The earth did not shake, nor did it give to the sudden impact of flesh and bone. He should have left a mark, should have made the ground quake and cower and pull away from him when he came crashing down. But it didn’t. The earth was unchanged while he faced a thousand in one second.
He pressed his cheek to the cool gravel, feeling it seep through his skin and scrape him for the first time. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose, smelling the asphalt and tar as he dug his fingernails into the hard ground. It would not give. He closed his eyes for a moment, processing the feeling of rocks and pebbles pressing into new skin before pushing himself up on shaky arms. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.
He sat on a deserted stretch of road, land stretching out into hills and woods on either side. The wind rushed against his skin, chilling him and making his gasp as he gathered his arms across his chest and held himself, trying to keep the heat in as it rapidly left his body and burrowed into the ground. He bit his lip and wondered where he was, wondered what had happened, and wondered if God had forsaken him. His eyes began to sting and for the first time, he began to cry.
He looked at his hands, his feet, his legs and arms, knowing that they weren’t his. They had never been his. The skin was too solid, too rough and too pink. He could feel everything; the wind that swept through the road and made him shiver even more; the gravel that pricked and poked at his legs and butt where he sat. He could feel a pain in his chest that started from his center and spread until he felt it low in his belly and in his throat. And his eyes wouldn’t stop leaking. Before he realized it, his voice was erupting in soft gasps and hiccups as he tried to hold back the cries that begged to be released.
He looked up to the sky questioningly, noticing for a brief moment that it had never looked so blue, wondering why he had been pushed away as he curled his legs upwards and hugged them to his chest. No one answered and he realized he couldn’t hear them, his brothers and sisters, the familiar hum in the back of his mind that had been there for as long as he could remember. And if he couldn’t hear them, they probably couldn’t hear him and a new bout of sobs racked his body, forcing him to hug himself even tighter and clench his mouth shut to keep the shout from consuming the air around him.
He looked down at the asphalt, black, solid, and unforgiving, and never felt more lost.
But he had helped. He had given Dean the chance to save his brother, which had been all he had wanted and while Castiel had done a lot of crap to warrant Dean’s hatred, Dean found he couldn’t. Castiel had done something for him, had turned his back on everything he had ever known, and helped Dean just for the sake of Dean. And Dean had to admit, no one had ever done that before. Sure, Sammy had come close a few times, but there were usually other factors that helped make the decision that had nothing to do with Dean. His father had never done anything just for Dean, even selling his soul. John did it for Sam, so Sam wouldn’t end up alone, and Dean knew it.
But Castiel? Castiel did everything in those last few minuets for him. And if Dean thought about it, the angel probably died for him too. And if that didn’t mean anything than Dean deserved hell more than ever.
He sighed, pacing the room once again as he thought of the angel. His absence was starting to drive Dean crazy and in the process, it was starting to drive Sam crazy also. He felt horrible. Dean knew Sam was dealing with a lot of guilt, knew that he felt it was his fault that Lucifer had risen, his fault that the Apocalypse was upon them but Dean found that he simply couldn’t think about it. For the first time, Sam wasn’t his entire world. He now revolved around an angel who he was beginning to believe he had lost forever, just when he had found him.
He ran a shaky hand through his hair, which was starting to become Sam hair before scratching at the stubble that littered his chin. Sam sat on one of the beds, watching Dean pace back and forth. It was a usual occurrence now, one that happened everyday in every motel they stayed in. Dean paced, Sam tried to talk him down and eventually gave up to watch the news as it broadcasted the latest chaos.
“I know Sam,” Dean started right away, cutting Sam off with the wave of his hand. “I know.” Sam nodded, falling silent and looking down at his hands. “He’s dead,” Dean whispered, voicing his fear for the first time. Sam looked up at his brother, his brow creasing with worry. “It’s been a month.”
“He’s been absent for longer,” Sam reminded Dean but his brother shook his head, taking a set down on the next bed, clasping his hands and looking down at his feet.
“That was before. He’s dead Sammy, and it’s my fault.” He buried his head in his hands not daring to look at his brother.
“It is Sammy. No point on trying to deny it. I pushed him. I knew how he felt about me and I used it against him. He was just doing what he thought was right.” Sam could hear the sob in Dean’s voice and wondered when his brother had come to feel for the angel so much and how much he had missed while he was with Ruby.
“Dean, if he hadn’t-“
“It wouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t get to you in time. He died for nothing.”
