Work Text:
Dense and convoluted wisps of smoke rise to the sky, the air sweet and heavy around the dim figure leaning against the wooden railing. The cabin has a small balcony, which Dean hadn’t noticed before, that gives space to quite frankly depressing views. There is a single chair that looks comfortable despite the shabby cushions, a small table with an empty plate on top and nothing else. Dean wonders if this is the place where Cas goes to relax and get stoned after hosting another orgy and that very thought leaves an unpleasant feeling in his guts. Cas and orgies don't sit well with him when mixed, and not because he’s disgusted by the concept per se but because he thinks he knows Cas, or at least the one from his reality, and something so base, so carnal as an orgy, it’s the polar opposite of what Cas is, making Dean even more aware that this is not his place. And this man is not his Cas even if he wears the same face.
“If you think you’re being subtle while spying on me, you are not” comes the voice in front of him and Dean jumps on the spot. Fuck.
“I’m not…I wasn’t…” He hates how unsure his voice sounds to his own ears, another thing that he doesn’t like about this reality. Dean doesn’t know how to deal with this Cas. Okay, he’s not an expert on Cas the angel, but he is even less so on Cas the human that doesn’t give a fuck about anything.
Fortunately his babbled answer is met only with a soft chuckle from Cas, his profile still semi hidden by the cloud of smoke but still clear enough to see him gesturing for Dean to come closer. He complies, however, since he wasn’t actually spying on him or anything, he happened to be just passing by and noticed him but he doesn’t say anything and simply leans into the railing too, with his back facing the darkness that comes with the night slowly starting to devour the sky.
Cas’s holding a joint between his thumb and his forefinger, taking a long drag, that sweet smell filling Dean’s senses.
“Do you want some?” he offers after a minute of silence.
“No, thanks” he says. I have enough with alcohol, he doesn’t add.
Cas doesn’t say anything else and honestly that silence is starting to feel unnerving. Why did Cas want him to keep him company if he wasn’t planning to talk to him?
“Hey, Cas, about tomorrow…”
“I don’t want to talk about tomorrow” he interrupts and okay, Dean’s starting to lose his patience.
“Listen, man…”
“See this?” Cas interrupts him again, this time raising up the joint between his fingers. “This is what I do when I don’t want to think about tomorrow.” He laughs and Dean can feel a note of self-deprecation in it. “Sometimes living one day is hard enough that you don’t want to think about the next and in this place ‘sometimes’ is more like an ‘always’ so excuse me if I don’t want to think about tomorrow until I’m in tomorrow”.
The worst thing is that Dean can get totally behind that kind of behavior. Hell, he has made a personality trait out of it; to drown your sorrows in alcohol, sex and violence. He was in no position to judge anyone else’s methods of copying, he knew that, but watching Cas doing it was extremely unsettling.
“I do the same” he hears himself saying and it’s strange to relate to someone that much, even more if you already know another different version of that someone. And even more strange is that he’s openly talking about it since one thing he’s always been a master of, no matter what timeline he is, is his capacity to not talk about feelings. But maybe it’s just because this Cas, despite his peculiar personality, or maybe because of it, is easier to talk to. “When I simply don’t want to be aware of shit I find escape routes to hold on to”.
Cas’s looking at him with so much intent that he can’t suppress his next words, the core of what has been bugging him.
“But it’s weird to see you like this, man, that’s all”.
Cas laughs a bit at that, devoid of any humor. The sky is getting darker by the minute and the air is chilly, making Dean shiver.
“Let’s get back inside” Cas says, simply.
The interior is far more warmer in comparison and Dean is secretly glad for it. Cas takes another long drag to his joint and sits directly on the floor, his back directly against a sofa. Dean doesn’t question his decision, he wasn’t exactly surprised by it, and joins him.
“Sometimes I wonder what other versions of me will be like in other timelines” Cas says all of the sudden. He has an absent expression on his face but he doesn’t seem to be that stoned. Yet.
“You do?”
“Yes,” he answers, exhaling the dense smoke out of his mouth. “And not always with the help of this thing”.
He has beautiful lips, Dean thinks.
“I get that the Castiel from your reality is so different from me that I’m giving you whiplash” Cas speaks again. “How is he?”
And oh, man, that’s a hard question right here and he’s very much sober to start talking about it. He eyes Cas’s long fingers. They are beautiful, too.
“You know? I’ve changed my mind. Pass it on”.
Cas's smile is wide and open when he raises the joint to his face. The tip of his fingers caresses Dean’s lips for a moment and he wants to suck them into his mouth but leans forward and takes a long drag instead. The foreign taste of weed makes him cough a bit at first but he easily lets out the sweet smoke, closing his eyes.
