Work Text:
I love myself
I want you to love me
When I feel down
I want you above me
I search myself
I want you to find me
I forget myself
I want you to remind me
I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
Oh, I don't want anybody else
“I used to masturbate to this song when I was human,” Cas says very matter-of-factly and ducks his head to wrap his lips back around the straw that’s stuck in his milkshake.
Dean chokes around his burger and glances up at Cas, a flush spreading over his cheeks. “Cas, buddy, that’s not - that’s not dinner table talk my friend.”
Cas, to his credit, looks a little sheepish, and Dean can’t help staring at him as he drops his burger back onto his plate. Cas sips at the shake, chocolate, and swallows before blinking slowly, “Sorry Dean. Hearing it reminded me, that’s all.”
“Ok, just yeah, we don’t talk about,” Dean waves his hands around between them indiscriminately, “personal sex things over dinner, especially not in public.”
“Dean, you’ve never shied away from sex talk before, even in public, why is this different?”
Dean sighs and gulps his beer. “Sex talk about women Cas. Women. Not what I do on my own with just me. That’s just,” he pauses, thinking of the right word to use, “weird.”
“Oh.”
They don’t talk about it anymore for the rest of the night and Dean sags into bed with relief.
The only issue is that Dean’s brain can’t switch off from the thought of a very human Cas with his dick in his hand, cum covering his fingers and stomach. He wakes with a jolt and quickly heads into the bathroom to take care of himself before Sam gets back from his morning run and Cas from wherever Cas has disappeared to.
“Well, I think it’s healthy you want to talk about it Cas. It’s a natural and normal human thing to do, but I do agree that over a burger and a shake in a diner is probably not the best place to bring it up. Plus, he was probably shocked because it’s not something you’ve ever talked about before.”
Dean hears Sam talking softly outside and stops to listen, he knows he shouldn’t and he should just open the motel room door and announce his presence, but he’s interested in what Cas says next.
“I’ve never been a human before Sam. It’s the first time I’d ever experienced those feelings and felt able to act on them and I thought that as my friend I should be able to talk to Dean about those kinds of things.”
“You know how he is Cas. He’s a closed book about sex unless he’s bragging about it.”
“Yes. I know.”
The sigh that Dean hears almost breaks him. He sucks in a breath then grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and opens the door sharply.
*
That night Cas is again sipping on a milkshake, vanilla, while Dean is shovelling fries into his mouth as Sam looks over the research and case files once more. Dean follows the movements of Cas’ fingers as the Angel absentmindedly runs his fingers over the length of straw that sits above the top of the glass and frowns. He’s never noticed it before but it seems to be a tic for Cas, he vaguely remembers seeing him do it the night before as well, a drop of chocolate smearing down the straw as he’d done it.
He coughs and then quickly swigs his beer. It’s not something he wants to notice because it’s really fucking distracting and oddly enticing. Sam glares at him and flips a photo of their third victim over so he can see it. “This symbol, I’ve seen it before.”
“It was tattooed on the inside of the first victim's wrist and the neck of the second,” Cas says, lips smacking together softly, drawing Dean’s attention from his fingers up to his lips.
It’s like he’s only just starting to really see Cas after nearly 6 years together on the road. On and off admittedly, but they’ve spent enough time together over those years that Dean can give a very detailed description of him down to the exact way his brow used to crinkle in confusion at the slightest pop culture reference. He’s always found that endearing and, dare he say it, cute. But, it’s only just hitting him now that Cas is actually really fucking attractive. And not in an objective way either.
He shoves more fries into his mouth to stop the very high-pitched squeak that is definitely rising from his throat at that realisation.
“So what is it? What does it mean?” Sam finally says with annoyance, clearly he’s been waiting for someone to say something else.
“I don’t know,” Cas says quietly.
Dean can’t help but watch the way Cas’ lips move as they say the words and he’s rendered speechless again, even though he knows exactly what that tattoo is. The lips that have said a thousand words to him over the years. The lips that he now can’t stop thinking about. The lips that he really wants to feel and kiss and taste. The lips that-
“It’s a prison tattoo.” Dean somehow manages to get out, wrestling his eyes from those lips over to the extremely irritated look that Sam is wearing.
“And you know this how?” Sam frowns.
“I’m the observant one and have been in prison a few times remember,” Dean says with a finality that he hopes Sam understands.
“So our monster is after ex-cons with this tattoo then. Why?”
“Guess that’s what we need to find out Sammy. Find that out, find the monster.”
