crispness of the generous thread count.
"Are you having trouble?" Cas asked, and Dean could tell that he was smiling even without looking. He had to look ridiculous, on his stomach on a half-made bed with his nose pressed against the mattress.
"No," he said, his words muffled beyond recognition. When he finally did summon up the energy to turn his head, he left a spot of sweat on the sheets where he'd pressed his forehead before. "Ew."
Cas had a fan in one hand, and he propped it up on the old chest at the foot of the bed and plugged it in. The moment the sweet cool breeze washed over him, he let out a damn near pornographic moan. "You're welcome," Cas said.
"Is it seriously supposed to be this hot all damn week?" Dean asked, and Cas shrugged.
"It's almost August. What do you expect?" He pressed a gentle hand to Dean's shoulder, rubbing up and down along the curve of his neck. "The freezer might be old, but it works just as well as the day my parents bought it. I packed plenty of popsicles and one of those Margarita buckets too."
"Margarita bucket?" Dean asked. It had to be the trashiest thing he'd ever heard of, and he was intrigued.
"You add tequila and put it in the freezer. And voila, margaritas."
"From a bucket."
"And did you bring tequila?"
"Of course I brought tequila."
Dean somehow found the energy to laugh, and even had some left over to haul himself up onto his elbows. "You're such a bad influence."
"Thank Gabriel. He bought it for me. That and a box of cherry flavored condoms."
"Cherry?" Dean snorted.
"It's ridiculous, I know," Cas said. "He knows I prefer blueberry."
"Well I happen to like cherry." Dean slithered closer, draping himself lazily over Castiel's thighs and kissing along his chest. Cas didn't make any move to stop him, and let out a happy little hum as his hand meandered up Dean's back.
"The food's in the fridge," he said, his voice as steady as if Dean was just sat next to him reading the newspaper. "The freezer will take a little longer to cool down, so we'll have to move the last of the stuff later."
"Mmhm," Dean hummed, one hand wandering down to the hem of Castiel's cargo shorts as his other one pushed him down onto the bed. He finally reached Cas' neck, and – surprise, surprise – Cas' breath finally hitched. "You're a sucker for neck kisses."
"You started it," Cas chided him, holding him close. "Don't stop."
This, Dean could never have any qualms with. It had taken him a damn long time to feel okay with the idea of sucking dick, but now, with Cas, he'd started to wonder why he hadn't tried it sooner. He'd always thought it would feel dirty or degrading or just plain weird, but when he wrapped his lips around Cas' cock and drew that first little broken moan out of his throat...God, there was nothing better. Not even pecan pie.
Cas' shirt had ridden up, and Dean peppered his belly with kisses, the thin trail of hair that disappeared under the hem of his pants tickling his lips as he went. He wasn't quite hard yet, but he was getting there, and Dean reached between his legs and cupped him to help him along, gently massaging his balls through his shorts.
"This is the second time we've gotten distracted," Cas told him, breathless and flushed.
"Distracted from what? Our vacation? Isn't that the point?" He ducked lower, mouthing at Castiel's growing erection until Cas reached down and unbuttoned his pants with a little impatient groan.
He sat up, tugging Cas toward the edge of the bed and letting him plant his feet on the hard wood floor before he shucked off his own shirt and pulled Cas' shorts and underwear down to let them pool around his ankles. "Where are those cherry condoms?" he asked. "Don't wanna make a mess when I just made the bed."
Cas rolled his eyes, and that had to be a playful little smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You have something against swallowing?" he asked.
Dean answered by wrapping his fingers around Castiel's cock and stroking it to coax it along toward full hardness. "C'mon, buddy. Humor me."
"They're in...oh...they're in my backpack...front...front pocket..." He loved hearing that little wobble in Cas' voice when he was all worked up like this, like he was desperately trying to keep his cool when he was being driven further and further up a damn wall. Dean swiped the pad of his thumb across the head of Cas' penis, leaning down to give it a gentle "I'll be back" kiss before getting up off the floor and going to Cas' backpack.