“Good” Cas breathes, a really weird thing to say, but Dean’s mind is occupied by a pleasant feeling of emptiness.
Talking about Cas with Cas seems the easiest thing to do after that.
He’s been there for hours. It's what the full moon tells him, up high in the big dark sky when he looks through the windows. Cas lights another joint while Dean gets up from the floor on shaky legs, head a little bit dizzy from the weed and Cas’s closeness.
“I should go”, he says, feeling his tongue thick and slow in his mouth.
But Cas has got up from the floor too, much more gracefully than him, and holds him by the wrist.
His eyes are earnest when he says,
“Stay”.
Dean doesn’t answer verbally, he simply lets himself be dragged towards the sofa where he lands straddling him just to avoid hitting his head against Cas’s. Their lips are almost touching, their chests shaking with their labored breaths. Cas looks at his mouth and then at his eyes, that ethereal blue pinning him like a butterfly to a wall, the only constant thing in this damned world, that gaze following him everywhere. Dean steals the joint from Cas’s hands and takes a long drag, marveling at the way Cas’s pupils dilate with the gesture and that’s even before Dean leans forwards and exhales directly into Cas’s semi opened mouth. They are so fucking close that they’re almost kissing but what passes between them is hot and heavy smoke that Cas breathes like it was the fucking oxygene he needs to live. Dean can feel himself hardening in his own jeans, from the intensity and sheer intimacy of it all. Cas’s own bulge is so evident under Dean’s ass that it’s almost ridiculous but he doesn’t act on it, he simply looks at him, a soft smile dancing on his lips, like he was watching a miracle being performed in front of his eyes.
“I didn’t take you for the shotgunning type” he says.
“There’re a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Dean says, rolling his hips a tiny bit. Cas’s growing hot below him, the outline of his cock hard against his ass and Dean’s feel bold enough to repeat the movement, this time earning him a half suppressed moan from Cas. His hands, those big big hands, previously gripping the cover of the sofa, land at the small of Dean’s back but not going beyond, exactly where Dean wants them, groping him, molding him like he was made of clay. Dean groans in exasperation but Cas just tilts his head to take another drag from the joint Dean’s holding.
“As I always imagined” he says and fuck yes, he’s finally touching him properly grinding him against his cock and Dean moans wantonly. “There isn’t a single version of you that I don’t like”.
There is no reason for Dean not to kiss him after that. Cas’s lips are soft against his but he kisses him hungrily anyway, biting Cas’s lower lip while he can feel his enormous hands squeezing his ass. The joint lies forgotten in the table and Cas starts a sinful path with his tongue from Dean’s lips to his neck.
“Cas, fuck” he whimpers but that doesn’t stop Cas’s ministrations. When he speaks, he does it against his ear.
“What do you want, Dean?”
And that’s a good question isn’t it? Dean’s brain is slow due to all the smoking, his movements a bit uncoordinated but the heat he feels pooling in his guts, the raw need to plaster himself along Cas’s body, from head to toe, and let himself be consumed whole, that feeling is sharp as a knife.
He starts unbuttoning Cas’s blue linen shirt with trembling fingers and Cas does the same with his and he hasn’t stopped kissing him for a single minute. Soon enough, upper clothes are discarded on the floor and Dean finally can drink in the expanse of Cas’s bare chest. He looks thinner than he should and Dean briefly wonders how the Cas of his timeline would look under all those layers but that very thought’s gone through the window the instant Cas’s tongue lands on one of his nipples. He licks it until it’s hard as a rock and then he diverts his attention to the other one, meanwhile Dean cries out his pleasure, pressing Cas’s head to his chest because he doesn’t want that feeling to stop. Like ever. When Cas deems the state of his chest, glistening nipples, a hickey here and there, satisfactory enough he looks again at him through his lashes and repeats the same question.
“What do you want, Dean?”
What Dean wants is Cas’s hard cock inside him like ten minutes ago because he’s so fucking horny he may combust and he thinks that this is exactly what comes out of his mouth but he’s not one hundred percent sure, not in his current state, so maybe it’s just a whimper but Cas seems to understand him enough. Pants soon are pushed down and when he’s greeted by the sight of Cas’s flushed cock, leaking tiny pearls of precome Dean thinks he’s about to pass out. It’s not his first rodeo, mind you, but it’s been a very very long time since the last one. He remembers the first dildo he bought, a cheap thing with a suction cup at the base in an awful neon orange color because he was curious, okay? He was 24 and he had tried to masturbate with a couple of fingers up his ass once or twice before and while it had been amazing he had wanted to try the full experience but in his own terms, without having to worry about the other person and because, honestly, he wasn’t sure he was ready to ride a real one yet. Or ever.
