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Fallen Angels, Hunters, and Kilts, Oh My!

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“Sam, why is that man wearing a skirt? Is that part of crossdressing? Is he a crossdresser?” Cas asked. Sam choked on the water he had just taken a sip of, coughing and trying to catch his breath.

“Uh, no. He’s wearing a kilt, Cas. It’s a traditional item of clothing from Scotland,” he replied once he could breathe again. Cas was staring hard at the man in the kilt.

“I know what a kilt is, Sam. That doesn’t look like the kilts of Scotland.”

Sam nodded. “And you’d be right. This is more of an Americanized version, and it’s generally referred to as a utilikilt. Stupid name, but it’s called that because it has pockets and such for carrying stuff. Rugged men that work certain jobs, such as carpentry or construction, can use the pockets to store tools, nails, brushes, all sorts of stuff really.” He groaned inwardly when Cas suddenly marched up to the man in the kilt. They had come to the farmer’s market to buy fresh herbs and vegetables, not harass people. He hurried after his friend, hoping to maintain damage control if Cas asked the wrong questions.

“Excuse me, sir?” Cas asked politely. The man in the kilt turned to look at him.


“May I ask you about your kilt?” Cas was looking at it again.

“Sure, what did you want to know?”

“Are they comfortable to wear?” Cas inquired, lifting his blue eyes up to look at the man’s face.

“Very. I have complete freedom of movement when I wear one.” Cas nodded thoughtfully.

“And do you get cold in the winter wearing it?”

The man shrugged. “I wear my boots with thick socks come winter. My boots, as you can see, come to mid shin as it is, and I wear socks that go almost to my knees when the weather turns cold. Mostly my knees might get a little cold, but even if I wore jeans they’d be cold.”

Cas nodded again, mulling over the man’s responses. “And do you wear underwear underneath them?”

“Cas!” Sam gasped. The man chuckled and waved him off.

‘It’s cool. In ancient Scotland there was no such thing as underwear, so the original Scotsmen did not. Most men nowadays do not. Most days I don’t either, but I admit I do put some on in the dead of winter so my nuts don’t freeze.”

Cas snorted, amused by the man’s answer. “One more question?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“Where does one purchase such an item of clothing?”

“Cas, no, you can’t be serious.” Sam was gaping at his friend. Cas looked at him, tilting his head in that familiar way that told him he didn’t understand why Sam was making such a big deal out of this. He decided Cas was right. If he was interested in kilts, let him. There were worse fashion statements he could be making.

“I buy them here.” The man fished a business card out of a pocket in the kilt and handed it over. Cas smiled politely.

“Thank you. I would also like to compliment you on yours. You look very nice in it.” He read the information on the card as he started walking away. Sam gave the stranger a weak smile before hurrying after Cas.

“Can we go here, Sam?” he suddenly asked.

“What, like now?” Sam couldn’t hide his surprise at the question.

“Would that be alright? Dean’s doing a tune up on the Impala; I don’t think we’ll be missed for another few hours,” Cas said. Sam shrugged.

“Ok, if you want to go look at kilts, that’s fine by me.” He had to admit, he was a little curious about them, too.

“Oh, good! Dean still needs an onion and some tomatoes, but after that we can go.” Cas started walking towards the vendor they both knew carried the tomatoes Dean liked, as well as three varieties of onions. Sam wondered what his brother was going to say if Cas decided he liked kilts and wanted one. It was going to make for interesting dinner conversation later, that was for sure!


“Cas?” Sam called out.

“I’m almost done. Just give me another couple of minutes. This one is a little bit complicated. There are so many buckles!” Cas sounded exasperated, and it made Sam chuckle. He sat back in the chair and continued to search news reports on his phone while Cas tried on the newest kilt. This was his sixth one so far. When the door opened and he came out, Sam put the phone to sleep and looked up.

“Is it comfortable?” he asked. Cas was smoothing his hands down the front of the kilt, which was a blue and green plaid that Sam thought actually looked quite nice on him. This one was longer, nearly reaching his knees. Sam noticed the buckles at the hips that Cas has been talking about. Six in total.

“It is surprisingly comfortable. I can easily move about in it. I find that I rather like the freedom of it all,” Cas replied.

“Ok, and what about that utilikilt you tried on?” Sam wondered.

“I find that one very comfortable too, though it is much shorter than this one. I believe this one, being that it’s wool, would make a nice choice in the winter.” Cas was wearing one of Dean’s old Zeppelin shirts and it was neatly tucked into the kilt, showing how slim Cas was. It meant nothing to Sam, he wasn’t attracted to the former angel, but his brother on the other hand…

“I think you need some black boots to go with them though. To round out the look. The kilt looks a little silly with your gym shoes.” Sam nodded towards the Nikes Cas was currently wearing.

“So I should get them?” Cas asked.

“Do you like them?”

“Yes, very much so,” Cas replied.

“And they’re comfortable?”

Cas nodded and touched the buckles at his right hip. “Very comfortable.”

“Then yes, you should get them. And we’ll pick out the boots and socks to go with them.” Sam stood up and walked over to get a better look at the kilt.

