Title: Beneath the Sheets of Paper
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Spoilers: Set sometime after 5.04, “The End.”
Word Count: 10,200
Notes/Prompt(s): Title is from “Samson” by Regina Spektor. This story started as a late response to the “first date” prompt for the quickfire challenge, but then it took on a life of its own. Thank you to for beta.
Summary: Castiel never asks for anything for himself. Dean finds this frustrating.
Audiofic by : Sendspace.
It started one night soon after Sam and Dean reunited, when Castiel tried to transport himself away and couldn’t. He willed himself to a library he knew of in San Francisco to do some research, but instead of book-lined walls and gleaming wood, he was still looking at the ugly orange and green wallpaper of the motel room.
“Cas?” Dean said. “Did you need something else?”
“I can’t leave,” Castiel said.
“What?” Dean left his boots untied but on his feet as he rose from the bed and came to Castiel, and Sam stood as well, his expression one of concern. “What do you mean, you can’t leave?”
“I want to be in California but I am still here.” He looked from Dean to Sam and back, his chest starting to rise and fall with distress. “This has never happened before. I’ve been alive for millennia and this has never happened.”
“Cas,” Dean said and put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel gazed at him and his breathing slowed. “Dude. You’ve been on the go for three days. We’re all exhausted. Maybe you just need to rest for a while and then you can flit off to wherever.”
Castiel exhaled and said, “You are likely right, Dean. I will find lodging of some kind.”
“You’re staying with us,” Dean said and took his hands from Castiel’s shoulders. “Sam? Is that okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Sam said. “I don’t know where we’re going to put him, though. I guess we could get a cot from management.”
“Um,” Dean said. He ducked his head and glanced at Castiel, scratching the back of his head. Castiel knew this meant he was both embarrassed and proud.
His eyes widened—oh, this was about him.
“What, Dean?” Sam said.
“I figured Cas would, um.” He glanced at Castiel again. Castiel gazed back, unsure if he should speak or let Dean handle it. “Bunk with me.”
Sam’s eyes widened too. “Oh,” he said, “you’re, um, used to sleeping together.”
“Yes,” said Castiel. “And we have sex, as well.”
Dean laughed so hard he bent over. Sam looked away and muttered, “Yeah, I figured.” Castiel wondered why the truth was so amusing.
Castiel knew a few things about little human rituals. The first time he slept with Dean, really slept, not just had intercourse, Dean thought it was terribly important that Castiel wash his face and brush his teeth and take off the rest of his clothes before he lay on the bed; and then in the morning there was more washing and brushing and clothes before Dean took him out for pancakes and sausage. Even the way Dean made his coffee, the number of times he stirred it after he poured in the cream, felt like a ritual to reassure himself that all was well in the world.
Castiel did not sleep the same way Dean did. Instead he drifted in a pleasant sort of haze, Dean solid in his arms, the rhythm of his breathing like the rhythm of the sea. If Dean mumbled or cried out in the night Castiel stroked his hair to soothe him. If he slept peacefully Castiel watched him and wondered about his dreams. If Dean woke, there was often kisses and talk and the lazy type of sex that Dean said was his favorite kind.
“That’s not true,” Castiel said once in reply. “You like all kinds.”
Dean laughed. “Okay, you’ve got me there.”
Dean liked lazy sex and fast sex and morning sex and bedtime sex, sex in the Impala, sex on a motel bed, sex shivering and half-dressed in a field of mown hay where the night was so dark they could see the swoop of the Milky Way. They held hands that night and Castiel told Dean the true names of the stars, and Dean looked at him as if Castiel were the best gift he’d been given.
Castiel just liked sex with Dean. It didn’t matter where they were or what they did. He liked kisses that grew increasingly hungry, the first rush of desire, the way Dean’s hands shook when he unbuttoned Castiel’s clothes, the way Dean’s name escaped his lips when Dean kissed his belly or sucked on his neck. He liked the way their skin slipped against each other’s, the way perspiration trickled down his face and when Dean kissed it away. He liked being filled with Dean, the way Dean’s body felt so alive and strong between his hands. He liked being surrounded by Dean, the heat and tightness of his body. He liked the way Dean moaned, “Cas,” and his eyes grew wide when he reached his climax. He liked the time afterward, when Dean dozed against his shoulder, Dean’s skin damp and warm.
