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Senioritis didn't even begin to cover the intensity of loathing that Dean felt for being stuck in this classroom at the moment. His stomach was uncomfortably full from the full-on gorging of chili cheese fries and a double bacon cheeseburger at lunch, and that was a huge mistake in and of itself; he'd realized too late this morning that he was out of clean clothes and was stuck wearing the damnable tight ass butt-huggers that his friend Jo had insisted he buy. It was a beautiful- although hot- day outside, and the air conditioning was broken in the language arts wing at the moment, where he was sitting in his French class. The single open window was doing shit-all to help. The heat only added insult to injury, as he felt the denim of the tight jeans attempting to meld with his skin, as a thin layer of sweat made its way to the surface.

Dean was going to die of suffocation due to tight pants and bloating.

When he collapsed from his desk and they rolled him over to check his pulse, everyone would shake their heads as they comment that he looked like a loaf of bread baked with twine around it. It would be a most dignified death.

Furthermore, it was Friday. His parents were out of town, Sam was staying at a friend's house for the weekend, and Dean wanted nothing more than to go home and feel sorry for himself in the privacy of his own home. It's not that Dean was prone to skipping school; in fact, he's only done it a couple of times ever. But at the moment, it's all he could think about as he felt the button on his fly pressing into the tight flesh of his stomach, and his shirt starting to stick to his back. If it weren't for the fact that his mother seemed to know every damned teacher in the high school and would probably know within the hour that he'd left, Dean would be out of there in a heartbeat.

With a heavy sigh, Dean slouched down in his seat and tried to get more comfortable while pretending to listen to Mr. Roche as he made conversation with the students, picking them at random to converse with him. And that's the other thing; give Dean a calculus problem or ask him to dissect a piece of literature, and he's fine. Hell, give him a history test or ask him to read a piece of music, or even ring the freakin' bell at the top of the rope in the gym, and he'd perform damn near every time. But something about French just never clicked with him, and Dean despised the feeling of not being good at something that he'd put genuine effort into trying to grasp. It was a week until graduation, and for the first time in Dean's life, Dean Winchester did not give a shit about class.

With another heavy sigh, Dean glanced around the room, satisfied to see that he wasn't the only one suffering the effects of the heat; many other classmates were fanning themselves and looking wilted. As he dragged his eyes back to the approximate area where Mr. Roche was standing, Dean's gaze was caught on the seat directly to his left in the next row over and frowned.

Castiel Novak, the weirdo, looked completely unaffected by the unholy climate in the classroom. Leaned over his desk, reading a book and worrying his lip ring, there wasn't a bead of sweat or touch of blush to his skin. The guy's ever-present eyeliner wasn't even smudged beyond its usual artful application. It was completely unfair.

Dean hadn't realized he was staring until the other boy turned blue eyes on him and lifted a pierced eyebrow at him. Startled at having been caught, Dean glanced away quickly and sat up, immediately regretting the change in position and slouching right back down with a protective hand over his stomach. So maybe he was feeling a little pregnant at the moment, so what? He could practically feel Castiel's curious eyes on him for several seconds, before the boy mercifully went back to his book.

Mr. Roche had begun to stroll up and down the aisles, speaking as he went, and Dean made a half-effort to catch up to what was going on in case he got called on. When the teacher got closer toward Dean though, he paused mid-sentence and turned to Castiel's desk, frowning when the boy didn't look up. In fact, the boy had the gall to hold up an index finger as he finished what he was reading, before turning his attention on the teacher. Mr. Roche rolled his eyes and gave Castiel an unimpressed look before holding his hand out.

Castiel leaned back and cut a glare at the man, before murmuring something in French in a way that was much more elegant-sounding than the pronunciations of Dean and their other classmates. They were speaking much too quickly for Dean to keep up, but the tone was clear when Mr. Roche reprimanded Castiel. But then Castiel leaned back even more to cross his arms over his chest and switched easily to Spanish, ending whatever it was he'd said with a self-satisfied smirk. When Mr. Roche snatched the book off of Castiel's desk and turned to make his way back to the front of the room, the first words Dean had understood clearly between the two was the petite merde that the teacher muttered as he turned.

Dean barely stifled a snort because he did know what that phrase meant, and glanced back over to Castiel. Dean had expected for the other boy to at least look irritated at having his book taken, but instead he did something that left Dean unsure of what to think.

The moment Mr. Roche had made it halfway up the aisle, Castiel dipped his torso slightly to his left, and damned if he didn't pull out a second copy of the book he'd just been reading. What the hell? Who just keeps extra copies of the same book on them? And how in the hell does the boy speak not one, but two separate languages fluently enough to argue, when he's practically never in school? Castiel's always been a bit…odd, at least as far as Dean's observations over the last four years had gone, but still. Two copies!

Castiel just slouched down in his seat and pulled the book down to rest between his stomach and the edge of his desk, then glanced up to the front before thumbing to the page he'd presumably left off on. Dean thought he'd been more discrete this time in his moment of observation, until Castiel suddenly looked right at him and winked, a knowing smirk still lingering on his face after he'd looked back down to his book.

Goddammit. Dean could feel his cheeks heat even further than what the temperature in the classroom had caused, and was briefly grateful for the lack of air conditioning. Castiel hadn't given Dean more than cursory glances, and had probably said less than a hundred words to him in the last three years. Dean wasn't sure why he'd gotten Castiel's attention twice in one day, but it was unsettling, and left Dean feeling awkward as he tried to ignore the way he could feel the other boy's eyes land on him from time to time.

All pretense of even pretending to pay attention forgotten, the next fifteen minutes were going be purely about survival until the bell rang at the end of class. Then Dean could hop in his car and roll the hell out, damn the consequences. Until then though, his gut needed some relief. After a careful glance around to make sure no one was looking, Dean brought his hand to the waist of his jeans and popped the button open, unconcerned about the possibility of the pants falling when he stood, because yeah…they were that tight. The relief was small, but enough that a tiny little breath escaped his nose in a noisier fashion than normal. Paranoid that someone might have noticed, he glanced around, and damned if Castiel wasn't looking right at him.

Not only was Castiel looking right at him, but he was completely unapologetic about it, as his eyes flicked from the open button to Dean's distended belly, and then up to his face. The smirk was back, but it looked more amused than anything. Dean moved to attempt sitting up again and give himself at least a little dignity. It would've been okay, too, had the distinct sound of his zipper crunch-creeping down not punctuated the silence. Apparently, the damned thing just couldn't withstand the change in pressure and for the umpteenth time that day, Dean plotted exactly all the nasty things he had to say to Jo for convincing him that 'everyone needs a pair of Ass Pants'.

Clearing his throat, Dean fixed his eyes on the notebook on his own desk and pointedly avoided looking around as he pretended to be busy. There was no way he could fix the pants situation now without drawing attention, and it would be his luck that someone would accuse him of feeling himself up in class, and there would be parents called and awkward sexual harassment meetings, and just…no.

A soft chuckle from his left let Dean know that Castiel was aware of exactly what had happened, but Dean wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of looking over, so he pretended he didn't hear it and continued doodling. A moment later, Mr. Roche called Castiel to his desk and handed him a pink slip of paper with a smirk settled firmly on his face as he did so. Yeah, Roche was kind of a dick that way. Everything about Castiel's posture was one gigantic shrug somehow, as he took the paper and headed back toward his desk, gathered his things, and walked out of the classroom.

A few other students watched as well, but no one seemed particularly surprised that Castiel was being given a detention slip, even if it was a bit harsh of a punishment for a little bit of sass over a book. Everyone went back to what they were doing, and soon enough the bell was ringing and people were surging up from their desks. Dean knew his shirt wasn't quite long enough to cover the no doubt entirely undone fly of his pants, and he puttered around gathering his things so that he could be the last to leave and hopefully, avoid running into anyone he knew.

Except for a few clusters of people hanging around talking within their circles, the hall was mostly cleared out, so Dean took advantage of it and slinked off to the little alcove just down the hall where a few drink machines were housed. His chances were looking good of pulling this off, since no one seemed to have noticed him in the hall, and for whatever reason, no one was buying a drink at the moment. There was a set of glass double doors in the alcove that were rarely used because they didn't lead to any of the parking lots, so Dean had figured it'd be as good a place to slip out, as any. Just as he got his hand on the door, a gravelly voice piped up out of nowhere.

"Playing hooky, Winchester?"

Startled, Dean let loose an embarrassing squawk as he whirled around.

"Christ," Dean breathed, clutching a hand to his chest. Sure enough, there was Castiel, sitting on the floor, and tucked up against the side of the machine closest to the door. "What are you doing there?"

A small smile tugged at Castiel's lips as he tilted his head.

"It's counterproductive to answer a question with a question," he said simply, dog-earing the page in his book and putting it down.

Dean was a shitty liar and he knew it, so he generally avoided situations that would give him cause to do it. But Castiel was watching him attentively, clearly waiting on an actual answer, even though it was obvious what Dean had been doing. Honesty it was, then.

"Y-yeah. I am," Dean admitted, pushing his glasses back up from where they'd shimmied down a bit. Not because he was nervous, not at all.

Somehow, Castiel still looked surprised at his answer, even though he really shouldn't have been, but then the surprise gave way to a smirk.

"Look at you, all grown up and breaking rules," he teased. "Apparently, even Dean Winchester has his limits."

The sound of a couple of girls chattering nearby grew louder, and Castiel motioned for Dean to step nearer, behind the cover of the machines. Without thinking about why he obeyed instead of just slipping outside, Dean practically leapt to the wall and crouched down; his fear of getting caught far outweighed the weirdness of talking to Castiel. He winced as the position put pressure on his gut, but stayed deathly silent through it, as the girls came into the alcove to get their drinks. When one of the girls drew nearer to the machine they were hiding next to, Castiel grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him closer to him so that they were pressed tightly together, shoulder to hip, as they waited for the girls to leave.

Once the coast was clear, Castiel slowly moved his hand away from where it had been curled above Dean's elbow, and turned to look at Dean. It took a moment for Dean to realize that he was still basically glued to Castiel's side, stomach discomfort forgotten momentarily as he felt the other boy's heat seeping through his shirt and washing over his ribs.

"Er, yeah, so," Dean fumbled as he pulled away.

Castiel licked his lips and a flash of silver accompanied the movement, before disappearing back into his mouth. Holy hell. Dean swallowed and internally berated himself for being so obvious.

"It's hot outside and I didn't feel like walking in the heat, so I'm hiding here," Castiel said suddenly.

"What?" Dean's brain was not connecting the dots.

"I'm avoiding detention while enjoying the air conditioning," Castiel said slowly. "It was hot as balls in that classroom."

