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The Winchester brothers stand outside the bunker close to three AM. There's holy fire, Anunnaki symbols freshly painted on the ground, and garlic strung up around the perimeter of their little summoning circle. Sam reads a decrepit scroll one last time, and Dean tries not to throw up.
It's been four months. Four long, grueling months without Cas. Usually, when someone goes through something earth-shatteringly awful, they stop eating and sleeping. Dean is not usual, and he's been through too many earth-shattering events to break down now. He's had too much practice at being hollowed out and still expected to perform. So, he kept sleeping his four hours, eating greasy food, and fighting the good fight.
It's all an act. Dean doesn't feel real anymore. He’s started to feel like a computer. “A” happens, so he must do “B,” or someone will ask him if he's okay for the 800th time.
“Ready?” Sam asks.
Dean has no idea how long he’s been staring at the holy fire. “Yeah.”
Each man has their role to play in this summoning. Sam has to read some dead language that he performed necromancy to learn. Dean has to go stand in the center of the circle and “give himself over to the entity being summoned.” Whatever that means. Dean doesn't care what it means. He will give anything to have Cas back. Sam is pretty sure all Dean has to do is make a confession.
How convenient that Dean already has one thought up.
If Dean weren't so desperate to get Cas back, he'd be embarrassed about what he's about to say in the summoning circle. As it stands, he couldn't fucking care less. Sam probably knows what the words are going to be, anyway. Looking back after Cas’ confession, Dean realized that he was about as subtle as a brick to the face and that many people had called him out over it throughout the years.
Sam begins reading the scroll. Dean waits for his cue; the word that sounds like "unwavering." Dean didn't learn the language, but he's learned the way Sam sounds as he says the words.
It’s a struggle to focus only on Sam’s words, but Dean forces himself. Anything else will make him fall apart. When Sam gets to the word that sounds like “faith,” Dean takes a deep breath and walks into the middle of the circle. Three… Two… One…
“I love you, too, Cas. I always have,” Dean shoves out through the tears. “I just didn't realize it. I was scared. I'm sorry.” Dean’s whole body aches from how tightly wound he is. He can't open his eyes.
What if this doesn't work?
“Cas!!” Sam exclaims.
Dean’s eyes fly open to see a silver, Cas-shaped outline. With a gentle pop, the outline suddenly turns into Cas, just like Dean remembered him in those final moments before The Empty swallowed him.
Relief detonates inside Dean like a bomb. His whole being is fractured. He stands there, like an idiot, immobilized by his own unsteady legs, as Sam walks into the circle to hug Cas.
Dean can't stop looking at the Angel. He barely hears Sam say something before he walks off. An engine rumbles to life. Sam is taking Baby. Dean can't care right now.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, a little awkwardly.
Dean settles back into himself all at once, like Cas just uttered his MK Ultra phrase.
“Did you mean it?” Dean asks too fiercely. He gets a smile in return.
“Would any of this have worked if either of us didn't mean it?” Cas asks with a head tilt.
Dean supposes not.
They should probably talk about the future, the past, or how they're feeling now. Dean doesn't want to do that. Instead, Dean takes three determined steps toward Cas and reaches up to undo Cas’ tie. They don't speak as Dean slides, first the trench coat, then the suit jacket off Cas' shoulders, which he lets pool at their feet. Dean slowly and methodically undresses Cas, then steps back to stare.
Dean has always known, objectively, that Cas is attractive, but now that he has realized the full extent of their love, Cas looks perfect. He takes in the long, lean lines of Cas' masculine body, greedily soaking up every detail. There will never be a need to look at anything else again, really. Dean kicks himself for all the years he wasted not looking at Cas like this.
There had been no turmoil about Cas being a man once he figured out what everyone had already known - just an overwhelming sense of frustration for the “ships in the night” thing they had going on. Dean had been such an idiot! How many times had he thought a man looked good, but brushed it off as admiration? How many times did he have the thought, “Maybe? Nah. It should feel bigger than this, right?” The fact that his attraction to women had never felt big should have been a clue. There were so. many. clues.
Dean spent several nights screaming himself hoarse because they could have had it all.
Now that Cas is here, it feels like too much.
Dean watches Cas’ hands as they rise to start undressing him, too. The Angel's fingers are dextrous on the buttons of Dean's flannel, and it makes Dean want to put them in his mouth.
He'd suck and swirl his tongue around Cas’ fingertips until the…
Dean is pulled out of his fantasy when Cas pulls off his T-shirt, leaving him naked from the waist up. Dean reaches forward to take hold of Cas’ hips, needing to touch him more, as Cas works on removing his jeans.
When they're both naked, Cas takes a step back, pulling out of Dean's grip. Dean isn't happy about it, but he allows Cas to look him over, just like he got to look over the Angel.
“Dean,” Cas says reverently.
“Lay down,” Dean whispers.
Dean follows Cas to the ground, not caring about the grass and dirt under their naked bodies. He feels almost feral with an insatiable need to crawl inside of Cas’ skin and spend eternity there, wrapped up in his love. Lust bubbles inside Dean, but it is inconsequential background static to the desperate plea of his bones to meld with Cas’. Dean pushes Cas over on his back with a hand on his shoulder, then crawls in until he's half sprawled on top of his Angel. He squeezes Cas with his arm and his leg to smash himself further into the plains of the Angel’s body.
Dean has never felt this way about someone before, and it makes him feel a little insane.
