Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean wakes up to soft kisses on his neck and the oh, so missed feeling of strong arms around his shoulders. His boyfriend's scent surrounds him, familiar and reassuring, and he grins at the hello, love, murmured in his ear.

It's not the first time Dean tries to wait for Cas and ends up falling asleep at the dinner table. Or in front of the TV. Or on the balcony. Or naked in bed.

It's been happening a lot lately.

He tries to move, stretching his spine up from the awkward way he fell asleep, hunched over on his books. His neck hurts something awful and his textbook's page is sticked to his cheek. Great.

Cas helps him up and kisses him all the way to their bedroom, holding his weight up because Dean's legs are still mostly asleep.

"What time is it?" Dean groans as he stumbles out of his jeans and onto the bed.

"Two a.m."

It's that damn promotion that Cas has been chasing for months. He basically lives at the office now. Dean hates it.

"Who the hell keeps you in the office until two a.m.? Talking to China or sumthin?"

Castiel joins him under the covers in nothing but his boxers and presses himself against Dean's back, arms strong and secure around his waist.

"Japan, actually," Castiel yawns. He kisses the back of Dean's neck and nuzzles there.

"Sure it wasn't your assistant?"

Another thing that Dean hates about Cas' job. His young, cute, and perky new assistant. Who gets to spend a lot more time with Cas than Dean does these days.

"Alfie?" Cas mumbles, already falling asleep. "I sent him home at eight. I'm not a monster."

He yawns again and then hums contentedly. Dean says nothing. He can’t complain. Cas is here, his thighs pressed up against Dean's, stomach on the small of his back. He can feel him breathe and their fingers are laced over his chest. It's warm, it's safe. He knows he'll sleep well tonight.

Usually Castiel manages to slip out of the office around nine or ten p.m., but always brings a pile of paperwork with him, or has a thousand emails to reply to, or schedules to fill out, or reports to write, and Dean has to go to bed alone while Cas sits at the kitchen table in front of his laptop, the mug of tea Dean has made for him left untouched by his side.

Dean doesn't like to fall asleep alone, without the weight and warmth of Castiel against him, without his slow breaths on his skin. He doesn't like going to bed alone, and likes even less waking up alone, with Castiel already gone for his 6 o'clock meeting, the sheets cold and not even the memory of lips on his cheek.

Dean tries to be understanding. This is a big deal - a big promotion, a chance for Cas to get out of "middle management" and make his way up. Way up.

And maybe Dean should be more patient. Maybe it shouldn't bother him this much that he barely sees his boyfriend at all. After a year of living together and almost two years of dating, maybe he shouldn't miss him this much when he's not there. He should be able to tough it out for a couple of months while Cas gets his big break. It shouldn't feel like claws in his chest and a big twisted hole in his stomach every fucking night when he walks in their empty condo and eats dinner alone.

But it does. Cas is not there and Dean misses him.

He misses his warmth in their bed. He misses his smile at the dinner table, his fingers on Dean's waist while they cook (well, while he cooks and Cas attempts to help). He misses talking to him about his day, about stupid things that don't even matter except when he gets to tell Cas about them. He misses watching TV with Cas or reading next to him while Cas plays a dumb game on his phone, he misses Cas stroking his hair distractedly while Dean falls asleep on his lap. He misses lazy Sundays in bed, he misses late night showers and early mornings, he misses kisses that taste like coffee and toast. He misses missing the end of movies because Cas got bored and decided that distracting Dean would be so much more fun.

He misses sex that isn't rushed, or tired, or says I'm sorry I came home so late again. He misses even the stupidest things, like grocery shopping or buying toilet paper or going to the mall to buy ice cream in the middle of winter and letting Cas drag him to three different pet shops. He misses Cas smiling, and laughing, and not looking so goddamn exhausted all the time.

Because that's the worst thing - watching Castiel be miserable. Watching him drag himself out of bed every morning, grumble around his cup of coffee, huff as he puts on his tie. Feeling the tension in his shoulder when Dean tries to massage the knots out of them. He hates that "long" is the only answer he gets when he asks Cas how his day was. He hates that Cas apparently hates this as much as he does, even if he doesn't say it.

But Dean can’t complain, he can't add to how miserable Castiel already is. At least tonight Castiel is here, and that has to be enough.

Things hit a new rock bottom when Castiel announces that he's going away on a business trip. He'll be leaving town for three days - Friday night to Monday night - which is longer than they've been apart ever since they started dating. Since they've met, actually.

And it shouldn't be a big deal, because they're adults and they can handle being in two different cities for a few days, but Cas' mood goes from bad to abysmal in the weeks preceding the trip. He still keeps repeating that he doesn't have a choice, that he needs to go make his pitch to corporate if he wants a chance in the running.

Castiel sighs and grumbles about it for the tenth time tonight and Dean can't keep his mouth shut anymore. He takes out his earbud, stops the movie and turns towards Cas, sitting next to him on the couch.

"You don't have to." 

"Do you think I have a choice?" Cas frowns, looking up from his paperwork. "If I don't go, I lose this promotion, Dean. I lose everything I've been working toward for fifteen years."

Dean gets up. He grabs his laptop and starts to walk away.

"Everything that's been making you miserable for fifteen years, but whatever."

"And exactly what else am I supposed to do? Be a VP for the rest of my life?"

Dean turns around when he reaches the door. Cas' cheeks have heated up, but he still looks so goddamn tired, his hair sticking out in tufts and his eyes bleak. He sees no issue to this, that's obvious. Now Dean just feels guilty for bringing it up.

"No. 'S not what I'm saying."

"Not everyone gets to do what they love," Cas calls out. "We can't all have that luxury."

Dean doesn't answer and goes to take a long, hot shower. The water burns his skin and it hurts. But not as much as Cas' words. He gets it - he's lucky to be studying in a field he's passionate about. But it's not like he didn't sacrifice a lot for it. He took a lot of his classes online, and worked full time on top of school even when he went on campus. He took jobs he wishes he hadn't.

And yeah. Now he lives in his boyfriend's luxurious condo and pays a rent that probably barely cover the hot water. But Cas was the one who asked him to move in. Cas was the one who insisted he quit his job at the firm to focus on school. Cas was the one who said: "I don't need your money, Dean. I need you. I want you." Cas was the one who hated the fact that they were apart so much and wanted Dean in his bed every night.

Dean drops on his back in said bed, rubs his eyes, and lets out a long sigh. Fighting with Cas is the worst. It doesn't happen often, but these past few months have been... Just, bad, on all accounts.

His gaze falls on the framed HR contract hanging on the wall above his head. Castiel's gift to him when he moved in. A reminder. A promise.

Cas didn't just want Dean in his bed. He wanted Dean in his life.

Now it doesn't seem to matter as much.

The floorboards creak. Castiel is standing in the doorframe. He looks so tired. And old. Their age gap has never been an obstacle between them, never been more than something they tease each other about from time to time, but tonight Cas really looks... he looks ancient, he looks hundred and hundred of years old, and as tired as if he'd spent millennia doing paperwork and wasn't even halfway through.

"I'm sorry," he says. The crinkles around his eyes droop down. His blue irises are dark, the light extinguished. "What I said was unfair. I-"

"It's fine, Cas."

"It's not. You work so hard and-"

"Just c'mere."

Dean can't stand him looking so fucking sad and sorry so he stretches out his arm and gestures until Cas takes his hand. He almost falls on top of Dean and Dean embraces him, hugging him tight, until he's tucked under his chin and their bodies are tangled.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you said that."

Cas kisses him. Dean sighs into it. It feels like it's been a million years, even though he kissed him yesterday. Probably. Or was it Monday? Fuck. He doesn't even know.

His fingers card through Cas’ hair, who sighs happily. It's one a.m. and Cas' hands venture under Dean's shirt.

"Cas," Dean murmurs. He kisses the bolt of his jaw. "You should sleep. You're exhausted."

"Don't wanna sleep. Wanna be with you."

He's already slurring though, eyes closed and face smushed between the pillow and Dean's neck.

"I'm right here. I ain't going anywhere."

Cas' body goes lax at those words, like it's all he needed to hear.

"I love you," Cas murmurs, right before he falls asleep.

Cas is more careful around him for the rest of the week, and Dean doesn't bring up the subject again.

And what would Dean push for anyway? It's not like he has any fucking idea of what Cas would rather be doing. He's never talked about it. Maybe Cas doesn't know himself. Maybe that's what's so scary. Dean knows things that Cas likes - long walks in the forest to search for mushrooms (that he doesn't know how to cook to save his life, but that he enjoys picking anyway), going into libraries and looking at books, going into pet shops and looking at guinea pigs and rabbits and fishes, going to the farmer's market and smelling all the homemade soaps.

Doing any kind of shopping with him is endless, because he loves to just contemplate, to look at everything, to talk to the vendors, he loves to explore every last corner of every store - "maybe they got something new, Dean."

"S'not like you ever buy anything," Dean complains, every time. The guy never even treats himself to the things he likes. Dean's the one who goes back to buy him that soap that smelled "so lovely", that mug he held for a really long time before setting it back down with a sigh. Cas loves to look at plants, and has a couple in his office that he prunes and cherishes, but with the time he spends at home lately, it'd be useless to get him some for here. But Dean would've loved to buy him that orchid he spent half an hour admiring in that little shop they went by a few months ago.