"What? Oh," Dean said dumbly, finally grasping what was being talked about. He stood up with an unattractive groan-grunt, as his stomach protested all the movement of the last few minutes. "But if you're just going to hang around the school, why not just go ahead and go to detention?" he whispered, tugging absently on his belt loops to shift his pants back to a more reasonable position.

Castiel's eyes seemed to laser in on the motion, and Dean was painfully aware then, of the fact that he was standing with his pants undone and crotch at face level with goddamned Castiel Novak. Who, interestingly, didn't seem to mind. Regardless, Dean turned to the side and refastened his pants, because he'd be damned if he spent one more minute without at least a modicum of dignity.

"I don't enjoy the company there," Castiel murmured distractedly, before standing up. "You know," he said, stepping into Dean's personal space, "if you're skipping out, I could use a ride."

Oh god, was Castiel flirting with him? Surely not. Dean was fairly certain that the guy probably didn't even know how, considering that Castiel didn't seem to like anyone enough to ever talk to them. Not that Dean would really know either, though; he wasn't a virgin, but he definitely wouldn't qualify as experienced with his whole two blowjobs and five awkward minutes of sex with a co-worker of Jo's last year.

Still though, Dean could admit to himself that he was a little curious as to how things could turn out if he said yes; he'd only been secretly crushing on Castiel since freshman year, despite what a different creature the boy seemed to be nowadays.

"Yeah, that's cool. I'm not doing anything fun on the way, though," Dean said, turning to the doors to hide the blush rising up his cheeks. "Just going home."

He didn't bother to look behind him as he pushed through the doors, knowing that Castiel would be right behind him. Once they were outside, they made their way silently along the side of the building, where all the language arts classrooms had their windows open. Once safely around the corner and headed toward the student parking lot, Dean spoke up.

"So where am I taking you?"

Castiel shrugged. "Wherever. I hadn't actually planned on skipping today, so I don't have any plans."

"Then why'd you ask for a ride?"

"Sounded more entertaining than hiding behind a coke machine at school," Castiel shrugged. "You looked like you had a plan, so I thought I'd see what you were doing."

"Why?" Dean asked, genuinely curious. He was pretty much the definition of 'white bread', as far as he could figure, so he honestly had no clue why Castiel would be even remotely interested in tagging along with him.

"Why not?"

"Well, because…do I look like someone doing something interesting?" Dean asked incredulously.

They'd reached the Impala now, and Dean hopped in before Castiel could answer. A moment later, Castiel joined him in the front seat and was reaching for the seatbelt while Dean turned the ignition.

"If whatever it is you're going to do isn't more interesting than school, then why are you leaving?" Castiel had narrowed his eyes into a squint as he spoke, but then it turned into a smirk. "Or do you just have a tummy ache," he said, mock condescension in his voice.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled.

He was uncomfortable and frankly, a bit sleepy, and still didn't know what the hell he was doing with Castiel in his car or where he was supposed to be taking him. This was the most he'd spoken to Castiel since the boy had come to his house a little over three years ago to work on a class project with him a few nights one week. Back then though, the boy had worn polo shirts and expensive jeans and kept his graphing calculator in a special pouch in his backpack and smelled like Dove bar soap. He'd spoken too formally and sat up too straight for a fifteen year old and didn't understand any of Dean's references, but the boy had been endearing in his own way.

Now though, Castiel Novak was wearing a pair of gray skinny jeans that were so tight they may as well have been painted on, a black Lou Reed shirt that had clearly seen better days, combat boots, and the once light brown messy locks were now buzzed along the sides and the rest was dyed jet black. He had three piercings that Dean was aware of aside from the gauges in his ears, eyes lined black, and a layer of stubble that definitely hadn't been there three years ago. It was startling, exactly how attractive Dean found all of this. Especially with the possibility that deep down, Castiel might still be a dork, regardless of how the freshmen skittered away from him in the halls, and the sneer he'd developed that would make Billy Idol proud.

Castiel bit his lip in thought for a moment, before he released the seat belt and scooted toward Dean across the bench seat. Dean couldn't control the way his eyes widened as Castiel just kept scooting closer, until the boy had no choice but to drape his left arm across the back of Dean's seat and his knee was nudging into Dean's thigh.

"You know, I have a good way to settle an upset stomach," Castiel murmured, eyes darting to Dean's lips and back up. And if Dean wasn't mistaken, he'd purposely lowered his voice an octave. "Especially when due to having…overindulged."

Then he pulled back and gave a little smirk before starting to slide back to his side of the seat. The tone and the body language added up to flirtation, but that had to be the strangest pick-up line Dean had ever had directed at him. Strange or not though, he couldn't deny the way the hairs had raised on his arms at that deep rumble. Put that with the weird flirting, and Dean genuinely didn't know if he should be as attracted as he was to whatever Castiel was teasing him with, and it was a confusing time. Dean also noted that Castiel did indeed still smell like Dove, and the thought was oddly comforting.

"Yeah? What's the miracle cure?" Dean asked, surprised at how even he managed to keep his voice.

A devious glint flashed in Castiel's eyes, and though Dean had known he'd fallen for obvious bait, he hadn't expected the other boy to look quite so pleased.

"I could tell you, but it wouldn't be as effective as showing you," Castiel shrugged.

That sounded dangerously sexual, whatever Castiel was talking about, and Dean swallowed harshly. Nothing at all for the last hour or so of his life was making sense, and Dean scrubbed a hand over his face as he tried to understand what was happening. Time for a mental recap. Skipped breakfast, ate too much too fast at lunch, went to French, Castiel sat next to him- which had never happened before, winked at him, and then witnessed Dean unbuttoning his pants like an fat old man after a buffet. Castiel intercepted his trying to leave and…started flirting with him? If you could call it that. And now he's suggesting some sort of 'I'll show you mine' thing.

Nope, still didn't make any sense.

Needing something to distract himself, Dean put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. He didn't have a particular destination in mind, he just needed to drive and have a good excuse not to let Castiel keep sucking him into the abyss of his eyes. Dean had never even flirted with a dude before; he'd barely made it through his brief encounters with the girl, and wasn't sure why Castiel seemed to think that Dean swung that way…not that he didn't, but Castiel couldn't have known that. And apparently, Castiel liked the dudes a little bit, too.

Dean pushed his glasses back up and cleared his throat.

"Look Cas- can I call you Cas?"

Castiel's lips twitched briefly, but Dean just plowed on ahead.

"I honestly don't have a clue what's going on right now," Dean said bluntly. "We don't say more than a few sentences over the last few years to each other, and now you're," he gestured vaguely.

Cas chuckled and settled himself more comfortably into the seat, as if it had always been his. Dean wanted to be perturbed at the casual intimacy the other boy seemed to feel with his car, but when he glanced over, Cas was stroking his fingertips reverently against the upholstery and leaning back with his eyes closed. When he didn't seem inclined to clarify Dean's confusion, Dean let out a little huff, earning a lazily cracked eye in his direction.

"Something you wanna say, Rapunzel?" Cas asked, the last syllable breaking off on a yawn. "Mmmm…car's comfy," he added on.

Dean glared at Cas and hit the brakes a little harder than necessary as they pulled up to a stop sign. Cas sat up and knit his brows at Dean for the rude awakening of sorts.

"Dude, you don’t insult a man when he's driving you around in his own car. And where the hell are we supposed to be going? What are we doing? I need to know what's going on," Dean asked, equal parts frustrated and curious.

Cas gave him a long once-over and sighed. "But you really are very pretty, Dean," he said, voice void of teasing. But then he seemed to catch himself and the smirk settled back into place. "And I suppose we could go to one of our houses and I could show you that cure. Two birds with one stone…you get to feel better, and I get to not be bored out of my skull."

Dean wanted to argue the 'pretty' remark, but there were more important things to address at the moment.

"What makes you think I'm interested in whatever it is you're offering?" Dean asked pointedly.

In his peripheral, Dean could see the twinkle of Cas' eyebrow ring as the sun glinted off of it when he lifted his brow. He unbuckled his seat belt and slid back into Dean's space again, this time getting close, but not touching Dean at all. Cas leaned in, breath ghosting over Dean's ear, and a shudder ran through his body at the heat and proximity. Dean didn't even realize he'd leaned ever so slightly toward the other boy, until he felt the barest brush of Cas' lips against the shell of his ear.

"Because I'm still in your car," Cas whispered, warm breath fanning over Dean's most sensitive spots from the neck up. A shiver went down his spine, but Cas didn't move, electing instead to continue speaking. "And you seem to like my lips here."

"Holy shit," Dean breathed, swerving a bit on the road. Cas chuckled in his ear before he pulled away and went back to his own seat, buckling back in and looking pleased with himself.

Dean's heart thudded against his ribs and his face was impossibly hot, even with the goosebumps that had prickled his skin. He realized belatedly that they were now less than half a mile from his house, but couldn't seem to find it in himself to turn around or pull over. He squirmed in his seat as he tried to discreetly hide the way he was half-hard now, and swallowed thickly. There were many reasons that he should put a stop to this bizarre little scenario: Cas was a dude and that was all new territory, Dean was not some horndog that just went around hooking up with people on a whim, and oh. The fact that it was Castiel fucking Novak propositioning him.

The boy seemed to spend more time skipping class or in detention than in the classroom, and when he did show up, he had no qualms about correcting the teachers and throwing snark at the other students. He'd been suspended at least three times for fighting, there were more rumors about his possible criminal tendencies than Dean cared to think about, and Dean had no clue how many people Cas had been with and why he was suddenly expressing interest in Dean.


Shitfire, Cas had also been that wide-eyed skinny little dork with highlighters and post-its coordinated in an intricate system of organization when they'd crowded together over Dean's dinner table. The kid that looked at Mary Winchester like he'd seen the face of God, when she told the two of them to take a break and go play some video games for a minute until supper was ready and get back to work after they'd eaten. What the hell switch had flipped in Cas?

Dean's curiosity as much as anything finally won out and much calmer now, he pulled into his driveway. They'd be done with school on Tuesday, and then after that, it was just the graduation ceremony, and this high school shit would be officially over. If there was ever a time for Dean to let loose a little bit, it was now, when he had the house to himself and very few fucks left to give about high school life. Plus, you know, the fact that it would be with the only dude that had ever managed to draw more than a passing 'not bad' reaction from Dean. Well, non-fictional dude, anyway.

"You're being disconcertingly calm," Cas commented, a touch of what could almost be nervousness in his eyes.

Dean sighed as he turned off the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition in one fluid, well-practiced movement.

"I desperately need to get out of these goddamned pants and lay around. The house is mine for the weekend, so I intend to take advantage of it and do whatever the hell I want for once. And if you think you'll be entertained by my chins while I lay on the bed with my computer, then stay all you want," he said tiredly, and purposely with no allusion to all the tension up to this point. Even if nothing happened, Dean would be fine with that too, just relaxing and maybe finding out more about Castiel 2.0.

