Title: So Hot That I Melted
Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Word Count: 5100
Summary: Having a boyfriend is awesome. Having a boyfriend who disappears for days at a time is not awesome.
Notes: Just an interlude to let the boys have some time together. Title is from “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz. Thank you to for beta.
Dean was opening another round of beers when Castiel came into the kitchen. “Bobby said to see what’s taking you so long,” Castiel said, and Dean laughed.
“If he wants me to be faster he needs to stop hiding the bottle opener.” He picked up two bottles in each hand.
Castiel held out his hands. “I can carry some.”
Dean started to say he had it under control but handed Castiel two of the bottles instead. If he wanted to help, that was fine. “Hey,” he added, and Castiel looked at him, waiting, his eyes open wide and patient. Dean stepped closer to him and kissed him. Castiel made a soft sound and kissed him back, arms not going around him because of the beer bottles. Dean held Castiel’s waist with his free hand and kissed him slowly, and when they parted Dean kept his mouth close to Castiel’s and breathed in the scent of him, the taste of his breath, the sheer warmth radiating from his skin.
“Sometimes I think, when I touch you, I’m just going to burn up,” he said softly as he played his fingers over Castiel’s neck and into his hair.
“You won’t.” Castiel gave him a look that was almost sleepy. He blinked slowly. “I won’t burn you.”
“Not tonight, anyway,” Dean said. He let his gaze drop to Castiel’s mouth and smiled when Castiel sucked in his lower lip.
“I believe you are being a tease,” Castiel said. “Sam and Bobby are waiting on us.” He left the kitchen. Dean smirked and followed him.
It was supposed to be a quiet night at Bobby’s, just to rest and recuperate before the next job, but then Castiel showed up and Dean thought maybe it wouldn’t be a quiet night after all. He was fine with that, more than fine, really — he’d missed Cas, the way he missed him every time they were apart for more than a day.
Having a boyfriend was awesome. Having a boyfriend like Castiel was awesome. Having a boyfriend who was gone for days at a time, who came and went without warning — that was not awesome.
Dean gave a beer to Sam and leaned against Bobby’s desk as he watched Bobby and Castiel bend over one of Bobby’s thick, dusty tomes. One of Castiel’s fingers moved down the row of text as he read aloud in the book’s arcane language, and Dean watched the way they moved over the vellum, reverent, not touching the ancient ink.
He had thin wrists, his Castiel. Long, sleek arms. Beautiful fingers, agile, gentle.
He touched these books, Dean thought, the same way he touched Dean, like something precious and fascinating. The thought made Dean smile wryly, and he had another swallow of beer to disguise it. He’d get used to being adored someday. There were worse things than to be cherished.
Castiel looked up and met Dean’s gaze. His head tilted a little, questioning, and Dean nodded to the front door. Castiel’s eyes warmed but he shook his head, and bent over the book again.
Dean frowned and looked away. Having a boyfriend who found books more tempting than making out was not awesome.
Bobby growled at him, “If you’re not going to help, make yourself useful, boy. There’s still dishes that need washin’.”
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. He went back into the kitchen and tucked his beer in the fridge, rolled up his sleeves and started the water running in the sink. He heard footsteps behind him and said, “Go on reading, Sammy, I got this.”
Arms went around his waist and lips pressed to his neck. Dean tilted back his head with a sigh. “I am not Sam,” Castiel whispered in his ear.
“Good, ’cause I don’t want him kissing me.”
Castiel kissed the back of his neck again. “You wanted to go outside.”
“It would have gotten me out of dish duty, but no big.” He poured in a substantial amount of soap and swirled his fingers through the water to stir up the suds.
“What did you want to do outside? It is cold and snowy.”
Dean smiled and put the first of the dishes into the water. “I thought maybe I’d kiss you. Maybe kiss you lots.” Castiel hummed, his fingers tracing lines and shapes over Dean’s chest, and Dean said, “Now aren’t you sorry you chose that book over me?”
“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “It was a very good book.”
“Hey!” Dean flicked soap at him and Castiel ducked behind him with a chortle. “Oh, you’re in for it now,” Dean began and tried to turn, but Castiel caught his wrists and pinned him against the sink. “Cas,” Dean breathed as Castiel pressed his body flush against Dean’s.
“I only chose a book over you,” Castiel said in a dark, low voice, right into Dean’s ear, “because it was important to Bobby that I read it.” His fingers wound tighter around Dean’s wrists. “But you know I will kiss you as much as you want when the time is right.”