Dean feels like maybe he should know. He should know what Cas' dreams are. Or if he has any.

Cas is set to leave on Friday afternoon, but still needs to go to the office in the morning. As usual, he leaves before Dean even wakes up. Dean had asked Cas to make an exception this time, but Cas doesn't, and writes him an apology note instead.

You seemed too peaceful. I hate waking you up. Have a good weekend, I love you.

Dean will be in class all afternoon, which means that he'll miss Cas when he comes home to pack.

He hates this.

He hates that he didn't get a goodbye kiss, and he should love Cas for caring so much, for this tenderness - but he hates him for not wanting to kiss him enough to wake him up instead.

By some miracle, Dean's afternoon class gets cancelled. Giddy, he decides to call Cas' office. Maybe they can have dinner when he comes home to pack. Maybe they can have a little down time at home, take a nap together before Cas gets on a plane to the other side of the country.

Alfie answers the phone, chirpy as always.

“Mr Novak's office - Oh, hi Dean! Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Novak’s in a meeting.”

Dean grits his teeth at the faked sadness of Alfie's tone. 

“Right. Of course he is.”

“I’m sure he’d rather be with you,” Alfie offers.

Dean closes his eyes. Sometimes, when Cas is at the office until ungodly hours, he wonders. He wonders if it's really China, or Japan, or meetings, or reports, or that fucking promotion, or if maybe - maybe it's the cute ass of his new assistant that keeps him there.

It's dumb and petty, given the fact that Cas has never given him a reason to doubt him. But he just can't help it. After all, Cas fell for his cute assistant once. Could happen again.

“It’s fine - just, uh, can you just tell him I got off early? So I'll be home when he comes to pack. He can call me if he wants to.”

"Oh." Something in Alfie's tone ticks Dean off. That boy always sounds like he's guilty of something. "Okay. Um, I'll make sure he calls you."

“Just tell him I'm home.”

The phone rings about an hour later.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“You didn’t have to call.”

“My meeting is over. Finally.”

Dean hears the deep, exhausted sigh on the other end of the line. For the hundredth time, he wonders why Cas is working so hard for that promotion. If he does get to higher management, meetings like this are all he’s going to be doing. All day, every day. And he knows it.

“Right. Well, my class this afternoon got cancelled. I'm home, so, when you come to pack, maybe we could grab dinner or-"

"Oh." The silence that follows is like a blog to Dean's gut. "I - I'm already packed. My suitcase is here."

"You're not coming back?"

Dean only realizes he had hope when it all comes crashing down at his feet.

"I'm sorry. I won't have time, we're leaving earlier than I originally thought. I didn't think it mattered since you'd be in class..."

"Right."

Dean breathes out through his nose. Closes his eyes.

"D'you have any time until you leave? I could come by."

"I'm afraid I'm buried in paperwork."

Or buried in your assistant's ass.

"Okay. Well, uh. Have a good trip, then."

Dean hears Cas saying something through the speaker as he hangs up. It's rude, he knows. He should have said more - I love you, I'll miss you. But he couldn't. And it's not because he started crying. His eyes are wet and his throat is closed up because he's allergic to phone calls. That's all.

Cas had warned Dean that he was going to be busy this weekend. That he'd be in and out of meetings and conferences, preparing for his pitch, making contacts and probably spending his slim free time catching up on sleep.

Still, Dean grows increasingly frustrated on Friday night and Saturday morning as Castiel takes hours to respond to his texts with short, monosyllabic answers. Cas told him not to do the thing they usually do because he'd constantly be surrounded by colleagues, and accidentally opening dick pics during a meeting would definitely cost him the promotion. So he could at least reward Dean's efforts at PG texting by something else besides fine , ;) , or you too.

On Saturday night, Dean decides that he's done sulking around. The bed is cold, the house is empty. And there's no else that Dean really wants to talk to, but obviously Cas has better things to do. More important things to do. Work things, colleague things. Naughty skype calls to his assistant, who the fuck knows. Whatever it is, it matters more than answering Dean's texts, that's obvious.

It's been a while since Dean has gone out. "Going out" may be a bit much for just dinner with his brother and Jessica, but it's something, at least, it's getting him out of the condo where the scent of their empty home stifles him. Dean turns off his phone to avoid the temptation of checking for notifications.

He has a life too. The chair next to his at the dinner table feels empty, but since when has he become the kind of guy who needs someone else to feel complete? He doesn't even know when it happened.

When Sam suggests going out for drinks with some of his college friends, Dean says yes. He doesn't actually want to but it beats going home alone. He loves his brother to death, but his friends are young, and loud, and Dean doesn't know them or care to. He just needs to do something besides think about the fact that Cas is probably too busy to think about him.

Dean collapses on the bed at two a.m., not drunk enough, mildly sobered by a tall glass of water.

He turns his phone back on.

He has five missed calls.

From Cas.

"Hello?"

Cas' voice is slurred with sleep. Shit. Dean didn't think about anything before pressing the call button, he just -

"Cas? You okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine." He hears shuffling, a sigh, a groan. "What's going on?"

"You - you called me five times."

"Oh. Yes. I was trying to catch you before you went to bed. Didn't you get my messages?"

"Oh. Um. No." Dean rubs his face with his fingers. Presses them into his eyes. "Sorry. I was out with Sam, my phone was off," Dean attempts to explain, an excuse for waking up his boyfriend at two a.m. when he probably has to be awake again in a few hours to do very boring and important things.

"That's good," Castiel says. "I'm glad you had some fun. How is Sam?"

"He's fine, I - shit. 'M sorry I woke you."

Dean should have undressed. His clothes stick to his skin, heavy, uncomfortable. He's not really drunk anymore, he drank slowly and without a point, not really keeping up with the others. The result is a not-quite headache and just... heaviness. Tiredness.

"I'll let you sleep," he mumbles, because Cas is probably even more exhausted than he is.

"No, please. It's fine," Cas says, and somehow it really seems to be. His voice sounds more upbeat, Dean can almost hear the smile through it. "It's really good to hear your voice."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Warmth spreads through Dean's chest and he breathes a little better.

"I feel like we've been apart forever already."

"Yeah," Dean murmurs. "I know."

He puts the phone on speaker and wiggles out of his jeans, and then slides under the covers with a sigh. That's much better. All he's missing is Cas, and the way his arm curls around Dean's chest, the weight of his thighs between his own.

"I didn't remember how lonely and cold it is to fall asleep alone."

"Yeah," Dean scoffs. "I know."

He didn't mean for it to sound like that - like a reproach. But it does, a little bit.

"I'm sorry," Castiel says. "I-"

"I didn't mean..." Dean inhales deeply.

Maybe he did. Maybe he did mean it like that.

"Hopefully, it will be over soon."

Dean's very tired. And an idiot. And he's in love, and he's lonely, and he has always wanted more, more than what he deserves, more than what's given. More than he should ever get.

"What will, Cas? Meetings that run long, video-calls to Japan until midnight, business trips to the other side of the country? That - if you get this promotion, that's all you'll be doing. Forever."

All that Dean can hear is you're such an asshole on a loop in his mind.

"There will be a very nice salary compensation," Cas explains, slowly. "And after your diploma, we could relocate, anywhere you'd like, anywhere you get a job. With this promotion I can move easily, corporate has offices all over the country. This opens many so doors for us. I could buy us a house, and you wouldn't have to worry about anything-"

"Buy us a house?" Dean's voice comes out as a croak. "We don't - why the Hell do we need a house?"

"Because you want one," Cas replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"I - when did I - I never asked for a house!"

"When we took that walk down to the river bank a few months ago, we saw those gorgeous houses and we stopped and you... You said you'd always dreamed of a victorian house with a tower for a reading nook."

"I - Cas -"

"And whenever we drive to the farmer's market, you always look at the houses on Peach Lane. The tall yellow one with the white window shutters. And the blue one with the balcony with all the flowers. I see how you look at them. We don't even have a yard. Our balcony is too small for a table. We could have a back porch, so you could hang a hammock and read during the summer, and we could grow some vegetables in the garden."

Dean is speechless.

"Cas, I never asked you to buy me a fucking house."

Dean can hear Castiel frown on the other end of the line.

"I know. I-"

"It was just talks. Dreams. One day, I - maybe, but not now. And not - I didn't mean - I never meant-"

I never meant buy me a fucking house, idiot.

"I just want you to have everything you need. Everything you want."

"I do. For fuck's sake, I already do, Cas."

All that Dean can hear is Cas breathing.

"Look," Dean says, because Cas isn't saying a damn word. "If this is really what you want - if this job is what's gonna make you happy, if you - if you want this, then do it. Go get 'em, and all that. And I promise I'm-"

Dean closes his eyes. He can do this. If the asshole can plan his whole life around buying Dean a house, because he thought it was his dream, then Dean can support him no matter what.

"I'm not gonna sulk anymore. And I'm not gonna complain about the hours and the business trips and the paperwork and- I promise, I'll be good. I'm with you all the way, I-"

"Dean, you've been extraordinary the past few months. You've endured me in a state that I can't even begin to apologize for."

