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"I still don't understand why you won't tell me your costume," Dean grumbled. He eyed Cas' bare calves and feet, the only things visible from beneath his buttoned-down trench coat. "Oh, God, you're not goin' as a pedophile, are you? 'Cause that's --"
Cas interrupted him with an eloquent eye-roll. "No, Dean, I'm not a pedophile. Meg agreed to do my makeup, and I don't want anyone to see until it's complete."
"So mysterious," Dean mocked, and Cas shoved at him with his shoulder.
"You're the one who insisted we go to a costume party in the first place," he reminded Dean. "Don't blame me for playing along."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean said, sighing. He adjusted his jeans, which were notably tighter than the ones he usually wore, and picked up his cowboy hat, settling it on his head. "How do I look?"
"I like those jeans," Cas said solemnly, but there was a smirk in his eyes, and Dean snorted.
"You would, you trench-coated creep," he said affectionately. "You ready? Aren't you even gonna wear shoes?"
Cas shrugged. "It's not far. Nor cold, for October. I don't mind."
"Yeah, well, I ain't drivin' your ass to the hospital when you step on broken glass."
"No," Cas agreed. "You'll be on your knees in the bathroom picking it out of my foot, you mother hen."
"You just like thinkin' 'bout me on my knees," he returned before he could stop himself, but Cas just grinned.
"In those jeans? Who could blame me?" he said flippantly, and a hot flush began creeping up Dean's collar.
He still wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that the little flirtations he occasionally exchanged with his best friend-turned-roommate had acquired a certain weight that had never been there before. And it wasn't helping that his brain stubbornly refused to stop trying to picture what exactly Castiel did or did not have on under the stupid trench coat.
He shook himself, reaching for his keys. "Anyway. Let's go. Should probably avoid any elementary schools or playgrounds if you don't wanna get arrested."
It was still early when they got to the party, in one of those sprawling two-story houses with an ever-changing rotation of students crammed into its bedrooms. Meg opened the door and immediately seized Cas' wrists, dragging him up the stairs.
"Use protection!" he yelled after them.
"He's your boyfriend, not mine!" Meg called down. A door slammed and Dean snorted, wandering into the kitchen.
"Dean!" Jo said, looking up from where she was trying to fit another bottle, Tetris-like, into the fridge. "You're early." She gave up and handed him the bottle, and he popped it open and took a long drink.
"Yeah, well, princess up there had to get his makeup done, so no bein' fashionably late for me."
Jo eyed him up and down, then nodded approvingly. "Can't give you any points for creativity, but you look hot," she announced.
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," he replied, doffing his hat. She stood up and he did a double-take, then burst out laughing. "I'd say the same for you, but I'm afraid I never had a thing for the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man."
More people began filtering through the house, but Cas still hadn't emerged from his mysterious makeover upstairs. Dean stood up, his curiosity finally winning out, and he was just about to go in search of his best friend when the door banged open upstairs and two sets of footsteps clattered down.
Meg came through the door first, and Dean let out a low wolf-whistle at her demon costume, with her black leather jacket draped over a tight, torn red dress instead of her usual jeans, and two tiny horns curving up out of her thick black hair.
"Lookin' good, hellbitch," he greeted her, raising his bottle.
"You too, cowboy," she replied, clinking theirs together. "Think your boy-toy's got us beat, though."
Dean rolled his eyes. "Meg, he's not my…" He trailed off as Cas appeared in the doorway, trench coat nowhere in sight, in favor of open-mouthed staring.
Cas was wearing a short flimsy dress in a similar cut as Meg's, but in a deep cobalt blue. Ragged black wings arched up over his shoulders, dripping torn inky feathers down his back and sides. His eyes were ringed in thick, precise eyeliner, and Meg had drawn stylized tears down his cheeks.
She reached out and gently pushed Dean's mouth closed with a finger under his chin, and he blushed.
"Jesus, Cas," he said hoarsely. "You don't do shit halfway, do you?"
"I actually had the wings," Cas confessed. "From a theater project years ago. Never thought a terrible high school production of Paradise Lost would come in handy. Meg helped me fix them up a bit, and the rest was easy."
"Well, you sure pull it off," Dean said with a short laugh. "So what the shit are you? Fuckin' Beelzebub or somethin'?"
Cas shrugged. "Just a falling angel," he said quietly.
They stared at each other for a few moments, until Meg broke the silence with a pointed cough.