*
They’re in the bunker a few days later, the monster finally slain and ex-cons all safe and sound as they can be. It’s been a wild few days for Dean being around Cas 24 hours a day since his self-realisation. There’s been plenty of times when he didn’t know where to look, times when all he wanted to do was reach out and run a hand over Cas’ cheek, or grab hold of his hand to see how their hands fit together. Then there’s been the dreams, every night, of Cas in various states of undress, Cas in various states of arousal and at varying stages of his orgasm.
But it’s the newly found urge to kiss Cas that’s been his biggest issue. The urge to pull Cas to him and kiss the soft smile off his face. The urge to taste and feel Cas’ lips, to feel the warmth of his mouth against his own. He’s had to turn away from Cas drinking more than once, the sight of those plush lips wrapped around a straw or a bottleneck proving a little too hard to handle.
It’s not a weird thing really to realise that your best friend is attractive, but it’s definitely a weird thing when you realise that you find your best friend extremely attractive and that you’d like to do more to his face occasionally than just look at it. Especially when you consider yourself to be straight. Or mostly straight at any rate.
He slides the plates onto the table and sits facing Sam.
“So Cas told me something interesting the other day.”
“If it’s about him finding out that his human dick works like it should do, yeah, he told me too.” Dean can’t look at Sam, he knows his face is heating up, so he keeps his head down and focuses on his food.
“Dean. He’s your friend, it’s ok to talk to him about things like that.”
“Yes, you have a point, but not in public. Not in a diner, you don’t talk about your junk in a diner Sammy. You know that.”
“I do, but it’s Cas. He was only human for a short time, he still doesn’t completely understand our human foibles and hang-ups. Just go easy with him. He trusts you.”
Dean sighs and bites into a slice of pizza, taking a bite that’s way too big for his mouth, but he’ll do anything to not have to talk about this any further with his brother.
Sam’s right, of course he is, he’s usually right about shit like this but still. It’s Cas. And he just can’t talk about something like that with him when he’s just starting to realise that he wants to do those things that Cas did in the dark as a human with him. To him.
Fuck.
Suddenly the pizza doesn’t taste as good as it did a few moments ago but it’s food and he finishes up as quickly as he can, deciding to head to his bedroom before he can stumble into Cas and add more thoughts to his already full and definitely overactive imagination.
He sleeps… well he sleeps. 4 hours. 3 dreams. 2 of Cas. 1 wet.
He’s well and truly fucked.
*
There’s another case. Of course there is. That’s the only reason why they're here in some roadside motel somewhere outside of Waterloo, Iowa. A motel that’s clearly not seen a paintbrush in the last 40 years, but there are 2 beds in the room and a bar slash diner across the parking lot, and that’s all that matters to Dean.
Dean runs his finger around the rim of the bottle and scoops up the drop of beer that’s pooled on the edge, bringing his finger to his lips and chasing it off with his tongue. He doesn’t miss the way Cas’ eyes follow first his finger and then his throat. He absolutely doesn’t miss the way Cas licks his lips.
Of course he misses all that. He’s decidedly not looking at Cas.
He hears the song and freezes. It’s the masturbating song. And now he is looking at Cas. Partly out of interest but mostly out of fear.
I close my eyes
And see you before me
Think I would die
If you were to ignore me
A fool could see
Just how much I adore you
I'd get down on my knees
I'd do anything for you
I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself
Oh, I don't want anybody else
“I used to masturbate to this song when I was human. Dean was always present during that time.”
Dean chokes on his beer and Sam almost spits his out.
“No. No, I definitely wasn’t.” Dean splutters, eyes wide and vaguely horrified that Cas has decided to say this not only in public, again, but also in the presence of Sam.
“Well, not physically present, no. But you were always in my thoughts during those times Dean.”
Dean just gapes at him because he has absolutely no idea what else to do. He can’t even form words other than ‘Cas’, ‘no’, and ‘oh god’. He daren't look at Sam because he so does not need to see what Sam thinks of this shift in their relationship.
The gaping continues until Cas speaks again with a shrug. “I just thought you should know. That’s all.”
“I, uh, I think I should get my own room tonight.” Sam wheezes. “You two should probably talk.”
Dean isn’t sure if he wants to thank Sam or throttle him.
Being alone with Cas after that revelation could go one of two ways.
1: abject misery and the ending of their friendship.
2: absolute pleasure and an extraordinary shift from friendship to something more.
Dean knows what he prefers and hopes but what Cas wants is a whole other thing. Although, given Cas’ revelation he thinks that number two is more likely to happen than number one, but it doesn’t pay to hope too much. Not when you’re Dean Winchester and your relationship track record is rivalled only by the Minnesota Twins' record in postseason games.