“You know what?” he asked. Cas looked up at him questioningly. “I think I want to try one on too.”


It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the bunker.

“It’s about time you two got back here. I was thinking of grilling tonight, what do you guys want me to make?” Dean called out from the kitchen.

“Chicken would be nice. With your special barbecue sauce,” Cas called back.

“Yeah, what he said,” Sam agreed before heading down the hall to his room. Cas made his way into the kitchen where Dean was busy adding honey to his homemade barbecue sauce.

“You know, you could bottle that and sell it, it’s delicious,” he said. Without looking up, Dean smiled.

“Thanks man. I just started experimenting one day. It was really just luck that it ended up being as good as it is.”

Cas moved to the fridge to store the vegetables they had bought at the market.

“What took you guys so long to get back?” Dean asked as he whisked the sauce and added some pepper.

“Oh, we went shopping,” Cas replied casually as he placed the tomatoes in the crisper. The onion went on the counter next to the fridge.

“Grab me a beer, would ya?” Dean held out his free hand and Cas leaned over to give him the bottle.

“So what do you want with the chicken? Baked potatoes?”

“That sounds delicious. I’ll wash the potatoes.” Cas closed the fridge and went to the potato bin to grab them. Something clattered to the floor behind him, and he turned to see Dean staring at him.

“What are you wearing, Cas?” the hunter asked. Cas looked down at his new kilt. He had insisted on wearing one of them home. Sam hadn’t minded.

“It’s a kilt, Dean.” The look Dean shot him told him that had been a rhetorical question.

“No shit. But why are you wearing one?” Dean’s eyes were locked on the khaki colored fabric, though Cas couldn’t quite gauge his expression. The man seemed more puzzled than anything.

“I saw a man today at the market wearing one, and we had a very nice conversation about the comfort of wearing one, so I decided to try it.”

Dean squinted, his expression turning to what seemed to Cas like irritated confusion.

“You decided to try it?”

Sam walked in the kitchen just then, passing between the two men on his way to the fridge.

“Leave him alone. He likes it,” he told his brother. Dean’s brow relaxed, and he pursed his lips in irritation at his brother for a moment before turning back to his dinner preparations.

“I’m not saying anything about it. I’m just…surprised.”

“Yeah, well, I was a bit at first too. I tried a couple on though. They really are comfortable.” Sam pulled out lettuce and a tomato. It was time to make a salad.

“You,” Dean looked at his brother with one eyebrow quirked, “tried on a kilt.”

“I bought one too. Care to say something about that too?” Sam’s tone held a warning and Dean was in too good of a mood to argue.

“Nah, to each their own. Just don’t go wearing them when we have to interview customers. FBI don’t wear kilts.” He looked back at Cas, who nodded in agreement.

“I would like to wear them when we’re not interviewing witnesses though.”

“Whatever,” Dean muttered. Sometimes he thought he lived with a couple of weirdos.


For the next two weeks Cas wore nothing but kilts. He had liked the first two so much that he had made trips back to the store to buy several more. At first Dean was a little freaked out about it, though he would never admit that to his brother or to Cas, but then he began to notice things that he hadn’t noticed before. It started the day he walked into the den to find Cas kicked back on the couch reading a book. He was in the one he called a “utilikilt,” legs stretched out across the cushions, folded at the ankles, his attention riveted to the book in his hands. Dean had paused in the doorway to look at him. He took in the long, lean lines of the former angel’s body, noting how muscular his legs were, and the way the kilt rested across his thighs. If he was being honest, he really didn’t mind the view.


He realized he’d been staring and dropped his eyes to the movie in his hand.

“I just wanted to watch a movie somewhere other than on my laptop,” he mumbled. When he looked up again he almost lost it. Cas was swinging his legs up and off the couch and…was he not wearing any underwear?!

“Of course. Would you like me to leave so you can be alone?” Cas asked, eyeing the movie.

“What? No, you don’t have to leave. It’s just Die Hard.” Dean went to the DVD player and popped the movie in. What, did Cas think he had porn or something? He grabbed the remote and headed over to the couch. Cas had folded his legs up underneath himself, and Dean found that he missed the view he’d had earlier. What was that about?!

He settled down onto the seat farthest from Cas and stretched out a bit, adjusting himself as he got comfortable.

“You know, you wouldn’t need to do that if you wore a kilt,” Cas pointed out. Dean looked up sharply.


Cas nodded at Dean’s crotch where he had just been adjusting himself. “That. It is not as necessary while wearing one of these.” He patted his kilt and smiled at the hunter. Dean felt his cheeks beginning to burn. Cas had noticed him adjusting his junk? Talk about embarrassing!

“Yeah, well, no thank you. I’ll stick to my jeans. If I don’t wear shorts, I’m certainly not wearing a kilt,” he replied gruffly. Cas did not seem put off by Dean’s response. He simply turned his attention back to his book, leaving Dean to watch the movie.