He found the box of condoms pretty easily, nestled next to Castiel's iPod and his phone charger. It featured a ridiculous picture of a woman's full, ruby-stained lips positively molesting a red lollipop on the front, and he had to laugh a little because whoever designed that marketing campaign probably didn't picture two dudes going at it when they slapped it on the cover.
The package was pink and stamped with the brand name in dark purple, and he ripped it open as he tossed the open box back into Cas' backpack and headed back over to the bed. He dropped to his knees again, patting Cas on the knee and grinning up at him as he stuck his tongue out and licked the condom. "Huh...not bad. Kinda cherry, I guess. Sorta like...a cherry afterthought to latex." He damn near giggled as he rolled it on. "Your junk is gonna smell like pie."
"Are you ever not thinking about pie?" Cas asked him.
"Yeah, when I'm thinking about burgers. Or thinking about blowing you. But now I can think about that last one and pie at the same time, so it's a win-win." He dragged his tongue up the underside of Cas' cock, wrapping his lips around the tip with a satisfied hum. The flavor reminded him of the cheap candy that was made more to sell the gimmicky, light-up packaging than anything edible – not nearly as good as cherry pie – but it wasn't bad. And the noise Cas made when he swallowed him down made it taste twice as sweet.
He released Cas with a wet little pop and wiped sweat off his brow with one hand. "You mind tilting that fan down? I'd rather not boil down here while I'm getting you off." Cas nodded, reaching for the fan and wrestling with it a bit before he managed to point it down toward him. The breeze was cool and sweet. "Ah...thanks, Cas."
It had to be weird for Cas, getting head in what had once been his parent's bedroom in their vacation home, but he didn't seem to mind. He was a little distracted, after all. At least there weren't any family pictures hanging on the walls, so Dean was spared the boner-killing moment of accidentally making eye contact with his boyfriend's grandmother when he had a dick halfway down his throat. But the snowy owl on the far wall was staring at him with its head half-cocked to one side, like it was judging him.
"Fuck you, snowy owl," Dean thought, and he swallowed Cas down as far as he could.
Cas wasn't quiet. He never had been; the fact that they were alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and far away from anyone who might hear them didn't change that. He'd never admit it, but he was always the one that needed a hand planted over his mouth when they were trying to have a sneaky quickie with someone's brother or parents right down the hall. But Dean loved hearing him, and he would have smiled at the sounds Cas was making now if his mouth wasn't already busy.
Cas' fingernails scraped against his scalp as he ran his fingers through his hair and down to the nape of his neck, grasping firmly one second and gently cradling his head the next. Dean glanced up, finding Cas' eyes closed and his mouth open, his chest heaving out ragged breaths around his moans. Every now and again, when Dean hit a sweet spot or took him in especially deep, his eyes would squeeze shut tighter, almost like it hurt him.
He pulled away for a moment as Cas spread his legs wider, and he wrapped an arm around the back of Cas' knee. "Put your leg up," he muttered, words slurring a bit from his jaw being as tired as it was. He would have thought he'd have built up some sort of stamina in his jaw muscles by now, but no such luck.
Cas hooked his leg over Dean's shoulder as Dean dipped down again, licking his lips and tasting the tart cherry flavor that had built up on them before taking Cas back into his mouth. He smelled like sweat and artificial fruit and cucumber shampoo – did he shampoo his pubes, Dean wondered? – and he groaned as both hands flew to Dean's hair again.
He had a good rhythm going, bobbing up and down to the beat of Master of Puppets as it played in the back of his head, at least until Cas let out a shaky little breath and whined, "Faster..." Then he switched to Enter Sandman. And before long, Cas' thighs tensed, his calf pressing against Dean's back to urge him closer, and Dean drew back, sucking on the head like it was a latex-tinged cherry lollipop and stroking him eagerly with one hand.