He glanced at Dean as they went through the bedtime ritual, slowly brushing his teeth as Dean washed his face and dried it with a motel towel that scratched against his stubble. “What?” Dean said. “You don’t like the toothpaste?”
Castiel spat out the foam. “The toothpaste is fine. Dean. I am not sure how the evening will go with Sam present.”
“We’ll just have to be quiet.” Dean grinned at him.
“I think we should just sleep,” Castiel informed him and rinsed his mouth with a cupped palm of water.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.” Dean sighed. “Damn, I thought this was going to be fun.”
Castiel took hold of Dean’s face and kissed him, and felt Dean smile against his lips. “I love you,” Castiel said softly and they leaned their foreheads together.
“I know,” Dean said, which satisfied Castiel. He let go of Dean and left the bathroom, and crawled into the empty bed. In the other bed Sam was a big long shape under the coverlet, his back like a wall. He was not sleeping, Castiel knew.
“Good night, Sam,” Castiel said.
“Good night, Cas.”
Castiel nodded and folded his hands over his chest. Dean had lent him a t-shirt and boxer shorts to sleep in, saying, “We need to get you your own clothes, man,” as he held the shirt up to Castiel’s chest to measure it.
“I have my own clothes,” Castiel had answered, puzzled, and was even more puzzled at the amused look the brothers gave each other.
He ran his hands over the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and then looked up when Dean came out of the bathroom and got into bed beside him. When Dean was comfortable Castiel reached over and touched Dean’s cheek with his knuckles, and Dean blinked at him sleepily. “I thought we were just going to sleep.”
“Go to sleep, Dean,” Castiel said, and Dean chuckled and pressed Castiel’s hand to his mouth.
“Good night, Cas.” He said more loudly, “Good night, Sammy,” and Sam grunted a close approximation of “good night.”
Castiel folded his hands on his chest again and stared at the ceiling. Beside him Dean breathed slow and deep, and Castiel thought he could feel Dean’s heat even with the sheet and four inches between them. He wanted to pull Dean to him, feel him breathing, feel his heart beating, but he knew if he did he would start touching Dean more than he should.
He thought, This is what longing feels like. He sighed.
Dean chuckled and whispered, “You too, huh?” as he turned onto his side and wadded the pillow under his head.
“Me too what?”
“I want to touch you,” Castiel said. In the other bed Sam made a “Oh, for God’s sake,” kind of sound. Castiel repeated in a whisper, “I want to touch you.”
Dean smirked, but his tone was gentle. “I know, babe. Me too.” He moved closer so Castiel did the same, and Dean whispered, “If I could touch you right now, I’d do it slow, starting with the tips of your ears.”
“Yes,” Castiel whispered.
“So slow over and around your ears until you got goosebumps,” Dean said, his voice pitched low. “And then down your neck, and I’d rub your neck until you were relaxed all over. And I’d comb my hands through your hair and rub your scalp until you were practically asleep in my hands.”
“Why would you want to put me to sleep?” Castiel murmured, though the image it brought to mind pleased him.
“So we can do it slow.” He waggled his eyebrows and Castiel felt heat flush his cheeks.
Sam threw a pillow at them. “Would you two shut up!”
“Sorry, Sam,” Dean said contritely, and Castiel echoed, “I’m sorry, Sam,” as he gave Sam the pillow back. Sam lay back with a “hrmph!” and pulled the blanket over his head.
Castiel lay down again, once more folding his hands on his chest. Dean did the same, stiff at his side. “This is going to be tough.”
“Think peaceful thoughts,” Castiel said and was happy that Dean chuckled.
Eventually he did sleep, and Sam did as well. Castiel did not, but he dozed serenely and did not dream.
Castiel slowly became aware that he was draped over Dean like another blanket. Dean was lightly snoring, his face mashed in his pillow. Castiel started to withdraw from him but Dean made a complaining noise, so Castiel adjusted his body a little so they could lie close more comfortably.
Castiel was also aware that he was hard against Dean’s thigh, and he had no doubt if he reached between Dean’s legs he would find him in the same state. He was constantly puzzled by the development—it seemed like a waste of energy, to want sex first thing—but Dean had persuaded him that a quick go in the morning made the entire day go better.