"You'd think they'd get a chance to stare at each other enough at their apartment," Jo commented from the corner.
"Well, he's not usually winged at the apartment," Dean pointed out defensively.
"And he's not usually wearing jeans that make his ass look like --"
"OK, OK," Jo interrupted. "Jesus, do we have to lock you idiots in the closet to work out all the UST?" She paused. "It is still UST, isn't it?"
They both groaned, but Meg eyed them speculatively.
"Not a bad idea," she said to Jo. "But I think we'll have to ply them with more booze first. This one, at least." She grabbed Cas' hand and began pulling him away. "C'mon, Clarence," she said. "Let's get you drunk and confessing your undying love for Dean-o."
"Meg," Cas hissed, "we're not --"
Their voices faded, and Dean was left standing in the kitchen with a beer halfway to his lips.
"Well, that was awkward," he said with a shrug, draining his beer. "Don't think beer is gonna cut it tonight." He grabbed a plastic cup and poured a generous helping of whiskey, throwing it back with a satisfied sigh.
"Dude, we all ship it," piped up a voice from the doorway. Dean glanced over and snorted.
"Didn't know Princess Leia was a redhead, Charlie," he said, wiping his mouth.
"She is now," Charlie retorted, "and don't change the subject."
"Dude," Dean said, exasperated, "Cas is my best friend. And my roommate."
"And completely in love with you," she said. "And we all know you've got a crush on him approximately the size of the Chrysler building."
"Your opinion has been noted," he grumbled. "If not appreciated. Weren't we having a party, not analyzing Cas and me's nonexistent love life?"
There was a collective eye-roll, but somebody slid Dean another drink, and he wandered out of the kitchen with a sigh.
An hour or two later, neither Cas nor Meg had reappeared, and he pushed down something hot and jealous in his stomach.
You dragged him here, he reminded himself.
Yeah, spoke up a small voice in the back of his head. He's here with me.
He sighed again and shook himself, grabbing a fresh beer and wandering out to the back patio for fresh air, then instantly regretted it when he saw Meg and Cas squished into one of the big deck chairs. He flinched and turned around to escape back inside, but Meg spotted him, and her eyes lit up.
"Dean-o!" she exclaimed. "Clarence and I were just talking about you." She jumped up and headed past Dean, pointing to the chair. "I'm going to refresh some drinks," she said. "Keep the little unicorn warm, OK?"
"'m an angel," Cas called after her, sounding slightly slurred. "Not a unicorn."
Dean snorted, then made his way across the deck, dropping onto the edge of Cas' chair.
"You good?" he asked. "Havin' fun?"
Cas made a vague noise of assent. "Meg seems to consider it her personal obligation to get me inebriated," he mumbled. "And it seems to be working."
Dean laughed. "So, uh," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral, "you and her, you know…?"
Cas stared at him in confusion, his eyes even more unearthly with the makeup in the moonlight, then burst out laughing.
"What?" Dean said defensively. "It's cool, man, I just don't wanna be cock-blockin' you out here, y'know --"
"Meg and I went out on two or three dates our freshman year," Cas interrupted. "We both soon agreed on our incompatibility. And anyway, she's been dating Crowley for over a year."
"Crowley?" Dean said, wrinkling his nose. "That smarmy douchebag?"
"That smarmy douchebag," Cas agreed. "To be fair, he's good to her. And she's happy."
"More power to 'em, I guess," Dean said, shrugging. "And I gotta admit, she's grown on me."
"Mm," Cas said. "She's a good friend, underneath that thorny exterior."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sharing Dean's beer once Cas drained the last of his own.
"Nice night," Dean said, then kicked himself for the lame comment, but Cas just nodded.
"It is," he agreed. "I love October." He paused. "You look like October, y'know that?" He reached out and tugged at Dean's hair, and Dean swore he could hear a faint yelp from the direction of the kitchen.
"You're drunk, dude," Dean said, but he couldn't help leaning into the touch.
"I am," Cas affirmed. "Is that not appropriate for parties?"
"You are a dork," Dean said. He reached up to swat Cas' hand away, but somehow just ended up tangling their fingers together. He stared down at their linked hands, then glanced up. Cas' eyes were unreadable, but he didn't pull away, and Dean swallowed.
"Cas, look," he began hesitantly, twisting their index fingers. Cas looked up at him, silent, and he was just about to lean in when the door banged open.