“Okay,” Dean whispered, chest hitching a little for breath. Castiel released him and moved away.
“Bobby wanted water.” He took a glass from one of the cupboards and filled it from the sink.
“Cas?” Dean said, watching him. Fuck, when did he become so infatuated, so besotted, that something as simple as watching Castiel pour a glass of water turned him on? Castiel turned to him, eyes wide as ever and containing a kind of innocence that only made Dean think again how very ancient Castiel was. “Let’s go outside,” Dean said softly.
Castiel’s gaze flicked to the sink. “Finish the dishes.”
Dean made a face at him, the moment over, and when he glanced back at the living room Castiel was giving the glass to Bobby.
Bobby, Sam and Castiel were still passing books back and forth as Castiel translated various passages, and Dean couldn’t keep still. He’d washed the dishes, dried them, and put them away; he’d fetched more books from upstairs and put the unhelpful ones away, he’d even gotten everyone more beer.
And Castiel still showed no sign of wanting to call it a night or even step away from their studies long enough to give Dean a little satisfaction.
Dean was starting to feel desperate. Having a boyfriend who did not want to fuck him was not awesome.
“Cas!” Dean barked and Castiel looked up, as did Sam and Bobby. Sam looked a little too knowing for Dean’s liking, while Bobby —
Shit. Bobby. Bobby had no idea unless Sam had told him, or even if Castiel had told him which Dean wouldn’t put past him since Castiel had the social filters of a small child. Given his puzzled frown, thought Dean though Bobby knowing anything was unlikely.
He’d figure it out soon enough.
“Cas, it’s late, don’t you want to sleep a little?”
“I don’t sleep,” Castiel said. “And I thought you wanted to go outside.”
“You want to go for a stroll at —” Bobby checked his watch. “Two a.m.? Christ, boys, no wonder I can’t think anymore. I’m going to bed.” He closed the book on his lap and wheeled himself to the shelf to put it away. “Guest beds are made up from last time. I’ve only got the two, Castiel.”
“I will make do,” Castiel said, meeting Dean’s gaze, and Dean swallowed.
“Bobby, do you need any help?” said Sam.
“I get on fine when you’re not here,” Bobby growled, pushing himself down the hall. “I get on fine when you are.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Dean said, and when Bobby’s door closed he said to Castiel, “Please, can we do something? Anything? Please?”
“Ahh,” said Sam and unfolded his long legs to get up from the floor. “Please wait until I’m gone to discuss your sex life. Good night.” He put a few books away and scooped up a few more, and took them upstairs to bed with him.
“Good night, Sammy,” Dean said, not really caring about anything except the fact that he was alone, finally, fucking finally, alone with Castiel. He crossed the room in a few strides, but Castiel didn’t rise from the sofa to meet him or even look up from the book on his knee. “Cas,” Dean said and positioned himself in front of him. “C’mon. I want to be naked in five minutes and fucking you in ten.”
“Patience is a virtue,” Castiel said and turned a page.
“I’m a sinner, Cas.” Dean moved between Castiel’s feet, forcing him to open his legs and put the book aside. “I’m an incorrigible sinner in need of some absolution.”
“You’re very desirable when you’re multisyllabic.” Castiel put his hands on Dean’s hips.
Dean growled, “Now who’s being a tease?” and climbed onto Castiel’s lap. He braced his arms on the couch’s back and leaned forward to kiss the angel’s mouth. Castiel met him gently, his hands still on Dean’s hips, his knee rubbing against Dean’s leg. His lips parted when Dean’s tongue slipped against them, and he inhaled and pulled Dean’s hips closer as Dean pressed him back against the couch to kiss him deeper.
“I am not teasing,” Castiel whispered as Dean kissed his jaw and down his neck. “I desire you. I want you. I also want to enjoy you.” He slid slim fingers under Dean’s waistband. Dean pulled his mouth from Castiel’s throat and moaned in his ear, and Castiel kissed his cheek. “I do not wish to be frantic.”
“Then you should have fucked me after dinner,” Dean whispered.
“How would we have explained that to Bobby and Sam?” His mouth followed Dean’s, his eyes half-closed.
“We would have said, ‘Bobby, Sam, please excuse us, we need to go have sex now.'” Castiel chuckled and started to remove Dean’s top shirt. Dean said, shrugging the shirt off, “They’d be pretty understanding, I think.”
“Bobby does not know about us.”