However, Sam was still asleep in the other bed.
“Cas,” Dean whispered and Castiel answered, “Yes.” He was not certain what Dean was asking, but Dean made it clear when he grabbed Castiel’s hand and pressed it between his legs. Castiel kissed the back of his neck.
“But what about Sam?” he whispered.
“I’ll be quiet. Please, Cas.”
Castiel kissed the back of Dean’s neck again and began to stroke him, loving the heat of his flesh and the way Dean’s buttocks rubbed against his hips. Dean pushed his face deeper into the pillow to muffle his moans, and the mattress squeaked beneath them. Castiel licked Dean’s ear and worried the uppermost ridge between his teeth gently, making Dean shiver and rock back against him with more intent. “Dean,” Castiel breathed and tried not to groan too loudly.
Dean’s fist twisted into the pillow and he shuddered once, once again, and gasped as his body bucked. He fell back against Castiel, breathing hard, and turned his head back to look at Castiel. Castiel kissed him as his hand slowed.
“Bathroom?” Dean whispered. Castiel nodded and they both slipped out from under the covers and went into the bathroom. Dean shut the door and turned the lock, then started the shower and the fan overhead. Castiel stood uncertainly, bemused by the bulge in his cotton shorts.
Dean stripped off his shirt and boxer shorts quickly, so Castiel followed suit and dropped them onto the floor. “C’mon,” Dean said and pulled him into the shower. The water stung his flesh, warm and needle-like, and Castiel leaned against the tile and closed his eyes as he breathed in the steam. He smiled and touched Dean’s hair as Dean began to kiss his chest.
Dean slid down his body and kissed his hip, and Castiel spread his feet to brace himself. He gasped when he felt Dean’s mouth on him and his fingers gripped Dean’s hair. Dean wrapped a hand around Castiel’s thigh and pressed the other to his stomach, and sucked him slowly, teasing him until Castiel grasped his shoulder and breathed, “Please,” and Dean’s mouth enveloped him completely. He looked up at Castiel and winked.
Castiel’s fingers dug into Dean’s shoulders as he gasped and shuddered. Orgasms always left Castiel feeling overwhelmed and shaken, and this time was no different: he gasped for breath and his legs felt weak, and another spasm passed through him as he watched Dean’s mouth slide off him. He raked his hands through Dean’s wet hair and Dean looked up at him with a self-satisfied smile. “Love it when you come, baby,” Dean whispered and kissed his hip before he got to his feet. He picked up a bar of soap and washcloth, made some suds and began to scrub himself vigorously.
Castiel took up the bottle of shampoo and poured some into his hand—too much, from the way Dean snorted, so he rubbed his hand through Dean’s hair before doing the same to his own. Dean glared at him and then kissed him and lathered the shampoo in Castiel’s hair. Castiel kissed him back and did the same to Dean’s hair, and then rubbed the soap into Dean’s skin as it cascaded down his body.
“I am glad I stayed,” Castiel said.
“So’m I. Even sleeping with you wasn’t bad.” He wiped shampoo from Castiel’s face. “I’d rather fuck ya and then sleep with ya, but we can’t have everything we want.”
“No,” Castiel said. “We cannot.” He took the washcloth and began to clean himself. Dean was rather adamant about this, that regularly bathing and looking after any wounds was vital to his body’s health. It was strange to think of this body as his, but he did so as he could no longer feel Jimmy beneath his own consciousness. He hoped Jimmy had moved on to the reward he had been promised, but of course there was no one to ask.
“Hey,” Dean said softly, “you okay?”
“Of course.” He bent his head under the spray to rinse the lather from his hair. “We should get to your next destination soon.”
“Gonna run off on me already?”
Castiel looked at Dean. He knew at times what Dean said and what Dean meant were in opposition, but he could sincerely not tell here. “I’m not sure I could if I wanted to. I don’t want to.”
“Okay.” Dean gave a short nod and then stood close to him to rinse off the soap and lather as well. “Then as soon as Sammy’s up and ready we’ll get some breakfast and then we’re taking you shopping.”
“I have a phone,” Castiel said.
“Not for a phone. For clothes. You need some clothes of your own, Cas.”
