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Dean hangs up the phone. He didn’t tell them. His tongue feels numb. He has a couple hours before Sam and Jack get there, and he lies down on the concrete floor. There isn’t anything else to do. He doesn’t have any cards left to play.
He stares at the ceiling. There’s a thin fire running through him, changing him. Maybe he’ll sleep until they come back. Caring. Loving. What I want I know I can’t have.
He couldn’t have had it. Dean’s not… he doesn’t…. Cas is my best friend. He didn’t say it out loud much. He said it to himself a lot. Cas is my best friend. All Dean’s friends are dead. Brother, car, home, friend, Jack—it’s more than he’d thought he’d get. Cas is my best friend he’s family of course I love him. Cas had cared about them all. Because of you— goodbye….
It would be weird, he decides. Kissing Cas. That’s how you know, right? You picture kissing a girl and it’s hot or it’s not hot and then you know. Sam and Eileen— Sam just lost Eileen. Sam just lost Cas, too. You’re not special, he thinks. You’re the most caring man on earth. It’s not the same, it’s not the same.
So okay: prove it. Flutter of wings, Cas sitting on the edge of the bed. Head tilted. They look at each other again. Hello, Dean. What were you dreaming about.
Dean sits up, then he falls back to the floor and imagines sitting up. He clutches Cas’s trench coat. Slides his hand up to Cas’s jaw. The angle is awkward. He leans forward and draws Cas in and shoves their mouths together.
It’s weird. It feels weird. What are Cas’s lips like: rough, chapped. After a shocked moment, Cas is kissing back. His tongue is licking against Dean’s teeth. Cas would make noise, he thinks. Moans, low and gravelly. Maybe something higher, desperate whimpers as Dean slides his tongue into his mouth. If Dean started kissing his throat, he would say Dean exactly the way he always has. His pulse pounding under Dean’s mouth.
Cas gets his hand on the blood on Dean’s shoulder. Cas squeezes—oh. Cas grips him tight. He’s strong, he pushes Dean down, and now Dean is lying where Cas left him but there’s a man on top of him, hand searing his shoulder, thighs squeezing firm against his hips, and there’s a flash of something he can’t remember—a motel room, Dad asleep, what were you dreaming about—he feels sick, he feels disgusted, but Cas is pressing their chests together and kissing him fiercely, and it’s Dean making high, soft noises in the silent room, and he says, Tell me, he says, Tell me again, and Cas says, “You are the most loving human being I will ever know,” and Dean chokes on a sob.
Dean’s best friend is kissing his way down Dean’s bare chest, rubbing his thumbs against Dean’s ribs where he’d carved sigils years and years ago, Cas’s marks in him, on him, Cas resting his cheek on Dean’s hipbone to stare up at him, adoring, Dean’s hand moving from his shoulder to his hair— And what if Cas kept going, what if he took Dean’s cock in his mouth, clumsy, enthusiastic, sucking too hard and running his tongue along it just right, something I can’t have—
That’s just a blowjob, Dean thinks—his hand is around his cock now—that’s not even weird, everyone likes a blowjob, doesn’t matter who’s doing it, it’s just weird for Cas, except Cas is in love with him… Cas was in love with him… Cas was— What would be weird, he thinks, what would be weird is if Dean flipped them over and undid Cas’s belt and couldn’t get the button on his pants open because his hands are shaking and maybe Cas laughed sweetly and maybe Dean did too and Cas reached down and fumbled with the button and the zipper and they shoved his pants down together and Dean stared, breathing fast—Dean can’t picture Cas’s dick, can’t see the details, he’ll never know the details—and Dean did what he’d never, ever imagined doing, to anybody, he doesn’t think, and closed his lips around Cas’s cock, and, and, he’s.
There’s the taste of him. There’s the feel of him, warm and vulnerable, his to care for, and the sound of Cas’s loud, low moans. Dean licks down his shaft slowly, carefully, like he won’t fail in this; he listens to Cas’s noises, learns how to make him happy, Cas groaning out praise for someone Dean doesn’t know—he looks up at Cas’s achingly familiar face and that radiant, sanctified expression, and Dean gets his mouth free and gasps, Tell me again, and Cas says, “I love you.”
Dean’s actual eyes squeeze closed, and his hand on his cock speeds up, and his whole body is knotting itself up, his throat is tight, and he thinks it would be… it would be…. If they were naked, if Cas opened him up with his fingers, pushing past the resistance, if he slicked up his cock and settled between Dean’s legs, kissing his thigh—Dean would never do this. Cas could never have this. Dean tries to get his fingers wet with pre-come and works one awkwardly into his hole, and he’s doing it wrong, and it's starting to hurt, but Cas pushes in and it’s perfect, huge, and inescapable, and Dean throws his head back and begs, Tell, Tell me, and Cas says, “You’re so good,” and Dean’s vision blurs.
Cas fucks him in a rhythm Dean can’t imagine right, maybe it’s steady and deliberate, maybe it’s fervent and passionate and so goddamn human, and Dean thinks, I want to say something, and he doesn’t know what, and he does, and he can’t, and he’s just jerking his hips recklessly on the tips of two fingers and staring at Cas’s face as his orgasm builds, and if he’s not careful Cas’s face will burn his eyes out of his head, and Cas. Cas is in love with him. Cas is inside him. Cas is talking, talking, nakedly honest and fucking nonsensical: You’re caring You’re selfless You’re loving I love you Dean You’re the best man I know Since I touched you I have always I will always You were worth it You’re everything You’re good Dean you’re good you’re so good you are good you are good—
Dean comes, and his body is unknotting, and he knows, he knows now, and when his ears stop ringing he opens his eyes to the empty room and he cries.