“Do you want me to tell him?” Dean said, serious. Castiel kissed him under his chin. “Tomorrow,” Dean breathed.
“If he does not realize it on his own, perhaps.” Castiel licked Dean’s throat.
“He’ll figure it out fast if we stay here on the couch.” He moved off Castiel’s lap and pulled Castiel to his feet. He picked up his shirt and threw it over his shoulder, and would have done the same to Castiel if the angel weren’t already serenely mounting the stairs. “When we’ve got a place of our own,” he said as he followed, and Castiel glanced back at him, “we’re going to have sex in every room in the house. Every. Fucking. One.”
“I would like that, Dean.” He opened the door to the other guest bedroom and flicked on the light. He stripped off his trench coat and followed it with his suit jacket and tie. Dean paused in the doorway to watch the matter-of-fact way he undressed, one item neatly folded before he moved on to the next, his shoes placed side-by-side at the foot of the bed. Castiel wouldn’t know seductive if it bit him on the ass, Dean knew, but he was seductive nonetheless. He was sexy and beautiful and all Dean’s.
Dean closed the door and leaned against it, his hands in jeans pockets. “I’m starting to think you had the right idea,” Dean said. “Not rushing. We’ve got all night now.”
“The night is nearly over,” Castiel observed as he folded his trousers. He sat on the edge of the bed to take off his socks.
“There’s enough left.” He paused, then said awkwardly, “I like watching you take off your clothes. I know I rush you most of the time. I shouldn’t. I just want to get you naked fast. You’re so hot, Cas. I want to touch you all the time.”
Castiel ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end even more than usual. “You like my body very much.”
“Yeah. I do.”
Castiel nodded and looked down at his feet. “Would you like me so much if I had a different vessel?” he said softly, and Dean crossed the room to kneel in front of him.
“I would,” Dean said, wrapping his hands around Castiel’s calves. His legs were long and slender and muscular, as tight and lean as the rest of his body. “I like your body, babe, but I love you.”
Castiel touched Dean’s cheek and then lay back. “Come here,” he said, holding out his hand, and Dean climbed onto the bed with him. He began undoing Castiel’s shirt, one button at a time, and Castiel watched him through his lashes, one arm over his head. Dean kissed his chest and down to his stomach, and he smiled when Castiel thrust a hand into his hair and luxuriously rubbed his scalp. Castiel gave his hair a tug and Dean moved up so he could look into Castiel’s face. Castiel kissed him, his hand heavy on the back of Dean’s neck.
He was hard through the thin fabric of his boxer shorts. Dean began to rock his hips, slow and easy, and rested his weight on his knees when Castiel’s legs wrapped around his waist. He held Castiel’s head in both hands and kissed him, urgently and sweetly and slowly. He shivered when Castiel’s legs slid slower and his hands pushed into Dean’s back pockets and began to knead his ass as they kissed.
Dean rolled off Castiel and exhaled, cocking his arm over his head. Castiel reached over to brush his fingers through Dean’s hair, his palm on Dean’s forehead, and then sat up to shrug off his shirt and the undershirt beneath. Dean brushed a thumb up his spine.
“This slow thing ain’t easy,” Dean murmured and traced the shapes of Castiel’s shoulder blades. He knew Castiel’s wings were there, but when he touched Castiel’s back all he could feel was smooth skin and slender bones. Castiel’s back arched and he turned to Dean, dipping his head to kiss him again, his hand in Dean’s hair.
“Cas,” Dean whispered when Castiel lifted his mouth.
“Yes, Dean.” He began to work Dean’s t-shirt up his body, kissing Dean’s abdomen as he went.
“Could I touch your wings sometime?”
Castiel raised his head and smiled at him, faint, mostly in the eyes. “They would burn your hands off.”
“Oh,” Dean said, disappointed. He ran his hands up Castiel’s back. “Where are they?”
“Put away.” He pulled off Dean’s t-shirt and folded it quickly. It joined the small pile of clothing at the foot of the bed. “They come out when I need them.”
“Couldn’t they come out sometime where I can see them?”
“I want you to keep your vision.” He lay himself on top of Dean so their noses touched, and he held Dean’s hands over his head, palm-to-palm. “I want you to look at me like this for many, many days to come.”
Dean kissed him and held tight to Castiel’s hands. He bracketed Castiel’s hips with his knees and rolled them over, making Castiel break off the kiss with a gasp. “Tell me,” Dean said gruffly, and licked the hollow of Castiel’s throat. “Tell me how I look at you.”