*
Dean pauses in the doorway. He’s not sure whether he should sit or stand, and if he does sit should he sit in the chair by the window or on one of the beds? His mind is racing a mile a minute and he has no clue what to do, what to say, how to act. He’s flustered. That’s the only word for it.
“Dean.”
A shiver runs down Dean’s spine at his name and he moves, just two steps but it’s enough for Cas to enter behind him and close the door softly. Dean’s not sure if the sigh he releases when he hears the door click is one out of relief or terror, but still, he turns. And Cas is right there, in his personal space, and he’s fucking stunning. Blue eyes piercing into Dean’s soul, lips tight and brow furrowed.
Dean swallows thickly. Cas really is beautiful at any range, but close up he’s a vision of perfection and Dean can feel his heart hammering behind his ribs. Cas is close enough to reach out and slide a hand over his cheek, he’s close enough to slide their hands together and he’s close enough to see every single line on his lips, every line that Dean wants to trace with his fingers and with his lips.
“Dean.”
Dean takes a step back because he can feel Cas’ breath across his face. “Cas, I-”
“Did I make you uncomfortable, am I making you uncomfortable?” Cas takes a step forward.
“Yes - I don’t know - No.” He rubs a hand on the back of his neck and ducks his head at the admission.
“That wasn’t my intention Dean.”
“I know Cas, I know.” He looks up again and he’s there. He’s right there. “Fuck, you’re beautiful Cas.”
Shit. He claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in shock that he’s just said that out loud, but Cas is smiling that gorgeous wide, gummy smile of his. And Dean’s heart is threatening to explode out of his chest because, well, Cas.
Cas is the one who reaches out, fingers taking hold of the ones spread over Dean’s face, and Dean lets him. He lets him pry his hand away from his mouth, and he lets Cas raise his hand to his lips, and he lets Cas kiss the back of his hand gently. And Dean watches quietly.
He watches Cas’ lips slide over his hand and his fingers. He watches Cas’ eyes that never waver or falter from his face. He watches and it hits him that he wants to watch what Cas did in the dark. He wants to watch Cas let go and experience pleasure. He wants to watch Cas take himself in his hand. He wants to watch him while he thinks of him. He wants to watch Cas as he comes.
“Did you think of me when you came?” He whispers, not daring to speak louder in case he says no.
“Every time.”
“Did you say my name?” He feels a little surer, so his free hand comes up to cup Cas’ cheek, palm rubbing over the dusting of stubble.
“Every time.”
“What did you think of?” He traces the corner of Cas’ lips with his thumb, his hand shaking slightly, not really daring to believe that any of this is real. That Cas is here baring his secrets before him. Secrets of how he thought about Dean while he was touching himself, making himself come.
“Your hands, your lips, your body. You.”
Dean is shaking as Cas speaks, his legs weak and his mouth dry. But he stays there, unmoving, watching as Cas follows his words with a gentle kiss on the inside of Dean’s wrist.
“Are you ok Dean?”
“Yes.”
“With this?”
“How did you think of me?” He says in answer.
“You kissed me.”
Dean sucks in a deep breath, takes a slight step forward, and leans in, “like this?”
It’s chaste, too chaste, and Dean knows it but he’s testing his own boundaries rather than Cas’. He knows somehow that Cas will be ok with a deeper kiss but he’s unsure. He’s never kissed a guy before. He’s not used to the sharper jaw and the slight scratch of stubble against his chin. He’s not used to the strong hand that slides to his bicep from his wrist.
“At first.” Cas smiles.
Dean feels as Cas’ fingers press into his muscle and he watches as Cas’ other hand comes to his face and he feels as fingers slide across his jaw, thumb gentle under his chin. He feels as Cas’ fingers explore his skin, tracing the edges of his face and up to his lips. It’s soft, so very soft and Dean sinks into it. He can feel that his boundaries are much more than just a simple chaste kiss. He wants to push through that and test it further.
“What next?”
Cas’ hand slides to his ear, thumb stroking the lobe slowly and hand wrapping around to cradle Dean’s head gently. Cas’ eyes are bright, inviting and kind, full of something that Dean hasn’t seen or felt before. Dean can’t stop himself from stepping even closer, chest pressing to Cas’ softly, hands coming up to rest on Cas’ shoulders, fingers running over the harsh fabric of his coat.