A few days later Dean was walking into the kitchen and nearly fell over when he spotted Cas bent over as he searched through the bottom drawer of the fridge. This kilt was different, lighter weight, and in three different shades of gray plaid with a hint of blue. It left very little to the imagination with the way the man was bent over, and Dean knew Cas was not wearing any underwear. His dick twitched at the thought, completely catching him off guard. Without saying a word he simply turned and left, heading to his bedroom and closing the door.


A week after that Sam found a case. Demons up in Pittsburgh tricking young witches into signing contracts. They headed up there together.

The ride would have been typical had Dean been able to keep his eyes solely on the road, but Cas was sitting in the backseat, a book stuffed under his nose, that utilikilt on again. He was sitting with his legs parted, and it was making Dean’s brain short circuit. He was angry with himself for the umpteenth million time. He’d stomped down his feelings for his friend for years now, but seeing Cas walking around in these kilts and just knowing there was nothing on underneath them was doing things to him. Things he’d rather no one else notice. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably as his jeans suddenly grew tight. Glancing over at Sam he expected the moose to be watching him with one of his familiar, knowing expressions but instead he was busy on his phone, texting.

“Who you talking to, Sammy?” His curiosity was piqued now. Sam glanced at him before returning to his phone.

“I met a girl the other day. We’re setting up a date.”

“Oh really? Good for you! Where’d you meet her?” Dean asked.

“Tuesday, when I went to the grocery store,” Sam replied. Dean frowned. He remembered Tuesday. That was the day his brother had decided to wear his kilt outside of the house for the first time.

“You mean the day you wore that kilt.”

Sam pursed his lips in annoyance. “Yes, Dean. The day I wore my kilt out. She complimented me on it and we got to talking. Her family is of Scottish descent and most of the men still wear kilts. It was a very interesting conversation.”

“You got a date because you wore a kilt?” Dean asked. He grinned, unable to resist needling his brother. The bitch face he got in response was well worth it.

“Yes, Dean, I suppose I did. At least I have a date.”

That knocked the grin right off the older hunter’s lips, and he directed his scowl out over the road in front of him. He didn’t notice Cas watching him from the backseat with a look of sadness.


The case appeared straightforward at first. They got the witches, who turned out to be innocent wiccans, safely spirited away, leaving them to confront the demons themselves. And damn it if Cas wasn’t wearing that goddamn kilt again! He took a defensive stance, angel blade in hand as the demon appeared.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here, crossdressing angels?” The demon sneered. Cas opened his mouth to argue but Dean spoke up first.

“It’s a kilt, as in the same kind your boss used to wear years ago. How do you think he would take your insult about crossdressing? He’d probably put you in a dress and slap some lipstick on you just for your sexist comment!”

Cas and Sam both looked at him, surprised by his comment, though Cas looked rather pleased.

“Wearing a kilt makes me no less of a man than anyone else. It just makes it easier to do this.” Before the demon or Dean could react, Cas spun around, landing a roundhouse kick right to the demon’s face and sending him flying. Sam was on him a moment later, plunging the demon knife into his chest.

“Guess that really is a utility kilt,” Dean mused. Cas grinned.

“Told you I could move better like this.”

Dean grinned and scratched at the back of his neck as he started to walk away. So many images came to mind of all the different ways Cas could move and bend in that kilt. As he reached the doorway something struck his chest hard and he went flying backwards.

“Dean!” Cas cried. He skidded halfway across the floor before he came to a stop, and when he looked up he saw the former angel wailing on the demon that had just bum rushed them. Cas was small compared to the demon, but he was fast where the demon was slow, and he got in a handful of sharp jabs and one good kick to the demon’s upper chest before he was sent flying. Dean was already scrambling to his feet, but the demon smacked Cas hard enough to knock him across the room, and he landed on top of Dean, slamming him back into the floor.

For a split second the room went dark. Wait, the room wasn’t dark, there was something over his face…

He gasped when he realized it was Cas’ kilt. Cas had landed on top of him and his kilt had ended up half over Dean’s face and half flipped over his own back. And he was out like a light.

“Cas!” He tried to shift the man and move him, but he was dead weight.

“Cas!” When he pushed up on his elbows he had a clear view of the man’s naked ass, and his balls. On any other day he’d have been appreciating the view, but right now he wanted Cas off him. Sam was in hand-to-hand combat with the demon, and he wanted to kick the bastard’s ass for hurting Cas.

“Damn it!” He growled in frustration, and with a sudden surge of adrenalin he managed to slide Cas to the side and roll him off his body completely. Cas landed on his back, his head lolling to the side. Dean looked up just as Sam plunged the knife into the demon’s chest. He sighed with relief and turned his attention back to Cas.

“Cas, man, wake up.” He placed his hands on either side of the man’s face and turned it, looking for any obvious injuries. Sam rushed over, dropping to his knees next to them.

“What happened? All I saw was when he went flying.” He checked Cas’ pulse, letting out an audible sigh of relief when he felt a steady beat.

“That son of a bitch hit him so hard in the chest he flew across the room and landed on me. I don’t know if he hit his head on anything though.” Dean untucked Cas’ tee shirt and pulled it up so he could check his ribs. “Doesn’t look like anything is broken.” Still, Cas wasn’t waking up. Dean looked worriedly up at his brother.