Castiel’s neck arched. “Like you think I’m beautiful.”
“That’s easy,” Dean said. “It’s ’cause I do think you’re beautiful. For a dude.” Castiel chuckled and rubbed against Dean’s leg with his thigh. “For a pale, skinny, unshaven dude.”
“You like my body,” Castiel pointed out and finally pulled his hands from Dean’s. “You just said so.”
“I do like your body.” He punctuated each word with a kiss: “Your pale, skinny, unshaven, dude’s body.”
Another soft chuckle, and then a moan from Castiel’s chest as Dean closed his mouth around one of Castiel’s nipple and began to suck. There was a small mole beside his nipple and Dean licked it as well, getting another sound from Castiel caught between a moan and a laugh — as much as Castiel ever laughed, which wasn’t much. It was mostly in bed, Dean realized, when Castiel was least on his guard and most human. There, he laughed a lot.
He raised his head and rested his chin on Castiel’s chest. Castiel’s face was starting to flush, his eyes darkening as the black pupils swallowed up the blue. Dean said, “I like your body a lot,” and kissed his stomach.
“I love how sensual you are.” His legs fell open wider, granting Dean access to his body in such an easy way Dean had to close his eyes a moment.
He cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Yeah?” before he traced a sharp hip bone with his mouth and slowly pulled down Castiel’s boxer shorts. Castiel raised his hips obligingly.
“Yes. Tastes. Scents. Looks. Touches. It’s like you collect them.”
Dean pushed himself up, his weight on his knuckles. “I do, I guess,” he said. “I got more memories than I got anything else. Touches and smells and things, they just … help me remember.” He dipped his head for another kiss.
Castiel’s fingers played in Dean’s hair. “I want to give you beautiful, beautiful things to remember.”
“You do,” Dean said. “You are.” He kissed Castiel and groaned as Castiel groped him, sure fingers squeezing around his cock. “Jesus, Cas,” he gasped.
“I want you to take me,” Castiel whispered. “I want you in me.”
“Oh, God,” Dean said and rolled off Castiel to shove off his jeans. Castiel stripped off his shirt and knelt on the bed, the single light bulb overhead casting harsh shadows on his jaw and chest and the cut of his hips.
Dean growled and pounced on him. Their mouths met with a click of teeth, and they were a tangle of legs and arms and tongues before they got themselves sorted again.
Dean slithered down his body and rubbed his cheek against Castiel’s prick, hard and full with want. Dean sucked his balls instead, making Castiel’s legs quiver, and teased at his asshole with his fingertips until Castiel begged, in a strangled voice, “More, Dean, more,” and clutched at his shoulders.
“Turn over,” Dean ordered and Castiel rolled onto his stomach without hesitating. Dean licked down his spine. He knelt on the floor and parted Castiel’s ass with his thumbs, told him, “Just relax and enjoy it,” and licked into him.
“Dean,” Castiel gasped as his fingers dug into the rumpled sheets, but Dean just wiggled his tongue and massaged his ass, trying to get him to relax. After a few moments Castiel did, stretching out his body and spreading his legs. He hummed Dean’s name and pushed back his hips to meet Dean’s tongue.
When his gasps were taking on a desperate edge Dean pulled back. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lightly slapped Castiel’s ass. “Stay there.” He got to his feet and hunted up their duffel bag, where he had a bottle of lube stashed in the pockets of one of his jeans. He squeezed out some into his hand and rubbed his hands together to warm it and coat his fingers, and then knelt between Castiel’s legs again and slowly pushed some into him. Castiel made a grumbling, eager sound, so lustful and hot that Dean stilled his fingers just so he could kiss Castiel’s back for a few minutes, enjoying the salty taste of him.
“Dean,” Castiel whispered, his hips pushing back again, and Dean chuckled lowly and starting opening him carefully. Castiel’s body began to rock, and he moaned in abandon, deep in his chest. God, Dean loved seeing him like this — usually Castiel was so damn contained. Dean liked him that way, sure, but loved him like this, mouth open and eyes unfocused and hands grasping at the bedding as his muscles grew tense.
Dean bent over him to whisper, “Ready, sweetheart?” and gave his fingers a particularly firm twist. Castiel’s answering groan was permission enough; Dean knelt over him, held his hips and thrust gently, watching the way the shadows painted Castiel’s glistening body. Castiel curled under him, back supple and strong, and Dean ran his hand over it — possessively, he had to admit. It was hard not to say “Mine!” like a small child with a new toy.