"Don't. Just promise me you're doing this for yourself, alright? 'Cause you deserve to be happy. I just - I want you to be happy. And I don't need a freaking house."

"Alright."

Dean’s whole body sags in relief.

"Do you really think we can do this?" Cas asks after a short silence. "If I take this promotion, do you really - think we can make it work?"

"Yeah," Dean lies. "We'll make it work. I'll fly out to surprise you in your hotel rooms with the sluttiest underwear. I'll bring you dinner at work and we'll eat at your desk and you'll complain that we're making a mess." Dean hears Cas let out a little scoff. "I'll sneak into your office and give you blowjobs during conference calls and I'll be your really hot date to all those super elite black tie things business people go to. And you'll fuck me in the bathroom and I'll lose my bowtie and everyone'll know, but we won't care. How's that sound?"

Cas laughs. It's deep and warm, unretained, and it's been a long time since Dean's heard that noise.

"We'll make it work," he repeats, and he's starting to believe it himself.

Cas falls silent again, but Dean can picture him, smiling to himself.

"And what if I don't take it?"

"Cas, as long as you do what you wanna do, and as long as it makes you happy, we'll be fine."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Thank you, Dean."

Dean would give anything to see him right now. To touch him, run his fingers through Cas' hair, kiss the worried lines on his forehead. Feel him shiver as he'd let himself drift to sleep.

"I love you," Cas murmurs. "It doesn't feel like quite enough right now, but I guess it'll have to do."

"Good enough. I love you too."

Dean hears shuffling - probably Cas moving around in his bed. Dean does the same, getting comfortable.

"Time to sleep, maybe?" Dean yawns. "You gotta be getting up early tomorrow."

"Yes. What are you wearing right now?"

"Jesus, Cas, you serious?"

"Very."

Dean chuckles, but indulges him anyway.

"Hey, babe," Dean smiles, phone tucked against his shoulder.

He's been feeling giddy all morning, despite the fact that Cas is still not going to be home for two days. A weight has been lifted off his shoulders since their conversation last night and he woke up this morning without even the whiff of a headache.

He doesn't know what Cas plans to do about the promotion but it doesn't matter. For the first time in months, Dean feels like things are going be okay.

"What are you doing today?" Castiel asks. His voice is pleasant, teasing almost - he has something in mind, obviously.

"Nothing much. Might try 'n write a little. You? Lots of meetings?"

"I was actually thinking about coming home early. Catching a flight this afternoon."

Dean's heart leaps in his chest. He presses the phone against his ear. "Yeah? What about your pitch tomorrow?"

"I moved some things around."

Dean bites his lip to refrain the wide smile splitting his face in half. "That means I'll be seeing you today?"

"Yes. In just a few hours, if I play my cards right."

"Awesome." That's an understatement. Dean's heart is fluttering wildly in his chest. "Can't wait."

The bedroom isn't cold, per se, but Dean's been laying on the bed wearing nothing but very delicate panties, garters, thigh-highs and a lacy bra for hours, and he's starting to shiver.

Cas is late. His plane was supposed to have landed hours ago.

It’s getting dark out. Dean could move under the covers or put on a hoodie, but it would feel like giving up. He had this planned out. Cas was supposed to come home to this perfect surprise to end this shitty couple of months they've been having, but now... it's getting ruined. Again.

He's texted Cas a few times, but Cas hasn't answered. Dean even called, once. Castiel's phone is off. Either he's still on the plane, or he ran out of battery.

Or he turned off his phone. On purpose.

Dean shouldn’t be mad. Has no reason to. Cas moved everything around on his big important weekend to come back earlier, for him. For them.

He was delayed, that’s all. Maybe a meeting ran long. Maybe he decided that he needed to stay a little longer after all and didn’t have time to text Dean. It’s probably just something at the airport, and Dean’s an idiot for doubting him.

Cas loves him. He loves him, he's proved it to him over and over and over and Dean’s an idiot for laying in this bed in frilly, overpriced lingerie and getting cold but not wanting to put on something in case Cas miraculously gets here.

It’s just, if Cas was delayed at the airport, he would find a way to call, right? Or text.

And if he did push back his flight because of a meeting, he should have told him. Should have known that Dean would be waiting. Unless he didn't have time, unless he didn't think-

Or unless he's somewhere else, right now. In a motel somewhere between here and the airport, with the cute perky little assistant he missed so much after so many days apart...

Cas isn’t fucking his assistant. Well, he did. He used to. When Dean was the assistant. But he's not anymore. That’s stupid. That’s Dean’s stupid brain working on not enough sleep and three months of derailment.

It’s just that Dean would've thought he'd have texted by now, that’s all.

Dean startles out his half-sleep when the bedroom door slowly creaks open.

“Dean?”

His voice. Low rumble, hushed, testing whether or not he’s asleep.

"Hey. C'mon in."

“I am so sorry," Castiel says as his socked feet pad on the wooden floor. "We landed an hour late because of the weather, then it took two more hours before we could get out of the plane because other flights had gotten delayed, and then going through security took another hour and my phone was dead and I forgot my charger at the hotel and - oh.”

Dean stirs, opening his eyes to find his boyfriend at the foot of the bed, haloed by the yellow light of the hallway. His hair is sticking out like a paintbrush and his suit is wrinkled and rumpled, like he's been on a plane for - well, hours. He looks exhausted, but different than when he left. Softer around the edges.

His blue eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Dean sprawled out on their bed, the magenta lace clinging to his skin like it was made for it.

“Oh,” he breathes out again.

“Hey, Cas.”

Dean rolls onto his stomach, hugging the pillow under his head and grinding his hips once, lazily, just to accentuate the way the lace curves around his ass and how fucking nice garters look around his thighs.

“Oh. I - I didn’t think you were… waiting for me.”

‘Course I fucking was , Dean thinks. Instead, he shrugs. He’s too happy to see Cas, too relieved that he’s finally here, to start another squabble.

“Wasn’t. Just chillin’”

He hears a ruffle of fabric, a blazer falling to the floor.

“Can I…?”

“Yeah, get in here, c’mon.”

Dean tries not to shiver when Castiel’s body covers his own, firm, warm, here , finally. Cas' lips find the bend of his shoulder, pressing a long kiss there, his hands splay out and roam over the expense of skin underneath him.

“Dean…”

Dean hums, baring his neck for Castiel's teeth, pressing up against the taunt body above him, enjoying the stiffness he can already feel growing against his ass. Castiel smells like hotel soap and too much deodorant, but days away still haven’t washed off his scent of vanilla and pomegranate shampoo. It’s Cas, and he’s back, pushing Dean into the mattress as he slowly grinds down on him. His mouth is leaving sloppy, wet kisses on a path from one shoulder to another, and his hands part Dean’s thighs to settle between them, fingers hooking under the hem of his panties as they make their way up.

“Christ, Dean,” Cas growls. His teeth catch on the lobe of his ear.

“Missed me?”

Castiel stops moving. His nose brushes on the back of Dean’s neck. His lips too. He moves forward, until he can press warm, deliberate kisses on Dean’s cheeks, tender and soft, as his fingers find Dean’s hands. He squeezes tight.

“Yes. Very much so.”

Dean laughs a little bit, silently, fingers grazing through Cas’ hair. He’s here. He’s back. And he missed him.

“Looks like you missed me too, giving the welcome I’m getting.”

Cas gently coaxes Dean to turn around with firm hands on his hips, and Dean can’t but go willingly.

His heart skips a beat when their eyes meet, when he falls into the swirl of ocean blue above him. It's sparkling with something Dean hasn't seen in a while. Joy. He wraps his arms around Cas' neck and hooks his legs around his waist, brings him down for a long-awaited kiss.

It's a little sad, maybe, a little I'm sorry and I've missed you as Cas presses into Dean's lips with long, warm, insistent touches. But it's happy, too. It's I'm so glad you're here as Dean playfully nibbles on Cas' lower lip, as he opens up and meets Cas' tongue, hesitant but eager. It's welcome home as they both moan into it, deepening the kiss and panting into each other's mouth.

“Just thought you’d like the surprise,” Dean finally says when they pull apart, both out of breath.

He begins unbuttoning Cas’ shirt, his relief growing with every button being pushed out of its hole. Cas mouth at his throat, nibbling and suckling, leaving behind a red trail that will soon fade. Dean feels like he can’t pull at Cas’ shirt fast enough, can’t push it past his shoulders and off of him quickly enough.

He breathes in relief when he can palm at the warm muscles of Cas’ shoulders, slide his hands down the curve of his spine,  settle down on the small of his back.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just. Get naked.”

“I will,” Cas smiles, white and a little blinding, entirely breathtaking. “I’m savouring.”

Dean whimpers as Cas’ tongue trails down his chest, leaving his wet skin too cool for the air around it. He arches when Cas latches on his right nipple, sucking it into his mouth through the lace. He wets the fabric, rubs his lips over and over on the hardening flesh. Dean grabs a fistful of Cas’ hair, bucks, whines. Cas bites through it and Dean almost loses it. His nails dig into the meat of Cas' shoulder, he grinds up, his cock leaking, still trapped in his panties.