Sam sat silent for a moment, watching Dean as his shoulders began to shake. He stood up, crossing the short distance before sitting down next to Dean, awkwardly patting his shoulder in an attempt to comfort. Dean took a deep breath and shrugged his brother’s hand off of him before standing up and walking out of the motel room, mumbling a rough “sorry” as he left.
Sam sighed shook his head and grabbed the remote turning on the TV, flipping through the channels until he came across a news station. Within seconds of watching the channel, Sam jumped up and yanked the door open, yelling Dean’s name down the hall.
“The guy you found yesterday, where is he?” Dean asked hurriedly. The nurse looked up at him surprised and was about to ask him something when he cut her off. “His name’s Jimmy Novak. My brother and I,” he gestured back at Sam who stood by his shoulder, “we’ve been looking for him for a month now.” The nurse, some what taken aback nodded, and pointed down the hall, giving Dean the room number. Within seconds, he was yet again hurrying down the hall towards the room.
And then there was silence. For a moment everything stood still as Dean walked through the door of the hospital room to find Castiel sitting up in the hospital bed, looking just as he had when Dean had left him at Chuck’s. Castiel broke the silence as his eyes met Dean’s. “Dean.”
Dean crossed the room in seconds and sat down next to the bed, grasping Castiel’s hand in his. For the first time in a long time, both felt like they were coming home.
It was silent for a while, Castiel lying on the bed, gently feeling at the bandages that covered the wound, his eyes closed to keep the tears from falling. For the first time, Castiel truly hated being human. Jimmy Novak’s body, while quiet fit and healthy for a man of his age, just wasn’t as strong as either of the Winchesters and it was quickly becoming apparent that he neither had to dexterity or the experience to do the job. He wasn’t as fast, wasn’t as quick, wasn’t as strong as the brothers and it left him in more scrapes than victories. He knew he had limitations, but after over two thousand years of being able to charge into battle and defeat demons with the simple touch of his fingers, it was hard to convert to standard methods of human fighting. Tonight he had not only almost gotten himself killed, but Dean as well. Which only made Castiel feel like as if he had once again let Dean down and that pained him more than any knife wound ever would.
“You’re not coming back out with us again.” Castiel shot up in bed at the sound of Dean’s voice, wincing slightly at the shock of pain in his side before staring wide-eyed at Dean.
“What?” he began but Dean quickly cut him off.
“You’re not coming on another hunt with us. It’s too dangerous.” Castiel looked at Dean, feeling as if he had just been slapped. Was he being left again? Did Dean even have the right to deny Castiel something he had been doing for over two thousand years? Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything and instead bit his lip and looked down at the duvet instead. He had been wondering when it would happen, when he would be left to fend for himself. It was a miracle that Dean had even decided to help Castiel after all the crap that happened between them. Castiel knew that Dean would probably need more than a last chance effort to help Sam redeem himself in Dean’s eyes.
Dean’s eyes softened as he watched Castiel’s expression change from shock to lost in a matter of seconds. He shifted on the bed and leaned forward. “Hey. We’re not leaving you behind. Just no more coming out on hunts. It’ll be safer for you if you just stay in the motels until we’re done.” Castiel looked slightly relieved but Dean could tell the fallen angel wasn’t going to take it easily.
“But I can help. I’ve been around a lot longer, I know more things than you will ever be able to learn even given five lifetimes. I can help. I know I’m not strong like you or Samuel but I can still fight.” Dean shook his head, frowning.
“No, Cas, you can’t. You still have this angel mentality where you think you can just charge in and save the day by simply staring at them and you can’t. You can help with the research, sure, but you can’t be there when shit goes down.”
“Yes I can- if you train me-“
“No Cas! That’s what got you into this mess. You’re not a soldier at war, okay? You’re not expendable. I’m not going to try and train you to go out and get yourself killed. I couldn’t handle the thought of-“ Dean cut himself off, closed his eyes and rubbed at them with sore knuckles, taking a deep breath. “It was bad enough that month thinking you were dead. I don’t want to have to go through that again. If I can keep you safe, I will.” Dean looked down at the ground, letting his gaze travel up to the bedside table to the alarm clock. Castiel was silent and Dean could feel his eyes burrowing holes into his skull.
He chanced a look up to see Castiel doing that all familiar head tilt, as if he was trying so hard to understand something he couldn’t quite grasp but it was a bit different this time. As if he now finally understood the hidden meaning behind Dean’s words. He sighed, shaking his head as he said, “Don’t look at me like that.” Castiel titled his head further to the side, his brow furrowing deeper.