Instead he stooped over Castiel and kissed his neck, licked his ears, sucked a curl or two of hair. Castiel reached back for him, futilely trying to rake a hand through Dean’s hair, and finally settling on holding Dean’s hip and rubbing his hand restlessly up and down Dean’s side.
Dean kissed his back again and ghosted his hand over Castiel’s hip to wrap it around his prick. Castiel bucked into Dean’s hand, the sounds he made growing dark and desperate. Dean stroked him fast and hard, his fingers tight around him, and bent over him to whisper in his ear, “Is this what you wanted, baby? Me fucking you like this? You want to come when I’m inside you?”
“Yes,” Castiel gasped. “Together.”
Dean kissed the back of Castiel’s neck and twisted his hand tighter around Castiel’s cock, his hips pistoning into Castiel’s body. Castiel sighed and shivered beneath him, his skin damp and radiating heat, and then his toes curled and his cock jerked and he came on Dean’s fingers, sticky and hot. Dean slowed his hand but continued cradling Castiel’s cock, and twisted and rocked his hips until he was shivering and groaning himself, his legs buckling as he rode his orgasm out. He sank down onto his knees, the bed the only thing holding him upright.
Castiel slid down onto the floor beside him and held him, cradling Dean between his long legs. He kissed Dean’s forehead and pushed his hair back from his face, and tucked Dean against him as their gasps for breath slowed. Dean leaned his head against Castiel’s chest as his fingers played through Dean’s hair and dabbled down his back.
He held Castiel’s hip and ran his thumb over the knobby bone. He wondered if he should say something, but Castiel was just nuzzling and petting him and there wasn’t a thing Dean felt he needed to say.
Dean had stopped trying not to stare at Castiel. The good part about that, though, was that Castiel had no problem staring right back, blinking lazily, smiling that smile was more in his eyes than on his lips.
He was beautiful when his head was thrown back in ecstasy, he was beautiful when his mouth was wrapped around Dean’s cock, and he was beautiful when he lay at Dean’s side, slowly caressing Dean’s cheekbone with his knuckles or the inside of his wrist with his fingertips.
Dean was not the only one of them to collect memories.
Dean said softly, “You’re so hot I can’t stand it sometimes.”
Castiel laid his hand where Dean’s neck curved into his shoulder. “Are you too warm? Should I open the window?”
Dean laughed. “Metaphor, Cas. ‘You’re hot’ means ‘the only reason I’m not fucking you right now is I need a few minutes to recover.'”
“Oh,” Castiel murmured and blushed and moved his hand away. “You desire me again.”
“I desire you all the fucking time. I just usually don’t let it get the better of me. Unlike tonight,” he admitted. “I was kind of horny. It’s a good thing you showed up or I might have done something embarrassing like beg you to come over.”
Castiel tilted his head — pretty impressive, since he was horizontal — and then said, “I would like to hear that someday.”
“Oh, you would, would you,” Dean said and rolled on top of Castiel. “You want me give you a booty call?” He worried Castiel’s lower lip between his teeth.
“If you call when you want me,” Castiel gasped once his mouth was free, “I will come.”
“Damn right you will.”
“I do not mean like that,” Castiel said, blushing deeper. “I mean I will come to you.”
“And then come with me.” He grinned and Castiel shook his head.
“I want to wash up,” he said and pushed Dean off him. “I’m sticky.” He got off the bed and cautiously opened the bedroom door.
“Sam sleeps like the dead,” Dean said. “You’re not going to wake him.”
Castiel glanced back at him and then scurried down the hall to the bathroom. Dean shook his head and quietly laughed, and after a few minutes felt energetic enough to roll off the bed and follow him. Castiel was washing himself at the sink, the washcloth moving efficiently and briskly over his stomach. Wisps of hair curled at the back of his neck. He looked so delectable Dean wanted to sink his teeth into him.
Dean took his toothbrush out of their bag and nudged his hip against Castiel’s. “Shove over.” Castiel took a step to the side, giving him a look through half-closed eyes, and when Dean had begun scrubbing his teeth Castiel rinsed the soap from his washcloth and rubbed it over his skin. He trailed cool fingertips down Dean’s spine.
Dean looked at him, spat out his mouthful of toothpaste and said, “What?”
“You have the most beautiful back.”
“Yeah?” Dean straightened up and leaned his hip against the counter so he could give Castiel a lazy once-over.
“Yes. Kiss me, please.”