Castiel moves to the left, giving the same treatment to his other nipple, until Dean's legs shake and he's desperately rubbing his cock on Cas' thigh.

"Babe, babe, c'mon, c'mon, please."

"You look so good in lace."

Cas' voice is wrecked with arousal and Dean groans. Both of his nipples are dark, stiff. Matching the ensemble.

Cas' cheeks are pink, too, his mouth swollen and flushed. His eyes are limpid, like a pool on a hot summer day.

He's gorgeous. He kisses Dean's skin reverently.

Dean wants to say something. I'm sorry. I love you. I love you so much that I-

But Castiel's palm presses down on his cock, giving him some much needed friction, and he moans instead. Cas strokes him through the satiny fabric and the wet spot grows twice as big.

"Babe, please, c'mon."

Dean tugs at Castiel's belt, attempts to slip it of out its loop. But Castiel's kisses on his neck, on his cheeks, on his mouth, the nibbles on his jaw, the fucking hickey right below his ear, are making it hard to focus.

The best he can do is unzip him and sink his hand down, awkwardly trying to wrap around his length. Cas' cock brushes against his wrist, smears precum on his skin. He's so hard but his skin is soft, and Dean knows what he tastes like, what he feels like, in his mouth, in his ass, against his stomach or between his thighs.

Cas is hard and it's for him, just for him, just for Dean - because of Dean. This is his . Cas’ palm on his cheeks, thumb on his jaw, tilting his head up to kiss up and down his neck like he’s so hungry for it. For him. Dean nuzzles into the soft locks of Cas' hair and inhales the perfume of his conditioner, pomegranate and vanilla, the shampoo he knows because he sees it every day in the shower. Their shower, their home, their life. This is his.

Dean doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. Why, when Cas kisses him again, Dean grabs him by the back of the neck and kisses back hard, surging up to meet him. He bites into Cas' lower lip, tugs, soothes with his tongue before licking into his mouth. He meets Cas hungry and demanding, leaving them both out of breath with swollen lips.

“Baby,” Cas growls against his mouth. His chest heaves, his fingers dig in Dean’s skin, pulling, gripping. His cock smears in Dean’s hand.

His teeth sink in Dean’s shoulders, his hands part Dean’s thighs around his waist. He moves down Dean’s body, mouth ghosting around the shape of his cock, wetting the tented fabric.

“Cas.” Dean’s nails graze his skin, pull at his hair. "Please."

"So beautiful," Cas pants. His lips are moving right above the head of Dean's cock, brushing on the lace. Dean makes a wanton sound and his hips would stutter if both of Cas' hands weren't pining him down to the mattress. "Looks so good on you, Dean. I can't wait to watch you ruin them."

Dean doesn't want to pause, but he does anyway.

"They were kinda expensive. Maybe we should try to be careful. So I can wear them again?"

Cas' eyes turn a shade darker. He leans over, trailing kisses up from Dean's navel to his sternum.

"No," he says when he finally meets Dean's gaze again. There's a challenge in his eyes. "I want to see them ruined by your pleasure. I want them soaking in it."

Dean whimpers. Fuck. Cas was always awesome at dirty talk - and fuck he's got the voice designed for it - but he keeps one-upping himself.

"I'll buy you a new set," Cas promises, kissing the uncertainty off Dean’s lips. Then he kisses his cheek, his jaw, his temple. "I'll buy you one for each day of the week. You deserve nothing less."

Dean's skin flushes under the attention. Cas' weight is warm on his cock, and his words are even warmer in his ears.

"You know," Cas murmurs, pensively, pulling back a little. "If I'd taken that promotion, I could have bought you a set of expensive, silk lingerie for every single day of the year."

Dean frowns.

"If?"

Cas looks down at him, uncertain. "I didn't... move things around. I just left. I'm not pitching for the promotion."

Dean chews his lower lip and tries not to smile too wide. He doesn't want to look too pleased.

"Okay," he murmurs. "How d'you feel?"

Cas tilts his head to the side, like he does when he ponders. He considers Dean, considers the question, as if he hadn't even thought about it before.

"Good, I think."

Dean's fingers caress the hair on the nape of his neck. "Good."

Cas turns a little, catches his wrist with his hand. Then kisses each finger, one by one. "Yes. good."

This time the kiss on Dean's lips is everything sweet. So is the kiss much further down, when Cas parts his legs and moves the slip of silk to the side. Then it's everything wet and warm and soft, and Dean surrenders. He always does, with Cas.

"Do you want-?"

"Yes, please."

The lube is uncapped, squeezed onto Castiel's fingers.

The way he looks at Dean - the reverence, the adoration. How could Dean ever doubt him?

Dean stifles his moan into the pillow as Cas pushes a finger inside. He cants his hips, needy, already wanting more than what is given. But who can blame him, when his boyfriend's got the most gorgeous hands in the world, sinful fingers that render him weak and helpless and aching with every single touch? Nothing is ever enough.

Cas' mouth ghosts over his cock again. His breath wets the fabric. He sucks at the taste Dean's leaked.

"Fuck, Cas-"

"More?"

Dean nods frantically. He pushes back against both fingers, rolls his hips to get them deeper. He barely remembers the last time Castiel touched him. Really touched him.

Quick blowjobs in the shower on the night before he left. Barely feels like it counts. They both just wanted to go to sleep.

The sound Castiel lets out vibrates against Dean's pelvis, warm gush of hair wrapping around his cock. His fingers slip in out and easily, in a quick, wet sound, as Dean slams back against them.

"P-please, Cas."

Dean's eyes roll back at the stretch of three.

He has dildos, he has toys. Brought them over when he moved in. They use them sometimes. Dean uses them on his own also. But recently, it just felt wrong.

It only reminded him that Cas wasn't there, that Cas was choosing not to be there. Dean feels selfish now, as his boyfriend lays adoring kisses on his skin, as he grips his thighs and encourages him to move, murmuring endless praises as Dean rocks his hips back against the fingers creating such a bliss inside of him.

Dean was selfish, to think he had to be the number one priority in Cas' life. That Cas didn't love him if he wasn't thinking about him constantly, if he had other things on his mind, other goals, other - that just because he put work first, for a few months, it meant that-

Dean's breath hitches. His eyes water. Fuck. Fuck.

"Cas-"

"Dean?"

Cas' fingers slip out and he wipes them on the sheets. He moves up, his body covers Dean's, cradles him.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah-"

Dean cups Cas' cheek, rubs his palm on the stubble Cas didn't shave this morning. Cas' lips press on his eyelids, on his cheeks, on the corner of his mouth. Dean helps him out of his pants, finally.

He shouldn't be shaking like this. Cas grabs his hand, squeezes it between his fingers. brings it to his mouth. Frowns.

"Dean?"

Dean tucks his head into the warm, soft skin where Cas' neck meets his shoulder.

"'m okay."

"Do you want to stop?"

"No-" Dean wraps his palm around Cas' neck and strokes. Somehow that relaxes him, to have him like this. Their ankles hook around each others, chests and stomachs pressed warm.

"What is it?"

It takes Dean a moment, a moment of Cas' hand moving up and down his spine, gently catching at the bristle hair behind his neck. A moment to push past the swelling in his throat.

"Did you not get the promotion because of me? Is it my fault?"

"Your fault?" Cas creases his eyes. Tilts his head. His lips find Dean's neck while he ponders his answer. "How could it be your fault?"

"'Cause I didn't want you to take it."

"That's not what you told me. Quite the opposite, actually." He pulls back a little, is thumb brushes on Dean's lower lip. He considers him with curiosity. "You told me that I should, if I wanted to."

"Yeah but - you didn't. You were going to, and we talked, and then you didn't."

"Dean." Cas smiles, of a little, secret smile, like he understands things Dean doesn't. "The only reason I was after that promotion was because I thought it was what I ought to do. I thought that it was expected of me. By me, and by... you. Even though I shouldn't have, because we'd never talked about it, and obviously you didn't. But I thought you might want... certain things, one day, and that that promotion was the only sure way of giving those to you. Of assuring, in a certain way, a selfish way, I suppose, that you might be tempted to stay."

Dean's mouth falls open.

Dozens of emotions battle through him - surprise, disbelief, hurt, anger, a bubbly kind of laughter.  Does Cas - did Cas - did he think-? Dean struggles a little out of Castiel's embrace.

"Cas, do you think I'm a gold digger?"

Cas' cheeks turn pink. Very pink.

"No. Not - I know you have feelings for me. I know you love me," Cas adds quickly as Dean lets out a huff of indignation. "But I - when you moved in, to this bigger home, and quit working full time to focus on school, and could afford to actually let yourself relax and enjoy your life, I saw... I saw a change in you. You seemed..." Cas smiles, thoughtful, soft. "-happier. And I want to make you happy like that, always. I want to provide for you so that you can do what truly makes you happiest in life. And I wanted that promotion because I wanted to know that I'd always be able to give you everything you'd need."

"You're such an idiot."

The words come out of Dean's mouth before he can think to stop them.

"Excuse me?"

Well, too late now. Cas deserves to know anyway.

"It was you."

Castiel’s face creases in confusion.