Cas snorted and the two got out of the car at the same time. When they reached the front porch, Cas leaned one shoulder against the wall as Dean unlocked the door, his body a long line of sinewy muscle that lent him an almost feline grace. Jesus, puberty had served Cas well. Yet again, it was unfair; Dean may have gained a lot of muscle and grown an inch or so the last year, but his features were still irritatingly delicate, and the baby fat seemed to be stubbornly clinging over the muscles, making him look much softer than he actually was. Cas wasn't the first person to call him Rapunzel, and it irked Dean to no end that everyone seemed to see the resemblance.

Finally getting the door unlocked, the two walked in and Dean flipped on the lights as they walked through the house. They didn't speak until they got to Dean's room and had both dumped their bags on the floor by the foot of the bed.

Now that they were in his room, the nervousness started to trickle back into Dean's veins like a slow approaching storm. He'd had every intention of cutting free and doing whatever he felt like, but now…it was just so…awkward. Or at least, Dean was feeling that way. Desperate for anything to break up the silence, Dean opened up his laptop and put in the password before handing it off to Cas.

"Here. Just…find something on Netflix or something," Dean muttered.

Fortunately, Cas seemed unfazed by Dean's moodiness and just took the laptop and started up the search for something to watch. Dean wanted to swallow his nerves and change right there, but just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I'll be back in a minute," he said, balling up some flannel pants and a t-shirt and marching out of his room to go across the hall to the bathroom.

The moment he was free of his pants, he couldn't contain the groan of relief as cool air hit overheated skin and he felt like he could finally move in his own body. Peeling the button-down off and shrugging on a worn-in t-shirt was just as glorious, and his whole body relaxed a bit. He pulled on the flannel pants fairly quickly and took a much-needed piss. When he got back to his room, Cas had kicked off his shoes and propped himself against the headboard, laptop perched on his thighs where his legs were stretched out in front of him.

"You're looking a little more alive," Cas commented casually, moving the laptop to rest beside his hip.

Dean gave him a tight smile and nodded as he hovered awkwardly by the edge of the bed.

"Are you afraid of me?" Cas asked suddenly, and without judgment.

"No," Dean answered honestly. "You haven't given me reason to be."

"Good. Because I'm not a threat to you," Cas said with a nod. "Now, will you quit hovering and get on the bed? My remedy doesn't work by telekinesis."

Dean sighed and made his way up to the head of the bed, searching Cas' eyes for some sign of his intentions, but couldn't get anything from him. But then Cas spread his legs wide and patted the bed between them.

"Sit here," Cas said simply.

With one more skeptical look, Dean did as he was asked and sat down in the space, wondering briefly if Cas was about to do some pressure point kind of thing on his back. That was erased though, when he felt Cas' hands land on his upper arms and tug gently.

"Lean back on me," the boy said quietly.

Dean turned at the waist to look at Cas over his shoulder.

"What? Like…cuddling?" Dean asked, voice going up half an octave in his disbelief.

Cas gave him an eyeroll and leaned back further against the headboard, situating himself. When Dean didn't move, Cas sighed and gave him a pointed look, as if Dean was the one being strange. Dean really didn't know how to respond to that, but he did kind of maybe secretly enjoy the thought of being…cuddled, even if it was a strange circumstance.

Finally, Dean gave in and leaned back, settling his back into Cas' front. It was odd, feeling that much warmth radiating into his back from another person, but Cas was confusingly comfortable, considering that he didn't seem to have an ounce of fat on his body. With this thought, Dean sat right back up and looked over his shoulder.

"I'm going to squish the hell out of you if I relax," Dean said.

"No you're not," Cas shook his head. "But if it makes you feel better, you could lay on your side with your head in my lap, facing outward. I just need access to your stomach, and this is the easiest position."

Dean barked nervous laughter, shaking his head.

"You know, most people go on dates and learn something about each other before they go doing this kind of shit. I mean, what are you getting out of this? You have some kind of virgin kink or something? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, you're barking up the wrong tree if that's the case," Dean said.

Cas narrowed his eyes for a moment and frowned. "I don't have a virgin kink, and hadn't assumed that were one. And I'm not most people, though I think you've noticed that already," he said dryly. "I've seen the way you look at me, Dean. If I'm mistaken that you're attracted to me, feel free to say so. In fact, I'd prefer it."

Dean gaped at Cas' bluntness, and blushed at being called out. When he could collect himself, he swallowed harshly around a nervous knot in his throat.

"Cas, I've never, um…well, I don't do the dude thing. I mean, I've never done the dude thing," Dean fumbled, picking at a cuticle.

"Neither have I," Cas shrugged, eyebrows raised.

Dean whipped his head around so quickly, something popped in his neck.

"Then why now? Why me?" he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise. Because come on, how in the hell could Cas act so confident earlier, having never tried anything like that before? Then it occurred to him that maybe that was why Cas was being so vague earlier…he didn't know what he was doing, either.

Cas shrugged again and picked at a thread on Dean's comforter for a moment before he answered.

"You aren't afraid of me, you're a good person, and you have a really nice ass," Cas smirked. "As for the why now: I'm just living in the moment, Dean. I was bored, you looked miserable, and I wanted to see if I could make you feel better, so I asked if I could come along. Simple enough?" Cas asked, tilting his head.

"Just like that, huh?" Dean asked quietly.

Cas nodded and gave him a tight-lipped smile, eyebrows raised.

Dean was certain that this had to be the strangest way that someone had ever shown interest in him, and he almost laughed as it occurred to him that he'd been right earlier; underneath it all, Cas was still that awkward kid from years ago. The difference was that Cas was just more confident in his weirdness these days. The realization left Dean feeling somewhat settled and with a resigned sigh, he leaned back.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," Dean muttered, squirming to get comfortable.

Cas chuckled and squirmed as well. "What? Embarrassed of me already?" The tone was teasing, but Dean's heart twisted at how lightly the other boy was able to say something like that about himself.

"I don't think I'd be embarrassed of you," Dean murmured, leaning his head back to rest on Cas' shoulder and closing his eyes. "It's the cuddling," he grunted.

If Dean was being truthful with himself, it really did feel good, leaning his weight back into Cas; he was solid, and warm, and strong, and nothing like the girl he'd been with. Cas didn't respond to what Dean said, but did lean his head against Dean's and let out a little breath through his nose that tickled Dean's cheek.

"Can you lift your shirt up? I need to touch your stomach," Cas said quietly.

Dean's hands shifted protectively over his stomach and the embarrassing little pudge that he didn't like to think about, hidden under his shirt. Cas sighed and brought a hand up to cover one of Dean's.

"I'm not going to make fun of you, Dean. At least, not for that," Cas said next to Dean's ear, a smile obvious in his voice. Then, as if on a whim, he placed the tiniest of pecks to the shell of Dean's ear.

Pulling his hands away, Dean kept his eyes shut tight, not wanting to see whatever reaction Cas might have to his belly. "You're confusingly sappy, you know that?" he asked. "Doesn't make sense," he grumbled, pulling his shirt up.

"And you're confusingly skeptical for a middle-class kid from the suburbs," Cas murmured, snaking a gentle hand to rest on Dean's stomach.

Dean couldn't help the little flinch at the contact, but relaxed when Cas started rubbing his hand in a soft circle. It was so unlike the delicate hands that Dean was used to touching him; Dean had managed to somehow end up with mostly female friends, which meant that he'd long ago gotten used to sharp little knuckles punching him in the shoulder and gentle touches when he was upset. But Cas' palm was broad and fingers long, and even with the soft touch, Dean could feel the underlying strength in his hand…and god, that was hot.

Cas continued to rub for a minute, and Dean had to admit that it really was helping, though he wasn't sure how much credit he could give to the touch, and how much should be given to wearing loose clothes and giving his stomach enough time to settle. He realized he couldn't find it in himself to care about it all though, because Cas was touching him and it felt good, dammit. But then the motion stopped, as Cas leaned forward to peer over Dean's shoulder, rubbing the tips of his fingers over an aggravated spot that was dangerously close to the waistband of Dean's pants.

"I can see why you were so eager to get your pants unbuttoned," he said calmly, indicting the little spot of angry flesh where the button had been digging into Dean's skin. "It's a shame that you probably won't wear them again, though," he said, now teasing at the little line of hair beneath Dean's navel.

The touch tickled a bit and his muscles flinched, but more at the intimate touch and compliment than anything, and Dean's breath hitched traitorously. Cas took it all for plain ticklishness apparently, and moved his hand back to its original motions, rubbing in that soothing circle as he leaned back.

"How do," Dean began, but it came out as a croak and had to clear his throat. "How do you wear these things without wanting to die all day?" he asked, running bold fingertips up Cas' shin.

Cas breathed a chuckle that went right over those sensitive spots on Dean's neck, and he didn't quite suppress the resulting shiver. Cas' hand faltered almost imperceptibly, but kept going.

"I'm used to them, I guess. Well, and I don't usually eat lunch," Cas said, the motion of his shrug shifting the both of them.

"But don't they squeeze the hell out of your nuts?" Dean asked, before he could quite stop himself.

"That's what briefs are for, Dean. But yeah, sometimes they do get uncomfortable. That's why I don’t wear them all the time," he responded.

"Then why wear them at all? That's impractical," Dean said flatly.

Cas' hand stopped its motion as he answered. "Because my thighs seem to scare most of the guys, and the girls seem to enjoy looking," he said, squeezing said thighs briefly against Dean's sides.

Surprised laughter bubbled out of Dean, not expecting the somewhat shallow answer.

"You use your pants as a defensive gesture? Gotta say that's a new one on me," Dean said, still chuckling a bit.

"What can I say? I use what I've got. Most people don't want to mess with someone that looks like they could crush the wind out of them with their legs," Cas said casually. "You stomp and look surly, I wear tight pants."

Dean turned a bit to his side, placing a hand on Cas' knee for support. "I do not stomp. And what do you mean I look surly? Between the two of us, you're the surlier one," Dean huffed.

"I don't deny that," Cas said, an amused smile curling at his lips. "But you do stomp and frown a lot, like you're headed off to battle every time you're on your way somewhere. It's adorable."

Dean huffed and turned back around to resume his position, this time pulling Cas' hand back to his stomach in a silent request to keep going. "I'm not adorable," he muttered. When Cas' hand didn't move, Dean turned his head a bit. "You gonna keep up with the miracle cure, or what?"

"You're fucking bossy, Winchester. And kind of abrasive, too, for a nerd. Most nerds are nicer," Cas said without reprimand. But then his hand started moving again. This time though, it wasn't in the slow circle, but a sweeping of fingertips all along Dean's abdomen.