“The ones I have are fine.” He turned off the water.
Dean sighed. “Cas … you’re starting to smell a little ripe, dude.”
“I smell bad?”
“No! No. Not bad. Just, it’s obvious you’ve been wearing them for a long time. And you stand out. A guy in a suit with two guys in jeans, you stand out. We’ll get you some clothes like ours and then we’ll just be three guys in jeans. You know?”
Castiel didn’t. “If you feel that’s best.”
“I do.” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Castiel, then got another for himself. He dried off vigorously while Castiel did so more slowly.
“Dean? We forgot to bring in clothes with us.”
“Just wear the towel,” Dean said and wrapped his around his waist. He scooped up the dirty clothes and rolled them under his arm. “Sammy won’t mind.”
Sam was still in bed, so Dean and Castiel dressed themselves in silence before the alarm on the bedside table went off. Sam groaned in protest and reached out one long arm to turn it off, and Dean said cheerfully, “Rise and shine, Sammy! We’ve got an angel to feed.”
“I am not hungry,” Castiel said, not wanting them to hurry on his account, but then Dean winked at him again and Sam sat up, yawning.
“I’m up, I’m up.” He stretched and got out of bed. “You two showered already?”
“Yeah, we’re just waiting on you.” Dean threw himself on their bed and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Breakfast and then a couple errands before we hit the highway. Cas needs more clothes.”
“Good,” Sam said and then made an apologetic twitch and said, “I mean, you must be tired of wearing the same thing all the time, Castiel.”
Castiel frowned and held the collar of his shirt to his nose. To him it still smelled like Jimmy. There must be some kind of subtlety he was missing.
At the diner where they got breakfast, Dean asked the waitress for a good place to buy jeans. She was charmed by him, of course, as they all were, and Castiel wondered if he smiled and teased like Dean if people would find him charming as well. As it was, he merely thanked her when she brought their food, and she patted his shoulder and said, “Aren’t you sweet?”
He got that reaction a lot, as if he were a child. He wondered if people could tell that he was still new.
After the diner Dean drove to the department store the woman had recommended and Dean took them to men’s clothes at once. Sam found a chair in front of the row of dressing rooms, and dropped himself into it, his size making the wood creak. Dean started leafing through shirts on their hangers and holding up the ones he liked to Castiel’s chest. “What do you think, Cas?” he said now and again, and Castiel said, “Whatever you feel is best, Dean.”
This made Dean roll his eyes and look annoyed, but Castiel was not bothered by that. Concerns such as color and cut did not interest him, though he supposed, given the choice, he would prefer everything be the green of Dean’s eyes.
Finally Dean had gathered an armful of clothing, jeans and shirts and even underclothes, and pushed them into Castiel’s arms. “Try these on.”
“I can’t pay for them,” Castiel whispered, the obstacle only now occurring to him.
“I’ll pay for them. Don’t worry.”
“You mean you’ll use a fraudulent credit card.”
“I’ll pay in cash, if it bothers you. We made out like bandits the other night at pool.”
“All right. Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said and went into the dressing room, which was separated from the rest of the store by a thick woven curtain on rings. He took off Jimmy’s raincoat and suit, and put on the jeans on the top of the pile and one of the t-shirts.
“So how’s it going?” said Sam outside the dressing room.
Castiel was about to answer when Dean said, “I dunno, it’s hard to tell what he likes,” and Castiel heard him take the chair on the other side of his door.
“He’s probably never thought about it before.”
“Yeah, that’s probably it.”
Castiel looked at his reflection and straightened his shoulders, trying to decide if he liked how he looked. He did not feel anything about it—he neither liked nor disliked it, though he supposed the softness of the shirt was an enjoyable sensation, and Dean would like how the jeans fit his body. If it pleased Dean, it would please Castiel.
“Can I ask you something?” Sam said as Castiel pulled off that shirt and put on another.
“Sure,” said Dean.
“How did all this start? I mean, you’ve never been into guys.”
Dean paused a moment. “You don’t know everything about me, Sammy.”
“I think I would have noticed that.”
Dean sighed and was quiet a while. Castiel changed clothes as silently as possible. Dean said, “I told you about when I took him to the brothel, right? Before we summoned Raphael?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I never told you about what happened after the brothel.”