“Let’s get him out of here and back to the bunker where he can recover.” Sam moved to pick Cas up but Dean pushed him back.

“I got him. You just watch for demons.”

Sam smirked and started for the door. It took Dean a moment of maneuvering Cas’ unconscious form before he was able to hold the man without touching the bare skin under the kilt that kept sliding out of his grasp, but once he did, he hurried after Sam and out to the car.

“You drive,” Dean said as he climbed into the backseat and laid Cas out in the backseat with his head resting in the hunter’s lap.

“He needs to wake up soon. Keep trying to wake him up, ok?” Sam said as he slid behind the wheel. Dean knew that, but rather than get snippy with his brother he looked down at the man sleeping in his lap.

“Cas, come on buddy, wake up.” He placed a hand on the man’s chest and gently shook him. No response. How hard had that demon hit him? He pulled the tee shirt up again to make sure he hadn’t missed a potential broken rib somewhere. There was a bruise beginning to bloom across his solar plexus that was going to hurt like a bitch later, but as long as Cas was ok, Dean was glad. Gently he ran his fingers over the bare skin, counting each rib and making sure they were all in place. Cas groaned and winced when Dean’s fingers grazed the edge of the bruise. Still his eyes did not open.

“Hey, angel, wake up,” he coaxed. Cas groaned again but didn’t open his eyes. Instead he drew one leg up onto the seat, causing the kilt to slide down his thighs. Dean now had a perfect view of Cas’ most private parts. He glanced up at Sam but his brother’s eyes were on the road ahead.

“Is he waking up at all?” Sam asked, though he didn’t look back.

“He’s starting to. His chest is going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days. At least there’s nothing that’s broken as far as I can tell,” Dean replied. Cas groaned a little louder and pulled his other leg up, only to let them both fall open. Dean tried so hard not to look. He reached out with a shaky hand and gently lifted the edge of the kilt to put it back over Cas’ exposed bits, but a hand grabbed his own before he could do it.

“What are you doing?” Cas groaned as his eyes slowly opened.

“You’re lying here with your junk hanging out. I was just trying to cover it.” Dean could feel his cheeks heating up. It didn’t help that his brother snorted in the front seat. Cas released his hand and gently tugged the fabric from his grip so he could cover himself up. He managed to fold his legs in a way that he was able to set one on the floor again, though he didn’t make an effort to sit up, nor did Dean try to make him.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked.

“It feels like I was hit by a flying house. That was a rather large demon.” Cas winced as he touched his chest. He looked surprised as he saw his shirt was pulled up.

“I was checking your ribs to make sure nothing was broken. Doesn’t feel like they are, but you’ll be sore for a few days.” Dean averted his eyes as his cheeks continued to betray him.

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate your concern.” Cas reached out and lifted Dean’s hand, catching the hunter off guard. He placed it on his chest, just above the bruising, and laid his own hand over it.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, though he didn’t try to pull his hand away.

“Being comforted as I am in pain,” Cas replied. He looked up at Dean, his blue eyes searching the hunter’s green ones. Not seeing any sign of anger or resistance, he slowly threaded their fingers together, offering a small smile. Dean licked his lower lip and shook his head as he tried not to smile back. Cas’ smile just grew wider.


Back at the bunker Dean unloaded the trunk while Sam helped Cas to his room. By the time Dean had everything inside Sam was coming out of the kitchen with an ice pack. He nodded in Dean’s direction as he headed down the hall to Cas’ room. Dean began organizing and putting stuff away and a few minutes later Sam joined him. Once everything was in its place, Dean excused himself and headed for his own room. His own body was starting to ache, and he’d almost forgotten that he too had been tossed like a ragdoll. He grabbed some ibuprofen and a glass of water before kicking off his boots and shucking his jeans. Just as he was getting comfortable in bed, someone knocked. He expected it to be his brother.

“Yeah, come in,” he said as he swallowed the pills and chased them down with water. When Cas came walking in he nearly choked. With a small cough he set the glass aside. The former angel was literally only wearing his kilt. He had removed his shirt and was holding an ice pack to his bruised chest.

“Do you have something for pain? There’s nothing in the main bathroom, and I am aching. I do not like this feeling,” Cas told him. Dean reached for the bottle and poured a couple into his hand, offering them up to his friend.

“May I have some of your water?” Cas asked.

“Sure, take it. How bad is the pain?”

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed and set down the ice pack so he could take the pills and glass of water.

“It will be manageable with this.” Cas held up the pills for a second before putting them in his mouth.

“Yeah, I had to take a couple too, my back and hip ache something fierce from where I hit that floor. It was cement.” Dean laid back against his pillows and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Did I hurt you when I landed on you? Sam says you cushioned my fall.”

“Nah, it was fine. A little weird, but fine,” Dean replied.

“Weird how?” Cas asked.