Dean took the washcloth from his hand and kissed him as he squeezed water over Castiel’s chest. Castiel stroked Dean’s chest in return, teasing a nipple, following the ridge of a scar, his touch gentle and careful as he’d been with the books earlier.
“Back to bed,” Castiel whispered. He stepped away from Dean and hung the washcloth over the sink. Dean watched him go, rinsed his mouth with a cupped palm of water, and hurried back to bed himself.
Castiel was already under the covers, the old soft quilt drawn up to his shoulders. Dean turned off the light and climbed in beside him, draped himself over Castiel’s side and kissed his shoulder. It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but eventually he could see the shape of Castiel’s body, the curve of his shoulder, the length of his neck.
“So hot,” Dean whispered and rubbed his nose on the nape of Castiel’s neck.
Castiel reached back for his hand and held it to his chest. His heart beat steadily. Dean pressed his palm to Castiel’s skin and closed his eyes.
“Dean,” Castiel whispered as he stroked the inside of Dean’s arm.
“Do you really think we’ll have a house of our own someday?”
Dean rubbed a few strands of Castiel’s hair between his fingers. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think, yeah, we’ll get through this, and you and me, we’ll be allowed to be together. If I stop Lucifer the rest of the angels will give me anything I want, and all I want is you.” Castiel kissed his palm, and Dean said, his voice growing tight, “But then I realize I’m kidding myself and I’m going to die, whether we win or lose.”
Castiel turned over and kissed him. “You will not die. I won’t let you.”
“You’re not going to either,” Dean said sternly. “I —” He looked away, his eyes growing damp. “I kind of don’t want to live without you,” he muttered, and didn’t meet Castiel’s eyes when the angel kissed him again.
“Don’t say that.”
“Because you may have to.”
“Cas,” Dean began, and Castiel leaned their foreheads together and held Dean’s face between his hands to hush him.
“We are soldiers in a war together, Dean, and soldiers die in wars. The important thing is that you survive to see this through.”
Dean looked away. He grumbled, “I can’t do it without you. I won’t.”
“You may have to.”
“Can’t we go back to that daydream?” Dean said. “You and me and our house and us having sex in every room. I want that. I want to believe we can have that.”
Castiel regarded him, then curled himself around Dean and held him tight. “It will be a small house,” he said. “But beautiful. There will be room for books and music and movies, and a place for Sam or Bobby to sleep when they visit. You will work in a garage and I will work in a bookstore, and when we come home at night we will tell each other how much we missed each other.”
“Yeah,” Dean muttered and kissed Castiel’s hair.
“And we will cook supper together,” Castiel went on softly. “But sometimes we will make love in the kitchen and forget to eat.”
Dean laughed. “Yeah. That sounds like us.”
“But eventually we’ll remember.” He kissed Dean’s chest. “You won’t let me go hungry.”
“Never.” He moved his forefinger through Castiel’s hair, smiling as the lock curled itself around his finger. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I’m here to take care of you,” Castiel said gently. “If you would ever let me.”
“You took care of me earlier.” Dean grinned at him.
“Bringing you to orgasm is not taking care of you. Not the way I mean. I mean … looking after each other. Because we love each other.”
“We have sex because we love each other, too.”
“I understand that. But it’s not everything. And we had a great deal of sex before you said you loved me.” His tone was mild but Dean still felt a little guilty.
“I knew it a long time before I said it.”
“I should have said it sooner.”
“You said it exactly when you needed to.” He kissed Dean’s chest again.
Dean stroked Castiel’s hair lazily. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Somewhere we will not mention,” Castiel murmured and kissed his mouth. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll stay with you.”
“You’d better,” Dean mumbled and turned onto his side so that Castiel would spoon him.
The sun was already high in the sky when Dean woke. Castiel was not in bed beside him but his suit was still folded neatly on a chair, so Dean knew he was around somewhere. He swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, just feeling his muscles thrum.
He dressed and went downstairs, where he could hear their voices in the kitchen. He paused in the doorway to look at them, his strange makeshift family: Bobby handing dishes to Sam for him to put away, simultaneously giving Castiel instructions to scramble a lumberjack’s portion of eggs and cheese.
“Awake at last, lazy ass,” Bobby said. “Breakfast is almost ready. Castiel insisted we wait.” Castiel looked up from the pan to smile, just enough for only Dean to see.
“Coffee’s ready,” Sam added and handed him a mug.
“Awesome,” Dean said, because it was.