Under any other circumstance, those words would have grated on Dean, but combined with the return of Cas' touch, it stirred something in Dean that made him want to prod at the other boy. Turning his head to get just the right angle, Dean let his lips just barely brush against Cas' jaw, ignoring the way the stubble tickled at his lips as he spoke.

"Yeah, well, you're still here, aren't you?" he whispered.

This time, it was Cas' breath that hitched, and his eyes darted down to meet Dean's as he swallowed. They looked at each other for a long moment, Dean's eyes darting down to Cas' mouth, imagining what that piercing would feel like against his lips. Then Cas just had to go and lick his lips, letting that little bit of silver peek out. When Dean lifted his eyes back to Cas', he wasn't prepared for the way Cas' pupils were starting to do a little dilated. Holy shit.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Winchester?" Cas asked, but the slight gruffness in his voice ended up overpowering the joking tone.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I don’t know what I'm doing."

Cas cleared his throat before he spoke. "Well, what are you thinking, then?"

A flush rose up on Dean's cheeks at the thought of having to having to talk about these things. Sure, he had just as active an imagination as the next guy, but talking about it was a whole other thing.

"Do I have to?" he asked quietly.

Something resembling affection softened Cas' eyes for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"No. But I can tell you what I'm thinking, if you'd like," he offered with a devious grin.

That smirk seemed to hold the promise that whatever Cas was going to say would inevitably end in Dean blushing even more. For reasons unknown, Dean found himself saying, "Okay."

Cas nuzzled against Dean's head until his mouth was right next to Dean's ear, and really, Dean should have known better right then, but damned if he was going to stop it.

"I'm wondering if your tongue would be as demanding in my mouth, as it is when you speak," Cas murmured, the vibration of the deep rumble going straight through Dean's back and shooting to his groin. "I don't think I'd mind either way, but I am curious."

Then he was settling his head back and running too-gentle fingernails up Dean's stomach as if nothing had happened. It wasn't even dirty talk, but it may as well have been, for the effect it had on Dean's sudden arousal. God, he may as well have been a virgin, for as lost as he felt at the moment, torn between satisfying Cas' curiosity and wanting to curl up and hide the half-hardness starting to make itself known in his pants. It took him a long moment- longer than it probably should've- to remember that Cas wouldn't be offended by Dean being turned on by him. With the obvious realization that he might not be the only one turned on, Dean decided to wiggle experimentally and got his answer when Cas hissed through his teeth as Dean's lower back rubbed against a bulge that definitely hadn't been there before.

"Oh," Dean said dumbly.

"Yeah," Cas answered.

"That's…that's kind of…" Dean struggled to find a good word for what he thought about Cas' junk pressing its interested self into his back. Instead, he squirmed again, needing to feel it again to reassure himself that all this was real. This time he heard a throaty grunt, and Cas' hands flew up to clasp tightly to Dean's forearms. The grunt got to him. "God, Cas," he breathed.

Cas exhaled shaky laughter and shifted beneath him, to sit up fully. Dean sat up as well, and turned around, eyes automatically darting down to look at the bulge, and felt his mouth go dry at the visual confirmation. He didn't need to look down to know what his own body was showing, and was surprised at how much he liked the way Cas' eyes seemed to have zoomed in to his own crotch. When their eyes met again, Dean knew what he wanted and licked his lips.

It was all the invitation Cas needed, and he leaned forward to place an unexpectedly gentle kiss to Dean's lips. There was something endearing about the fact that Cas seemed to think that Dean warranted such care, and it brought a smile to his face as they parted.

"Your lip ring feels weird," Dean mused. "Is it going to hurt either of us, if I kiss you harder?"

"I've never gotten any complaints," Cas said with a charming waggle of brows.

Dean rolled his eyes, but it didn't hold any heat as he grabbed a handful of Cas' shirt and pulled the other boy to him for another kiss. Cas made a surprised little 'oomph' sound, but quickly got with the program and brought one hand to rest against the side of Dean's neck, and the other landed on his shoulder as he returned the kiss. It was obvious within seconds that Cas had more kissing experience between them, but he didn't seem to mind, if the pleased little sound he made when Dean parted their lips was any indication. Dean unclenched the fist holding Cas' shirt and hesitantly snaked it up to tangle his fingers in the hair at the back of Cas' head.

When Dean felt the tentative swipe of Cas' tongue asking for permission, his breath caught in his throat for a moment because he knew that the moment he obliged, this was really happening. But the thought of not knowing what it would feel like was nearly intolerable at this point, despite the nervous flutter in his stomach. Decision made, Dean tentatively flicked the tip of his tongue against Cas' and was rewarded with a pleased little sigh and Cas' hands dropping down to rest at his hips.

The warm, heavy weight of those hands turned quickly from hesitant to possessive as the kiss deepened to become more exploratory. And while Dean appreciated that Cas' meticulous attention in memorizing each bump and ridge in his mouth, he was growing impatient, needing to know what that elusive stud would feel like dragging against his own tongue. The first opportunity he had, Dean took over the kiss and let Cas know exactly what he wanted, making the other boy groan. Having such a sound directed at him made Dean's blood rush south so fast it left him dizzy for a second, and he had to pull away to catch a breath.

An uncharacteristic flush had risen on Cas' cheeks and his lips were kiss-swollen, as his hands clutched and relaxed repetitively at Dean's hips. Cas already looked halfway to wrecked and the sight of it sent a harsh pulse of want rippling through Dean from head to toe. Then the boy smirked, and a growl- an actual fucking growl- sounded in Dean's throat, and whatever qualms he'd had about messing around with Cas melted away, because he needed his lips on that delectable neck like yesterday. Without further ado, Dean leaned in and started kissing a line down Cas' throat, licking and sucking little marks as his hands wandered over Cas' chest, appreciating the firm, flat lines beneath his hands.

"Fuck, Dean, you're killing me," Cas whined as Dean's hands found their way under his shirt.

Dean chuckled into Cas' collarbone and skated a hand up to thumb at a nipple, but pulled back with a gasp when he felt the unmistakable hardness of metal.

"Your nipple is pierced," Dean said dazedly. Without waiting for a response, he brought the other hand up to the other nipple and an embarrassing little whimper escaped when he felt a matching hoop on that one as well. "Christ, Cas. Your nipples are fucking pierced," he said, a shudder running through him as he felt the nubs of flesh harden beneath the attentions of his thumbs.

Cas huffed out a shaky laugh. "Really? I wonder when that happened," he snarked.

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly and huffed, gentling his touch momentarily.

"Can- Can I see?" he asked timidly, surprised at how deep his own voice had gone.

A pleased little lopsided grin formed on Cas' lips and he sat back a little to pull off his shirt, tossing it haphazardly to the floor and reclining back invitingly on his elbows. The heated look he threw Dean's way was nothing short of a smolder, and on anyone else, Dean would've laughed at the ridiculousness of it. But then Dean's eyes traveled downward and the sight of that naked torso made Dean suck in a harsh breath.

Oh god. There were tattoos. There was an abstract watercolor tattoo running down Cas' side in blues and greens and dotted with purple, that disappeared into the waistband of his pants. Dean's eyes then skittered to the nipples, where a thin silver hoop adorned each one, and down to his ribs, where a complex swirl of little stars spread out on one side and trailed around to presumably finish on his back. It was reminiscent of Starry Night, and Dean couldn't help but feel like he was looking at a human canvas; Cas was stunning. All the same, he didn't let his gaze linger too long in one spot because there was a lot to take in, and trailed his eyes downward, daring to be so bold as Cas lay there silently, letting Dean look his fill. When Dean finally let himself really look, it was almost too much, between the sharp jut of unnaturally perfect hipbones, the piercings along the dips that only emphasized it all, and then the distinct line of a rock hard cock pressing against the fly of those pants.

"You gonna paint me like one of your French girls?" Cas asked, flopping back and raising one arm to rest next to his head, a teasing grin on his face.

Dean became abruptly aware that he'd been gaping open-mouthed, and closed his mouth with an audible click, embarrassed.

"Hey, don’t go getting all flustered now," Cas chided, soft amusement in his eyes. "I promise I don’t bite. Well, unless you think you'd like that," he smirked.

Not sure which thing to respond to, and mind not exactly thinking clearly, the words that came out of Dean's mouth were not the ones he'd planned on.

"How does your dick not hurt?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the unholy tightness.

That startled a laugh out of Cas. "Because until now I've been purposely not thinking about it, so thanks for that," he said, squirming his hips a bit.

"Then take them off," Dean said, gesturing vaguely at Cas' lower body. This brand of boldness was definitely not normal for him, but then again, neither was fooling around with dudes. Dude. Ridiculously hot dude. Ridiculously hot dude that Dean may or may not have jerked off to the thought of a few times. Jesus.

"Thank fuck," Cas breathed, hands flying down to rid himself of his pants. It took a bit of squirming and shimmying, but once they were off, Cas let out a huge sigh of relief and immediately reached down to palm at himself over dark blue briefs, letting out a deep groan. With his other hand, he tugged at Dean's pant leg. "Unless you're going to put a twenty in my waistband, it's not fair for me to be the only one nearly naked."

As much as Dean wanted to feel Cas' skin against his own, he was also still a little embarrassed at being seen naked, and by such a breathtaking specimen of humanity, at that. Needing to stall, Dean closed up the laptop and shoved it under the bed.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Cas said softly. "But I have to admit that right about now I'd really like to touch you again, and feel your skin on mine."

Confusingly, Cas' honesty almost had a subtle innocence to it that gave Dean pause. He looked carefully at Cas' eyes and thought about everything that had led up to this and felt an impossible idea skirting at the edge of his thoughts.

"Cas?" Dean asked, running a gentle palm up Cas' thigh and swallowing hard.


"Can I ask you how many people you've been with?" Dean asked as neutrally as he could.

Cas glanced away at that before meeting Dean's eyes again, the familiar mask dropping back into place. "Depends on how you define 'been with'," he shrugged nonchalantly.

Alarms immediately sounded between Dean's ears, but he needed to know. "How many people have you inserted your dick into, one orifice or another?" he asked flatly.

With a heavy sigh, the mask faded away again as a deep blush crept up Cas' neck and into his ears. "There's a reason I don't have a virgin kink, Dean," he muttered, closing his eyes.

Dean's brain completely short-circuited at that. What. The. Ever-loving. Fuck. No, surely not. It just didn't make sense, and ludicrously, the words 'Does Not Compute' flashed behind Dean's eyes.

"Are you…I mean, have you not," Dean stuttered.

"No, I haven't, alright?" Cas said tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, I've messed around with a lot of girls, but I've never, um, received anything or…well."

The admission made Dean's heart slam behind his ribs because holy fucking mother of Christ…Castiel Novak was not only the world's most unlikely virgin, but he'd totally intended on letting Dean be his first…whatever they ended up doing. This time when Dean let his eyes rake over the boy in front of him, he didn't see the tattoos and piercings and intimidating demeanor that he'd come to associate with Cas over the last few years. Dean felt like his insides had been replaced by warm thick syrup as he saw those same wide eyes looking back at him from years ago.