Dean’s cheeks were burning again. “You sort of landed on me and your…” he motioned towards the kilt Cas still wore, “…rode up. And your ass was literally in my face. And…your nuts. Never thought I’d see the day that would happen.” He rubbed at his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look up at Cas. A cool hand on his upper thigh made his jump and his eyes popped open.

“I’m glad you weren’t hurt any worse than a few aches,” Cas said earnestly. Dean grunted in acknowledgement as he tried not to let his little brain get too interested in the fact the hand Cas had on his thigh was resting dangerously close to his own bits. Silence fell between them, and suddenly Dean was afraid Cas would leave.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” he blurted. Cas smiled warmly and nodded.

“Yes I would. Will it be a Die Hard movie?” he asked.

“Whatever you want to watch. Your pick,” Dean told him.

“Oh, thank you!” Cas got up from the bed, wincing at the pain in his chest before walking over to the shelf in the corner where Dean had several movies. Not finding one he liked he excused himself and went to the den. While he was gone, Dean set up the laptop. Cas returned a few minutes later with several movies in hand. The ice pack was gone.

“I know you like action movies, so I thought perhaps we could watch this one.” Cas held up Guardians of the Galaxy.


He took the movie as Cas handed it over and popped it in. Cas was standing at the foot of the bed twisting his hands together nervously. Dean patted the space next to him, and Cas moved to that side and laid down.

“Did you see Sam?” Dean asked as the movie started.

“I did. He went out with a lady friend, I do believe,” Cas replied. Dean looked over at him with one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Huh. Was he wearing his kilt”

Cas smiled and shook his head. “No, he was wearing jeans.”

As the movie started Cas leaned back some more, getting comfortable. When he moaned from the aching in his chest Dean got up to fetch another pillow from his closet and put it behind his friend’s back.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, reaching over placing his hand tentatively over Dean’s. It was like a bomb was going off in the hunter’s stomach all of a sudden. Here he was, alone in his bed with a nearly naked Cas, his brother was out for the night, and he was wearing only a tee shirt and boxer briefs. And Cas was holding his hand AGAIN. Cas had always been one for getting in people’s personal space, but this was new. He found that he couldn’t concentrate on the movie. All he could think about was how warm Cas’ fingers were where they curled over his own, and how he liked the way the former angel’s nose crinkled when he laughed at something silly in the movie. He let his eyes wander downward from Cas’ face to his chest, grimacing at the bruise sitting in the center. Bruise or not though, he had to admit, Cas had a stunning body. It was lean and firm, and he was itching to touch it again. He pushed that thought aside and let his eyes continue to wander down the other man’s body. They lingered a long time on the kilt.

His mind went back to the ride home, with Cas unconscious in the backseat, and how that kilt had ridden up, exposing Cas’ soft cock. Even soft it had been impressive, and he cursed himself when his own twitched with interest. For years he had fought to repress his feelings, and now that Cas was human that was becoming harder to do, and with the man doing things like holding his hand and touching his thigh it was next to impossible.

His eyes continued down the length of Cas’ body, and he tried not to drool as he imagined what it would feel like to have those strong legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into the man. Great. Now he was hard. He pulled the covers over his lap and hoped Cas wouldn’t notice. Too late.


His eyes snapped up to find amused yet curious blue ones watching him.


“You’ve been staring at me instead of watching the movie for the last twenty minutes. Is there any particular reason?” Cas had the audacity to turn on his side so he was facing Dean. One leg was drawn up a bit, revealing more skin. The hand he’d been holding Dean’s with was now propping his head up, so he reached over with his free hand, lightly running his fingers up and down the other man’s forearm.

“Cas, are you…flirting?” It felt weird to ask but lately, that’s what it felt like he was doing.

“Why, because I like being near you? And touching you? I can leave if you want.” He started to get up but Dean reached out, grabbing his shoulder.

“N-no, you can stay.” He’d need the fire department soon if his cheeks kept burning the way they were. Cas settled back on his side, though this time he didn’t reach out to him and that felt wrong somehow.

“Why?” he asked. Cas looked up at him again.

“Why what?”

“Why do you like to be around me? I’m a miserable, cranky son of a bitch,” Dean grumbled. Cas just smiled, and then he was reaching out to touch him again, those long fingers teasing at the muscles of his forearm before moving higher.

“I don’t see you that way.”

Dean smiled softly and shook his head. Cas had a special knack for dousing whatever anger he might be feeling, and calming him down.

“What are you doing? What exactly are you expecting from me?” he asked when Cas managed to scoot closer. The movie was forgotten for now, and Dean wasn’t sure who had closed the laptop, not that he really cared. Cas had his undivided attention at the moment.

“Expecting? For you to get angry, push me away, tell me to leave you alone,” Cas replied honestly. Dean felt like an ass. He had been downright cruel to his friend way too often over the years.

“I’m not going to do that,” he said softly. Dean was painfully aware (thanks to the hard on currently straining against his boxer briefs) that they were crossing a line that had never been crossed before. Friends didn’t get hard ons for one another, and they didn’t brush fingers over one another’s nipples either, like Cas was currently doing. When had a hand snuck under his shirt? Dean had no idea, but when those same fingers stopped to pinch that same nipple and roll it lightly, a whimper escaped his lips. There was no denying just how badly he wanted Cas. His body sure didn’t believe in denial.