So he had lubed up the rubber cock, put it on the floor using the suction cup and out of pure curiosity he had recorded the whole process with an old camera. He had tried to convince himself afterwards that he had just wanted to learn from his mistakes, but the reality of it was that the idea of being able to watch himself later had made his cock leak like a fucking faucet. He had prepared himself out of camera but the process of impaling himself on the toy he did with the red light blinking. He had done it slowly, holding his asscheeks with his hands because he wanted his hole to be visible while swallowing the toy and the feeling of it all, fuck, he felt so dirty, so exposed, that the cock had barely bottomed out when he started to ride it in earnest. As he had expected, he didn't last, and the whole show was over in a matter of minutes but he had cum a second time while rewatching the video of himself moaning like he was being paid for it, riding a rubber toy with his hard cock leaking a puddle into the floor even before touching it. The exhibitionist part of himself convinced him to upload the video to a porn website that paid per views and it had earned him a few dollars each month for a long time because apparently people were always eager to see what he claimed, back then, to be a straight hole swallowing greedily his first cock.
And after that came better toys and more than once, real cocks with people attached to them. Cas’s was one of the nicest he has ever seen. Long, venous and wide at the base, Dean felt saliva piling up in his mouth with the need to taste but he’s a practical guy and while he’d love to blow Cas until he screamed his pleasure on Dean’s face he prefers that nice cock inside his ass.
“Condoms?” he asks.
“Table, on your left” Cas says, almost breathless. He’s squeezing his cock with his big hand and Dean can’t find the fucking thing quick enough. The lube is half empty when he throws the bottle and the condoms back to Cas with a smirk.
“You have been busy” Dean says, while he straddles him again because there is no fucking way he’s not gonna ride this magnificent cock. A pity that they won’t have more time because he’d gladly choke on it too but he has a consolation prize in the form of Cas’s lubed fingers slowly opening him up from behind.
“I hardly remember any of it,” Cas answers and there must be some trace of grace inside him because there is no fucking way he’s that fucking collected, with his cock hard as a hammer, weed navigating in his system and fingerfucking Dean on top of that.
“I…I hope…fuck” Dean moans when one of those dextrous fingers reach tha bundle of nerves that makes him see stars. “I hope you remember this”.
“Forever” Cas says, solemnly, and Dean can’t take it anymore, with clumsy fingers he rolls a condom on Cas’s cock, lubes it up a little and sinks into it with a long moan until he’s fully seated on Cas’s lap. Maybe the weed is to blame, the high of smoking a joint or two, the adrenaline of the upcoming fight, but he’s sure this is unlike anything he’s felt before. Cas’s looking at him with slack-jawed lust, like he can’t believe they are doing it, like Dean is a blessing, a cure for all the horrors that plague his mind.
“Move” Dean commands.
And Cas does. Slowly at first and then speeding up his thrust, with Dean meeting him in the middle of each up and down, bouncing on his lap, stroking his cock using his own come to slick the way.
“Dean, Dean, Dean…” a repeated prayer of his name, whispered again his neck before kissing him, and Dean doesn’t want to hear it any other way.
He can feel himself about to come, but he needs to do it under Cas’s hands, not his own.
“Cas, please, touch me” he pleads.
Cas complies, wrapping one hand around his cock, thumb brushing over the head, the other one still squeezing his asscheeks, fingers digging into his skin, probably hard enough to bruise.
And that’s the visual that does it for Dean. The idea that he’s going to be marked in such a way, intensified by the weed clogging his brain in vibrant colors, is what makes him arch his back, close his eyes and blow his load so hard that his vision whites out for a moment. He distantly feels Cas blowing his load inside the condom, moaning his name, but is almost an out-of-body sensation, something that’s happening many miles away.
The next thing he notices when he opens his eyes is that he’s cushioned against Cas's warm bare chest with a blanket over them and he should probably freak out but the thing is that he doesn’t. Cas’s snoring softly, arms wrapped around him, his heart beating rhythmically under his hand and so at peace that Dean feels guilty for what they are going to do the next day. It’s easy to forget everything outside this cocoon of warm and safety and okay, no one’s going to blame him if he snuggles a little against Cas, enjoying the strong arms that instinctively tighten the embrace he’s in, soaking in the warm and the feel of happiness that comes with it, for a few minutes more.
*
It’s strangely comforting to see Cas in his trenchcoat again. The moon and the dim streetlights paint his profile in beautiful lights and shadows and Dean feels a tug in his chest just looking at him. This Cas. His Cas. And that exact feeling of recognition, of belonging is what makes him reach Cas in four long strides and kiss him.
And just before he takes a step away, ready to apologize for his silliness, he feels Cas’s hands touching his face tenderly, his lips murmuring a sweet “hello, Dean” before devouring him with the same intensity, and he knows for the first time what it means to come home.