“Okay,” said Sam slowly.
“We went back to the abandoned house I was staying at,” said Dean, “and I told him I was sorry it hadn’t worked out, and he said he’d rather stay a virgin than lose it through a financial transaction—you know how he talks—and, well, one thing led to another.”
Castiel smiled to himself. One thing, he supposed, had been Dean’s hand on his cheek, which led to his lips on Dean’s palm and then his wrist, which led to Dean’s mouth taking his—and on and on it had gone until they were nude on a musty mattress, sweaty and spent, a peace in Castiel’s being like he had never experienced before. He had felt as big as a country, as small as a spark, warm all over, invincible. Utterly invincible.
He told Dean this, and Dean had laughed and held him and said he felt much the same. Listening to Dean’s heartbeat, Castiel had thought he had loved his Father all of his existence, and tried to love His human children even when they were foolish and violent; but loving an individual, for their beauty and quirks and flaws and imperfections, must feel like this. The desire for closeness and comfort, the need to see them safe, the warmth and joy in their presence . . . Yes. It must be this.
Dean had slept at his side that night, and they had not spoken of what went on between them until days later. At the side of a wet and cold road, Dean said, “Don’t ever change,” and Castiel promised he wouldn’t, and they found a warm place to relax and talk and make love, and Castiel was deep inside as he babbled, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” and Dean answered him, “Castiel, Castiel, Castiel.”
Castiel hastily changed into a new shirt, gave it a disinterested glance and put on another. The sooner they were finished here the sooner they could travel to their next destination and find another motel and another bed. He would very much like to find another bed.
“Do you love him?” Sam said outside the dressing room, his voice soft and without judgment, and Castiel paused, wanting to hear the answer too.
Dean took a long time to answer. “I don’t know,” he said, and Castiel leaned against the mirror, surprised by the depth of his disappointment. “I like him. I … need him. I want him. I don’t know. I’m just enjoying what I get, you know? I mean … he’s kind of … beautiful. You know?”
“I hadn’t thought about it,” Sam said. “But I don’t know, dude, that does kind of sound like love.”
“Shut up,” said Dean. Sam chuckled, and a moment later, after what sounded like a small scuffle, Dean called into the dressing room, “Cas, are you decent?”
“Yes,” Castiel said.
Dean pushed back the curtain, the metal rings screeching on the rod, and said, “Oh, Cas,” and looked away as Castiel pulled on another pair of jeans.
“What?” Castiel said, pausing, and Dean shoved the curtain closed again behind him.
“When I say ‘Are you decent?’ that means, ‘Are you wearing clothes?'”
“Oh,” Castiel said. “I thought you meant in general.”
“I know you are in general,” Dean said, smiling and crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you think of the clothes?”
Dean sighed with great exaggeration. “I mean, do you like any of them?”
“Yes. They’re comfortable and well-made.”
“But do you like any of them?” Dean said.
“I like … all of them equally. It doesn’t matter to me, Dean. Chose the ones you like and then you can wear them when I’m not here.”
Dean made another annoyed sound, then picked out three t-shirts and three flannel shirts from pile of discarded clothing. “What about the jeans? Jeans that fit you won’t fit me, you’re too thin.”
“These are good.” He tilted his head at his reflection, and pulled at the waistband with his thumb. “Am I too thin?”
“Too thin for us to share jeans comfortably.” He picked up a flannel shirt and held it over Castiel’s shoulders. “The next job will be in Colorado. It’s going to be cold. We’ll need to get you a coat, too, but not here. And boots. You need boots.”
“All right.” He put his arms into the sleeves. The flannel was scratchy but warm. Dean put his hands on Castiel’s waist and leaned his head against Castiel’s neck.
“You smell like you again,” he said softly.
“What do I smell like?” It changed every time he mentioned it.
“Mm. Cherry pie.”
He turned to kiss Dean. “I like cherry pie.”
Dean chuckled and kissed him back, holding Castiel’s head between his hands. His kisses turned fierce and he pushed Castiel against the mirror. Castiel massaged Dean’s back muscles and slid his hands up under Dean’s shirts. Dean leaned his hips into Castiel’s and kissed him harder, and his hand groped between Castiel’s legs. He broke off the kiss and frowned at him. “Nothing, huh?”