“What look?” he asked and Dean only shook his head and buried his head in his hands. He had almost lost Castiel again that night. He didn’t know what exactly he would do if he did.
“Just the two beds, no cot.” He could practically feel Sam rolling his eyes behind him as he paid for the room, the woman handing him a key afterwards.
“Dean, you’ve been sleeping in the same bed with Cas for almost three months now. I know it’s because you don’t want to let him out of your site and you’re saving me from having to do it but have you ever thought the guy might want a bed of his own?” Dean stopped walking and looked thoughtful for a second before shaking his head.
“He’d tell me if he wanted his own bed,” Dean rationalized. Sam merely raised an eyebrow. “What? He’s like a kid Sam! He keeps having these horrible nightmares and he wakes up, the scream still stuck in his mouth. I did the same for you when we were kids.”
“Yeah Dean, but we were kids. Castiel is over two thousand years old, wearing a thirty-four year old man’s body. He’s not a kid. And while it might be nice for a while, you need to stop coddling him. You won’t always be able to chance the nightmares away Dean. He’s going to have to learn to deal with it himself.” Dean sighed, nodding, knowing that Sam was probably right. He looked towards the impala where Castiel sat in the front seat, listening to one of Dean’s tapes.
“Yeah, but I just-“
“I know you care about him, Dean. I do too. He’s like a brother now, a Winchester, one of us. But Dean, you’re not getting enough sleep and you’re going to end up getting yourself killed. Then what will Cas do?” Dean looked up at Sam a bit shocked. He didn’t realize his brother had been so perceptive but really he should have known. Sam always had a knack for hitting things right on the head. He pursed his lips and nodded.
“Right. Next place, we’ll get a cot.” Sam was almost tempted to tell him no, get one now, but as he watched Dean watched Castiel, he realized that it wasn’t Castiel who needed Dean to sleep, it was Dean who needed Castiel.
“Right then. I’ll get the sheets and the blowup mattress for one of you two,” he stated, pointing at Dean and Castiel who stood close to each other. Castiel had taken to wearing Dean’s clothes, Bobby noticed and he wondered why they hadn’t simply gone out and bought the boy his own, as he’d been human for five months now.
“No need for the blowup, Bobby. Cas and I are okay with the guest bed.” Bobby looked at Dean, taking notice of his posture around the ex-angel, how he stood slightly in front of him, his chest slightly puffed out as if to protect him and dare Bobby to ask a single question. But Bobby merely shook his head, nodded, and proceeded to call all three ‘idjits’ as he made his way to the linen closets to grab sheets for Sam.
“Dean.” Dean lay on his side, facing away from Castiel who was behind him. Dean sighed and opened his eyes. “Is this normal?” Castiel whispered. Dean shifted, turning over to look at Castiel who was already staring at him. Even in the dark, Dean could still see Castiel’s blue eyes.
“Is what normal?” Dean asked, his voice slightly groggy. Castiel shrugged as he looked down at his hands. He pulled at his fingers when he got nervous, a habit he had developed within the first two months of being human. Dean wanted to reach out and grab them, hold them still but decided not to anyways.
“This. Us.” Dean gave a small chuckle.
“Well, one, I guess it depends on your definition of normal. And two, we were never normal, Cas. We hunt the supernatural. There’s nothing normal about that. As for this, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Castiel sighed and gestured between the two of them and the bed. “Oh. This.” Dean paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to think of a way to explain why they still shared a bed. At first, it had been out of necessity. They didn’t have the money to afford anything else and Sam had a tendency to spread out and take over an entire bed that it was just easier for Dean and Castiel to share one. Afterwards, it was because Castiel had nightmares, about what Dean didn’t really know, but Dean was happy to give comfort where Castiel needed it, especially because he understood. Then the nightmares began to pass and it was simply because Dean was used to it, used to the feel of Castiel nuzzled up beside him, used to his heat, and the sound of his heartbeat which lulled Dean to sleep most nights than not. And if Dean was honest, which he was, he knew that not sleeping in the same bed with Castiel would feel like losing a hand. He would feel empty, alone, and Dean was so tired of feeling alone.
“It’s not, is it?” Castiel asked after a few moments of silence and Dean sighed, shaking his head no. “Then why do we do it? Don’t you want your own bed?” Dean frowned and found himself shaking his head yet again.