"Cas," Dean sighed, taking one of the other boy's hands and pressing a kiss to the palm. "You don't want this with me. You should share it with someone special that you care about. And I'm not exactly that experienced, myself, so…"

Cas scowled as he pulled his hand away. "I believe it's my choice to make, is it not?"

"Yeah, but," Dean began.

"But nothing," Cas snapped. "Now, if you're still in the mood and not completely turned off by the virgin in your bed, I'd really appreciate it if you'd strip and get down here."

"Was this your plan when you asked for a ride?" Dean asked quietly.

Cas frowned, eyebrows pulling tight. "No, it wasn't," he drawled, "but I also wasn't going to object if things took a turn this way."

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times, knowing that any argument he could make would only piss Cas off even more, and frankly, Dean was more than still in the mood. Shaking his head and huffing a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, Dean stood up and shucked his pajama pants and t-shirt and crawled back up on the bed to straddle Cas' thighs. He watched as Cas' eyes devoured him and a hesitant hand reached out to trace along his chest and stomach. Seeing that Dean wasn't moving away from his touch, Cas' hands became bolder, sliding up Dean's thighs and coming to rest on his hips, thumbs dipping teasingly below the waistband of Dean's boxer briefs.

The touch made Dean's cock jerk, and he grunted as one of Cas' hands moved over to palm at Dean's erection, the contact hot and blissful after so much neglect. They both groaned quietly, and then Cas' hand was gone and Dean made an embarrassing sound at the loss. A wicked smile lit Cas' face, and he wasted no time shoving at Dean's underwear until Dean got the hint and scooted to give them both room to take off the last barriers between them.

"God, Cas!" Dean gaped. The only explanation Dean could come up with for how Cas had been wearing those pants was Timelord technology, because there was no way the other boy should've been able to fit his dick in them. At least, not without giving the world an idea of his parents' religion, anyway.

"Not so bad yourself, Winchester," Cas mumbled, eyes glued to Dean's cock where it bobbed between his legs. Then he seemed to come to himself and grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him down into a fierce kiss.

Both boys groaned as their cocks came into contact, each of them already leaking and desperate for friction. Cas' hands slid down to cup Dean's ass and pull him into a grind and a full-body shudder ran through Dean as he began to rock his hips in a steady rhythm. It felt strange, rubbing his erection against another, rather than the slick, wet dip of a girl, but there was no doubt about the fact that this was indescribably good in its own way. It was too much and not enough, and Dean's brain flooded with images of all the different things he wished he could do, but alas, they were both only human. Neither of them would have the staying power for the all-out sexual buffet Dean was imagining, and he groaned in frustration at the thought because this was probably a one and done and he wanted to make it good.

"What's- ungh- what's wrong?" Cas asked, a bit breathless. At least Dean wasn't the only one so affected by it all.

Dean shook his head and dipped down to lick up the length of Cas' throat, pausing when he reached his earlobe to teethe at it briefly, pulling a small gasp from the boy beneath him. Cas' hips had begun to roll in a sinuous movement against Dean's that really shouldn't have been legal, much less from a virgin.

"N-nothin'. Just thinking about all the- fuck, just like that- all the uh…erng…God, I can't talk," Dean huffed, the laugh dissolving into a moan.

Castiel chuckled breathily and without warning wrapped his legs tightly around Dean's hips, halting his movements. Cas' thighs were just as strong as they looked, and the thought of all the things he could use those muscles for made Dean's cock pulse harshly where it was trapped between their bellies.

"What were you thinking, Dean?" Cas purred, knowing he had Dean's attention for the moment.

Dean dipped his head down to lave at a nipple, tugging the hoop gently between his lips. Cas practically growled and squeezed his thighs warningly. "Dean, focus," he said, trying for stern but mostly just sounding annoyed.

"I was thinking 'bout all the things I wish I had time to do to you, Cas. And do with you," Dean said, flushing at the admission.

Cas inhaled sharply and lifted his head to nibble at Dean's collarbone. "Yeah? Like what?" he mumbled into Dean's skin.

Shaking his head, Dean closed his eyes. "I- I can't say it," he said, willing the other boy to understand that he didn't have the first clue about dirty talk, and didn't really have the presence of mind to try, anyway.

Cas' thighs released their hold on him and in a flash he was sitting up and pushing Dean up with him so he was straddling Dean's lap, and snorting a laugh into Dean's neck at the sound of surprise he'd made at the manhandling. "You're fucking adorable," he said with a chuckle.

Before Dean could protest though, Cas was wrapping a hand his cock and oh sweet Jesus, that grip was perfect. Dean's brain caught up after a second and he grasped Castiel's length, loving the way those bright blue eyes fluttered shut. Dean couldn't quite figure out what to look at, torn between Cas' pleasure-wracked features and the way the head of his own dick kept peeking out from between those stupidly graceful fingers. As far as Dean could figure, a dick was a dick, so he added a flick of his wrist that he liked to use on himself, and felt Cas' dick swell harder in his hand as Cas panted with the new sensation.

"Fuck, getting close," Cas breathed, speeding up the motions of his own hand on Dean and swiping his thumb over the head every few strokes.

Dean whined at the sensation and shifted to bring their lengths together in his hand and oh, oh god that was good. Liquid heat was pooling in Dean's gut and he knew it was only a matter of time. Cas dropped his forehead to rest on Dean's shoulder and wrapped his arms around him as he thrust into Dean's grip and the perfect slick friction was overwhelming.

"Cas, I'm gonna come," Dean panted, more breath than voice, his own hips joining in the action now.

Cas lifted his head to rest his forehead against Dean's and they both looked down so they could watch. The simple fact of Cas' need to watch Dean come sent him over the edge, and Dean came hard with a hoarse shout, his release shooting hot between them.

"Fuckfuckfuck…oh shit," Cas babbled, and followed right after with a loud grunt, hips stuttering harshly as he spilled over Dean's hand.

Dean whimpered at the sight and feeling of their come mixing together and shuddered through a little aftershock as he stroked them both through it. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders and slumped a bit as they caught their breath. After a minute, he reluctantly pulled off of Dean's lap, but to Dean's surprise, flopped back on the bed instead of heading for the bathroom or going in search of tissues. Dean figured Cas' world was probably still being rocked from his first other person-induced orgasm experience and chuckled a little at the dazed look on Cas' face as he grabbed an abandoned shirt on the floor.

Once he'd wiped his own hand off, Dean made quick work of cleaning the little bit that had landed on Cas and then wiped himself down, tossing the shirt to the floor again and sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. Dean wasn't sure how most people handled the post-coital part of a hookup, but he knew that it generally involved some awkward goodbyes or sneaking away at some point. The thought of being alone now made his stomach drop to the soles of his feet, but Dean figured he'd better start preparing for it now.

Castiel pulled him from his thoughts with an insistent tug at his wrist. When Dean turned to look at him, Cas had playful little grin on his lips and one eye cracked open lazily.

"Quit acting like you don't want to get in on this," he said with a vague gesture to indicate himself, no concern for his nudity seeming to be found. "I know your secret, Dean, now get over here and cuddle me."

Blinking twice, Dean felt relief that buoyed his stomach back up to its proper place, despite the fact he'd just been ordered to cuddle. He tapped the back of his hand against Cas' hip, and Cas scooted over to make room on the full size bed. Once Dean had laid down, Cas wasted no time in curling himself into Dean's side and resting his head on Dean's chest, arm draped across his abdomen. It felt natural for Dean to bring his own arm up to wrap around Cas' back, and before he'd realized what he was doing, his hand had started sweeping up and down the length of Cas' spine. He honestly hadn't expected that the punk meant it when he demanded to be cuddled, but apparently Cas doesn't mess around.

"So…was it okay?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yeah," Cas answered, just as quietly, fingertips absently tracing Dean's ribs. He seemed to be lost in thought, so Dean tried not to take the short answer too personally.

"Why me?" Dean murmured after a long silence. He knew he'd already asked before, but still didn't quite understand why Cas had chosen him. 

Cas sighed, but didn't answer immediately as he chose his words. "There were a few reasons. But mostly because I liked the way you looked at me, and I knew you wouldn't be an asshole about it if you saw through my bullshit."

Dean could read between the lines, and he knew that he'd been chosen as a candidate, not a lover, but that was okay; they both got what they wanted in the end, and Dean had already known that this would be a one, maybe two-time thing. Cas was smart, and despite his teenage rebellion, was probably headed to some out of state school in the fall, while Dean was staying home to attend the local community college and save a bit on his courses before having to invest in a university to finish his degree.

Sated and warm and sleepy, Dean and Cas both dozed off for a while without realizing it. When Dean woke up, he was surprised into consciousness by the sensations of warmth and heat and tightness surrounding his cock. It took him a moment to grasp what was going on, and when he looked down, he was snapped right into reality as his eyes met with wide blue peering right back at him, and Cas' mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. He was giving experimental little sucks and licks, and goddamned if it wasn't something straight out of Dean's spank bank. It only got worse when he let out the majority of his tongue and ran the flat of it from root to tip, piercing dragging along the vein and glinting as Cas retracted his tongue.

"Oh my god, Cas," Dean gasped, clenching the covers tightly in his fists.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Cas muttered, squinting at Dean's cock as if it were some complicated piece of machinery. "I mean, it's one thing to see it done, but it's a whole other to do it, you know?"

Dean didn't know, but he could understand the sentiment. Cas dipped in again, this time taking most of Dean's erection in, and wrapping his fingers around what he couldn't fit comfortably. Applying a little bit of suction, Cas slowly pulled back up, and somehow managed to look smug around the dick in his mouth, when Dean groaned. He bobbed for a minute before attempting a tongue swirl around the shaft, and at that, Dean's hips nearly bucked. Cas pulled off and coughed as the first dollops of pre-come hit the back of his tongue. After a moment he leaned back in, but this time to gather a fresh bead that had gathered at the head. He worked his tongue around inside his own mouth for a few seconds, tilting his head as he considered the taste.

"Well?" Dean asked curiously.

Cas squinted as he tried to come up with an answer, but ended up just shrugging. "I don't know…bitter, tangy, salty? I guess come just has its own flavor. It's not horrible."

Dean absolutely did not giggle at the absurdity of the conversation.

The blowjob that followed was almost as absurd, Cas approaching it like a science experiment, testing theories and glancing up to gauge Dean's reaction with each new technique employed. Still though, once he determined a few things and took Dean's suggestions to heart, it ended up accomplishing its purpose, even if he did end up with an accidental face full of come. Of course Dean didn't dare admit how much he appreciated the sight.