Cas yelled, and curled his torso over Dean's head, hugging him close and keeping him firmly between his legs as he came. Dean pulled his mouth off with a soft little pop, stroking him through it and admiring his handiwork with a little grin. It wasn't until Cas was done and had flopped back onto the bed to catch his breath that Dean reached up to massage his jaw.
"That cherry ain't half bad," he said as he gently took the condom off and tossed it into the trashcan.
"Mmm," Cas said.
"Aftertaste kinda sucks though."
Dean crawled onto the bed and lay down next to him. There was a certain feeling of pride that came with seeing someone so blissed out after an orgasm that was all thanks to him. "You gonna say anything?"
Cas opened his eyes, just a little. "Mmm," he said, before closing them again.
"Hey, don't fall asleep on me, buster," Dean said, giving Cas' shoulder a little shake. "I still have to keep making the bed."
"Later," Cas mumbled, and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Fine," he said, "Lazy bastard." Even as he spoke, Cas' hands were wandering down over his chest and stomach, and his fingers were skimming across the bulge in his pants. "Cas..."
His eyes were sharper now, the haze of his orgasm and afterglow receding, and he deftly undid the zipper and reached inside, never taking his eyes off of Dean's face. "Cas...M'gonna make a mess...just put these sheets on..."
"I've got your dick in my hand, and you're worried about the sheets," Cas chided.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a fitted sheet on in ninety-degree heat?"
"Do you want me to jack you off or not, Dean?" He gave Dean a little squeeze as he asked. What was he supposed to say to that except, "Yes please?"
"Yes please," he muttered.
He did wind up making a mess on the sheets, but Cas wiped it up with a tissue without a single peep of complaint, and Dean was too busy enjoying his afterglow to care much. The fan helped keep them both from cooking right there on the box spring, but cuddling proved to do too much to increase their risk of heat stroke to be all that pleasant, so they lay side by side on the sheets, naked and staring up at the ceiling.
"You think your parents know we're gonna spend this whole week fucking?" Dean asked.
He was pretty much convinced that anyone other than Cas would have laughed, or asked him why the hell he was even wondering about that, but Cas just shrugged. "Probably."
Dean glanced over at him. "Really?"
"They do know we have sex, Dean."
"Well I mean...we haven't. I mean I haven't. Not technically..."
"We've been giving each other orgasms for months. What would you call what we just did?"
"Sex," he said. "I mean, kinda...but technically-"
"You mean penetration," Cas finished, and Dean grimaced.
"Do you really have to use the word penetration?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"It's just a...gross word, okay? Like intercourse or moist."
"But that is what you meant, right?"
Cas stared at him so long that he had to resist the urge to squirm. He was damn good at putting on that intense face when he needed to, but it was bumming his afterglow. "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, and Cas sighed as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.
"How many times do I have to remind you that-"
"It's not any more legitimate sex than anything else, yadda yadda," Dean finished. "I know, I know. You don't have to go all high school guidance counselor on me, Cas." It came out a little more bitter than he'd meant it to, so he smiled and gently pulled Cas down until he was lying beside him again. "You'd make a good one, you know that? A guidance counselor, I mean."
"Don't change the subject."
"I'm not! I'm just saying." He settled onto his back again, staring at the ceiling and resuming his count of how many spots he could find on the wood. "I get it, okay? I'm not trying to say all the stuff we've done doesn't count or something. God knows I haven't been a virgin in a long damn time." He huffed out a clipped out little laugh. "But I do...I do want to, you know...I wanna do that..."
"Well we have. But I'm assuming you mean you want to be the one being pe-" He sighed. "Bottoming?"
"Well yeah. While we're here, if we could..." He fought the urge to twiddle his thumbs.
"Dean..." Cas rolled over onto his side, resting his cheek on one open palm. "I told you the last time you brought this up, when you're ready for that, all you need to do is say the word."
Dean looked over and smiled right back at him, telling his heart to stop pounding and his cheeks to stop flushing red for crying out loud, because blushing like a flustered little boy on his first date just wasn't his style. And the extended eye contact was starting to make him feel pretty damn exposed – despite the fact that he was already naked – so he reached out to pull Cas in for a kiss.