“No, I don’t. I do it because it feels,” he paused, trying to put it into words Castiel would understand, “right. It feels right. Nothing has ever felt this right to me before,” Dean admitted softly. He waited for a moment before glaring at Castiel and saying, “if you ever tell Sammy this, I will hurt you.” Castiel smiled, and nodded, leaning forward and gently kissing Dean. When he pulled back, Dean was looking at him, confusion marring his face.
Castiel closed his eyes, a content smile on his lips as he whispered, “Because it felt right.”
Castiel settled himself on top of Dean, his head bent forward, his lips, pressing against Dean’s demanding while Dean gripped at his jean covered hips and kneaded the skin beneath there. Since that first kiss a week ago, things had gotten pretty hot and heavy and pretty fast. Had it been anyone else, Dean was sure he would have spent weeks if not months agonizing over the fact that he had kissed a man and liked it, but with Castiel it was different. With Castiel, everything was different.
Dean’s hands slipped under Castiel’s shirt, his shirt actually, an old Metallica one that been sitting at the bottom of his duffel bag after his father told him plain colored shirts were better for the job as they didn’t stand out as much as ones with texts. It was thin, thin enough that Dean could feel the heat, and the bones in Castiel’s back from when he bent over but Dean decided he much rather feel actual skin than fabric. He ran his fingertips lightly of Castiel’s spine, making him shiver which traveled down into the kiss he was currently bestowing on Dean.
Castiel sighed and Dean easily slipped his tongue into Castiel’s mouth, languidly brushing it over Castiel’s guiding him in the soft, slow kiss. He tasted of strawberries today, no doubt from eating almost every single one they had picked from the day before at breakfast earlier. Castiel moaned lightly and pulled back, shocked at himself. Dean smiled and caressed his cheek, carding his fingers through Castiel’s hair, which still managed to stick up in odd but attractive angles no matter how hard he tried to tame it. “What?” Dean whispered but Castiel merely shrugged, licking his lips and diving back into the kiss, bumping up the speed just a bit, as he slipped his tongue into Dean’s mouth and began to rock his hips back and forth in Dean’s lap.
Dean smiled into the kiss and slipped his hand down to grasp at Castiel’s ass and pulled him closer, making the other man yelp and tighten his grip on Dean’s shoulder. He continued rocking, pulling his mouth away to breath as Dean peppered his jaw and neck with kisses before softy sucking at the hollow of his collarbone, slowly cantering his hips in time with Castiel’s. “Dean,” Castiel gasped, his fingers trailing through Dean’s hair, holding his head to his neck as Dean continued to suckle at it, moving up from his collarbone to the soft spot right behind his ear.
A loud click sounded from the hallway and soon the voices of both Bobby and Sam wafted through the house. Castiel stilled completely in Dean’s lap, pulling back slightly, as he looked around his blue eyes wild and bright. “Dean,” he whispered, looking down at Dean panicked. Dean smiled and stood up, carrying Castiel with him and forcing the shorter man to wrap his legs around Dean’s waist as Dean started up the stairs to the bedroom. “We can’t,” Castiel whispered as Dean started into their bedroom. Dean quickly shut the door as quietly as he could before pushing Castiel up against it, pressing his erection into Castiel’s groin.
“No. I’m too far along. No way my boy’s going to go down just because Bobby and Sam are home, not with the way you were rocking against me earlier,” he whispered, capturing Castiel’s lips in another kiss and Castiel surrendered completely. There was no use fighting Dean logic, Castiel had learned early on. Dean was going to do whatever the hell he set his mind to anyways and Castiel found he didn’t mind.
Soon the two found themselves on the bed, Castiel straddling Dean’s waist as Dean pushed up the Metallica t-shirt to get at the skin beneath if, pulling it over Castiel’s head and flinging it to the floor before locking his lips to Castiel right nipple and sucking softly, his hands roaming the free skin found there. Castiel once again moaned Dean’s name and began to rock his hips again, seeking the friction which he had become all to familiar with three months ago when he had accidently walked in on Dean jerking off only to find himself with his own erection. It had been awkward, Dean trying to explain why Castiel was hard and how to relieve it but Castiel soon found himself becoming addicted to it and understanding why humans continued to do stupid things for that release.