"The reason I was so damn happy when we moved in. The reason I've been so fucking happy since. It was you , Cas, it was being with you, being around you. Being in love with you. I've never been this fucking happy in my entire life but it's not because of your goddamn condo or your goddamn money. Idiot. It's you."

"Oh."

Dean moves into Castiel's arms again, kissing the frown off his lips. "You're such an idiot," he mumbles for the third time. "Y'know, Kant's never been the one making me sing and dance during breakfast. Think my face hurts from smiling because of fucking Rousseau, Cas? Think he's the one giving me all the butterflies?"

"I-" Cas' face flushes red. He hides in the pillow, his hand keeping Dean pressed against him. "I suppose I never considered that I was..."

Dean searches for Castiel's eyes. "Enough?"

Cas looks down. "Yes."

"Jesus, Cas. You're..."

You're the love of my life.

"You're really an idiot."

Cas huffs and rolls his eyes. Dean's not good at this. Not good at emotions in the first place, not good at talking about this. He's never done this before. And he's the one who's freaking out, here. He's the one who is in way over his head, who's in love with a guy who's so fucking beyond his station that obviously, obviously at some point he's gonna realize it.

This wasn't supposed to happen. But then again, given the way their relationship started, he really shouldn't wonder about Cas surprising him anymore.

Cas, who's smiling and more beautiful than anything Dean's ever seen. Some heat has fallen, but the slow way Castiel's fingers are running on Dean's skin is awakening it again. The caress of his lips is deliberate. Cas looks so happy, Dean thinks, as he runs a hand through his hair, and arches a little bit against him. He doesn't remember the last time Cas looked like this, the last time he smiled like this, with those little wrinkles around his eyes and the dimples in his cheeks. The smile that makes his eyes gleam in the darkness like jewels in the light.

How could you think you weren't enough , Dean wants to scream. You're everything.

All it takes for Dean to get hard again is Castiel's body moving above him, his mouth on his neck, fingers grazing through his hair. He hears the faster, deeper breaths Castiel takes as their cocks line up, rubbing together a few times. He feels Cas' chest heave underneath his fingers. Then he moves, parting Dean's legs again.

"I'm sorry for doubting you," Cas murmurs as he hooks his fingers on the lace again to push it out of the way. 

He slides his cock between Dean's cheeks, where it catches again and again on his hole. Dean whines, squirms. His mind is fuzzy, his body clenches around the emptiness.

"Cas- c'mon."

"I should have never doubted your love for me. Or your motivations."

"'s fin- ah, please, just -" Dean arches, lets out a breathy moan of relief when Cas' cock finally fills him up. He was was stretched a little too quickly and it burns in the most delicious way. "Fuck."

"Sometimes I'm just..." Cas bottoms down and Dean's mind spins around it. "Scared that I'm not enough for you."

Cas' mouth latches on his neck, stomach resting hot on his lace-clad dick.

"That's fucking ironic," Dean mumbles, a little dizzy with relief and pleasure, as Cas begins moving with slow thrusts.

It feels so good, so fucking good to finally get this - not just Cas inside of him, but Cas touching him, kissing him, taking care of him in that slow, sweet way he does sometimes, that makes Dean want to cry. His thighs open loosely around Cas' waist, his fingers slip on the sweaty skin of Cas back.

"Ironic?"

Dean can hear the beginning of a strain in Cas’ voice, possibly coming from the way Dean clenches around him every time he thrusts in deeper.

"Y-yeah."

Dean doesn't elaborate. He makes a keening sound and grips tighter into Cas' shoulders, fucking his hips back against him, mouth slack at the bend of his neck. Fuck, feels so good. So fucking good. To be here, with him, again. His love, again.

"Why?"

Dean doesn't answer. He shouldn't have said anything. He doesn't know why he did, how come that thought escaped his lips. He tries kissing Cas to distract him but it doesn't work for long, and suddenly Castiel stops moving, pulling back to look him in the eyes. He's frowning.

"Tell me."

Dean rolls his eyes and his hips, looking for a friction that isn't there anymore.

"C'mon, Cas-"

"Finish your thought. Please."

"'Cause, you're-" Jesus, now it's Dean who's flushed red from head to toe. He bites into his lip. Avoids Cas' inquiring gaze. He really should've kept his mouth shut, but Cas' cock doesn't just shove open his ass, apparently. "You're everything to me," he finally mumbles. Right there against the shell of Castiel's hear, a secret he's held in too long. Maybe Cas won't understand what it means, exactly. What Dean means when he says those words. "And I'm - I'm your fucking midlife crisis. So it's really fucking ironic that you - that you're scared you're not enough for me, or whatever."

Dean tries to brush it off, but it's hard with Cas looking at him like that, with his eyes so dark like freezing oceans.

He tries to move again, but Castiel won't budge. He's a bit shorter than Dean but he's larger and heavier, and he's got him pinned down.

"Cas-"

"You think you're my midlife crisis?"

Dean tries to shrug. He knows that Cas loves him, he just-

"Dean. The circumstances in which we met were... maybe a bit cliché, I'll grant you, but I'm pretty sure I'd have to be at least forty for this to qualify as a midlife crisis."

"Third of a life crisis, then," Dean attempts. He gives Cas a smile, tries to lighten the mood.

"That's not a thing."

Dean rolls his eyes. Castiel's frown turns into a smile and leans over to kiss Dean, very softly. His hips move again, waking up sensations inside of Dean that he'd almost forgotten. Oh, right, they were doing that.

"How about third of a life bliss?"

Dean huffs, both because of that statement and from the breath being fucked out of him a little bit.

"That ain't a thing either, but fine."

Cas' pace is slow, barely a warm up, but it drags his cock in and out of Dean deliciously, catching at his rim, sending shivers like ripples underneath his skin.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you?"

Dean lifts his hips, moving with Cas. He used to hate slow rhythms like this, the intimacy it created. Cas was the first person he really allowed this kind of lovemaking with. Now he misses it when they don't have time. When they don't make time.

"'Cause I sent you really good dick pics?"

Cas huffs, his hips giving a little punishing snap. "No," he growls. "You know I had noticed you long before that."

"Right. You did say that. Something about me being cute and having good references."

Cas' fingers tug at his hair, Dean hisses a little bit at the sting. It makes him squeeze so hard around Cas' cock that he arches and groans.

"Actually," Cas says, delighted to be finally telling this story, and of the effect his little game is having on Dean, "I fell in love with you on a day during which I was quite irritated with you." He grinds his hips deep inside of Dean until Dean shudders, parting his thighs wide and letting out a sigh. "You were slacking off. You weren't filling out the forms you were supposed to, were giving me my messages thirty minutes late. Took you an hour to get me coffee, and you got the order wrong."

Dean can't reply for a minute, too lost in the way Cas' tongue explores his mouth thoroughly.

"So, usual day." Dean attempts to sound breezy, but it's difficult with Cas' cock aiming for his prostate at every thrust.

The next one is harsher, the bed creaking under them as Cas drives them both into the mattress. His stomach rolls on Dean's cock, trapping it tightly into the precum soaked lace, and Dean whines in Castiel's mouth.

"No. You were a good assistant, most of the time. But not that day. So I did something..." Cas worries his lower lip. He bends down to kiss Dean, pondering. "Iffy?"

"You, the guy who made me sign a twelve pages HR contract before you fucked me, did something iffy?"

"Yes. I have a device in my computer that allows me to see everything my assistant does on their desktop. Kind of like what some parents use to violate their children's privacy."

"Damn, Cas."

Cas thrusts into him, slow, lazy. He sucks a hickey on Dean's neck.

"It turns out that the thing that was so distracting for you that day was a very heated argument on the internet with someone called PissMyTaterTot69 about politics, and, well, philosophy."

Dean groans, and this time the heat on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cock driving slowly inside of him. "Oh. Yeah. I remember him. Should've never engaged with that asshole. Wasted a whole fucking day-"

Cas's laughter shakes them both.

"Did you read all of it?" Dean groans.

"Yes. It was riveting."

Dean tries to hide his face in the pillow. Cas kisses his cheeks, his neck.

"You destroyed him. You quoted philosophers from Aristotle to Scanlon without pausing to breathe or drink coffee. You handed him his entire ass. In pieces."

Dean's chest shakes a little bit. "Kind of, yeah."

"I spent the whole day following that debate. And realizing that you might just be the most brilliant, hilarious, witty, thoughtful, intelligent, persistent, and determined person I'd ever seen."

Dean doesn't answer. He swallows thickly.

"Cas. Only a very peculiar type of idiot gets into political arguments with people called PissMyTaterTot69 on a meme forum."

"Yes, well. That may be true, but you also had such a cute ass."

Dean shoves him, but only a little bit. Cas is being very serious, and he kisses him, and it's entirely too soft, and it's not fair, because Dean is pinned down under 180 pounds of this and he can't escape.

"You were never just my assistant, Dean. You were someone I greatly admired and never thought I'd get. I'm an old, boring, middle management drone, and you're... the smartest, brightest, warmest person I've ever met. You've never not made me smile since the day I've met you, even if it was just a stupid pun about coffee or Mondays. You're... so much more than I deserve."

"S'not true."