"There you guys are!" Charlie exclaimed. They snatched their hands apart, and Dean scooted away from Cas so quickly he nearly fell off the chair.
Charlie looked horrified. "Oh! God, I'm sorry, I didn't --"
"S'fine, Charlie," Dean said, forcing a grin. "I was just about to lug drunkie over here inside."
Cas glared at him. "Dean, I may be intoxicated, but I'm not --"
"Kidding, dude," Dean assured him. "But it's gettin' cold. Your feet must be freezing." He couldn't resist reaching down to squeeze Cas' foot. Sure enough, it felt like ice, and he frowned, pulling it into his lap. "Told you you needed shoes," he said, rubbing gently at the skin. Cas hummed contentedly, the soft smile on his face in juxtaposition with the stark makeup.
Neither of them noticed the door sliding closed again. Dean pulled Cas' other foot into his lap, massaging warmth back into them, until a cold gust of wind blew in and Cas gave a violent shiver.
"Shit, dude," Dean said, "as much as I'd like to stay out here, you are not dressed for this weather. And I know how whiny you get when you're sick, so we're goin' inside."
Cas put up a token protest, but Dean hauled him up and shepherded him inside, keeping an arm around his cold shoulders.
The conversation around the kitchen table ceased abruptly, with a number of raised eyebrows.
"Shut up," Dean informed them. "Somebody," he said with a pointed glare at Meg, "left a half-naked angel out in the cold in fuckin' late October."
She didn't bother looking ashamed. "Well, I told you to keep him warm."
"You wanna go home, Cas?" Dean said softly.
Cas rubbed his temples, but inside in the warmth he was a lot more coherent, eyes bright and feet steady.
"I'm good," he assured them, but he let his arm drift down to latch around Dean's elbow. "Just kindly don't give me alcohol poisoning."
"OK!" Jo announced, jumping up. "Grab your beers. We're playing Truth or Dare."
"Are we in middle school?" Cas asked, his eyebrow arched.
"We are seniors in college," Jo said, "and therefore will be actual adults in a few months. Let's have some stupid fun."
Dean knew it would go poorly, but he stood up with a sigh. "I have dirt on most of you," he reminded them. "So go easy on the humiliation."
They all settled in the living room, Dean and Cas on the loveseat, their shoulders pressed together but not otherwise touching.
"So-o-o," Meg began, and Dean flinched, but she flicked her gaze to the corner. "Charlie! You got a crush on anyone?"
"I, uh," Charlie said, fiddling with her beer.
"Uh-uh," Dean said, and Charlie glared.
"Fine. Um… Gilda? She's -- she's a Lit major, and um, she's, she's --"
"-- right here?" said a low, melodious voice, and Charlie nearly leapt off the couch.
"Sorry!" she squeaked. "Sorry, sorry, I --"
Gilda just held out her hand, and with a disbelieving look, Charlie took it, and they disappeared.
There was a pause, then everyone broke into laughter.
"OK," Jo said, eyeing the room. "So, Dean, Mr. Ladykiller. Truth. You like dudes too, right?"
Dean snorted. "Is this a secret?"
"Apparently," Meg said, "since the guy you're in love with isn't sure."
He started, and turned to look at Cas without thinking. Meg snickered.
"Cas, I dare you to kiss Dean," she said.
"No," Cas said immediately.
Dean took a long, slow pull of his beer.
"Cool," he said, setting it on the table. "I've gotta --" He stood up, grabbed another beer and went outside.
After a few minutes the door slid open, and Cas padded out to join him.
"It's cool," Dean said again, not looking at him. "It's fine. You don't have to --"
Cas grabbed his hand. "No. Dean, I don't want --"
"Yeah, I'm aware you don't want," Dean said, trying to jerk his hand away, but Cas held on.
"I don't want it to be a dare," he said, and Dean's eyes shot to his face.
"You…" he said.
"Yes," Cas acknowledged. He turned to look at Dean, and even his feathers seemed to match his rumpled hair.
"You're drunk."
"Not very."
Dean stared down at him, impossibly beautiful in the half-light.
"Cas," he said hoarsely, "gonna kiss you."
Cas nodded once, and then finally, finally their lips were pressed together. Dean let out a choked growl, and Cas responded by wrapping his arms around Dean's neck.
"Oh, God," Cas whispered, breaking away.