Dean groaned roughly against Castiel’s skin as he bucked up against the warm heat of Castiel’s groin, his hands slipping down into Castiel’s loose jeans and kneading the flesh found there. Castiel shivered against him, bending downwards to take Dean’s ear into his mouth and tongue it. “Fuck,” Dean growled, slipping a finger into Castiel crease and gently pressing at the opening found there. Castiel shocked, bucked harder against Dean.
“Need to get these off,” Dean groused, pulling his hands out of Castiel’s jeans and working on getting them unbuttoned and off of him instead. Castiel followed suit, pushing Dean’s outer shirt off his shoulders before pulling the grey t-shirt off over his head. He paused for a moment to take in Dean’s skin, perfect, unblemished, and tan. His eyes traveled up his navel to his chest and over to his shoulder where his handprint was still branded into his skin. Dean stopped for a moment, watching Castiel as he moved his fingers lightly over the skin of his stomach, up his chest, circling his nipples before running across his clavicle and stopping just short of the handprint. Castiel almost seemed hesitant to touch it. Dean smiled and lightly gripped Castiel’s hand, spreading the palm and gently pressing it against the handprint.
Castiel gasped, a short in take of breath as warmth and what could possibly be love flooded his system. He stared at his hand that fit the handprint perfectly. Castiel knew it shouldn’t have. The body he wore had once belonged to someone else, someone who he hadn’t been able to save from the archangel’s wrath. He felt for Jimmy Novak, and the life he had lost. But it amazed him, that the body’s hand, his hand, filled the handprint perfectly and Castiel thought that perhaps it was fate. It was fate for him to pull Dean out of hell, fate for him to fight for him, fight with him, fate for him to fall. Castiel smiled and squeezed gently at Dean’s shoulder.
Dean returned the smile and leaned upwards to kiss at full lips. He pulled back and grinned playfully. “While I love doing the deep looking, I think it’s time for us to get back to what we were doing,” he stated, wriggling his eyebrows. Castiel chuckled, nodded and turned his hands attention to Dean’s belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from his belt loops as his lips found Dean’s one again and their tongues tangled in a dance.
A few moments later, Castiel was pressed back into the mattress, Dean making a slow decent down the length of Castiel’s body pausing to nip and suck at skin, pulling the blood upwards to cling at skin and mark him as his as Castiel had done with the handprint a year prior. Castiel gasped and shivered under Dean’s ministrations, his hands reaching down to card through Dean’s hair and caress his neck shoulders and back. Dean smiled against skin, slowly licking at Castiel’s prominent hip bones, moving down to his inner thigh before traveling up, over, and back down, completely ignoring the straining erection at the apex. “Dean,” Castiel shivered, “please.”
Dean smiled and complied, taking the head into his mouth and suckling softly. Castiel groaned loudly, loud enough for them to hear Sam from downstairs ask, “what was that?” and Bobby reply, “just the house creakin’.” Dean chuckled lightly around Castiel and began to gently bob his head up and down, his tongue pressing against the underside of the shaft, his hand joining in. Castiel writhed beneath him, his hips bucking upwards lightly as his hands fisted the sheets beneath him. “Dean.” His name became a soft chant, Castiel babbling it repeatedly as Dean began to hum softly around him. One of Castiel’s hands wrapped in Dean’s hair and pulled lightly, tugging. “Dean, I’m going to-“ he cut himself off with a groan.
Dean pulled back, licking the pre-come from his lips as moved up Castiel’s body, his own erection bumping gently with Castiel who whimpered at the lost of contact. Dean ran his hand over Castiel’s cheek, running his fingers over his lips and wondering how someone could be so amazingly beautiful. Castiel, who had his eyes closed, opened them and looked up at Dean. “Hey baby,” Dean whispered, bending down to gently kiss him. Castiel whimpered yet again and gave a small buck upwards, brushing their cocks together lightly. Dean pulled back and pressed his fingers against Castiel’s lips. “Suck,” he whispered and Castiel immediately pulled the digits into his mouth, suckling them gently, running his tongue over and down between Dean’s fingers. Dean moaned and lowered his hips slightly, rocking them lightly against Castiel who spread his legs and locked them around Dean’s hips, cantering his own against him.
“Cas,” Dean whispered, kissing lightly at Castiel’s jaw before pulling his fingers away. Castiel grabbed for them but Dean pulled back, unhooking Castiel’s legs from his waist and spreading them wide. “You okay?” he asked, looking back up at Castiel’s face, his lips red and swollen from kissing, his pupils wide and his iris’s a deep blue as heavy lids fought to stay open. A small line to spit ran down the corner of his mouth to his chin and on anyone else, it would have looked disgusting but on Castiel, it looked amazing. Castiel nodded and spread his legs even wider in welcome. Dean nodded, pressing his spit slicked index finger against Castiel’s opening. “Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?” he whispered and again Castiel nodded.