He also didn't admit how much he liked the weight of Cas' cock on his own tongue, when he took his own turn experimenting. Dean took a more intuitive approach, using what little he knew that he had liked for himself, and repeating actions that got the loudest gasps and moans, and saving aside the ones that got his hair tugged on for 'minimal use only/too sensitive'. Dean even attempted swallowing and managed to get most of it, giving himself an A for effort. When Cas had seen the dribble of come making its way down Dean's chin, his eyes had gone feral-looking for a moment as he yanked Dean up to lick it off and pull him in for an utterly filthy kiss.

Cas' stomach growled directly beneath Dean's ear where his head was resting on it sometime later, and it occurred to them that they honestly had no idea what time it was. Dean slid off the bed to put his glasses back on and locate his pants. Once he'd fished his cellphone out of the pocket, his eyes went wide as he spotted the time.

"Holy shit...dude…we've been naked for almost six hours," Dean gaped.

Cas stretched lazily, cat-like, on the bed and scratched at his stomach with a smirk on his face.

"Are you complaining?" he asked.

"No," Dean scoffed. "I just…Cas, we've spent like a quarter of a day," he gestured wildly between them, flustered as it all hit him. Holy hell, if someone would've told him that morning that he was going to spend the majority of his day in bed having sexy times with Castiel Novak, he would've punched them right in the ass for teasing him.

Cas chuckled and scooted to the edge of the bed, using his toes to pinch his pants between them and pull the pants up to his hands. Dean watched the action, fascinated.

"What? I have dexterous feet," Cas shrugged, pushing his feet into the legs of his pants.

"That might be the laziest thing I've ever witnessed," Dean grinned. Then Cas did it again, this time grabbing his shirt and waggling his eyebrows as he did it. A person with piercings and tattoos and eyeliner should not register as adorable, but it was the word that floated into Dean's mind at the action, nonetheless.

Cas stood up to pull his pants on the rest of the way, and Dean's mouth went dry as he realized that not only had the other boy not bothered putting his underwear back on, but wasn't even attempting to button or zip his pants. It didn't matter that he'd been naked only moments before; Cas standing there with his pants undone and barely hiding anything was one of the sexiest things Dean had ever seen.

Before Cas could throw his shirt back on, Dean grasped him by the hips and pulled him to stand between Dean's legs and leaned forward to nuzzle and kiss at the underside of Cas' navel. Until a few hours ago, Dean had never felt such an intense attraction and need, but this new development between them seemed to have flipped some sort of switch and he unabashedly reached around to palm at Cas' ass.

Cas carded a hand through the hair at the top of Dean's head and made a pleased little humming sound, seeming content to let Dean do what he pleased. When Dean mouthed over toward a hipbone and sucked harshly, Cas grunted and his hips thrust forward minutely as his hand tightened in Dean's hair. Things probably would've escalated back toward the bed again, if it weren't for the startlingly loud second growl of Cas' stomach. Dean paused his movements and they both chuckled a bit at the interruption. With a final peck to the hipbone, Dean stood up and started hunting down his clothes.

As he pulled on his pants, he heard the sound of Cas zipping up his own and was brought back from the lust-fog he'd been swimming in for the last several hours; Cas probably needed to go home soon and that would be that.

"So, uh…what are we doing?" Dean asked as casually as he could, pulling his shirt on and turning around to face the other boy.

"I don't know," Cas shrugged, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I guess I should probably go here in a minute and let you enjoy your chins and Netflix," he said, a wry smile on his face.

"Do you need to get home soon?" Dean asked.

"No. I come and go as I please."

"You wanna eat, then? I'm hungry, and I know you are," Dean offered. "The kitchen's stocked."

Cas toyed with the hem of his shirt for a second, and the indecision on his face made Dean rush to speak again.

"Or we can go, if you're ready to get home, your choice," Dean added.

Cas bit his bottom lip and glanced briefly around the room, eyes stopping a little longer on the bed before looking back up.

"You don't have to keep entertaining me, Dean. We can go," Cas said.

Dean frowned at the unusually subdued tone. "I haven't just been indulging you, Cas," he said carefully. "I've enjoyed myself, too," he muttered, looking at everything but Cas.

After a heavy pause, Dean chanced a glance up, and Cas was looking at him like he'd grown an extra head and he wanted to poke it. The other boy swallowed when their eyes met, but then he nodded and shifted on his feet.

"Then let's eat," he finally said.

Dean barely stopped himself from grinning stupidly, because there was no good reason for him to be so relieved that Cas wanted to stay around for a minute. Regardless of the fact that Dean was now intimately acquainted with the taste of the other boy's skin and knew his orgasm face, they still barely knew each other, and this was just about messing around, after all.

Instead, he just nodded and led the way out of his room, down to the kitchen. They settled on a frozen pizza and both retrieved a soda, Cas hopping up to sit on the counter while they waited on the oven to heat up, and Dean leaning against the counter a couple feet away from him. A semi-awkward silence fell between them, before Cas huffed a quiet laugh.

"So…Star Wars sheets, huh?" Cas smirked.

Dean groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, and Cas let out an actual laugh at that.

"God, I was hoping you hadn't noticed that. But look, they were a prank gift from my brother, okay? My other ones were in the wash," Dean said defensively, face practically ready to melt off.

"Sure they were," Cas winked.

Dean sighed and studied the can in his hand as his mortification steadily grew at the realization that not only did he have goddamned Star Wars sheets, but his room was practically littered with anime and superhero memorabilia and posters, comic books piled on the corner of his desk, and…oh no. He'd totally handed over his computer to Cas without thinking and…

"Calm down, Winchester. I already knew you were a total dork," Cas said rolling his eyes fondly and sticking a foot out to toe at Dean's thigh. "I didn't see anything I didn't expect."

It didn't make Dean feel any better, and neither did Cas' next question.

"So, do you watch that freaky anime porn?" Cas asked, more curious than teasing.

Dean had no desire to admit to that point and busied himself with taking a swig of his drink and glancing to the progress on the oven readings. A dark chuckle sounded from behind him and Dean was fairly certain he was going to burst into flames.

"That's kinda kinky, Dean. Wouldn't have figured that about you," Cas mused.

"Yeah, well," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest. He really didn't have a good response and needed to change the subject pronto. "I wouldn't have figured that the guy that hates school would be fluent in two different languages. Why are you even in that class, if you already speak French?"

Cas looked surprised at the change in topic for a moment, but then shrugged. "No one cares that I don't need the class; state requirements bullshit."

"Yeah, I get that. But why do you know it already?" Dean asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"I started taking French lessons with Roche when I was eight, Spanish when I was eleven, and Russian freshman year, with a different tutor. My parents wanted to make sure I was 'cultured'," he said, tone a bit bitter. "Roche is a friend of my parents'," he added.

Well, that answered a few things. Dean knew that Cas was smart, but Jesus. A picture started to form in Dean's mind of that dorky freshman, all hyper-organized and proper grammar and far too polite and the fact that at that point, the kid already knew two languages and was working on a third. It was all a bit excessive in Dean's opinion, and he couldn't help but wonder what else Cas' parents had had him doing outside of school. He'd heard of those parents that were obsessed with their kids' success, but Dean had never knowingly met one of those kids, and now it was all starting to make sense; Cas had burnt out, it was the simplest explanation. Dean understood pressure well enough though, even if not academically.

"Well, for what it's worth, you're probably going to get a ton of ass in the future, because of it," Dean grinned, attempting to bring lightness back to the atmosphere. "People dig the foreign language thing," he shrugged.

This did coax a grin out of Cas and he laughed lightly. "Yeah, I know. Whisper a little nonsense in the ear and the panties practically fly off by themselves," he chuckled.

Dean snorted at that, despite the touch of jealousy at not having received that particular seduction himself, because that…that was an incredibly arousing thought. He chose to ignore the question as to how Cas managed to mess around with a fair share of girls without getting any attention back, for the moment. And yes, Dean had heard more than one rumor about Cas' talents. Ugh.

"At least you've got that. Nothing keeps the panties firmly in place like discovering an expertise in guns," Dean laughed wryly, uncertain why he was sharing this with the other boy. "Tends to creep 'em out."

The oven beeped before Cas could comment, and Dean made his way over to put the pizza in to bake. When he'd straightened back up and closed the oven door, Dean startled at the sudden presence of Cas looming behind him and firm hands grasping his hips.

"Shit, you're quiet," Dean gasped.

Cas chuckled and pulled Dean closer so that his backside was flush with Cas' front, and pressed his lips to the sensitive flesh behind Dean's ear. For all his lack of experience in receiving pleasure, Cas sure as hell knew what he was doing with this stuff.

"So what you're telling me is that you're a secret badass?" Cas murmured.

"I-I don't know that I'd go that far," Dean stuttered, skin warming as he felt the tip of Cas' tongue tease at the shell of his ear. "Pretty sure it just makes me look like a redneck or something."

"Hmmm…I don't think that's accurate. And for what it's worth, I think it's pretty fucking hot," Cas whispered, rocking his hips against Dean's ass.

A little groan escaped Dean's throat that he tried pass off as a laugh as he felt the beginnings of a bulge pressing against him. It was all too inviting, and he couldn't let himself get his hopes up, because Cas was probably just flirting and having a bit of fun, and would be going home after they ate.

"Please. If that were true, your panties would've been 'practically flying off themselves' by now," Dean teased.

One of Cas' hands snaked over to palm at Dean's crotch, and he internally cursed his dick for betraying him with a twitch that Cas no doubt felt. Then that stupid mouth was sucking at the juncture of Dean's neck and shoulder, and he didn't quite stop the moan in time before it escaped his lips. Cas' hand pushed harder then, and Dean ended up rocking back into the firm line of Cas' cock where it was settled against the cleft of Dean's ass. Cas let out a shuddering breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

"If I were wearing panties, you can trust that they'd be working themselves off right about now," Cas husked in Dean's ear.

"Cas, don't tease me," Dean said, grimacing at the whine in his voice. "And we're in the kitchen…this can't be sanitary."

Cas huffed and reached up to turn Dean around by his shoulders and Dean went easily with the motion. "I'm horny again and ready to do something about it, and you're worried about that?" he asked, one eyebrow cocked on an unimpressed face. Then he shrugged and lifted his hands in a placating gesture, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But if you're not in the mood, that's fine," he said, backing up a step to lean casually against the counter.

Dean flew back up into Cas' space and boxed him into the counter with his arms, ignoring the victorious smirk his actions had earned, and went straight for Cas' neck, rolling his hips against the punk. "You're an asshole, Cas, you know that?" he chided, but not unkindly.

"Been called worse," he muttered, tilting his head to give Dean more room. When Dean pushed a thigh between Cas' legs, Cas immediately set to rubbing against it, and groaned at the friction as their erections brushed in the movement. "Fuck, why did I wait so long?" he breathed.