"Nope, you're the one close to Heaven here," Dean pointed out, grinning breathlessly, and Cas rolled his eyes.
At that moment Jo threw open the door. "Hey, dudes, we're gonna --" She caught herself and stared, a smile working at her lips. "Nevermind!"
Dean groaned. "Not to be presumptuous, but uh… maybe we should go home?"
"Are you trying to seduce me, Dean Winchester?" Cas mumbled, sitting up.
"Am I allowed?" Dean retorted. "Because if so, fuck yeah." He pulled Cas off the chair and down the street, thanking the gods they only lived a few blocks away.
"Cas," he said again, catching his lips in his teeth. "You sure 'bout this?"
Cas stared at him for a minute, then grabbed his wrist and pulled him into his bedroom, wings flapping and all.
Dean locked his arms around Cas' waist, carefully pulling off the wings and setting them in a corner.
"This gonna be okay?" he murmured, planting kisses along Cas' jaw. "In the morning?"
"Wanted you forever," Cas admitted, reaching up to tangle his hand in Dean's hair again. "Never thought you did."
"You fuckin' kidding?" he asked. "Jesus, Cas, who -- who wouldn't want you?"
Cas gave a small shrug, fiddling with a stray feather on the bed. Dean sat back for a moment, staring, watching the shadows play on Cas' skin in the half-light.
"You're incredible," he said, his voice deep and honest. "I mean -- you're gorgeous, yeah. You're so gorgeous it hurts. But -- you're fuckin' brilliant, and kind, and -- you're my best friend, Cas…"
Cas reached up, a flush seeping into his skin in the moonlight. "You are the sun, Dean," he said, stroking Dean's hair. "Please kiss me."
Dean finally gave in, straddling Cas' hips and kissing him hard. Cas groaned, and Dean felt his hardness pressing against him through the thin dress.
"Didn't know you liked wearin' dresses," Dean said weakly.
Cas raised his eyebrow. "Men have worn this attire for centuries. For millennia," he pointed out, breathless.
"Yeah, well," Dean said. "Looks unfairly good on you."
Cas stared at him a moment, then flipped them over, slipping his hands into Dean's shirt. He pushed the cowboy flannel off his shoulders while Dean clumsily kicked off his boots.
"Your makeup is smudging," Dean whispered, swiping his thumb over the waxy tears.
"Tragic," Cas agreed, and Dean choked out a laugh.
"Wait," Dean said. He ran his hands slowly up Cas' thighs. "You're a boxers dude. I've seen you enough in your weird-ass bee boxers and cat boxers and shit. But there's no way…"
He trailed his fingers higher, stroking over Cas' hips, and Cas looked away, biting his lip.
"Dude. Are you… are you wearing my underwear?"
"I," Cas said, flushing darkly. "I didn't want to go buy -- I'll wash them, they were clean, I -- I hope you aren't mad --"
Dean interrupted him by pulling him down for a wet kiss, slipping a thumb under the waistband.
"That's so fuckin' hot," he growled, and rolled his hips sharply. Cas' head tipped forward, lips parted, and Dean groaned, yanking off his undershirt.
Cas looked up, his eyes hazy with drink and want, and he began scrabbling at Dean's belt, but Dean stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"Cas," he said, panting slightly. "You -- you sure 'bout this? Like for really-real sure?"
Cas sat back, scowling, but his eyes had gone clear and soft.
"Yes," he said simply. "I want this, Dean. Want you." He went back to working on Dean's belt, but then drew back, uncertain. "If, I mean. If you do." The shadows played over his cheeks and pooled in his collarbones, and Dean distantly decided that he'd never seen anything so beautiful.
"I want you, Cas," he whispered, and even to his own ears his voice sounded an octave lower than normal. "Jesus Christ, I want you."
Cas groaned, and this time when his hands went to the belt Dean helped him along, shifting his hips and shoving his briefs down along with his jeans.
He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Cas' underwear -- his underwear, he thought, and his cock jerked -- but when Cas went to pull the dress over his head, he stopped him.
"Leave it on?" he said. "Just for now?"
Cas nodded, eyes wide, and Dean pushed him back down to the bed. He reached up under the fabric and finally wrapped his hand around Cas' cock, savoring the way he jerked and moaned.
"God, so hot," Dean growled. He shifted until he was kneeling between Cas' legs, his dress pushed up over his hips. "This -- this OK?" he asked, his breath ghosting over Cas' thighs.