Dean slipped one finger in, pushing through the resistance and Castiel’s muscles clamped down around him. He held the finger still for a moment, rubbing Castiel’s hips with his free hand before slowly working the finger in and out of him. Castiel frowned at the first intrusion and moved against the finger, hoping to find a way to make it more comfortable than intrusional. “It feels weird,” he whispered as Dean slowly added another finger, rubbing the inner walls in hopes of finding that perfect spot that would send off fireworks in Castiel’s body.
“I know, but it’ll get better,” Dean whispered, bending down and pressing a soft kiss to Castiel’s forehead. Castiel nodded and shut his eyes tight, his hands back to fisting the sheets. Dean worked his fingers in and out, slowly stretching the hole as he begun to scissor his fingers. Castiel wiggled and pushed back against the fingers when all of a sudden, Dean brushed something. Castiel’s eyes shot open and a deep long groan escape from his lips. Dean grinned and purposely pressed against the nub a few more times, memorizing as well as he could where it was. He added a third finger and worked the three in and out of Castiel who pushed back welcomingly at the fingers.
“More,” he gasped after a while. Dean pulled his fingers out and used was lubricant he hand on his hands to cover his cock, spitting into his hand a few times and adding that too. Castiel opened himself up to Dean, his chin pressed against his chest as his nipples stood as erect and red as his cock which jutted out from a dark patch of hair which traveled up to his navel.
“You sure?” Dean asked as he positioned himself at Castiel’s opening, the head pressing gently. Castiel answered by wrapping his legs around Dean’s waist and pulling him in, causing both to gasp loudly. Dean cursed softly as he slowly pushed the rest of the way in, trying as hard as he could to keep from slamming into Castiel who grabbed at Dean’s shoulder and neck to pull him down for a kiss. Dean complied happily and when Castiel began pushing against him, Dean began to rock his hips back and forth, pushing in and pulling out of the tight wet hole.
“Dean,” Castiel groaned as he tightened his legs around Dean’s waist. Dean nodded and slightly changed his angle downwards in hopes of hitting the prostate. When he was awarded the Castiel spasming around him and giving another deep moan, Dean knew he had done a good job. The two began to move against each other, each pushing and pulling as Dean looked down at Castiel in wonder and amazement. Had anyone told him six months ago that he would end up buried in Castiel have the most amazing sex of his life, Dean would have laughed, or possibly punched who ever said it. Now though, Dean knew he would never be able to get enough.
Dean wrapped one hand around Castiel and began to pull simultaneously which each thrust. Castiel gasped and opened his eyes, looking up at Dean with wonder before reaching up and grabbing Dean’s shoulder, his hand in perfect alignment with the handprint. He came hard and long a few seconds later. A few thrusts afterwards, Dean followed, spilling himself inside of Castiel, his head pressed in the nook of Castiel’s neck. His arms shook as he pulled himself out of Castiel before collapsing onto the bed next to him. The two lay there, taking deep breaths before looking at each other and smiling.
“Up for a repeat?” Dean asked with a cheeky grin. Castiel gave a small laugh and shook his head as he ran a finger through the come, which littered his stomach and part of his chest.
“No, not for a while. You wore me out and that was my first time,” he replied with a small smile.
“You okay with that?” Dean asked, a small frown pulling his lips downward. Castiel smiled and shook his head.
“No. I couldn’t have asked God for anyone better,” he replied and Dean gave an overly goofy grin before sitting up and clapping his hands.
“Alright. Chick-flick moment done. Let’s get cleaned up and head back downstairs.” Dean said as he pushed himself up on the bed and grabbed jeans pulling them on.
“Do you think Sam and Bobby heard us?” Castiel asked as he sat up and swiped at the come on his chest. Dean shook his head, grabbing a tissue and wiping Castiel’s chest down.
“Let’s hope not or they’ll never let us live it down.”
As the two made their way to the bathroom, Dean allowing another chick-flick moment in holding Castiel’s hand, Dean realized that he was Castiel’s, just as Castiel was his. And if he was honest, which he was, he had been since he pulled up his sleeve and saw the branded handprint. And really, it just felt right.