“How long have you wanted me, Dean?” Cas suddenly asked. Dean froze. Be honest or lie? If he lied, he risked pushing the man away, and he might never get him back again if he did. Cas deserved honesty. He was everything that was good in this world, and Dean didn’t want to lie, not to him.

“So long.” It came out as a whine as Cas’ hand slid over his stomach, and he moved closer. Before he knew it, Cas was straddling him.

“I want you too, Dean. I have for years now. Heaven forbade it, but I do not answer to heaven anymore.” He rocked his hips forward, groaning as his head fell back in pleasure at how good that felt. Dean’s hands found their way to Cas’ thighs and with a delight he wasn’t about to admit to, slid their way under the kilt. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he was struggling to remain calm. The firm muscles under his hands felt amazing, but he wanted more. He’d never touched another man intimately, though it had crossed his mind on many occasions, and he’d wanted to do way more than just touch Cas for so long…

Cas rocked against him again and he let out a low moan before moving his hand just enough under the fabric to seek out the man’s cock and brush against it. To his delight, Cas was hard and he thrust forward, seeking out Dean’s touch.

“I like that, it feels good. Do it again?” Cas asked. Dean did one better: he wrapped his hand around Cas’ (rather impressive) length and slowly began to stroke. When Cas’ hands reached for the buttons on the side of the kilt, Dean stopped him.

“Leave it.”

Cas gave a cocky smile. “I knew you liked them.”

“I like you in them. I can’t speak for anyone else.” Dean removed his hand and motioned for Cas to get off him so he could pull the covers off. He guided the man until he was lying down with his head against the pillows.

“What are you going to do?” Cas asked. Dean gave a cocky smile of his own.

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

When Dean’s head disappeared under the kilt, Cas grinned, but when a warm mouth closed around his cock and swallowed him down he gasped and cried out.

“Dean!” His back arched and he moaned, low and deep, as Dean did things with his tongue and lips he didn’t think were possible. “Dean, I’m so close!” he whimpered, grabbing the only part of Dean that was within reach: his shoulder, and digging his nails in.

When he came, it was with a shout, his entire body shuddering as he rode the orgasm through. He was left gasping. Dean was still under the kilt, nibbling at the sensitive skin of his thighs, and kissing his way down from groin to knee and then back up again. Cas moaned; it felt good. For so long now he’d wanted Dean to touch him like this, and sending subtle hints wasn’t working, so he’d decided to make his desires clearly known to the hunter. The kilts had started out being for his own pleasure, but he’d noticed the way Dean looked at him when he wore them, and decided he liked the hunger that appeared in the other man’s eyes. His chest hurt from the fight earlier but not nearly as bad as he’d pretended. He really just wanted a reason to come walking into Dean’s room wearing nothing but the kilt.

“Oh…Dean…,” he moaned. The things the hunter was doing with his mouth were wonderful and making him hard all over again. “Please let me see you,” he begged. Then Dean did come out from under the kilt. He placed gentle kisses on Cas’ belly and chest, careful to avoid the bruise as he nudged Cas’ legs open.

“You’re hard again.” Dean said, grinning down from where he hovered over the other man. Cas’ hands tugged at Dean’s shirt until he relented and let it be pulled off.

“I am. And what are you going to do about it?” Cas asked cheekily. Dean’s grin grew wider.

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Would intercourse be too much to ask for?” Cas was hoping Dean wouldn’t freeze up at this request.

“Sex, Cas. It’s sex. Please don’t call it intercourse, we’re not eighty.” Dean laughed and Cas relaxed.

“Speak for yourself, I’m millennia old!” he huffed.

“So the old man wants sex. I think that can be arranged.” Dean’s smile was flirty and Cas liked seeing this look directed at him for once rather than at random women. He sat back, reaching over to his nightstand to fish around in the drawer. He came back with a bottle of lube.

“Take these off, I want to see all of you.” Cas sat up on one elbow and pulled at Dean’s underwear.

“Someone’s horny,” Dean teased.

“Yes, I am! Now take them off!” Cas sat up completely and grabbed the hunter’s ass, pulling him down against him before his mouth finally found Dean’s. It was their first kiss, and it was full of need, a hunger they felt for one another that they didn’t want to deny any longer.

Cas tasted sweet, like honey, and it wouldn’t have surprised Dean one bit to hear that Cas had been eating some before walking in his room. He liked the taste, and as his tongue slid over Cas’ he let out a moan. Pulling back he undid the buttons on the kilt and let it fall open. He couldn’t help but stare. Cas was absolutely perfect, all strong limbs and lean muscles, and Dean had to get his own underwear off before his cock exploded. His body aches were forgotten but he was sure a night of vigorous sex would make it even harder to move tomorrow. He couldn’t find it in himself to care at the moment.