Dean hummed an 'I don't know' sound and lifted his lips from Cas' neck, where he'd left what would be an impressive hickey the next day. He was usually more courteous than to go leaving marks where they could be seen, but Cas didn't seem to care, and the thought of the boy carrying his mark made something hot curl in Dean's gut.

"Want me to blow you again?" Dean asked, beyond being embarrassed at this point because really, there was no point.

Cas made a little whimpering noise that Dean wouldn't have thought him capable of and tilted his head to capture Dean's lips for a filthy kiss.

"Yes, by all means," Cas said as he pulled away, eyes dark.

Dean dropped to his knees right there, concern for their surroundings forgotten, and reached up to unfasten Cas' pants and lower the zipper. He glanced up to double check before going any further, but Cas' eyes were glued to him, lips parted and breaths already coming a little fast. Dean pushed Cas' pants down and heard the boy's breath hitch as Dean grasped his cock, to guide it to his mouth.

Ridiculously, Dean got a whiff of the pizza starting to cook and felt a touch of concern for how long he had to do this. He chuckled a bit in spite of himself; here he was, kneeling on the kitchen floor with Castiel Novak's dick an inch from his mouth, and he's worrying about a goddamned pizza.

"That's really not an encouraging reaction when someone has your dick in their hand," Cas grumbled.

Dean shook his head, unable to stop grinning and feeling like an ass for giving Cas the wrong idea. "It's not about you, I promise. Well, I guess it is, by extension, but not really," he rambled, looking up to catch Cas' eye. The boy looked away, and Dean really felt like an ass then because bless him, Cas actually looked a bit self-conscious.

Dean placed a kiss to the head and Cas' cock jerked in his hand as Cas looked back down at him. With Cas' attention back on him, Dean twirled his tongue around the head, resolutely holding eye contact. "You have a nice dick, Cas, it's not you." Then an idea formed, and he was sharing it before he could stop himself. "Think I'm gonna see if I can get you off before the pizza's done."

A faint look of confusion melted into amusement as Cas realized what Dean must have been thinking. "You realize you're about to treat a blowjob like an Olympic sport by doing that, right?"

No, Dean hadn't realized that, but not one to turn down a challenge found himself even more intrigued by the idea. "You think I can do it?"

Cas snorted a laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. "Feel free to try," he replied.

No time to be wasted, Dean dipped right in, taking most of Cas in, in one go. He set right to bobbing and sucking, holding onto Cas' hips for support as much as to keep him from thrusting in on accident. Cas was letting out little pants and sighs, but it wasn't the reaction Dean needed to be rousing, if he was on a time crunch. Pulling back so that all that was left in his mouth was the head, Dean suckled and tongued at the slit, much more satisfied when he earned a punched-out sounding groan for his effort. The sound went straight to his own groin, and he couldn't help but moan around the length in his mouth.

"Dean…fucking Christ," Cas babbled, fingers tangling and flexing against Dean's scalp.

Encouraged, Dean swirled his tongue around the shaft and sucked as hard as he could as he lifted back up. Cas' hips shifted in little aborted thrusts as Dean bobbed and licked, and Dean decided that now was as good a time as ever to try something, and pushed more firmly at Cas' hips. Dean looked up and when they locked eyes, Cas was looking at him questioningly. Dean squeezed once and Cas seemed to realize what was about to happen and sucked in a breath, nodding his understanding. That was all Dean needed, and slowly, he took Cas in until he felt the head bump his throat and was pleased to discover that he didn't seem to have a gag reflex, as he relaxed the muscle.

"Oh my fuck…Dean, I'm gonna-"

Dean hummed his encouragement and swallowed around the head, and just like that, Cas was coming hot down his throat with a strangled groan, fingers gripping tight in Dean's hair. He wasn't quite prepared for the sensation and felt his eyes water as he tried to hold off a cough until he could pull off. Cas must have felt the convulsion of his throat, because his hand immediately left, and Dean pulled off to splutter and sniffle, and wipe his eyes. His cheeks burned hot at how utterly unappealing he must look with his eyes running and drool at the corner of his mouth, and he cleared his throat gently around the tenderness he could feel growing there now.

Instead of looking up, he carefully tucked Cas back into his pants, not bothering with the fly, and stood up on shaky legs, with the intention of busying himself with checking the pizza. But then Cas grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him to stand between his legs, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and resting his forehead against his collarbone as he took a shaky breath.

"That was by far the hottest thing I have ever seen," Cas mumbled, muffled into Dean's shirt. He then lifted his head, and Dean wasn't prepared for the look of awe on Cas' face and glanced away. Cas lifted a hand to cup his face and swipe his thumb at the corner of Dean's eye where some moisture was still gathered, and grinned softly. "Are you alright?"

Dean cleared his throat and winced a bit as he swallowed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Think I got come in my sinus passages though," he said voice rough, and sniffing.

Cas looked at him with wide, tentatively amused eyes. "You are something else, you know that?" he asked, a crooked grin forming on his lips. Dean cut a half-hearted baleful look at him that made a chuckle break free, and Cas leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Like I said, surly," he teased.

Rolling his eyes, Dean grinned a little bit and pulled away to fish the pizza out of the oven. Much to his surprise, it was only slightly overdone, so he still considered it a victory. When he turned around, Cas' eyes flicked up from where he'd slid down to the floor.

"Were you just checking out my ass?" Dean asked, smirking.

"Does it bother you?" Cas asked.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Dean shrugged. "Not you, anyway."

"Good," Cas nodded, looking smug. "Why don't you come over here?" he asked with a jerk of his chin. "Pizza's gotta cool, and I don't trust my legs just yet."

Dean walked over and was surprised when Cas reached for his hands to tug him down into his lap, hands immediately coming to rest on Dean's waist.

"I don’t mind to return the favor," Cas said, glancing meaningfully at the erection still tenting Dean's pants. "Or you could let me watch you jerk off," he said with a touch of shyness in his voice.

Oh god, Cas wanted to watch him jerk off. The thought was as horribly arousing as it was mortifying because despite the fact that they'd spent most of a day on sexual experimentation, being the lone masturbator made him feel like a perv. But then again…

"Is- is that," Dean swallowed harshly. "Is that something you've thought about? Or- or do you just like voyeurism or something?" he asked, unsure of what he wanted the answer to be.

"Well, I have watched a lot of porn, so I guess I'm already technically a voyeur, wouldn't you say?" Cas replied, eyebrow cocked. Dean's unimpressed look with the obvious evasion made Cas sigh. "Okay, fine. If you must know, yes, I've imagined you jerking off before. Does that creep you out?"

A choked off moan made its way out of Dean's throat at the confession. Fuckin' hell, Cas had fucking fantasized about Dean in the privacy of his own room before, and confusingly, it turned Dean on as much as it sent butterflies swirling in his stomach.

"No, not creeped out," Dean said, voice trembling a bit as he shook his head.

Cas let out a little relieved breath and leaned forward a bit to take his own shirt off. At Dean's look of confusion once Cas had settled back, Cas actually blushed and bit his lip. "Mind to do it here? I mean, on me?"

It took Dean longer to catch on to what Cas was asking than he cared to admit, and his mouth went dry as he realized that the question had nothing to do with the kitchen or even his sitting on Cas' lap.

"Yeah," he nodded, voice rasping. He pulled off his own shirt and rose up on his knees so he could push his pajama bottoms down a bit and re-seated himself, still a touch nervous.

Cas' eyes combed over him and he licked his lips, as if he hadn't been looking at Dean's nudity most of the day. He ran his hands up and down Dean's thighs and cocked an eyebrow at him. He wouldn't be able to do it if he had to see Cas looking at him, so Dean closed his eyes and let out a deep breath as he took himself in hand. As Dean started to stroke, Cas made a sound of approval and rubbed his thumbs over Dean's inner thighs encouragingly, the touch intimate and hot. Dean stroked for a minute or so, but the heat wasn't building like it normally would, mind unable to focus on any one fantasy and distracted by the feeling of Cas' eyes on him. Dean was about to tell Cas as much, when the sensation of a tongue flicking his nipple made his eyes fly open.

"Holy shit!" he gasped, moaning when Cas sucked on it and grazed the barest hint of teeth against the nub. Encouraged, Cas brought a hand up to tease at the other nipple while he continued mouthing at the one. Dean knew his nipples were sensitive, but no one besides himself had ever toyed with them, and the sensation had pre-come blurting out of the head of his dick.

"Thought you could use a little help," Cas murmured against his skin. "I like mine being touched, anyway," he said, applying a little kitten lick before moving over to lavish attention to the other nipple.

Dean's breath shuddered and he swiped his thumb over the head, spreading the sticky fluid that had gathered there, grunting at the change in the way his hand glided. This was going to be embarrassingly short if Cas kept that up, and Dean nudged at his shoulder to make him lean back.

"Gonna miss the show," he husked, trying for joking, but falling flat when he looked down and saw the head of Cas' dick peeking out of the fly of his pants and already getting hard again. That's a horny eighteen year old's recovery time for you, though. "Take it out, Cas," he ordered, nodding down at Cas' crotch.

Cas obliged and sent Dean a heated look that dared him to look away as he began to stroke his own cock. Dean didn't look away. In fact, he surprised himself by opting to look at Cas' face, needing to see the arousal and pleasure there as his eyebrows drew together. When those blue eyes looked up to meet Dean's, a guttural moan spilled from Cas' lips and his hand sped up. They could only hold eye contact for a moment though, before it was too intense they both had to look back down.

"This is gonna be embarrassing," Cas muttered, hand stripping quickly over his cock. "How close are you?"

"Getting there," Dean said, rocking his hips up into his hand and groaning as he felt his balls starting to tighten. The motion seemed to spur Cas on and he let out his own moan, breaths coming short now.

Cas then reached for Dean's free hand and pulled the first two digits into his mouth and sucked as he swirled his tongue around them and winked. It was all too much, and Dean shook his head, panting heavily as he pulled his hand back and shifted to aim his cock at Cas' stomach. Cas seemed to get it and leaned back just in time for Dean to come with a low wail, painting the other boy's stomach with hot stripes, some of it landing on Cas' hand.

As if it had been his own release, Cas moaned loudly when the liquid splashed his skin, and Dean shuddered at the sound as he worked himself through. Dean had expected him to come then, but it seemed like Cas was still on the edge, so Dean decided to test a theory and see if he could tip the other boy over. Letting go of his own spent cock, Dean reached forward and ran soft fingertips through the come on Cas' stomach and was gratified when a dry sob escaped Cas' lips. God, but the boy was close, so Dean leaned in and tongued at a nipple, flicking the hoop and rewarded with a full-body shudder as Cas came over his own hand, moaning like he was fucking paid for it.