“I'm here, Dean,” Cas assures. He brings his arms around Dean to hug him tightly.
“Cas,” Dean pleads. There is no rationality behind the plea, only instinct and feeling.
“I'm okay. You saved me,” Cas says soothingly.
Dean still doesn't feel close enough, so he rubs his face against Cas’ peck. He kneads at the Angel’s side, satisfied with how real Cas feels against his palm and fingertips.
Still. Not. Enough.
“Cas!” Dean grunts and tilts his head to smoosh his face into Cas’ neck. He squeezes again with his arm and leg.
“You're okay, Dean.” Cas slides a hand up and over Dean's shoulder to rest on the back of Dean's head.
“I love you,” Dean sobs. He finally becomes aware that he's crying.
“I know. I love you, too.”
Dean spends long minutes sobbing into Cas’ neck, holding him close and trying to dig into his skin.
“What do you need, Dean?” Cas asks after a few minutes.
“To be closer!” Dean grits out.
“I'm afraid we are as close as we are going to get. Unless you would like me to possess you?” Cas observes.
“No! I want to possess you,” Dean says emphatically. He doesn't fully understand what he's feeling right now. He doesn't have a playbook for this all-encompassing need to touch his soul to Cas’ Grace. Dean has never wanted to burrow into someone's chest cavity and take up residence in their ribcage before.
“I would allow you, if I knew how,” Cas says with a smile.
“I love you,” Dean says, pathetically.
“I love you, too,” Cas makes it sound like a solemn vow.
“Please don't leave me again,” Dean begs.
“I will do my best.” Cas tilts his head to kiss Dean's forehead. Dean whines.
“Please,” Dean has so many things that he wants to ask for, to say, but he can't. Everything is stuck in his esophagus.
Cas is quiet for a moment before he rolls them over with his considerable strength. Once on top of Dean, he reaches up and brushes away Dean’s tears before he bows his head to plant a deep, slow kiss on Dean’s lips.
Dean brings his hands up to hold Cas’ face as they both pour all of their love into the kiss. If Dean is honest, it's pretty technically sloppy, but he doesn't give a fuck. It's perfect because it's Cas. The Angel’s love travels from Dean’s lips, down his throat, flutters around his stomach, and pools in his rapidly hardening cock.
“Cas,” Dean whispers when they part.
“What do you want me to do?” Cas asks.
Dean can't bear to part from Cas right now. He shifts their bodies so they're lined up better, then rolls his hips up, dragging his leaking cock against Cas’ skin. Dean watches Cas’ eyelids flutter, and his plump lips part in pleasure. The sight makes Dean let out a moan and clutch on tightly to Cas around the very rib cage he wishes to burrow into. Cas bends down to capture Dean's lips again. After a few moments, Cas gives his own tentative thrust, and they both gasp.
Lit by the moon and accompanied by a backdrop of stars, Cas looks ethereal. Dean wonders if Cas made any of the currently visible celestial objects. That thought, and all others, soon vanish in the deep purple, pleasurable haze filling up Dean's mind.
Dean keeps trying to pull Cas down into him with strong hands on the Angel’s back, despite them already being as close as they can get. He whines and whimpers and meets Cas’ thrusts, still trying to prove to himself that Cas is here, solid, and his.
“Shhh, it's okay, Dean,” Cas pants against Dean’s lips. “I'm here. I'm here.”
Dean hears thunder, and he looks up to see the once clear sky shrouded in black clouds that hemorrhage lightning.
“Cas?”
“Don't worry about it, Dean,” Cas soothes as Dean feels the first warm, fat raindrop on his cheek.
It's Cas, Dean realizes. Cas is causing the storm. It makes Dean's cock jerk and his hips buck up sharply. The movement makes Cas slam his eyes closed for a second, and then he opens them; they are electric blue - sharp - glowing.
Dean rears his head back and shouts as his orgasm overtakes him. He shoots warm, sticky come between their stomachs as he locks up in bliss. He pictures Cas’ cock covered in white and swears he passes out for a second.
“Dean!” Cas groans, but it comes out as a thunderclap accompanied by a blinding flash of lightning as the sky opens up into a downpour. He follows Dean over the edge, cock jerking and adding to the mess between them, as he shivers and shudders through his climax.
The rain on Dean's face, hands, and the parts of his legs not covered by Cas’ feels warm and comforting. However, Dean is thinking a little more clearly after his orgasm, so he is fully able to recognize that going inside probably would have been a better idea. Then again, Dean kind of likes that their first time was a frantic romp with the world they both love so much at his back and under Cas’ knees. It feels fitting.
The soft, familiar bed Dean now feels under his back also feels pretty fitting. And dry. “Thanks for the relocation.” Dean notices the lack of drying come between them. “And the cleanup.” Dean doesn’t always love Cas teleporting him around, but this was a pretty fantastic application.
“You're welcome.” Cas scoots down far enough so he can place his head on Dean’s chest.
Dean immediately reaches up to comb through Cas’ hair.
“I missed you,” Dean mumbles. There are so many things they need to talk about, and he feels like he's missing out on Cas every time he closes his eyes, but he's exhausted. Now that his Angel is home, all those systems that have been running on fumes feel like they've been permitted to stop.
“I missed you, too, Dean,” Cas says, lovingly.
“I'm no good when you're gone,” Dean confesses in a whisper.
“You’ll never have to be without me again,” Cas vows softly.
Dean smiles and falls into a deep, restful slumber.