Dean sat back and pushed his underwear off. A second later he found himself flat on his back with a very aroused blue eyed man pinning him down. Before he could protest Cas’ mouth was on his jaw, nipping and sucking, and Dean forgot his words. He simply moaned and turned his head so Cas could get a better angle. Cas was talking but he couldn’t make out the words as they were spoken so softly they felt like tiny feathers brushing against his skin as Cas’ mouth continued to work down his neck and across his collarbone, drawing a variety of moans and whimpers from the hunter.

As Cas moved lower, kissing and nibbling at every inch of skin he could reach he slipped one slick finger down between Dean’s legs to rub at his rim. Dean hadn’t been prepared for that. In his head, and in all of his fantasies where he and Cas were having hot sex, he’s been the one to top.


“Cas,” he said softly. Blue eyes lifted to meet his green ones.

“Yes, Dean?” Cas’ voice was deeper than he’d ever heard it before, and it made him shiver.

“I-I don’t know, man…” He squirmed as Cas’ finger pressed against his hole, nearly pushing in.

“Do you trust me?” Cas asked. Dean stopped trying to get away from the finger that was back to rubbing around his rim, sending sparks of pleasure through his entire body. Slowly he nodded.

“Yeah. I’m just…it’s…I’m…,” he couldn’t find the right words.

“Scared. You think this negates your manhood.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. How, even as a human without angelic powers of perception was Cas still able to see right into his soul. His cheeks flushed and he looked away in embarrassment.

“It doesn’t, you know. You’re the strongest, most amazing man I know. I’ll always see you that way.” Cas moved back up his body and pressed his body down against Dean’s. He nuzzled against Dean’s jaw before placing a gentle kiss to it.

Damn curiosity. Dean wanted to know what it would feel like to have another man inside of him, but not just any man. He wanted to feel Cas moving, fucking him into the mattress, riding him hard. Cas found a spot behind his ear that made him moan loudly and his cock twitched between them. He brought his hands up, lifting Cas’ face and pulling him in for another deep kiss. As he did, he slowly opened his legs wider. Understanding what it meant for Dean to allow this, Cas knew better than to draw attention to it. Instead he kissed Dean as though his life depended on it.

Dean hadn’t heard the bottle of lube opening, or Cas pouring any on his hand so the feel of a wet finger between his legs had initially shocked him. Cas was still teasing around his rim, pressing against it but not pushing in at first. Dean moaned and spread his legs even wider. When that same slick finger breached his rim he gasped and Cas quickly kissed him.

Cas moved slow, allowing Dean all the time he needed to adjust, and when he eased from one finger to two, the move was so fluid Dean barely registered it happening. He’d expected being stretched to hurt, which was why he had been so resolutely against being the one to bottom, but this felt good, and when Cas brushed the tips of those long fingers against his prostate he swore he was seeing stars. He cried out and clutched at Cas’ arms as they rubbed at that hidden bundle of nerves, pushing him dangerously close to an orgasm.

“Cas! S-stop! I’m gonna come if you keep doing that!” He was panting hard and starting to sweat as his body trembled. Cas kissed him again, his fingers returning to stretching him without assaulting his prostate anymore.

When Cas felt Dean was ready, he pulled his fingers out. Dean was loose and pliant beneath him, a soft, happy smile on his lips as he looked up at him. It brought joy to Cas knowing he’d caused Dean this kind of pleasure. He reached for the bottle of lube again and poured some in his hand.

“Do you feel that a condom is needed? I do not have any illnesses and unless you’ve had sex since the last time I healed you, neither do you.”

“I haven’t gotten laid in ages. Probably not since the last time you did heal me. Besides, I’ve never had sex without a condom. I didn’t want to catch anything.” Dean ran his hand down Cas’ thigh as he watched him grip his own cock with one slick hand and pump it several times, completely coating it. The way his eyes slid closed and his head lolled back from the sheer pleasure was making it hard for Dean to continue to lie still beneath him. He wanted to put his mouth all over Cas, kiss him, bite him, leave marks that would last for weeks. He groaned just thinking about it.

Cas lifted his head, his heavily lidded eyes meeting his own green ones. The hand dropped away and Cas reached for a pillow with his dry hand. He maneuvered it under Dean’s hips and, turning Dean half on his side, he slowly eased his way in. Every time Dean whimpered or grunted, he stopped, allowing the hunter all the time he needed to adjust. He whispered soft words of encouragement as he ran a hand soothingly up and down Dean’s thigh. When he was all the way in, he paused and waited for Dean to relax again.

“Ok, move.” Dean’s voice was thick but he pushed back, trying to get Cas to start moving, which he did.

Cas moved slowly at first, sliding in and out as he tried to find his own rhythm whilst also trying not to blow his own load so soon. Dean reached back, finding the hand Cas still had on his hip and threaded their fingers together.

“Mmm…feels really good…,” he moaned. Cas shifted his hips and pushed in again, and this time Dean felt the sparks as they burned through his entire body. He cried out as Cas’ pace picked up, and soon he was slamming into Dean with everything he had as he chased his own orgasm.