Cas’ kiss is deeper than Dean’s was but it’s still soft and slow as if there’s no hurry at all like they’ve got all the time in the world. And Dean wishes that were true. He wishes he could stay and kiss Cas forever. His lips are soft and sweet, a drug that Dean needs more of. Dean slides a hand to Cas’ waist and pulls and, oh! The feel of Cas’ plush lips against his own and the hard lines of Cas’ body against his own is jarring but it stirs something deep inside and Dean wants more. He needs this. He needs Cas. He wants Cas.
He realises, as Cas’ nose bumps his, that he’s never wanted anything or anyone more in his entire existence. Cas makes him feel whole, makes him feel complete and the realisation of that is an epiphany in his mind, like a lightbulb turning on after years of darkness. There’s a rush of blood behind his ears and he sways in Cas’ arms, but he doesn’t fall or move, Cas tightens and holds him still, lips still moving and working. He’s never been kissed so thoroughly with just lips before and it’s heaven, at least in his mind. He snorts at that and leans back from Cas.
“Not sure that that happened, Dean.”
“Sorry, just had a thought,” he pauses, and traces a thumb along the flush that’s risen on Cas’ neck as Cas stares at him confused, “kissing you is like heaven.”
“Kissing you is better than heaven Dean.” Cas grins. “Someday you’ll realise that.“
“What happened next, Cas?” Dean smiles.
Cas slides both of his hands up to the back of Dean’s neck, thumbs brushing the skin softly as he leans in closer and gently mouths at Dean’s jaw. “I don’t want to move too quickly. We’ve got forever.”
Dean pauses at that and lifts Cas’ chin so that he can place another soft chaste kiss to his lips, the words spinning around his head. Forever is a very long time but it’s Cas, and Dean is sure that forever with him won’t be long enough.
“What happened next, Cas?” Dean isn’t going to let this go. He’s got Cas in his arms, lips wet and kiss swollen from him and his kisses and he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. He wants to know, wants to experience this with him, now.
Cas draws him in again and Dean’s knees almost give way at the hunger and desire that scorches through him from Cas’ lips. It’s on the edge of too much but he goes with it, hands pushing desperately at Cas’ coat and then his suit jacket. He only realises that Cas is leading him back when his calves hit the bed frame, but he doesn’t miss a beat, he keeps kissing Cas as if his life depends on it and he can’t think of anything but Cas and his lips. The way that Cas is unlocking him piece by piece; a swipe of his tongue over his lips, a flick of it against the tip of his own; Dean doesn’t ever want it to stop. He wants Cas to open him, take him apart and then piece him back together as he’s done once before.
“Clothes Dean,” Cas says, words clear despite still being attached to Dean so thoroughly.
Dean has never treated his jacket with such disdain before. He shrugs it from his shoulders and tosses it somewhere, anywhere across the room, he doesn’t care so long as he gets to have Cas. They’re both stripped down to boxers in next to no time and Dean just looks at him, mesmerised by the broad expanse of skin stretched across his torso. Cas is perfection and Dean’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of him.
“Exquisite,” Cas says quietly, so quietly that Dean almost doesn’t hear him. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
Dean blushes and slides his hands down over Cas’ arms to his hand and tangles their palms together, fingertips burning as he feels Cas’ skin beneath his. The way that Cas looks at him makes him feel stripped bare, stripped of everything he is on the outside as if only his soul is visible. There’s such reverence in Cas’ eyes, such love and joy, and Dean’s so taken aback by it that he feels a single tear slide down his cheek.
Cas brushes it away with his thumb and kisses him sweetly. “You make me so happy Dean.”
“You too sunshine.” Dean can’t say it, but he knows that Cas gets it, knows that Cas can feel his love rolling off him in waves. He knows that Cas can sense just how much he wants him. “I want to watch you.”
Cas steps back from him slightly licking his lips and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as his hands move to the waistband of his bright white boxers. Dean feels like his chest is about to explode as Cas begins to push them down over his hips slowly, dragging them down his thighs and to his feet, exposing himself completely. He moves back upright and lets Dean just look at him, lets Dean drink him in and Dean wants to touch every single millimetre of skin he can, he wants to map his entire body with his hands and his lips. He’s never felt so much want in his life and it feels right.
“God, Cas. I–”
“I know.” Cas shushes him with a gentle finger against his lips, and then reaches out, brushing a finger along the edge of Dean’s boxer briefs, drawing a shiver from Dean. “I feel it too.”
Dean holds his breath as Cas slowly peels the material down over his legs and lets them fall to the floor, he lets it out shakily as he watches Cas rake his eyes over him appraisingly. He licks his lips nervously and shudders when Cas reaches out to rest a hand on his hip slightly. “Cas please.”