Cas kisses him, and Dean clings, opens his mouth, asks for more. His legs are shaking. Cas is still inside of him, somehow, somehow he's managed to stay through all of that, all this insane, completely insane crazy talking.

Sometimes I love you so much I can't breathe , Dean thinks.

He looks at Cas, as his bitten lips, at the wild, adoring look in his eyes. Maybe Cas deserves to know some of the crazy stuff he thinks about, too. Maybe he can say it. Maybe it's okay.

"Sometimes I love you so much I-" he begins. It's harder than it looks.

"You what?" Cas' smile is soft. He gently nudges a finger under Dean's shin.

"S'like the wind gets knocked out of me."

There's that smile again. Breathtaking.

The roll of Cas' hips starts once more, slowly building up. Dean lets himself go, throws his head back.

"Dean," Cas pants. "Do you - can I-"

"Anything."

Dean didn't think that anything would mean Castiel slipping out of him, the emptiness and cold surrounding him. He finds Cas standing next to their dresser, rummaging in a drawer.

"What-"

Dean's question falls short when he watches Cas stretch out a rubber cock ring around his erection, nudging it right under his balls, where it tightens. Cas' eyes are full of fire as he climbs back into bed and spreads Dean's legs again.

"We're going to really make this beautiful underwear dirty."

Dean has only seen this look on Cas' face a handful of times, and he understands. But Cas still asks.

"You want to-?"

"Fuck yeah."

Cas knows exactly what to do. Knows how to bend Dean's legs up, how to seat himself inside of him at just the right angle. They lock eyes. Dean nods ever so slightly. Cas rocks his hips, slowly at first, shallow thrusts in and out. Breathy moans escape Dean's lips. He closes his eyes, the fireworks already starting to burst behind his eyelids.

Holy shit. Holy shit. This always makes him lose it - his arms start flailing, his mouth letting out insanely high-pitched moans, like he's getting murdered and not fucked into high heavens.

Which he is.

One day, Cas found a way he could fuck directly at Dean's prostate with his cock. And realized that he could, with a few skillful pounds, make him come apart entirely. He also found out that Dean's prostate could be stimulated over and over again and that he could come dry, barely spurting, his cock soft on his stomach, many times in a row.

It kind of made Castiel go crazy, especially when he saw how much Dean loved it.

They don't do it often. It has to precise and it's exhausting for both of them. But when Cas gets the idea in his mind, he becomes somewhat obsessed with pushing it further and further and... further.

Dean comes with a shout, two minutes and thirty seconds into Cas' steady aim at his prostate. Come gushes into his underwear, staining, sticking. It's gross and it's amazing. Cas keeps moving inside of him slowly, kissing his neck, his shoulder, his cheek.

He fucks him deeper now, just brushing over his prostate, letting him recover. He kisses Dean's lips, nibbles, and asks for permission again. Dean nods.

Cas fucks him hard. Fast. He's like a machine when he goes like this, his eyes are so focused, his mouth opened slack, his hair falling on his forehead. His chest glistens with sweat and his stomach rolls with effort.

He's so fucking beautiful Dean almost comes just from looking up at him, but the incessant pound at the most sensitive part of him is what does it. He's not even hard again yet but the pleasure comes from within, from Cas' cock ramming into his ass so hard and fast, from the slap of skin against the back of his thigh, from hitting that place inside of him so good - he cries out, a long whining haul, and curls up on himself.

He spurts a little, barely.

Cas' face strains. He breathes. Pauses.

They take a minute.

"How are you feeling?"

"'m okay," Dean mumbles.

Two (very powerful) orgasms in under fifteen minutes, Dean's doing fucking stellar, actually.

"Cas?"

"Yes, my love?"

"You know I'd love you just as much even if we were living in a shitty apartment, and all we could afford were ramen and boxed mac'n'cheese, right?"

Cas kisses the crook of his shoulder. Dean can feel his smile. "Yes. I do."

"Kay. Good."

The third time, Dean's nails leave bloody claw marks down the curve of Cas' back. He’s starting to get hard again but hasn't even had time to get there before the orgasm wave crashes through him, the strength of it taking him by surprise. He whines, huffs, lifting off the bed as he cling desperately to Cas.

Castiel doesn't give him any respite. He keeps fucking him, eager, hungry for his own pleasure. His kisses are bruising now and he bends Dean's legs for far back it almost hurts. Dean lets him. He wants to feel him deep, take anything Cas will give him.

He can feel his own come sticky and wet on his skin, on the lace, leaking around his cock and balls, still frustratingly trapped in fabric. He grows harder with every deep thrust of Cas’ cock inside of him. The head of his cock is oversensitive, rubbing against the hem of his panties. Cas teases it with his fingers, looking down at Dean with dark, half-lidded eyes.

Dean comes. He comes on Cas' fingers, smears them in a white coat, that Cas spreads all over the front of his panties as he squirms in an attempt to escape the oversensitivity. He comes shaking all over because it's starting to be a little bit too much, a little bit too good.

Cas' hips drive lazily into him. His grip on Dean's chest keeps him pinned on the mattress. His head is thrown back, he looks in pure bliss. That's what Dean is to him - pure bliss.

Third of a life bliss.

Dean could do this forever if it meant making Cas feel like this.

Cas changes his angle, nailing his prostate for the fifth time. He looks at Dean, watches him come apart. Dean whines, can't form words. Claws at the sheets. It's starting to be too much. He can hear himself saying things, begging and pleading and whimpering. He comes mumbling nonsense. He manages to spill, somehow, to stain again. Cas praises him, his fingers finally slipping under the hem of his panties, into the sloppy mess he's made.

Dean shudders. He always loves Cas' fingers, always craves his touch, but it's so much right now. His whole body hurts of too much. Cas kisses him. Warm. Slow. Soft.

"So good," he murmurs. "So good for me, baby."

Dean could die right there.

He's wide open for Castiel now, fucked out, gloriously fucked out. On cloud fucking nine. This is the absolute fucking best thing in the world. He’s riding the high of... what, five orgasms? Wave after wave still rippling softly through him, and in such a short time that his ass isn't even sore yet. Still feels so fucking good to feel Cas stretching him wide, his hands touching him everywhere, his mouth, his voice.

You feel so good, my love. So perfect for me.

And now Cas is gonna fuck him, slow, slow, slow, and then fast, and then he's going to come, and it's gonna feel so good-

Cas pulls Dean's legs up again, pushes them back against his stomach. Dean frowns, blinks back into full awareness.

"Cas-"

He lets out a high-pitched whine as Cas' cock drives into his prostate. It hurts, almost, he's not sure which one is it, pleasure or pain, he's threading a fine fucking line here.

"Cas, shit, wait, I-"

"What?"

"I don't think I can-"

Cas' thumb caresses Dean's lower lip, which always has the effect of disabling his brain.

"I think you can."

He can. It takes three minutes and a half, with the added bonus of being able to suck on Cas' fingers for the first sixty seconds. That always leaves him in a good kind of high. Cas' cock and the very precise angle do the rest. He comes dry and it's fucking amazing.

"Breathe," Castiel tells him, because his chest won't stop heaving.

Dean can feel Cas' exhaustion, too. His thighs are shaking against Dean's very unstable ones.  

"Cas, fucking Hell-"

Cas wipes the sweat from his brow and shoots him a devilish grin.

"No, Cas, I can't, I can't, no more, no-"

But Cas ignores him, and Dean wants to say stop it hurts it hurts stop but he doesn't, and it does hurt but also it feels so - and he can't talk anyway, he can't fucking talk when he's being fucked into the mattress to an inch of his life, and pleasure rips his soul right out of his body. He bounces him off the bed, screaming, flailing, tears streaming down his face.

He only passes out for a second.

"Are you okay?"

Dean manages to mumble something along the lines of: "Mmmggng."

Cas chuckles. "I see. One last?"

"Jesusfnngchrisss, no."

"It hurts?"

"S'too much."

Cas licks at the sweat beading on Dean's neck. "Too much what?"

"Too much."

Dean weakly tries to pull at Cas' hair to make him feel a little bit of what he means by too much, but his muscles are devoid of any strength or tone and his arm falls back against the bedspread.

"Mgngn."

"That was seven. Last time we did six... I think we can go for eight."

"Please," Dean hears himself say. "Please, please. Please. Cas."

"Am I hurting you? Like this?" Cas moves slowly inside of him. Deep.

Dean shakes his head. His eyelids are heavy, stodgy like caramels.

"Do you want to use our safe word?"

Dean thinks, for a second, before he shakes his head.

"Okay. Well I still need to come. Is it okay if I keep fucking you?"

"Yeah, please. Do that."

Cas' lips are distracting. So is his tongue. His arms, solid around Dean's face, his fingers grazing and stroking through his hair as he slowly explores his mouth. The length of his body, all warm and solid and heavy on top of him now that he's not holding his legs up anymore.

It’s all so distracting that Dean can just melt into him and focus on the burn of Cas' scruff against his neck, on the very gentle and slow rolls of his hips... Dean came too many times to get back on the roller coaster but he's on a nice plane of everything feels so fucking nice now and he fully plans on enjoying every last second of it.