"Yes," Cas choked.
Dean grinned up at him, then lowered his head to mouth gently at Cas' cock, and Cas bit back a whine.
"Oh, God," Cas managed, as Dean took him into his mouth. "D-Dean!"
Dean took him deeper, staring up at Cas through his eyelashes, at his perfect pink mouth all open and breathless, and his wide blue eyes.
He'd barely got a rhythm going when Cas' hand twisted in his hair, pulling him off. Dean resisted, tonguing at the head of his cock, but finally sat back, his lips slick with spit and pre-come and eyes black with desire.
"Was -- was that -- not OK?" he asked, wiping at his cheek.
"Yes, that was... OK," Cas said, biting his lip. "But I… I want more."
"How," Dean whispered. "How… do you want to --?"
Cas stared at him, his eyes unfathomable. "Can," he finally said, "...will you fuck me?"
Dean let out a hollow moan, spreading Cas' legs further. "Um," he said. "Do you have…?"
"Um," Cas affirmed, reaching over to fumble in his nightstand. He came up with a condom and an unopened bottle of lube, and Dean raised an eyebrow.
"Shut up," Cas informed him, blushing.
He finally tugged the dress over his head, tossing it into a corner. The moonlight scattered over the muscles of his chest and stomach, turning the skin pale like marble, and Dean's mouth went dry. He grabbed the lube, popping it open and drizzling it over his shaking hand.
"Cas," he said, dragging his fingertips down the length of Cas' cock, pressing them further, "Cas, you --"
"Yes, Dean," he cried out, bending his legs, and fuck if Dean could resist the sight of Cas laid out in front of him, naked and wanting.
"OK," he growled, and pushed his index finger into Cas, gently but relentlessly, and Cas mewled. "Is that good?"
"Yes," he gasped, twisting on the bed. "Yes, more --"
"Shh," Dean soothed him, stroking a hand down his ribs. "We'll get there. Promise." He crooked his finger inside Cas, and when he heard the choked moan ripped from his throat, he added a second. "So beautiful," he blurted, then blushed.
Cas just stared up at him, his mouth frozen in a rictus of pleasure, lashes throwing spiky shadows on his cheeks.
"Please, Dean," he whispered. He wrapped his hands around his knees, pulling them back further, and Dean bit back a curse.
"Fuck," he growled, pushing in a third finger, twisting and stretching, and Cas' eyes slipped shut.
Dean dug his other hand gently into his hip. "Keep your eyes open," he said. "Need to see if I hurt you."
"Not -- not hurting me," Cas gasped. "Dean -- please --"
Dean leaned down, kissing him hot and dirty, then pulled his fingers out. He tore open the condom and rolled it on, then slicked his dick with lube.
"Cas," he said, lining himself up. "Cas, you --"
Cas shoved himself up onto his elbows, giving Dean a hazy glare. "Dean. If you don't -- don't fuck me, we --"
He choked on his words as Dean finally pushed inside, muscles trembling with the effort of not letting go and fucking Cas' brains out.
"Shit," Cas whispered, grasping for his hand. "Fuck."
"You OK?"
"Yes."
Dean held himself still for a moment longer, then began moving in and out in shallow thrusts, and Cas threw his head back on the pillow.
"Cas, baby, holy shit, not -- not gonna last…"
Cas let out another whine. He wrapped his hand around his cock, eyes locked with Dean's and mouth moving soundlessly.
"Gonna," he finally got out. "Dean, Dean -- Dean --"
"Do it," Dean said, gripping his hands around Cas' thighs and shoving himself up hard. "Do it, baby, Cas, come --"
With that Cas' body went rigid, coming in thick spurts over his stomach, and at the white-hot pressure Dean's vision went staticky and he tumbled over the edge inside Castiel.
"Jesus," Dean slurred, collapsing onto Cas. He wiggled his hips enough to pull out, then reached down, pulling off the condom and tying it off, tossing it blindly into a corner. "Feel like I should've lasted longer'n that."
Cas hummed, manhandling Dean until they were lying on their sides, pressed together head to toe. "Next time," he murmured, his eyes slipping shut.
There was a beat, then Dean cleared his throat. "Next -- next time?"
Cas pulled away, eyes wide and scared. "I mean. There -- there doesn't, we don't --"
Dean pulled him back in, wrapping his arms tight around his back. "Yeah, Cas," he whispered. "We do."