“It’s too public,” Castiel whispered. “Just kiss me.”
Dean kissed him, and it was obvious to Castiel in a moment that he wanted more than mere kissing. Castiel rubbed Dean’s back and then his stomach, unzipped Dean’s jeans and slid his hand beneath his underwear. Dean moaned against his mouth and shivered. Castiel liked that—he slid his hand lower, over the trembling skin of his belly and the narrow path of crisp hair, to the hot flesh that jerked at his touch and made Dean tremble even harder.
Castiel turned him so his back was to the mirror and slid down Dean’s body to his knees. Dean grasped his shoulders and tilted back his head with a soft, “Yeah, babe.” The terms of endearment Dean chose amused Castiel, particularly that one, as if he were something innocent and untouched.
Which, Castiel supposed, Dean thought he was.
He pulled Dean’s jeans low on his thighs and licked him into his mouth, relishing every quiet moan that escaped from Dean’s lips. He watched Dean’s face, the arc of his lashes on his cheekbones and the way he sucked his lower lips into his mouth to muffle his cries, and then closed his own eyes to suck Dean blissfully.
Dean shoved his fist into his mouth to stifle his shout and Castiel drank his come, rubbing his belly until Dean stopped gasping. Dean slid down the mirror and Castiel sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with his fingertips. “I think I feel smug.”
“You look pretty smug,” Dean said. “And so fucking hot.” He ran his thumb over Castiel’s mouth. “Love how your mouth looks right now, all red like that.”
Castiel felt himself blush and looked down at the floor. The carpet was brown and grey and black splotches, and Castiel wondered why humanity chose to make so many things so visually unappealing when beauty was just as easy. “That was very bad, wasn’t it?”
“No, babe, it was amazing.” He took hold of Castiel by the back of his neck and pulled him closer. Castiel went willingly and tucked his body into Dean’s, his arms going around Dean’s slender waist.
“I mean,” he said, “it was a bad thing we did. People aren’t supposed to have sex in public places. It’s a private thing.”
“No, they’re not supposed to, but they do anyway. I thought you didn’t mind having sex in the Impala. Or outdoors. You like that.”
“There aren’t other people around in the Impala. Or outdoors.” He started up. “Or Sam waiting outside.”
“Shit,” Dean said and rubbed his hand over his face. “I hope he left.” He stood and zipped up his jeans again. “Are you ready to go? Three shirts, three t-shirts, I got some underwear and socks for you, and then a couple pairs of jeans . . .”
“Can I wear this out?”
“Better not,” Dean said after a moment. “We shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves any more than we already have.”
“All right,” Castiel said and pulled the t-shirt off. Dean laughed, and Castiel didn’t ask why, knowing it wasn’t something Dean could explain.
Castiel found Sam in the office supply section. “Dean is paying for the clothes.”
“Okay,” Sam said. He put back the journal he was looking at far too intently. “Hey. Can I ask you something?”
Sam bit his lip and leaned his arm against a shelf filled with day planners and legal pads. He said in a low voice, “My brother. What do you see in him?”
Castiel tilted his head, puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“I mean …” Sam glanced away as a woman ambled past the aisle, looked in and then ambled on, the wheels of her cart squeaking in a slow rhythm. “I mean, is it the sex? You like having sex with him?”
“Yes,” Castiel said, still puzzled.
“Is that all it is?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Dean’s …” He looked away and shook his head. “Dean’s always liked girls, and then you come along and change everything, and I’m trying to get it but I just don’t.”
“Oh,” Castiel said, still not understanding, quite. He said, “Angels have no biology and therefore no gender. We choose identities but they have little meaning in a celestial sense.” He paused a moment as Sam continued frowning. “I can’t explain it better than that.”
“But it’s all you, right? It’s not a vessel thing?”
“Jimmy had no male lovers,” Castiel said. “I believe it is all me.”
“Do you love him?” Sam said, his voice soft as it had been with Dean, and Castiel wished he had the same answer. It would probably be easier for all of them if he had.
He couldn’t lie, though. “Yes.”
Sam looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay. Let’s go find Dean.”
“I know where he is,” Castiel said, and was confused again when Sam laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Of course you do, Cas. Of course you do.”
(Continued in part 2.)