He runs his hand on Cas' heated skin and catches drops of sweat as Cas begins to move faster. Dean can't do much to encourage him besides mumbling "yeah, baby, so good," and give him his best smile, his best kiss.

He expects to feel Cas spilling inside of him, hot and full and maybe biting in Dean's neck like he likes to do.

He doesn't expect his fingers pulling, folding over his legs again - "Cas" - and his prostate being under assault for the eighth fucking time. And Dean would protest if he could talk, or if Cas didn't look so fucking gone on him, if he didn't look like fucking Dean was the absolute best thing in the entire world. And once the head of Cas' cock has rammed into his prostate three more times, Dean's absolutely lost for words, for thoughts, for existence.

He's pretty sure Cas is about to break him and he's going to let him.

Dean's eighth orgasm obliterates him. He rips out some of Cas' hair, probably ends up with some flesh under his nails. Doesn't matter. For a second there he's in Heaven meeting God, having a fucking tea party with The Creator and then he's back down on Earth, body so taut with pleasure he's shaking all over. His throat hurts something awful but he can't stop making broken sounds.

He feels a sudden emptiness where Cas used to be, a bruising kiss on his lips, his lungs finally fill up with air.

A steel-like grip on his hip. Dean finally opens his eyes to find Cas above him. His gorgeous features are slack with pleasure. His blue are are looking down where he spills all over Dean's expensive, ruined panties with a shuddering groan.

There's come everywhere.

On Dean's stomach, on his thighs, soaking the red lace still trapping his softened cock. It's a fucking disgusting mess.

"Fuck."

Cas is beaming, the asshole. Dean's on the verge of unconsciousness, his whole body is both sore and numb, his face is wet with tears and his throat is raw. And Cas is grinning.

His fingers dip in the pool of their combined spill. Even goes as far as slipping between Dean's thighs, pushing some of it back inside of Dean.

"C'mon, babe," Dean groans.

"Sorry. I couldn't help myself. How do you feel?"

"Gross. Thirsty. Fucking incredible."

Cas offers him a smile and kisses the inside of his knee before slipping out of bed. Dean blinks awake again a minute later, to his underwear finally being taken off - very gently - and a warm cloth rubbed on his skin. He wraps his fingers around the water bottle Cas hands him and downs it in three big gulps before falling back into the bed.

Fuck.

Fuck.

They should definitely shower. A towel can't rid them of everything they've just done, but Dean needs a night of sleep (or three) before he can walk again.

He forces himself to at least stay conscious as Cas pulls them both under the covers and ready for bed.

"Sleep," Cas murmurs as Dean presses himself into his arms.

"No. Not yet."

"I think you need it."

"No. Wanna be with you. Missed you."

Cas’ fingers knead in the back of his neck and Dean bites back a moan.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Tomorrow you are. If I sleep I'll wake up and you won't be here."

There's a moment; Dean doesn't even realize what he said before the warm shape in his arms slips out of reach. His eyes bat open to find Cas standing on the other side of the bed, phone in his hand.

His thumb hover the green icon right next to-

"You're seriously calling the office right now?" Dean calls out, suddenly very awake. He cringes at the effort it takes to pull himself up to a seating position.

Cas extends a finger toward him to shush him, frowning. Dean hears the message faintly through the speaker.

Castiel Novak's office, this is Alfie -

"You're calling your fucking assistant? Is that who you think about when you fuck me, seriously?"

He knew it. He fucking knew it-

"Hello, Alfie, it's Mr Novak. I'm calling to say that I won't be able to come in tomorrow. You will already be at work when you hear this, so you can catch up on paperwork and then head home early. Please cancel my appointments, we will reschedule them when I come back."

Cas turns his phone off - all the way off, not just on silent - and Dean falls face first into the bed, hiding his shame in the pillow. Well. That was embarrassing.

He feels a weight. Cas sits next to him and gently rubs his shoulder. Dean can tell he's smiling, even though he's still buried so deep into his pillow he can't really breathe.

"Dean?"

A kiss on the small of his back, right where the sheet meets his skin.

"Are you jealous of my assistant?"

Still no answer, but Dean needs to move if he wants oxygen to reach his lungs. He turns his head and faces away from Cas.

"No."

"You're lying."

It's not a reproach, just a remark. Cas stretches out next to Dean, slides under the covers to wrap around him.

"I obviously overreacted," Dean mumbles.

"Yes. Obviously. But you've been dropping comments for a while now. I thought you were teasing, but now I think you're actually insecure about this."

Dean turns to look at him.

"You took the day off tomorrow?"

"Don't try to change the subject. And yes. I know you don't have classes on Mondays so I thought we could spend the day together."

"That's nice," Dean murmurs. Warmth and giddiness spread through him at the thought, and he nudges himself back into Cas' embrace. He still feels like an idiot - or rather, a fucking asshole. Cas keeps proving to him over and over how much he fucking loves him and Dean just... doubts him. Constantly.

"Dean, I have absolutely no interest in Alfie. Romantic, sexual, or otherwise."

"Why not?" Dean asks, honestly.

Cas squints at him from the other pillow.

"Why would I?"

"Because he's basically a new and improved version of me."

Well. That came out. Like that.

"A new and -" Cas' frown deepens. "Dean, he's nothing like you."

"He's a hot grad student with big wide eyes and a pretty mouth and he's always in a good mood, so, he's basically me, but better."

"You think he's hot?"

"You don't?"

Cas has never looked more confused.

"I don't - I don't know, Dean. I never really paid attention to what he looks like. He's good at remembering my coffee orders and at taking my calls, which is what I pay him for."

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed he's got eyes grey like a Seattle sky and lips made to su-"

"His eyes are grey?"

Dean huffs. "Seriously?"

Cas has got to be kidding with this.

"Dean, I-"

But he looks so honest. And so very lost, right now.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it's wrong, but I don't pay much attention to him. I've been very busy."

"What's his major?"

Cas squints at Dean and God bless him, he truly doesn't fucking know. "Something in science, I believe."

"That's all you got?"

"Robots?"

"Evolutionary biology, Cas. The guy talks about it every time I fucking call. He must have bored you to death with it."

"I..." A faint blush spreads on Cas' cheeks. "Honestly, I don't listen to much of what he says, unless it directly relates to the matter at hand."

Dean bites on his lower lip. He's not sure if he wants to scream or laugh or... cry. "You kept asking me questions about school. Kept me in your office for twenty minutes every time I brought you coffee."

"Yes, Dean. But we've already established that I had quite a huge crush on you."

"Yeah, but why? I mean, even before the PissMyTaterTot69 incident, you already knew more about me than... I mean, pretty sure you knew the color of my eyes. You sure liked staring in them."

"Yes, I did. I noticed your eyes the moment you walked into my office."

Dean gives a tentative smile. "Really?"

This time, it's Cas who exhales loudly. "Are you really going to make me say it?"

"Say what?"

"How unprofessional I've been with you from the very start? That from the moment you walked in I-"

Cas sighs and refuses to go further. He's crossed his arms on his chest over the covers and looks bothered.

"You what?"

Dean pokes his stomach.

"I was enthralled," Cas finally admits. "By your beauty, your intelligence, and your wit. I never should have even hired you, Dean. It was beyond unethical."

Oh. Oh. And Dean always thought that Cas was so professional, with his HR contracts and constantly, constantly worrying about Dean's well-being before anything else. To know that he wasn't, that he - long before he saw those pictures, that he had a weakness, for Dean, is...

"I never thought I would act on it. I foolishly let myself believe it was safe, because I never imagined you would ever feel the same way about me. That it would ever be... dangerous, in any way."

Dean shimmers closer, until he noses at the nook of Cas' shoulder and neck.

"Didn't work out too well."

"No."

Dean smiles.

"D'you regret it?"

Cas gently, gently touches his cheeks. "Sometimes, I..." Oh. Oh, no. "Sometimes I wish we'd met in different circumstances. I hate that you ever, ever feel like I thought less of you because you were my assistant. Because I was your insufferable boss who made you get coffee in the rain and kept you late in the office..."

"Never heard me complain."

Cas gives him a small smile. "But you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Dean. So I certainly cannot regret making a mistake that day and hiring you, if it led to this."

Dean buries himself in Cas' arms. His heart is so... full. He's not sure how to handle this. Because there were the I love you's, of course, and the let's move in together, and sure they meant that Cas felt for him, and they were so much more than Dean ever got before - but what he feels for Castiel goes so fucking far beyond anything that - sometimes, all the times, nothing feels quite enough, nothing feels enough for this thing inside of him.

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Doubting you."

"It's okay. I thought you were a gold digger."

"Shut up."

Cas' lips press on his forehead. "Dean. I am sorry if I've ever made you feel like you weren't... well. Everything. To me."

God. That’s. A lot. Dean doesn't know how to answer, and they lay in silence for a few minutes until Castiel speaks again.

“Can I ask you why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you doubt so much of how I feel about you. Is it something I do? Or not do? Because-”

“No, Cas. It’s not, it’s - it’s me.”

Dean pulls back a little. He likes looking at Cas when they talk, likes the way his heart flutters a little every time Cas does his trademark frown of confusion. This isn't easy to say, but he owes it to Cas, and owes it to him to not shy away while he says it.