Dean was so loose and pliant that Cas had no problems when he pulled out and grabbed the hunter, flipping him onto his stomach and pulling his hips up so he was on his knees.

“W-what are you…oh…,” Dean moaned as Cas slid back in, picking up the pace he’d been at before. His grip on Dean’s hips was hard and his fingers ached from holding on so tight, but they were both sweating and he didn’t want to let go. Dean was clutching at the sheets, his face buried in the pillows, stifling his moans. Cas wanted to hear him though, every delicious sound he made, so he released his death grip on the man’s hips and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him up so that Dean was forced to lay back against his chest as he pounded into him. Dean’s arms came up to loosely wrap around Cas’ neck as he attempted to hang on for dear life.

Cas was close, but he wanted Dean to come first so he slid one hand down the man’s sweat slick body and wrapped his fingers around his leaking cock. Dean cried out as Cas began stroking him, moving his hand in ways that again had Dean seeing stars. When Dean’s orgasm finally hit, it was so forceful his entire body locked up. He clenched tight around Cas, who cried out from the added pressure, spilling his own load deep inside Dean. He slowed his pace, coming to a stop and gently pulling out. Dean was so loose in his arms that he was afraid to let go for fear he’d just collapse face-first onto the bed. Instead, he moved Dean to the other side of the bed and gently laid him down before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned to find Dean dozing, a soft smile on his face. It made Cas smile just to see it. Dean startled and woke as Cas began wiping him down. He got Dean cleaned up and put a towel down on the other side of the bed until they could change the sheets in the morning. As he located his kilt and went to put it on, Dean’s hand fell on his wrist.

“What are you doing?” His voice was thick with sleep but he his eyes were clear.

“I thought you’d want to be alone,” Cas replied lamely.

“No way. You’re not getting away that easily. Get in the bed.”

Cas couldn’t hide his grin as he let the kilt fall to the floor, and he climbed back in the bed. Dean pulled the covers over them both before holding out his arms so Cas could move closer. Once he was settled against Dean’s chest, his head tucked into the crook of the hunter’s neck, Dean pulled the covers over them and wrapped his arms around Cas.

“Why did you think I’d want to be alone?” he asked.

“I thought perhaps I had, as they say ‘pushed my luck,’ and that you would be angry with me and want me to leave.” Cas’s voice was small and full of worry, and it pulled at Dean’s heart hearing him like that. He placed a gentle kiss to the top of Cas’ head.

“You didn’t push me into anything I didn’t already want. I’ve wanted you for a long time now. I just didn’t think you wanted me back.”

Cas tilted his head back so he could see Dean’s face, his blue eyes searching for any sense that the other man wasn’t being completely honest with him. Sensing that he was telling the truth, he smiled wide.

“I…love you, Dean. I think I loved you since before I truly understood what that meant. But I will admit that I am concerned that you will regret this later. I feel all of these emotions when I am with you, but the one I dislike the most is feeling afraid. I’m afraid you won’t want me around anymore, and that you will make me leave again, and now…,” Cas sighed deeply, his blue eyes searching Dean’s, “I’m afraid you’ll think this was a mistake and hate me for it.”

Dean’s brow furrowed deeply as he listened to Cas’ revelation.

“Honey, I don’t regret this. I just didn’t think that these…urges would be something you’d be interested in, or that you’d want this with me. I don’t use the word love with very many people because they tend to burn me, or I lose them. I think the only person I’ve said ‘I love you’ to in the last ten years is Sam, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. And Cas, I…love you too. I realized that when I lost you the first time. The loss I felt, it was a crushing weight that I found impossible to crawl out from under. When I figured out why I felt that way I spent a hell of a long time in denial. This last time, when you chose humanity over heaven, of your own free will…I dared to hope, but you didn’t exactly show any interest til tonight, so I thought maybe you weren’t. I’m glad you are though. We’ll find a way to make this work, ok?”

That smile Dean saw so rarely lit up Cas’ face. The one that made the skin around his eyes crinkle and his gums show. It was the one that told Dean how truly happy he was, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life seeing. That thought hit him like a ton of bricks, and he gasped. Cas’ smile faltered and he placed a hand against Dean’s chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It just dawned on me how much I love you. It kind of scared me for a moment,” Dean chuckled. Cas smiled and snuggled closer. He felt safe in Dean’s arms.

“I chose you, Dean. Not humanity as a whole. Just you.”

They dozed off, wrapped in one another’s arms, and that was how Sam found them when he returned to the bunker the following morning. He had stopped by his brother’s room to see if he was up yet, but upon seeing his brother and friend asleep, Dean’s arms wrapped protectively around Cas, he had simply smiled and quietly closed the door. As he walked to his own room he had to admit that Cas had made a wise decision in choosing kilts, especially with the way Dean was always watching him. Even he had noticed that Dean was especially attentive since the kilts had become regular wear around the bunker and when they went out. It had actually worked out nicely for them both. Sam’s date had gone very well last night and she wanted to see him again tonight, and she had asked if he’d wear his kilt. There was something to be said for traditional Scottish fashion. He’d have to invest in a few more.