“Sit down with me?”
Dean nods and they move, crawling up the bed to sit and rest against the headboard side by side, shoulders touching lightly. Dean’s surprised really at how slow and gentle everything has been so far. He’s used to things quicker, things moving along at an almost frantic pace, and he’s pleasantly shocked at how much he likes it, how much he likes Cas looking at him and placing gentle caresses on his skin, and how much he likes doing the same to Cas.
He turns his head to look at Cas and finds Cas watching him carefully, hands resting gently on his thighs, fingers splayed across his skin. Dean digs his teeth into his lower lip and allows his gaze to drop lower, following the long lines of Cas’ body; down his chest to his stomach and hips, stopping when he gets to Cas’ cock that’s resting hot and hard against his thigh. He tugs harder on his lip when Cas moves a hand, closing it around the length softly.
“Did– did I touch you when you were thinking of me?” He whispers, body twitching as he watches Cas’ hand move to the head.
“Sometimes.”
Cas’ voice is gravel deep and Dean wonders if this is as deep as it gets, or if there’s another level below this one, he resolves to find out at some point.
“The first time was just like this.” Cas sighs and thumbs across his slit, hissing sharply at the sensation. “We were sitting next to each other, I thought of you watching me and I thought of you touching yourself gently. I wondered what you’d look like as you did.”
Dean takes that as permission and he copies Cas, swiping the pooling pre-cum and spreading it down his length, closing his palm around it. His hand is warm and his thighs tense slightly at the feeling, a content sigh slipping from his lips and his fingers brush along the sensitive skin. Cas sucks in a breath next to him and Dean casts a glance at his face, drinking in the blue eyes glazed with desire and the soft, red lips, wet from his tongue running over them as he stared back at Dean.
“Cas.” His name sounds like prayer as it falls from Dean’s lips and Dean barely recognises his own voice, but he repeats it. “Cas, please, more. Show me.”
Cas nods and Dean follows the bob in his throat as he swallows. He drops his gaze back to Cas’ cock and tightens his palm around himself as he watches Cas’ hand slide over his shaft in a slow rhythm that captivates Dean. It’s as if Cas is worshipping his cock, hand and fingers moving with such grace that Dean wonders how they’d feel if they were wrapped around him. Would they feel as hot as his own hand does, would they feel hotter, would they feel soft or harsh? He chokes back a moan as he watches Cas’ free hand slide down to cup his balls gently, rolling them slowly as he jacks himself, taking his time to caress every inch of skin on his dick. It’s maddening how slow he’s moving along himself but it gives Dean time to drink him in, soak in the details of what Cas might like done to him.
“Dean…” Cas mumbles.
Dean knows that he’s not speaking to him exactly, he’s thinking of Dean even though he’s right there next to him, skin scorching and body thrumming. Dean wants to touch him, he wants to just run a hand over his skin, graze his nails over his nipples and down his stomach. He wants to run his fingers over the fine line of hair from his belly button to his cock, he wants to feel Cas. He wants everything.
The room is quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds are their shallow, choked-off breaths and the slick slide of skin on skin as they work themselves higher and higher. Dean comes first, Cas’ name gasping from himself as he spills over his fist and stomach. His eyes glaze over for a few seconds but then he’s willing himself to focus back on Cas and his fist skimming over himself quicker now. His teeth rip into his bottom lip when Cas comes hard, Dean’s name rolling off his tongue with a shout.
They sit, shoulder to shoulder, chests heaving but body’s otherwise unmoving for what feels like hours to Dean and it’s comfortable. Which should be unnerving for him, but it’s not, it’s oddly pleasing and soft. It feels like it’s something that he’s meant to do, especially with Cas. It feels natural. Something cracks inside him and he reaches out to gently rest his clean palm on Cas’ thigh, the hot skin burning into him.
“Are you ok?”
“I– this was–”
“More?” Dean suggests when Cas stalls.
“More.” Cas agrees, and drops his hand to Dean's, lacing his fingers through Dean’s and squeezing.
*
Dean wakes the next morning to the sound of voices outside the door to the room and he smiles.
“I’m happy for you both Cas, but I really don’t need to hear the details of what you and my brother might or might not have done together last night. I’m very comfortable with not knowing.”
“Thank you, Sam. But you should know that Dean is–”
“No, Cas. This is one of the times where I do think you should be more like Dean and not talk about the sex stuff, especially not with me.”
Dean wraps the sheet around himself with a laugh and opens the door to see a very red-faced Sam and a wide-eyed and innocent-looking Cas. “Cas, I want to try something, come back to bed.”