“We’ve been together for two years. No one’s ever stuck around me this long before. I’m a boy toy and you’ve had me in every way imaginable, so -- I guess I don’t know why you still want me. I mean, I live here on a ridiculous rent that we both know isn’t covering anything, I’m doing a PhD in a domain for which they keep cutting funds - I’m never gonna be someone, I’m never gonna - I’m never gonna have a huge important job and - and you have a much cuter, younger, perkier assistant who you could fuck in your office since you spend most of your time there anyway, not that it’s your fault, it’s just-"

Dean wants to punch himself in the face. Instead he hides in the pillow, his voice muffled. So much for being brave.

"I’m getting lost here - I just - I guess I don’t - I don’t get it. And, uh, I think - I know it’s been work that's been keeping you, I know that, but - but maybe it’s also me, maybe you’re also tired of me, so…”

Well, that’s a lot more than Dean ever intended to say. He can go die now. That'd be nice.

“Dean,” Cas states calmly, in the deep, gravelly voice that had Dean hooked from the moment they met.

Dean shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He feels like an idiot. But everything he said… it’s true. Castiel is older, smarter, richer, and the most delightful, gentle, amazing person Dean has ever met. What the hell is he doing with Dean?

Apparently, what he's doing is reaching with his fingers under Dean's chin to force him to look up into his calm, slightly amused gaze. And then he kisses him, soft, and slow.

“In a way, you are right," Cas murmurs. "We have been together for a while now. And I have had you in... many, many wonderful ways. But it’s never been about… having you. It’s about being with you. What we have, this intimacy, this profound understanding of each other, I have never felt it with anyone else before. And it never seems to stop getting better and better. At least, for me. You need to know that.”

Dean bats his eyelashes to chase away the tears threatening to pour over.

“Alfie is a fine functioning assistant but I don’t see him. I don’t see people, they’re not - ever since you came into my life, everyone else is… feels, neutral. Bonds of friendships, yes, shared interests, yes. But you eclipse everyone else, Dean. I can’t even imagine someone else in my heart, in my home... or in my bed." Castiel frowns, his mouth twitches like he’s retaining a scowl. "It’s unthinkable. You are everything to me.”

Dean blinks, he doesn’t know what to say - he feels too full. It’s too much.

Cas has a slow, sad smile.

“And now I realize that I may be scaring you.”

“No! No, Cas-” Dean pulls at him until Cas has rolled on top of him again. There's very little as relieving as feeling him weight on him. “Same. With you. I really fucking love you, okay? Like, crazy, all I do all day is think about you when I should be working on my stupid thesis, and think about everything that’s wrong and right and everything I want and my dreams and it’s all - It’s all you.”

“Well. I’m sorry I’m keeping you from your thesis.”

He doesn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he's grinning from ear to ear, and it's so beautiful Dean is melting like ice cream during a heat wave. He kisses a path underneath Castiel’s jaw. “It's worth it.”

“Hopefully." Cas nuzzles in Dean's neck, sighs against his skin. "And things… will get better, I promise. I’m thinking about making changes.”

Dean tenses. “Changes?”

“My work. As you know it’s… it’s good for my bank account. It’s not good for my happiness.”

“Oh," Dean smiles, relieved. He shrugs. "Then maybe you shouldn’t do it anymore.”

Cas pulls back and looks at Dean, like he’s evaluating something.

“Yes, well. I also have other projects that… that are also extremely important to me and my happiness. And I don’t know - it’s not the kind of thing one usually does while throwing the rest of their lives away.”

“Changing jobs doesn’t mean throwing your life away.”

“I don’t want to just go sit in a different office tower. I - I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to do something… for me. Own my own business, maybe. A shop of some kind. But that would mean even more time invested, and probably a much higher level of stress. You need to make profit, to make money…”

Dean’s lips curl into a smile. He had no idea Cas had thought about this - that Cas had started dreaming about this kind of thing. But it fits. And it would be awesome.

"Is that what you'd like to do? Your own little shop?"

Cas' fingers tense in Dean's hair.

"Maybe. I'm not sure which kind yet, though."

“Hey, Cas. Hey… it’s gonna be okay. If it’s something you love, something you’re passionate about, the stress is different. Alright?”

Cas nods.

“Those other projects… what’s that about?”

Cas grins and cocks his head down.

“It’s about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

There's a blush on Cas' cheek, a blush that makes Dean's heart pound a little too hard.

“How - how’s that-”

“Well, it starts with… a question, that I ask, and that you answer, yes or no…”

“Oh. Shit. Fuck, you wanna - wait.”

Cas pulls back on his hands, worried.

“Is it bad? Should I not?”

“No, shit, I mean - yes, I mean," Dean grabs Cas' face and kisses him, because he needs to make it clear, that yes, it's going to be yes if Cas ever asks that crazy fucking question. "I - you - um, you - you’re gonna - you're thinking about… doing that?”

“Eventually, yes. Soon… if possible.”

“You’ve - so you’ve thought about it? Like-?”

“Yes. I have… thought about a lot of things. I want… a lot of things. With you.”

Dean feels a tsunami size wave of tears about to pour out. Shit. Shit, he was not expecting that tonight. Is he wiping his cheek?

“It’s not happening right now, Dean, I don’t have a ring yet.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbles, voice choked up.

Cas kisses his cheek, laughing softly.

“I have looked at some, though…”

“Please stop.”

Castiel uses his thumb to dry Dean's cheek.

“Is it too much? Are you not-?”

“No. Of course I - Jesus, of course I want -" It's hard to speak between wet, shaky kisses to Cas' lips. "I just… ‘m not used to being this happy? I guess. I mean. I should be. Been pretty fucking happy since I met you, but you keep like. Blowing up the roof every time.”

“Well, you might take that back when we move in a tiny studio over my failing joke shop.”

“Maybe I can actually pay my part of the rent for a change. Maybe I’ll be a college professor and I’ll be supporting my husband’s cute little library slash bring-your-cat coffee shop.”

Cas gasps.

“Dean, that is such a good idea.”

“You should quit tomorrow, then,” Dean murmurs, kissing Cas’ nose.

Cas drops back on the mattress next to Dean and gathers him into his arms again.

“Are you sure you don’t want Alfie? He’s much more age appropriate for you. And he’s only just starting his master's degree in biology, but I know he’s dreaming of being a college professor. You have so much in common.”

“So you have been listening to him,” Dean teases.

“He talks a lot, some things do end up getting through.”

Dean laughs and then pretends to think about it.

“Mmmh. Yeah, I see it. Few years down the road, nice greying peach fuzz on those cheeks, a shitload of money.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Eh, I guess," Dean shrugs.

“Better prospect than me.”

“Mmh, yeah, broke fifty years old dude who always smells so weird -”

“I smell weird?”

“You will, because of your failed soap shop. You come up with the weirdest, most awful soaps and no one wants them.”

“Of course.”

“So you stink, and you have a beer gut-”

“I don’t run marathons anymore?”

“Nah, too depressed because of your failed business. You drink instead.”

“That is not a pretty picture.”

“Mmh,” Dean hums. He looks over at Cas, at their laced fingers, at his face smushed into the pillow and his eyes so full of light. “Eh. I still choose you.”

“Over the millionaire biologist giving conferences all over the world?”

“Hell yes,” Dean kisses him, and his heart almost gives out right there. “Any fucking day.”

The smile that Cas gives him then could brighten up the world.

Dean turns off the light and Cas turns around. Dean wraps his arms around him, tucking Cas into his embrace. Cas doesn't say it a lot, but Dean knows how much he loves being a little spoon.

“I don’t think we should let people bring their own cats,” Dean mumbles a few minutes later.

“Bring their own cats?”

“Yeah. To the coffee shop. We should have rescues or something but not like, clients’ cats and stuff. I feel like we'd have to mediate a lot of cat fights."

There’s a short silence.

"We?"

"Yeah. You don't think I'm gonna leave you alone with that, right? Plus I'm graduating with a PhD in philosophy soon, I'm gonna need a barista job or something."

Cas laughs. They should be asleep -- hell, Dean should have been asleep eons ago -- but Dean can feel that Cas is thinking. Can almost hear the gears working in his brain. He tightens his arms around him before he speaks.

“Hey, Cas. I know I teased you about your failed shops and stuff but… you know I don’t believe that, right? Whatever you choose to do, I know you’re gonna be fucking brilliant at it. If you open a little shop, or if you go back to school and pick a different career, I know you’re gonna be fucking amazing. And, uh, I feel really lucky that you chose me to be by your side for that.”

“I know,” Cas murmurs, fingers stroking over Dean's arms.  “And it is going to happen, just so you know."

“What is?”

“I’m going to propose. It’s going to happen. I mean it.”

“Well I think I've made it pretty clear what my answer's going to be.”

“Yes, I suppose the surprise is blown now.”

"Can we even surprise each other anymore?" Dean moans in a dramatic tone. "Maybe I should say no, just to keep our relationship spicy."

Cas kicks him.

"I'm kidding, Jeez."

Another silence.

"Hey, Cas? I'm really fucking happy right now."

"Me too."

"Guess we better get used to it."

"Yes. I guess we do."