"You're so damn sweet I think I'm gonna get a cavity," he said as he pulled away, and he rolled over to pin Cas down onto the bed. Cas didn't seem to want to give him that much power, though, and he fought back against him, pushing him back over, and so it went back and forth until they were tangled together in the middle of the bed, grasping and pushing at each other. It went on until Cas managed somehow to get him into a damn tight headlock, and Dean had to call uncle.
They fell back on the sheets, breathless again and sweatier than ever, grinning stupidly at the damn ceiling.
Cas fell asleep at some point after that. Dean wasn't sure how long it took. He might have dozed himself. There was something about this heat that made him groggy, and it was hard to stay awake when he was relaxed from his orgasm and worn out from a long drive anyway. He traced the feathers tattooed on Cas' shoulder until his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since they'd stopped at McDonald's for breakfast that morning on the way out of town, and he hauled himself up.
He almost tugged on some boxers before he realized that the point was moot anyway, because Cas had seen him naked more times than he could count – the most recent of which being less than an hour ago – and nobody else who would care was round for miles. It wasn't like the birds or squirrels were going to judge him, and as long as he didn't spend too long outside, he didn't have to worry about sunburn. So he walked naked down the hall to the kitchen and grabbed a box of poptarts off the counter, helping himself to a couple of the pastries and wandering around the cabin.
The kitchen was open to the spacious living room, the only thing that divided them being the line where linoleum met hard wood. It looked like there had been a wall separating them once, but the Novaks, Dean had learned, were a family that liked to have plenty of open space to grow. It made a lot of sense that they'd like a place like this, a home away from home with nothing around it but wide open spaces and trees for miles. He could breathe here, and as used to cramped quarters and city noise as he was, he felt like he could adjust to this with no problem at all.
Even the bugs, he thought with a little shudder. Or at the very least, he wasn't going to let them ruin it.
He leaned against the counter, staring out the old window that looked out over the porch. His car was parked on the gravel, and it already had a spot or two of bird poop on the hood. He frowned. He'd take care of it when they got home – after all she was already covered in pollen and dust from the drive up, and if he gave her a bath now, she'd only get dirty again before the day was out.
The floorboards creaked behind him, and Cas yawned as he shuffled down the hallway, rubbing his eyes. His hair was all tousled and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and he stopped to let the fan in the living room blow a refreshing breeze over his skin. "Good nap, sleeping beauty?" Dean asked.
"I never saw that movie," Cas said. "But yes."
"What kind of childhood did you have that you didn't even see Sleeping Beauty?"
"A rather uninteresting one." He was also naked. Dean supposed great minds thought alike. He really couldn't complain about the view. "The freezer should be ready by now. Help me get the last of the stuff in?"
They dragged their cooler over to the large chest freezers in the back corner of the kitchen. They hadn't brought anything perishable, but the idea of going a week in the heat without any popsicles or ice cream had been too much to bear. They'd brought neopolitan for Dean and pistachio for Cas (who liked it for some weird reason), and a huge box of those plastic-wrapped push-up pops that reminded Dean of frozen Go-gurt.
The margarita bucket was sitting on the counter, and Cas opened it up as Dean was moving the last of the frozen treats into the freezer. "Hand me the tequila?" It was sitting on the corner of the counter by the freezer, so Dean grabbed it and handed it to him so that he could pour the sucker in.
"Wow, Cas. You want some margarita with your Jose Cuervo?"
"I'm not pouring in the whole thing." He set the bottle back on the table and carried the bucket to the freezer. "I want it to be strong, but I don't want it to be too watery."
"You brought salt, right?" Cas paused. "Aw, Cas! We can't drink margaritas without salt!"
"Because it's just the way the world works, Cas. How could you forget the salt?"
"I think you'll live," Cas said.
Dean dropped the argument, if only because watching Cas bend over to close the freezer distracted him.