Not one to be cruel, Dean released the sensitive nub and sat up to rest his forehead against Cas' as they came down, clean hand threading comfortingly in the hair at the back of Cas' head.

"We should probably…" Dean began.

Cas nodded, moving both of their heads together. "Yeah."

Dean used Cas' shoulders for leverage and hoisted himself up from the floor, knees protesting the sudden movement. Once righted, he held a hand out and helped Cas up, but Cas didn't let go immediately, opting instead to bring their hands to his mouth and kiss Dean's knuckles in a shockingly affectionate gesture.

He'd never admit it, at least out loud, but Dean swooned a little bit and had to remind himself that this was just an extended romp, and nothing more. It stung a bit, especially now that he was discovering not only all the ways that Cas had changed, but also the ways that he'd suspected that Cas had stayed the same. Cas was a walking contradiction of intimidation and private gentleness that drew Dean in more than he cared to think about.

Grabbing a couple of wads of paper towels, Dean ran them under warm water and handed one off to Cas. Once they were both clean and presentable again, Dean plated up the now only-warm pizza and headed off for the living room with a jerk of his chin to let Cas know where they were eating. Cas grabbed a couple more drinks and followed behind. Dean sat down on the couch first and when Cas got there, he hovered awkwardly for a second as he looked at the couch.

"You don't have to sit by me if you don't want to, Cas," Dean offered, dredging up a smile that he didn't quite feel. Why this was any different from the cuddling earlier, Dean didn't know, but apparently it was, to Cas.

The look on Cas' face was indecipherable at that, but it most closely resembled a frown as he seemed to come to a decision and plunked down next to Dean. Wordlessly, he grabbed a piece of pizza off of the plate on Dean's lap and leaned back, letting their shoulders bump together. Needing to fill the silence, Dean turned on the TV and channel surfed for a minute, pleased when he came across Star Trek: Voyager, and only five minutes in, at that. Cas didn't protest the selection, so Dean let himself relax into the couch and proceeded to munch on his own piece of pizza.

After several minutes of tense silence as they ate, Dean was going crazy wanting to know what had caused the sudden shift in Cas' mood and wondering if he'd done something to cause it. When Cas spoke, it was not at all what Dean would've expected to hear.

"Tuvok doesn't get nearly enough credit," he mumbled.

Dean whipped his head over to look at Cas full-on, mouth opening in surprise. Cas looked over then, eyebrows scrunching together.

"What? Do you not like him or something?" Cas asked.

"No, it's not…Tuvok's cool, I just…you actually watch this?" Dean fumbled.

Cas cocked an eyebrow as he finished chewing his bite before speaking again. "Dean, I know you remember freshman year. Are you really that surprised?" he asked dryly.

Dean couldn't help but grin at that and laughed lightly as he thought about the way Cas had used the phrase "Well, anthropologically speaking," at the dinner table one of those nights he'd come over to work on that project. John had looked between Cas and Dean as if he couldn't quite believe that Dean would know a kid that spoke that way, eyebrows climbing until Mary elbowed him discreetly.

"Yeah, okay. You were a pretty big dork," Dean relented. "And apparently still are," he ventured with a grin.

Cas narrowed his eyes mock-threateningly. "Tell anyone, and I'll make sure everyone knows that Dean Winchester likes being cuddled."

"Go ahead. Rat yourself out while you're at it," Dean smirked, shrugging.

Cas sighed. "Fair enough," he nodded, tossing his crust on the plate and grabbing another piece.

They went back to watching the show and munching absently on the pizza. Although the tension had lessened, Dean still felt like Cas had something on his mind and glanced over to see his eyebrows drawn together again. He really wanted to smooth it out with his thumb and ask what was wrong, but wasn't sure that Cas would be too receptive to such a girly move, and kept his hands firmly to himself.

Much to Dean's surprise, a minute later, he felt Cas shift his weight more heavily into Dean's side and sigh as he slid his hand into Dean's. What the hell? What the hell was Cas doing? Dean stiffened as the butterflies kicked back in full force because this was NOT post-orgasm cuddling.

"Is this okay?" Cas asked, eyes resolutely on the TV.

Dean swallowed and struggled for a reply because the question was ludicrous after all the other shit they'd done that day, yet it felt so much more personal. It felt too good, having Cas' weight resting against him on the couch and the both of them reeking of sex and watching Star Trek together, and it kind of hurt because it didn't take a genius to see that they just kind of jibed, once Dean had gotten over his initial nervousness. It was unfair, really, because of course, the universe would dangle something like this in front of his nose at the worst possible time. Cas' hand twitched as if to move away, so Dean hurried to clear his throat, not quite ready for that heat to leave his own palm. Working up every ounce of nerve he could, Dean pushed his glasses up his nose and thought, 'now or never'.

"I kinda wish we could keep doing this," Dean said quietly, cursing the blush that rose to his cheeks.

Cas moved to sit up and look at Dean, eyes wide. "Yeah?" he asked quietly.

Dean nodded, but couldn't hold his gaze.

"Then why can't we?" Cas asked hesitantly.

Dean did look up at that, and frowned. "I thought you just wanted to have a last hoo-rah and mess around for a day before getting ready to go off to college or whatever."

"Well, I'll admit that that's all I was expecting. But I wouldn't know," Cas trailed off, but squeezing Dean's hand as if it could make his point for him.

Dean sighed tiredly and barely resisted pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, Cas, I don't know. What? You want to keep fucking around? I don't know what you mean," he admitted. This is why Dean hated these kinds of conversations.

"Dean," Cas sighed. "I'm no good with this shit, okay? Just…ugh. Okay, look, would it be bad if I wanted to keep doing this," he said, holding their joined hands up and gesturing at the TV, "kind of thing?"

"You like me?" Dean blurted.

Cas made a frustrated groaning sound and rubbed a hand over his face. "Jesus, Dean, you make me sound like a twelve year old girl. But uh…yeah, I kind of do, okay?"

Dean was frozen to the spot at the unexpected confession, not even daring to breathe as he tried to process. Cas…who hadn't even bothered to speak to him in three years…liked him? It made no sense, and the only explanation Dean could come up with was that the other boy was still swimming in the 'just lost most of my virginity' fog that also tended to come with rose-colored glasses.

"I'm sorry," Cas said, pulling his hand away and coming up off the couch in one swift movement. "I thought..nevermind…just." Cas sighed and closed his eyes. "Thank you for your kindness and an enlightening afternoon," he said stiffly, then opened his eyes to look at the floor as he spun on his heel to head toward the hallway toward Dean's room.

Dean's brain kicked back into gear too late, and he leapt off the couch to catch the other boy by the shoulders. "Whoa, hang on a second. Sorry, it's just…"

"What, Dean?" Cas snapped, whirling around. "I don't want to hear it, if you're about to do some sensitive-guy shit. I made a mistake, and I can own up to that."

Dean growled in frustration and ran a rough hand through his hair. "You didn't make a mistake, Cas. Christ. I've kind of liked you for a long time okay? And then out of fucking nowhere, less than a week before graduation and after three years with barely saying anything to me, you decide to put a move on me. Next thing I know, I've spent six hours having orgasms with Castiel fucking Novak," he gestured wildly at Cas, as if the other boy could possibly understand everything his name tends to imply. "Which is confusing enough, by the way, but then you had to go and be all endearing and apparently interested, and I just don't know what's going on, okay?" he finished, nearly panting from his tirade.

Irritatingly, a little grin had crept up on Cas' face as his eyebrows rose while Dean was going off.

"I have enough reputation to warrant a 'fucking' between my names now, huh?" Cas asked teasingly.

Dean blinked hard and frowned. "That's what you got out of that?"

The amusement in Cas' eyes faded to something more subdued and he stepped forward to clasp Dean's face in his hands. "Is it really that bad that I'm interested now?" he asked, eyes boring into Dean's.

"Yes," Dean breathed, a bit crestfallen. "Because say we keep seeing each other and things go well. What happens then, in the fall, Cas?"

Cas sighed and looked at Dean as if he were a particularly adorable puppy. "What are your plans for the fall?"

"Taking classes down at the community college," Dean replied.

"Then I don't see what the problem is, because I am too," Cas said simply.

"Wha?" Dean said eloquently.

Cas chuckled and brushed his thumbs over Dean's cheekbones. "Since you seem to have short-circuited, here's a quick recap. Neither of us is going away any time soon, and we both agree that we'd like to keep seeing each other, so I think we should. How's that?"

"When did you decide you like me?" Dean asked, because he really did need to know.

"Before today, if that's what you're worried about," Cas said quietly. "I've kept my eye on you the whole time, you know."

Dean nodded to himself, satisfied with the first part, but then looked up as the second part struck him.

"Then why in the hell didn't you say anything 'til now?" he asked.

Cas rolled his eyes and huffed. "Why didn't you?"

"Well…because. You can't just go around hitting on dudes that might not swing that way. At least not around here," he said.

Cas raised his eyebrows in a look that said 'exactly', and Dean looked away, feeling sheepish.

"For a long time I thought you were just looking at me like everyone else does, like a car accident that they can't quite look away from. But you always looked a little bit longer, Dean. I guess I just had enough today," Cas admitted.

"I only looked at you, you know," Dean murmured, fixing his eyes somewhere near Cas' collarbone. "As far as dudes go."

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure Batman's overly-exaggerated glutes and glancing-over-the-shoulder pose on your desktop beg to differ," Cas smirked.

Dean blushed and scowled. "Oh come on! Fictional characters don't count."

Cas chuckled and moved his hands down to rest on Dean's waist, pulling him in closer.

"Are we done miscommunicating now? Because you know, I'd be totally down for making out with your dorky ass right about now," Cas purred, letting his hands wander to grope at Dean's ass.

Dean adopted a serious face and put his hands on Cas' shoulders.

"Don't get me wrong, you're hot as hell, and I really like making out with you. But man, I'm pretty sure that if I tried to come again, my dick would just whistle at all the nothing coming out."

After a beat of silence, Cas' face lit up in an actual smile as he chortled at the thought.

"Oh my god," Cas chuckled, moving in for a quick kiss. "You'll be fine, Dean. We have plenty of time," he grinned.

And with that, Dean felt lighter than he had all day, because it was true. They had all the time in the world to make out and learn each other and themselves, experience firsts, figure out a relationship of some sort, and just live. And maybe sometime in the near future, Dean would even get to hear that gravelly voice muttering filth in a foreign tongue in his own ear. Speaking of…

"Come on then," Dean grinned, tugging at Cas' hand. "My panties need some coaxing so they can fly away."

Cas' eyes narrowed where he remained unmoved. "You mean that metaphorically, right?" he asked, eyes darting over Dean from head to toe.

Unable to resist, Dean just winked and took off for his room, chuckling as Cas cursed under his breath behind him.